Adrien.

The cold was the first thing.

Not the kind that brushed against your skin—no, this was different. This was a cold that sank into you, claimed you. Like the lake wanted you for itself.

I tried to move—tried to fight—but my arms felt sluggish, too heavy, like the water had melted my bones.

Voices echoed, distant and distorted, curling through the water like smoke. I couldn't make out the words.

Just... yelling.

Urgency.

Panic.

Something tugged at my ankles—chains, heavy and unrelenting, dragging me deeper.

My lungs burned. My head spun. I kicked weakly against the pull, but it was like fighting quicksand.

My vision blurred.

A flash of gold overhead—someone swimming, someone reaching.

They were shouting something—my name, maybe—but it came out garbled, warped by the water.

I reached for them.

Fingers brushing the surface.

But another surge of cold yanked me down, spinning me into darkness.

The world blinked in and out—flickers of light, the tight bite of the chains, the muffled thud of my own heartbeat pounding in my ears.

Everything felt wrong. Distant.

I was slipping.

And then—Hands.

Strong, sure, gripping under my arms.

Tugging.

Dragging me upward through the dark.

The surface rippled above me, closer now, shimmering like a broken mirror. I tried to kick, to help, but my legs barely responded.

The hands didn't let go.

They pulled harder, fighting the current, hauling me toward the light, toward the air—My head broke the surface with a violent gasp, water pouring from my mouth, my throat, my lungs.

I choked, coughed, clung blindly to the figure holding me, my consciousness fading in and out as I fought to stay awake..

"Got you," a voice rasped, barely audible through the roar in my ears.

Cedric Diggory.

Someone was shaking me.

Hard.

I woke with a gasp, fists clenching in the sheets, heart pounding so violently it felt like it might tear clean out of my chest.

"Adrien," Katie's voice cut through the fog—sharp, steady, yanking me back. "Adrien, wake up."

I blinked against the dark, the ceiling fan spinning slow, lazy circles overhead.

For a second, I didn't know where I was. Didn't know who I was.

All I could feel was the phantom drag of water pulling me under—chains tight around my ankles, my wrists, my throat.

Suffocating.

I realized my fingers were digging into something hard, almost painfully tight.

I looked down.

The Zabini family ring gleamed on my hand, the metal twisted and skewed between my desperate, shaking fingers.

I sucked in a shaky breath and loosened my grip, forcing my hands open.

Katie knelt by my bed, watching me with wide, worried eyes.

"You were thrashing," she said quietly. "Nightmare?"

I nodded once, sharp and jerky.

She didn't press. She just handed me a glass of water from the nightstand.

My hands shook so badly the glass rattled against my teeth, but I managed a sip.

Katie sat back on her heels, still studying me like she wasn't sure if she should hug me or call in reinforcements.

"Want to talk about it?" she asked, voice careful.

I set the glass down and rubbed my face hard, trying to scrub the images out of my skull.

"The lake," I muttered eventually. "The Second Task."

Katie stayed quiet.

I twisted the Zabini ring around and around on my finger, the familiar weight of it grounding me even as my chest squeezed tight.

"I haven't told anyone," I said, staring down at my hand. "Not even Blaise."

Katie didn't look surprised.

"You will," she said simply. "When you're ready."

I nodded, but it felt hollow.

Because the truth was, I didn't know if I'd ever be ready.

Sunlight spilled across the floorboards, too bright, too normal for how twisted I still felt inside.

We didn't get much sleep after that.

Instead, we stumbled into a half-conscious morning routine—tripping over each other in the bathroom, raiding the kitchen like wolves who hadn't eaten in a week, and trying (badly) to pretend nothing was wrong.

Katie held up two wildly different pajama sets. "Plaid chaos," she said, shaking one, "or slutty chaos?" She wiggled the other.

I groaned into the couch cushions. "You're chaos. Full stop."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

We ransacked the house prepping for the sleepover—blankets stolen from every closet, enough junk food to feed a small army, a couple contraband potions slipped into the snack stash just for spice.

By the time we finished, the living room looked like something between a Quidditch locker room and a pillow fort apocalypse.

Katie collapsed backwards onto the couch. "We are domestic goddesses."

