Adrien.

The chains were heavier this time.

Dragging, biting, colder than the last.

The lake was darker, thicker—like ink instead of water. And no matter how hard I kicked, I couldn't move.

Voices echoed above me, muffled and warped. I heard Fred. I heard Blaise. I heard Katie screaming something I couldn't make out. I heard Draco. I heard Cedric.

But the cold was louder. The lake didn't care.

It just pulled.

Pulled and pulled and pulled—

I gasped awake, air slicing into my lungs like knives.

Sheets tangled around my legs. Shirt soaked clean through. My fingers were clawed into the mattress like I'd tried to crawl my way out of the dream.

It was barely light out.

A faint glow leaked through the high windows of the dorm, painting soft streaks across the stone walls. I sat up slowly, heart thundering, every nerve screaming still there, still real—even though I knew it wasn't. Even though the lake was miles away and months behind.

"Adrien?" Hermione's voice cut gently through the fog, still raspy from sleep but laced with quiet concern.

She was sitting up in her bed, wand lit faintly in one hand, brow furrowed like she'd been watching me for a while. "You were thrashing," she said softly. "Again."

I nodded once. Swallowed hard.

"Same one?"

I didn't answer.

Didn't need to.

Hermione climbed out of bed, grabbing the spare blanket off the footboard and draping it over my shoulders before I could argue. She didn't say anything else. Just sat at the edge of my bed and stayed quiet—like she knew words wouldn't help.

The silence stretched.

I forced my hands to loosen. One finger at a time.

The door creaked open softly. Katie stepped inside, wrapped in her robe, hair a mess of wind and sleep and something else—something wrecked.

Her eyes met mine. And I knew.

She didn't say anything. Didn't have to.

I could see it in the way she walked. Too careful. Like her ribs might still be splintering from the inside. Her skin was pale. Her lips swollen. Her voice gone before it even tried to rise.

Hermione glanced between us, eyes sharpening.

"Do I need to get—?"

"No," Katie cut in, voice hoarse. She sank onto her bed, back turned, shoulders hunched like if she just curled in tight enough, maybe the ache wouldn't follow her under the covers.

I stared at her for a long moment.

Then whispered, "Was it him?"

She didn't look at me. But I already knew.

Hermione stood slowly. Quietly. She gathered her things, flicked her wand to pack up the books she'd left on the desk the night before, and nodded once toward me before slipping out.

Leaving us. Just us. Just silence. Just grief. And the lingering weight of boys who only knew how to love us in the dark.

We didn't go to class.

Didn't even pretend to.

The sun had barely dragged itself over the hills when Katie and I pulled the curtains closed around our beds and collectively decided: screw this.

No professors. No corridors. No masks.

Just us.

Just silence.

Just the echo of things we didn't want to say out loud.

Katie hadn't spoken much since this morning. She hadn't needed to. Her body language said it all—too still, too tight, like she'd been carved out and left hollow.

And me? I couldn't stop pacing.

Couldn't stop chewing on my thumb or muttering under my breath or reliving everything Draco had just done to her.

"Do they ever think about anyone but themselves?" I snapped, throwing myself back down onto the bed. "Draco leaves you wrecked and what—just disappears before dawn like some kind of Victorian ghost husband?"

Katie didn't even flinch. Just stared at the ceiling like it might give her a reason not to crack.

"And Blaise," I went on, steam building again. "He gets exposed—finally—and now he looks at me like someone stole the air right out of his lungs. Like he's the one who got left behind."

"You didn't even talk to him," Katie said quietly. "Not after... everything."

"I didn't need to," I muttered. "I already know how the story ends."

There was a long pause.

Then, casually, like I was commenting on the weather: "Also, I had another nightmare last night."

Katie's gaze finally flicked over to me.

"Lake again?" she asked.

I nodded. "Chains. Same as always. Except this time I think Cedric was yelling something from the surface. I couldn't make it out."

Katie didn't push.

She just reached for the blanket and tossed it over my feet like that could make anything better.

And for a little while, we just sat there. Letting the silence settle in like frost on window panes.

Until—KNOCK.

Hermione.

"Katie? Adrien?"

Katie groaned. "Tell her we joined a cult."

