Round One: THE TRIALS OF LOVE, winners

FIRST PLACE; mieczy-slaw

COME BACK

Cleo's heart was pounding in her chest. It seemed to feel that way ever since two days ago when she witnessed something truly traumatizing. When she witnessed her best friend, and possibly the boy she loved, almost fall to his death.

Cleo knew more than anyone how Newt felt about being in the Glade. How he hated the frustration of running through the maze each day only to return with no news. How he hated that so many of those that came up into the Glade as well hadn't survived, and there was nothing he could have done to stop it. But even after all that, Cleo didn't suspect that he was feeling so lost and helpless that he would attempt to take his own life.

It was the one day she decided to go for her run with Minho instead of him. And it was while they were getting back that Cleo sensed something was wrong. As she and Minho ran through the doors, she noticed a few people in the Glade beginning to run to the walls, eyes cast upward. For a moment, Cleo felt a bit of hope. This was different. This was new. Maybe it was some kind of way out.

But, when she reached the Gladers and turned just in time to see Newt, falling from the top of the wall that surrounded the Glade, Cleo felt her heart stop.

And now, two days later, she hadn't moved from her spot on the chair beside Newt's bed in the homestead. His attempt, however terrifying to witness, hadn't been successful. Not yet, anyway. The Glade's sole med-jack, Clint, had told Cleo that it was all speculation at this point. New could survive this if he woke up from his coma-like state, or his body could slowly give up. If he survived, there was a good chance he could never be a runner again but that was the last thing on Cleo's mind.

For two days, Cleo sat in silence, scared to say anything. Clint said that talking to him would help. That he probably could hear everything and that his mind and his willpower would play a huge role in deciding whether his body should give up or not. Yet, Cleo had no idea what she could say. There was too much to say.

She thought back to the first time she came up in the Glade. Being the first, and so far only, female caused a bit of a stirrup, not to mention that when she came up, she was seemingly harmed. Her pant leg was stained with blood, and only after she was left alone — in the slammer because she hit Gally in the face for being patronizing — did she lift her pant up to see Newt's name scratched onto her skin. It was done hastily and messily, and definitely recently. Right before she was sent up into the Glade. And after testing her handwriting by attempting to replicate the name onto a piece of wood, with a blade, Cleo knew that she had done it to herself, and the only reason she could think of as to why she did it was because she must have wanted to remember him, and some connection they'd had.

A year in the Glade had passed since then, and though the scar was now faint white lines, Cleo thought back to all the moments she'd had with Newt since then, almost like the connection between them, whatever it had been before the Glade, had resumed, instead of starting over.

Cleo remembered sitting and forcing down some of Gally's famous moonshine while sitting with Newt and coming up with predictions about the Glade's newest greenie. She remembered him walking her to her hammock each night when the day was done. She remembered a few moments between them during small breaks between their runs in the maze when their friendship almost took a step forward. For some reason, it never did, mainly because Cleo was unsure if Newt ever felt the same way that she did.

But seeing him lying there, on the brink of death, made Cleo wish she had said something. She had so many opportunities to say how she felt, and she never did. All she could hope was that he felt something. Because if he did, then what she was about to say would work.

Leaning forward, Cleo lifted a hand to gently touch his. She was scared to, almost as if he would break if she did. But, after a moment of hesitation, Cleo gently laced her fingers with his. His hand was limp, but Cleo ached to feel it move, or give her hand a small squeeze. Anything, to show her that he was okay, and he was sticking around instead of leaving her behind.

After two days of not saying anything, Cleo finally broke her silence. "Newt." Her voice was soft, just barely a whisper. It was already thick with sadness, tears brimming her eyes. She cleared her throat so that when she spoke again and said what she wanted to, he would — hopefully — be able to hear her.

"I love you."

Saying the words made her tears finally fall. She wanted so badly for this to work, to see him wake up. She needed him to know that despite everything that had happened so far, he wasn't alone. And he never would be.

She was so consumed by her thoughts that she didn't notice his fingers moving gently.

She did, however, see movement underneath his eyelids, before his eyes slowly fluttered open completely. Cleo froze. Newt wasn't moving yet, but his lips parted, as though he were about to say something. And Cleo knew that in the future when she looked back on this moment, she would never forget the first thing to leave his mouth.

"Cleo." 

SECOND PLACE; HogwartsDungeons

Alone Together

"I can't be seen with a Hufflepuff."

The words resounded through my head. I couldn't forget the look in his eyes. The bravery there completely contradicted the slump of his shoulders.

"I'm sorry, Emma."

No. Those words meant nothing now. He'd said them to Lily, too, and it meant nothing then. Those words are hollow and meaningless.