"You're a domestic menace," I muttered, kicking her foot.

She threw a pillow at my face just as the doorbell rang.

First blood.

Katie bolted upright. "Let the chaos begin."

She yanked open the front door to reveal Sage, arms overloaded with tote bags.

"Save me," Sage wheezed, stumbling inside. "Or at least save the snacks."

"Kitchen's that way, you absolute mule," Katie said, dragging her in.

Next came Maddie, practically vibrating with excitement and carrying what could only be described as trouble in a bag.

"I brought games!" she sang. "And maybe some illegal firewhiskey!"

"Maybe?" I said, already moving to confiscate it.

Then—

Zoe.

Last.

Of course she was.

She leaned casually against the doorframe, dark hair messy, expression too cool to be casual.

"Late as usual," I said, crossing my arms.

Zoe's mouth curved into a smirk. "Miss me?"

I rolled my eyes, heart kicking unevenly in my chest.

Katie threw an arm around Zoe's shoulders and dragged her inside like she was part of the furniture now.

"We're starting a cult," she announced brightly. "Hope you brought matching pajamas."

Zoe barked a laugh. "My soul's already yours. Might as well throw in a t-shirt."

And just like that, the house filled with noise and laughter and the warm, messy chaos of normal.

And for a little while—just a little while—I almost believed we could stay in this moment forever.

The living room looked like a bomb had gone off in the blanket aisle of Honeydukes.

Pillows were piled so high in the corners you couldn't see the walls. There was popcorn everywhere—literally everywhere—and someone (probably Maddie) had turned the wireless up way too loud so a screechy Celestina Warbeck remix was blaring through the house.

Katie was arguing loudly with Zoe about the ethical ramifications of stealing socks from your enemies.

Sage was trying (and failing) to braid Maddie's hair.

Maddie was pretending to be a corpse, which wasn't helping.

I, however, was halfway into raiding the snack stash again when the back door creaked open. Laura poked her head inside, dirt-streaked and sweating from hours working in the garden.

"Hey, girls," she said, smiling—but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Everything alright in here?"

Katie popped up from behind the couch like a demon summoned by noise. "Define 'alright.'"

Laura laughed weakly, wiping her hands on her jeans. "If you don't burn the house down, I'll call it a win."

"Can't make any promises," Zoe said cheerfully, tossing a pillow at Katie's head.

Katie caught it without looking. "Collateral damage is inevitable when I'm involved."

Laura shook her head, the smile tugging wider despite itself. "I'll run to the store—grab a few things for dinner. Give you hooligans some space."

"You sure?" I asked, straightening.

She nodded, already grabbing her keys off the hook. "Positive. I need the air."

The door swung shut behind her with a soft click.

Silence stretched for a second.

Then—Maddie twisted around on the floor, frowning. "Okay. Not to be the nosy one—" she said, which meant she was absolutely about to be nosy, "—but what's going on?"

"What d'you mean?" Katie said around a mouthful of popcorn.

Maddie pointed dramatically at the door. "Your mum. She looks like she's about to cry and/or fight a Ministry official."

Katie and I exchanged a look.

Great.

"You wanna tell them?" Katie asked, kicking my foot lightly.

I groaned and dropped back onto the floor, staring up at the ceiling.

"They're splitting up," I said flatly.

The words sat heavy in the air for a second.

And then—

"WHAT?" Maddie screeched, flailing so hard she knocked over a bowl of crisps.

"NO," Sage gasped, like I'd just confessed I'd murdered a puppy.

"Typical," Zoe muttered, folding her arms. "Marriages these days have the lifespan of a mayfly."

Maddie flailed harder. "They can't split up! They're, like—ancient! They're supposed to stick together out of sheer stubbornness!"

Katie snorted. "They're sticking together out of spite, not love. There's a difference."

Sage flopped dramatically onto the nearest pile of blankets. "This is devastating. I had faith in them."

"They're not dead," I said dryly. "They're just... miserable and resentful."

"Romantic," Zoe muttered.

Maddie pushed herself upright, hair sticking up in a dozen directions. "What are you gonna do? Are you gonna, like, go live in separate houses? Is this going to be one of those 'two Christmases' situations? Do we have to pick sides?"