But the door creaked open anyway, and in walked Hermione, her expression unreadable. Ginny followed right behind her, clutching a half-eaten Chocolate Frog and a wand she looked way too prepared to use.

"We figured you'd skipped," Hermione said. "Thought we'd check in."

"Do you want to talk about it?" Ginny asked.

"No," we said in perfect unison.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Tough."

Katie and I arched our eyebrows and exchanged semi-impressed eyes before Hermione tugged on my arm and Ginny tugged on Katie's, dragging us out of the still dorm with small chuckles.

The Room of Requirement gave us what we didn't know we needed: chaos.

A padded dueling floor. A rack of spell-damaged dummies. Targets. Exploding cauldrons. A dummy in Pansy's general shape. A desk that may or may not have looked a little too much like Lucius Malfoy's study.

It was perfect.

Katie was the first to act. She stepped into the middle of the room, raised her wand—and wordlessly blasted a wooden cabinet into ash.

Ginny gave a low whistle.

I didn't even hesitate. Grabbed a heavy brass candlestick and hurled it across the room. It hit the wall with a CRACK and rained molten wax down the side of a splintering shelf.

"Feel better?" Katie muttered.

"No," I grunted. "But I'll keep trying."

The four of us went to war on the room.

Books shredded midair—with Hermione whimpers to accompany each ripping sound. Pillows exploded into feathers. Someone conjured a mannequin of Blaise that Ginny stabbed with a sharpened quill.

Katie lost it at one point—really lost it.

Burned a dummy until it crumpled into nothing but scorched cloth and warped plastic. Her hair stuck to her face, her breathing wild, wand trembling at her side.

I stepped in before she could collapse under the adrenaline. Wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Didn't speak.

I didn't need to.

The door creaked open behind us.

"Oi—what in Merlin's name..."

Fred Weasley's voice cut into the smoke and ruin.

He stepped in first, George behind him. Then Ron. Then Harry, who did an immediate sweep of the room like he was trying to guess which war we were prepping for.

Fred took in the shredded furniture, the melted wall sconces, the wrecked dummy that might've been wearing Slytherin robes.

His grin flickered.

He looked at Katie.

Then me.

"Oh," he said, tone going flat. "Shit."

George folded his arms. "You want us to hex them? We'll hex them."

Katie let out a tiny huff. It might have been a laugh.

Fred stepped closer to me, slower than usual. The jokes were there, just behind his eyes—but they never made it past his lips.

"You alright, Blackwood?" he asked.

I looked at him.

At his stupidly soft expression. At the worry in it.

"Define alright," I muttered.

He held out a hand. I took it.

And when I squeezed—he squeezed back. Steady. Wordless.

We slumped down against the wall, Katie beside me, still flushed and sweaty and wrecked from the release. Hermione perched on a transfigured bench. Ginny conjured water bottles and passed them out like we were soldiers on break.

Fred cleared his throat.

"We, uh—came to tell you something else, actually."

Ron nodded. "Plans changed."

Katie glanced up warily. "What kind of plans?"

"Christmas," Ginny said. "We're not going to the Burrow anymore."

"Mum's worried," Fred added. "Too many eyes. Too exposed."

"So..." I asked slowly, "where are we going?"

"Grimmauld Place," Harry said. Even just saying it made his shoulders set tighter.

Katie raised an eyebrow. "Sounds... warm and fuzzy."

Hermione scoffed. "It's not."

"A little drafty," George offered, dropping into a sit next to Katie like he belonged there. "Haunted. Miserable decor."

"Haunted?" I perked up from the wall, genuine interest sparking. "You had me at haunted."

It lasted all of five seconds before the excitement slipped, and I slumped sideways, resting my head against Katie's shoulder. Her cheek pressed lightly to my temple.

"But good wards," Fred added, sitting on my other side and stretching his legs out like he hadn't just been pacing nervously moments ago. "Better protection. Safer than the Burrow, even."

"And," Ron said, rubbing the back of his neck, "Mum's already packed for all of us. She insisted. You're coming with."

"If she insists," Katie said flatly.

Fred smiled, but it was faint—tired and sincere in a way that didn't ask for forgiveness.

Ginny plopped onto the floor with a sigh and nodded toward the still-smoldering dummy dressed in green and silver. "What'd that one do?"