"But we've been friends for years!" I shouted, still hoping against hope that he didn't mean it. That it was all some kind of stupid joke.

He lowered his gaze to stare at the hem of my black school robes, his ebony locks shielding the pain in his eyes. "Not anymore."

Not anymore. Those two words made my stomach turn and my heart contract.

Severus Snape was my best friend. The only one who knew everything about me; from my secret dreams to my worst fears. He was the boy I'd had a crush on since our first year at Hogwarts, and who still haunted both my dreams and my nightmares six years later. But he had let the other Slytherin boys get into his head. He'd let their talk of power and might lead him on the darkest path, dropping everything that meant anything to him.

Including me.

Just when I needed him the most.

It had been three weeks since Severus had dropped me like a sack of Hagrid's worst Treacle fudge and I believed I'd waited long enough. This was ridiculous. I needed my best friend and nothing, nobody, was going to stop me from seeing him. Not today.

It was Friday and the last class of the day had just finished. I knew Severus' schedule like the back of my hand, so I knew he'd be on his way down to the dungeons from the Charms classroom on the third floor right now.

I made my way through the cold, characterless hallways of the castle until I came by the corner that both Hufflepuffs and Slytherins passed on the way to their Common Rooms. I pushed myself into a shadowy corner and waited.

It wasn't long before the low, booming voices of his "friends" echoed off the ceiling. I pushed myself off the wall and walked in their direction. Just as they passed the corner, so did I. I hooked my arm in Severus' and pulled him back around the corner.

At my touch, Severus jumped backward and pulled his wand, before noticing it was me. I gave him an unimpressed look and he lowered it.

"What do you want?" he sneered.

"We need to talk."

"No," he said, a defiant look in his eyes. "No, we really don't."

"Severus!" I sucked in a sharp breath, clenching my lips together in an attempt to stop them trembling. My vision already blurred, no matter how hard I tried. "Please..." I croaked out eventually.

He hesitated, glancing over my shoulder at the quickly disappearing voices of his friends. "Fine," he said. "Talk, then. I have nothing more to say."

Resisting the urge to slap him for being so horribly inconsiderate, I walked around him and stepped into the nearest empty classroom – of which there were quite a few in this part of the castle. I pulled the letter I'd received in the post that morning out of my pocket and held it in a clenched fist as Severus shut the door behind him.

"What do you want, Emma? I don't need this..."

"It's not about that," I interrupted him before he could shatter my heart even further with his words. "It's... It's..."

My lower lip betrayed me once more and I held out the letter for him to see.

Casting me a puzzled look, he took it and read.

In any other situation, the change on his face would've been quite hilarious. He was already fairly pale normally but his face turned even whiter while his jaw dropped with shock. "Is this... Are you..."

I nodded. "She's gone." My voice cracked. "My aunt is gone."

Unable to stop myself any longer, I burst into sobs. My aunt had practically raised me. She was more of a mum to me than my actual mum. But her job as an auror was a dangerous one. And now she was gone and I had no family left. None to speak of, anyway. All I had was Severus. And even he had pushed me away.

"Shit... I'm sorry, Emma." His voice had softened to the low, deep voice he used when it was just us. The familiar sound made me feel at home. Made me feel safe.

The sobs continued racking my body. The hollow feeling that had settled in my stomach since I read that letter for the first time, seemed to expand into new depths. It swallowed my world. "I've got nobody left, Severus," I sobbed. "I'm all alone."

"No," came his immediate response. "No, you are not alone." Two arms wrapped themselves around my back and pulled me against him. The sweet smell of pinecone sent a few pieces of my shattered heart back together.

"You are never alone, Emma," he continued. "I swear to Merlin, I'll always be here for you."

For a few moments, I just enjoyed the feel of his body against mine. When my breathing calmed a bit, I stilled and whispered, "What about your new friends? You can't be seen with a Hufflepuff."

He let go of me and lifted my chin, forcing me to look into his obsidian eyes. I'd never been very good at reading those eyes. I always fooled myself into seeing something that wasn't there. But this time, his words confirmed what I thought I'd seen.

"I can't be seen with a Hufflepuff. Except this one. You will never be alone, Emma. I will never leave you."

THIRD PLACE; JoyeEverett715

THE GIRL FROM MANDALORE

As the moon of Concordia winked treacherously in the distance from Draboon, a young Padawan and his master walked quietly along the rocky soils, their boots crunching briskly along the terrain. The tension between them was palpable despite the close bond they normally had with one another.

There is no emotion. There is peace.

Is she still alive? Obi-Wan thought, putting up mental shields to hide his deepest secrets from Qui-Gon—the man he trusted more than any other Jedi. He had failed his teacher.