"Looked like Pansy," Katie muttered.

"Right," Ginny said. "Deserved it."

George nudged Katie with his shoulder. "Want us to make a Blaise one next? We could rig it to cry when it hears Fred's name."

Katie huffed.

Fred raised a hand, mock-wounded. "Oi. I'm not that devastating."

I arched an eyebrow. "Tell that to Blaise's emotional stability."

That got a real laugh. A small one. But it was real.

Harry sat down cross-legged across from us, wand spinning idly between his fingers. Ron joined him, tossing a crumpled chocolate wrapper over his shoulder like this was just another normal afternoon, not the crumbling aftermath of everything.

Hermione passed Katie a bottle of water, then one to me. "You'll like it there," she said gently. "It's not cozy, but it's quiet. And no one will bother you unless you want them to."

Katie didn't say anything.

But her hand found mine again.

We didn't speak for a while.

Just sat there—in the scorched ruins of the Room of Requirement—surrounded by mismatched friends who'd shown up anyway. Who didn't try to fix it.

Who just stayed.

By the silent, mutual agreement, we didn't go back to class.

Hermione winced when Ron suggested it, glanced at the time, then sighed like she was selling a piece of her soul. "Fine. But only today. And only because Katie nearly incinerated a full-length portrait of Salazar Slytherin."

"I regret nothing," Katie mumbled, half-asleep on George's shoulder.

"Honestly," George mused, gently braiding a loose lock of her hair into a crooked mess, "that man always looked like he had constipation and a superiority complex."

"That is the Slytherin aesthetic," Ginny added, flopping onto the floor and conjuring a handful of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans.

Fred pointed at her dramatically. "That's slander. You forgot the tragic cheekbones and inherited snobbery."

I smirked. "And daddy issues. Can't forget those."

Draco wasn't here, but somehow, I heard the silence he would've filled.

"I'm not saying all Slytherins are emotionally constipated," I added, plucking a Bean from Ginny's pile and tossing it in my mouth. "But if the robe fits."

"Don't forget the accessory line," Katie muttered, holding up her wand like a fashion ad. "This year's hottest trends: trauma, deception, and betrayal."

"Sounds like my last relationship," Ginny said sweetly, and I caught Harry's eyes flickering towards her when she said that—and I caught Katie's acknowledgement too.

Fred raised his hand. "Sounds like your last relationship? Need I remind everyone of Blackwood here?"

Katie didn't even blink. "Don't make me duel you with a hairbrush."

Hermione leaned against a nearby shelf, arms crossed, lips twitching. "You know, this is probably the most reckless, irresponsible, academically disastrous afternoon I've had since the last time Harry suggested a secret club."

"I live to corrupt," I grinned, tossing another bean in my mouth. It was... toothpaste? Fine.

Ron groaned, dramatic and loud. "You're all horrible influences. Especially you," he added, pointing at me.

I gasped, mock-offended. "You take that back. I'm a delight."

"You set a broom on fire last week."

"I said what I said."

More laughter followed. Quieter. Warmer.

Something shifted. Not in a big, dramatic way.

But in the way Ginny flopped her head against Katie's knee. In the way Fred kept glancing over at me like he couldn't believe I was laughing again. In the way even Hermione sat back, relaxed, letting herself smile without fixing anyone.

It wasn't perfect. But it was real.

We sat there until shadows crawled longer across the walls. Until George's legs fell asleep. Until Hermione finally sighed and checked the time again, saying, "We really should—"

Katie sat up straight. "Shit."

I blinked. "What?"

"Detention."

The word dropped like a brick in the room.

"Oh no," Hermione muttered. "Umbridge will flay you."

Fred leaned forward, suddenly serious. "Where?"

"Owlery," I said, already dragging myself up. "Assigned last week. We were supposed to meet our Prefect escort ten minutes ago."

"Ten?" George repeated. "That's almost punctual—for you two."

"Miracles do happen," Katie said sweetly, adjusting her robe and swiping soot off her cheek.

I stretched, feeling the tension bleed back into my limbs. "Come on, Blackwood. Let's go be role models."

Fred made a dramatic little gasp. "Don't do anything we wouldn't do."