There is no ignorance. There is knowledge.

Knowledge he had, yes. But it was the knowledge that Satine was missing. Gone, taken from camp just a few hours before. He'd restrained his own reaction when he'd found out, but only by the swift biting of his own cheek.

If she was gone, he could move on—Jedi did this all the time. But he would never be the same.

They reached the cave where the venom-mites would be most likely to take a young woman to devour her whole. Obi-Wan forced himself to breathe. There is no passion. There is serenity.

Why was he repeating the Jedi Code to himself, when he'd already failed to follow it?

Qui-Gon looked over at him, his aging face serene. Even though he himself was an unconventional sort of Jedi, Obi-Wan could almost feel the disapproval radiating off of him.

But a part of him—the deepest part of him—did not regret loving Satine Kryze.

There is no chaos. There is harmony.

Qui-Gon cleared his throat and spoke. His voice was deep and resolute, which assisted Obi-Wan slightly amidst the frazzled array of unfamiliar emotions. "We must be careful, Padawan. The duchess could be quite deep in the cavern."

Attachment leads to jealousy. Jealousy leads to greed. Greed leads to fear. And fear....

Obi-Wan nodded silently, feeling as though his tongue was a sausage. He took his lightsaber and activated it. The blue and green of his lightsaber combined with that of his master's was a slight return to normalcy.

Life had become different—painfully bright and poisonous—when he'd realized his feelings for the girl from Mandalore. The girl he was simply a bodyguard for. The girl with the hair like stardust and the voice that lilted and fell like she was singing.

A screech roared into the ears of the two Jedi, and Obi-Wan swung blindly, chopping off something warm and wet in the dark. Qui-Gon's voice came in the sternest tone his protégé had ever heard. "Padawan! Control your fear!"

"I'm not afraid!" Obi-Wan shouted back as the venom-mites attacked. They hacked at the limbs, seeing only by the light of their sabers, flashes of green and white searing into his vision. Rancid smells marched into his nose, making his eyes water, and he began to cough.

But then, her voice called from beside him. "Obi! Master Jedi!"

Her hands grasped his cloak weakly. "We have to get out of here!" Obi-Wan said, turning. Her thin features and knotted hair were accentuated in the light of Qui-Gon's saber.

Snapping out of the chaos, Obi-Wan turned to his master. "I've found her!"

"Go, then!" Qui-Gon returned. "Take the duchess to safety! I'll hold them off." He continued slicing at the venom-mites as Obi-Wan deactivated his lightsaber, swooped Satine up by the knees and shoulders, and looked for a way out.

She clung to his neck with hands still soft and pampered from the palace of Mandalore. The venom-mites were surrounding them thickly, tightening their circle.

He began to sweat. There's no way out. We'll die here. She'll die without ever knowing how I feel toward her.

Not now, you sad excuse of a Jedi, the calm part of him retorted.

There is no death. There is only the Force.

He rushed through the first open hole in the venom-mites he could find with the duchess in his arms, diving through it rather than graciously following after her. But he was ripped away from Satine, and the duchess tumbled to the ground outside of the cave.

"Run!" he called out to her, his voice strangled. He wasn't even concerned with Qui-Gon finding out about his secret feelings for her anymore.

She raised her head. The rocky soil had cut her left cheek, and blood trickled down her thin face like tears. "I won't leave you," she gasped, her crisp Mandalorian accent lovely to him even as the venom-mites marched along his waist. She staggered to her feet, pulling up her ripped skirts.

As he was constricted, he threw his lightsaber at her. Satine caught it with trembling hands. The woman was downright terrified of weaponry—unreasonably so, to the point where she was unwilling to defend herself using anything that would cause bodily harm to a sentient.

It was one of the many things that Obi-Wan loved about her.

But Satine lit the blade and charged forward, searing a large square where the mites' hold would break. As Obi-Wan tumbled to the ground with a gasp, Qui-Gon raced out of the cave. He appeared to be heavily injured on the left leg, so Obi-Wan allowed his master to lean on him once he'd gotten up.

He looked over at Satine, who was ripping off a fold of her skirt to staunch the bleeding from her own cut. "That will leave a scar," she said primly, casting a faint smile in his direction.

His face burned with embarrassment. Another blunder. The Council will be furious when I go to report.

They walked back to camp, and he set the duchess down. "Don't go off like that again."

"Is that a threat, Master Jedi?" she asked playfully.

"It all depends on your conduct, Duchess."

And checking to make sure that Qui-Gon's face was turned away, she leaned close and brushed her soft lips against his lightly. But before she could turn it into a sweet, long kiss, he pulled away.

For as much as he longed to always be with her, he was still a Jedi.