George added, "Which leaves you a pretty wide margin, honestly."

Katie smirked, brushing past both twins as we reached the Room's door. "Wink at me again and I'll steal your socks."

"I like her," Fred whispered loudly.

"I like her more," George whispered louder.

Katie and I exchanged a look before slipping out of the room, through the halls with a weird weight hovering over us. It was quiet, tense but almost knowing.

Pansy was waiting at the top of the main stairs when we got there.

She didn't look thrilled.

"You're late," she said, lip curled in something between annoyance and mild disgust.

Katie smiled like she'd swallowed sunshine. "You're glowing. New lipstick or fresh gossip?"

"Both," Pansy muttered. Then spun on her heel. "Follow me."

We did.

The walk was long and steep, the silence stretched like pulled thread. Katie's shoulder bumped mine once. We didn't say anything.

Just kept moving.

The Owlery door creaked open, the scent of parchment, feathers, and cold air rushing over us.

And there, already waiting—

Draco.

And Blaise.

Standing side by side, like a trap already sprung.

Katie stopped short.

My stomach dropped.

The second Pansy shut the door behind us, the air snapped tight.

And I snapped faster.

I launched straight for Draco, wand drawn, fists already tight. "You absolute cowardly son of a—"

Blasie barely got his hand up in time as he tried to step forward. "Adrien—"

"You don't get to say my name," I pointed my wand at Blasie without breaking eye contact with Draco, whose eyes flicked to Katie, "And you don't get to look at her—" My hand shot toward Katie, but Blaise was faster, arms around my waist before I could hex his best friend into ashes.

"Adrien—Adrien, stop—!"

"Get your hands off me before I break them off at the wrist, Zabini—"

"We didn't bring you here to fight!" he snapped, dragging me back. "We brought you here to talk!"

"Oh, is that what this is?" Katie said coldly, arms crossed. "You lure us to a bird shit-covered tower and call it a therapy session?"

"Very on-brand for emotional damage," I muttered, still squirming against Blaise's grip. "Is this where we all cry and hug, or do we get a participation trophy for trauma bonding?"

"Depends," Katie replied. "Do we cry before or after we push Draco off the balcony?"

"After," I said immediately. "Gotta enjoy the fall."

Draco flinched. Blaise looked two seconds away from bursting a blood vessel.

"Is it just me," Blaise muttered tightly, "or are you two starting to sound a hell of a lot like the Weasley twins?"

"Don't insult us," I said sweetly. "We're funnier."

Katie grinned, vicious and beautiful. "And taller, metaphorically."

Draco's face darkened. "This isn't a joke."

"No," I snapped. "This is you. Hiding behind your daddy's title and expecting us to smile while you carve us out of your lives one guilt-ridden excuse at a time."

"I didn't want to hurt her," Draco growled, stepping forward.

Katie's arms dropped.

"Then why did you leave?" she asked. Quiet. Sharp. "Why did you make me believe I finally meant something—just to disappear before sunrise?"

His voice cracked. "Because if I stayed, I wouldn't have been able to go."

"Good!" I barked. "That's the point! You don't walk away after you've finally made it real—after you touch someone like that—"

"I know," he said. "I know. But I did. And I hate myself for it."

Katie's breath caught. And for once, she looked tired.

"I woke up alone," she said. "And I still would've forgiven you—if you'd just come back."

Draco's whole face folded. "I didn't think I deserved to."

"Oh now he's self-aware," I muttered.

Blaise exhaled slowly. "Adrien, I didn't choose—"

"Don't," I bit, turning on him. "You chose everything. You chose your parents. You chose her. You let Millicent flaunt my ring like it was hers."

"I had to," he snapped, voice cracking. "They wanted it for show—proof that I was compliant."

I glared at him like I could set him on fire with my eyes. "Why am I even talking to you..." I whispered, bitter and broken and barely holding it in.

Katie stepped in like she knew I was seconds from erupting.

She tilted her head, voice sharp and mocking. "Compliant. That's cute. So you sold out the girl you couldn't stop undressing with your eyes just to keep your mother from raising her voice?"

Blaise flinched. "I didn't want to lose you," he said, softer this time. Like it mattered now.

You already did was the only thing that came to mind, but I swallowed it.

I stepped back.

Let Katie take the front lines while I glared between them both, jaw clenched so tight it hurt.

Silence followed.

Real. Gutting. Unforgiving.

Then Draco looked at Katie—like the rest of us weren't even in the room anymore. Like the rest of the world never mattered as long as she stood in front of him.

"I remember everything with you," he said, quiet. "With us."

He glanced at Blaise, then at me, and finally at the broken space between him and Katie. He gave the smallest smile—shattered and slow.

"You two were the only thing in that castle that didn't lie."

Katie's voice was barely a whisper. "Which is rich. Because you did."

That landed like a slap. Draco didn't even blink.

And then Blaise turned to me.

Eyes open. Raw. Unarmed.

I didn't look away.

Didn't move.

Didn't even breathe.

My allowed my eyes to do the talking, because whatever I was about to do or say, wouldn't be quiet or calm.

The room stilled.

The draft from the upper rafters blew cold over our skin, but none of us moved.

It felt like a wound. The whole place. The floor, the walls, the air.

Everything bleeding into everything else.

Regret. Memory. What-ifs.

The four of us stood in that ache—heartbreak suspended in owl feathers and too much history.

We weren't enemies.

Not exactly.

But we weren't safe anymore either.

The silence stretched.

But Blaise... he didn't let it sit.

He turned toward me, slowly, like I might bolt if he moved too fast.

"Adrien," he said.

I said nothing. Not because I didn't have words. Because if I said anything—I'd never stop.

"I know you don't want to hear it," he said. "But I need you to hear it anyway."

I didn't look at him. But I didn't move.

And he must've known that meant I was listening.

"I saw you with Weasley," he muttered, jaw flexing. "The other day. Laughing. Like he actually deserves that. Like he could handle you."

I lifted one brow, still staring at the floor.

"You're jealous of Fred?" Katie asked, almost incredulous.

"Of course I'm jealous," Blaise snapped. "He gets to look at her like she's gravity and no one cares. He gets to stand next to her in the hallway and not worry who's watching. He gets to laugh with her in the open and I have to pretend like she never mattered."

My throat burned.

Still, I didn't say a word.

"I don't give a damn about Millicent," he went on, sharper now. "She was a distraction. Something to wave in front of my mother so she'd stop asking questions."

"Then you used her," I said quietly, "just like you used me."

Blaise flinched like I'd slapped him.

"I care about you," he said. "More than I can even explain without sounding pathetic. But I also care about—"

"Your reputation?" Katie asked coldly.

"No," he said, and now his voice dropped into something darker. "My parents. What they can do. What they're willing to do. To Adrien. To you. To even Draco if they think he's compromised."

That stopped me.

That word.

Compromised.

The air dropped ten degrees.

"You think they'd come after us?" Katie asked, but her voice had already turned brittle. She knew the answer.

"They wouldn't hesitate," Blaise said. "They see us with you, and we're not sons anymore. We're liabilities."

"And you're both fine with that?" I snapped, finally turning on him. "Fine letting us think you were cold and heartless if it meant you could sleep at night?"

"No," Draco said suddenly. His voice was quiet. Too quiet. "It was never about sleep. It was about surviving."

Katie stared at him.

And then—slowly—she said, "I saw your father. In Hogsmeade."

Draco's face drained of color.

"He cornered us," she continued, gesturing between herself and me. "Said some garbage about rebellion and Dumbledore. Tried to recruit me."

"What?" Blaise breathed.

Draco stepped forward. "Anything else?"

Katie didn't blink. "He called me by my real name."

The room froze.

Even the owls seemed to stop rustling overhead.

"I didn't tell him," Draco whispered, breath shallow. "I never told him."

"Well, he knows," Katie said. "And whatever illusion you had about keeping us safe by staying away? You can let that die now."

Blaise swore under his breath.

Katie's eyes stayed locked on Draco's.

"Because it doesn't matter if we're next to you or ten feet away," she said. "We're already targets."

And there it was.

The moment.

The shift.

The weight of it settling between us like ash from a fire we hadn't started—but one that would burn us down just the same.

Katie crossed her arms, nodding once like she'd finally finished connecting all the dots. "So... just to recap: your parents are Deatheaters, we're already targets, and your brilliant plan was to emotionally cripple us ahead of time so the damage felt familiar when it came."

"Got it," I muttered. "Tactical heartbreak. Very noble."

Draco exhaled sharply. "That's not what we—"

"We know what you meant to do," I cut in. "We're not stupid."

"You two don't have a monopoly on pain," Blaise muttered.

I turned to him slowly, eyes narrowing. "Excuse me?"

He looked up at me, jaw tense. "We hurt too."

"Oh, I'm so sorry," I said sweetly. "Must be awful juggling your fragile ego, mummy's threats, and Millicent's perfume."

"Adrien—"

"No," I snapped. "You don't get to play the victim in a situation you designed. You chose them. You left me when I needed you most."

Blaise's mouth opened like he wanted to argue, but I didn't give him the chance.

"You know what I had going—other than my parents splitting up?" I said, voice rising. "Nightmares. Constantly. Couldn't sleep. Couldn't breathe. Every time I closed my eyes I was drowning again. And you weren't there."

He swallowed.

I kept going.

"Umbridge was breathing down our necks. With my parents splitting, and none of my siblings were home. None of them. Just Katie. Just us."

My throat was burning. My hands were shaking.

"You were supposed to be safe," I said. "You were supposed to be mine."

The silence after that was thick and wrecked.

Katie stepped up beside me, voice calmer but no less sharp. "And Draco?"

He looked up slowly.

"You can memorize every kiss we ever had, quote my laugh back to me like it means something—but the second you walked away, you rewrote it all."

"I thought I was protecting you," he said again, but even he sounded tired of the excuse.

"Oh Merlin..." I groaned out loud with Katie letting out a humorless chuckle. "...he says that one more time I'll push himself..."

Katie, although smiling at me, ignored my words and just nodded. "And I thought you were worth trusting."

Draco winced.

Blaise looked like he was trying not to fold in on himself.

"We're not saying there's no way forward," Katie said after a beat. "But if you think you get to just snap your fingers and pick up where we left off..."

She shook her head.

"You don't get that."

I looked at Blaise then, really looked. "If there's anything left here... anything worth salvaging... you're going to have to rebuild it from the ground up."

"No skipping steps," Katie added, staring down Draco. "No secret meetings. No back-alley apologies. You want us back in your lives?"

She leaned in just enough for the words to hit like a spell. "Earn it."

"Now, if you excuse us..." I smirked, tugging on Katie's sleeve and turning back to the door.

We didn't run. We didn't rush. We walked out with our heads high and our hearts beating like war drums.

Blaise moved first. "Adrien, wait—"

I didn't even slow. "Can't. We've got previous engagements."

"With who?" Draco asked, voice sharp, almost demanding.

Katie tossed her hair over her shoulder without looking back. "Two redheads. You might know them."

The silence behind us wasn't quiet. It was furious. And gods, it felt good.

We made it maybe twenty steps before we saw them—Fred and George, leaning casually against the stone railing like they hadn't been waiting long. Fred had a duffel slung over his shoulder, clearly packed with chaos. George was spinning a vial of something neon pink between his fingers.

Fred spotted us first and grinned. "There they are—our favorite felons."

George whistled. "You two look like you just burned down a confession booth."

"Close," Katie muttered. "We just told your competition to rebuild the ruins they made."

Fred's eyes narrowed slightly, flicking up the path behind us—straight toward the Owlery.

Sure enough, Draco and Blaise had stepped just far enough out to see us. And the look on their faces? Cold. Dark. Possessive.

It. Felt. Amazing.

Fred clocked it instantly.

And the grin he gave them was nothing short of deadly.

He slipped an arm around my shoulders like it belonged there, like I belonged there, and turned his head just enough to say, low in my ear, "Do I need to start carrying a shield or a sledgehammer?"

I grinned, teeth bared. "Neither. Just keep doing that smug thing you do. It's infuriatingly effective."

"Noted," he said, eyes still locked on Blaise. "Do I also get to kiss you next time you tell someone off?"

My brows lifted. "Bold of you to assume you'd survive the attempt."

"I like my odds."

George fake-gagged. "Can we not flirt in front of the explosives? It's dangerous."

"Everything's dangerous if you're doing it right," Katie said, reaching into Fred's bag and pulling out a jar labeled NEVER SNIFF THIS.

George blinked. "Gods, you're perfect."

"Tell your brother," she said with a wink.

I laughed.

And for a moment—it felt normal. Sharp. Fast. Real.

"What's the target tonight?" I asked, flexing my wand.

Fred's eyes lit up. "We were thinking something subtle. Classy. Understated."

George coughed, muttering, "Subtle? You painted Filch's cat last week."

"She's a canvas, George."

Katie tilted her head. "How do we feel about... theme decor?"

"Oh?" Fred asked, delight sparking in his voice.

"I'm thinking gold," I said. "Red. Maybe a heroic lion motif."

Fred lit up. "You're proposing treason via interior design."

George whooped. "Yes, please."

"Umbridge's office," Katie added, eyes gleaming. "Full Gryffindor makeover. Overnight."

Fred clutched his chest. "This is why I fell for you."

I smirked. "You fell the second I hexed that portrait into calling you 'Your Royal Flatulence.'"

George snorted. "And we never recovered."

Up the path, Blaise and Draco still watched—too far to hear, close enough to see how close we stood. The way Fred's arm shifted off my shoulders and lingered around my waist. The way Katie laughed without looking over her shoulder.

Let them watch. Let them burn.

Because every joke we made, every laugh we shared—it wasn't just for fun anymore.

Every prank became a protest.

Every grin became rebellion.

And we weren't playing nice anymore.

But then—footsteps.

I turned slightly, watching Blaise and Draco approach, tension radiating off both of them like storm clouds.

Blaise looked irritated. Draco looked like he'd swallowed a bottle of Sleekeazy laced with regret.

Fred didn't move. Didn't even blink.

Draco cleared his throat. "You're actually going through with it?"

Katie raised an eyebrow. "You mean leading a silent resistance through coordinated chaos and color theory? Yes. Obviously."

George grinned. "We're turning her office into a shrine to Gryffindor glory. It'll be glorious. Loud. Visually offensive. Everything she hates."

Blaise crossed his arms, tone tight. "You're going to get caught."

"That's why we're good at it," I said sweetly.

But then Draco spoke again—quietly. "I can help."

That made us all pause.

Even George straightened. "Come again?"

Draco's jaw twitched. "I'm a Prefect. I can make sure no one's near the corridor tonight. If she heads that way, I'll know. I can give you warning—buy you time to get out."

Katie blinked. "You'd do that?"

Draco didn't look at her when he nodded.

But he didn't look away from her either.

"Why?" Fred asked, not bothering to hide the suspicion in his voice.

Draco's lips pressed into a tight line. "Because Umbridge is a parasite. And if you're going to be reckless, you may as well not get caught."

"And I can make sure Filch doesn't interfere," Blaise added, eyes flicking toward me. "He listens when certain names drop in the right tone."

Fred arched an eyebrow. "And here I thought you were just mad I was taller than you."

"I'm mad because you talk like you're entitled to her," Blaise snapped.

"Funny," Fred said, smiling too wide, "I thought that was your mistake."

I stepped between them with a deadpan stare, hand on both of their chests. "Are we done measuring wand sizes or do I need to start keeping score?"

Katie was already chuckling beside me.

Draco, to his credit, didn't say a word. He just looked at her. Like the longer he stared, the more he could memorize her laugh before it was out of reach again.

It physically hurt him to be near the twins, that much was obvious—his expression flickered like it was stuck between a sneer and a wince every time George cracked a joke.

But he stayed.

Blaise shoved his hands into his pockets. "You need backup? We're in. Just don't say I didn't warn you when this turns into a full-blown riot."

Fred shrugged. "We prefer full-blown riots. Adds to the ambiance."

"Besides," George added, clapping Draco on the shoulder—hard, just to see the flinch—"it's nice to see Slytherins finally committing to the cause."

Draco looked like he'd rather be anywhere else.

Except... his eyes never left Katie.

And Blaise—despite the jealousy, the tension, the thousand things still unsaid—stepped closer, like he couldn't help it.

"Alright," I said, cracking my knuckles. "Then let's make this war look like an art project."

Katie smirked. "Gold and red never looked so dangerous."