I raised an eyebrow. "You're acting like it's a divorce party and we're all invited."

"Depends," Maddie said seriously. "Will there be cake?"

We dissolved into chaotic, overlapping shouting—Maddie demanding cake, Zoe arguing about custody rights, Sage trying to stage a "Save The Marriage" letter-writing campaign—while Katie laid on the floor next to me, laughing so hard she could barely breathe.

And for the first time in days, despite everything—Despite the nightmares, despite the way the ground felt like it was cracking under my feet—I laughed too.

Because if the world was falling apart, at least we were falling apart together.

The sleepover spiraled fast after dinner.

Mum proudly announced she was going out, to keep the door locked and not burn down the house—which was the sixth time she had instructed us to do so.

At some point between the second bowl of popcorn and the third ill-advised prank call to Sage's brother, we decided it was a brilliant idea to watch a horror movie—my idea, of course.

Bad idea.

Maddie was already half-buried under a fortress of pillows, shrieking every time a shadow moved on screen. Katie had claimed the couch, sitting cross-legged with a smirk, throwing popcorn at Zoe every time she jumped. Sage had officially given up pretending to be brave and was loudly narrating how she would "absolutely survive this movie"—while clutching a cushion like it was a life preserver.

I was halfway through convincing myself that the creepy ghost kid wasn't that scary when the front door banged open.

Screaming. Actual screaming.

Katie leapt off the couch, wand half-raised.

Zoe nearly fell backwards into a potted plant.

And there, standing in the doorway, looking smug and unbothered—

Blaise and Draco.

"Miss us?" Blaise said, flashing a wicked grin.

"Are you insane?" Katie barked, clutching her chest. "We could've hexed you into next week!"

"Would've been worth it," Draco said, already kicking off his boots like he lived here.

"Idiot," I muttered, grabbing a handful of popcorn and throwing it at Blaise's head.

He ducked easily and grinned wider. "Missed you too, sweetheart."

We shoved them onto the floor, squished between pillows and discarded blankets, and picked up the movie again—this time with Draco and Blaise heckling every jump scare so loudly that even Sage stopped freaking out long enough to laugh.

It was chaos. It was perfect.

For a little while, it almost felt like nothing could touch us.

Eventually, the night started to dissolve into sleepy giggles and half-hearted threats.

Maddie was the first casualty, snoring softly under a mountain of throw pillows.

Sage wasn't far behind, muttering about death by popcorn overdose.

Zoe and Katie were still arguing over whether the ghost girl was "misunderstood" or just a sadistic nightmare when Katie's head finally dropped onto Zoe's shoulder—and stayed there.

Draco carefully pried himself up, glancing at me. "She's out," he said, nodding toward Katie.

I smirked. "Finally wore herself out judging everyone."

He ruffled his hair, looking awkward. "We should head out before Laura comes back and murders us."

Blaise pushed up off the couch with a groan. "Five more minutes."

"You sound like a toddler," I teased.

Blaise just shot me a lopsided grin and ambled toward the kitchen.

I followed, automatically picking up empty cups and crumpled napkins as I went. The kitchen was quiet, moonlight spilling through the windows in silver puddles.

I stood at the sink, rinsing dishes, hands moving on autopilot.

Blaise grabbed a towel and started drying dishes without being asked, the two of us slipping into an easy rhythm, the sounds of the others' soft snores and low laughter muffled by the walls.

For a minute, it felt normal.

Like we were just two people in a kitchen. Like the world outside wasn't coming apart at the seams.

"You alright?" he asked after a beat, voice low.

I shrugged, scrubbing at a bowl a little too hard. "Peachy."

He huffed out a laugh, not buying it. "Liar."

I set the bowl down, staring at my hands, fingers twisting unconsciously at the Zabini ring still glinting on my finger.

"I'm scared," I blurted before I could stop myself. "Of... of screwing this up. Of everything getting ripped away—your parents know of my blood."

Blaise stilled, towel dangling forgotten from his hand. He stepped closer, crowding into my space until the rest of the kitchen fell away. "We're not going anywhere," he said fiercely. "Not unless you tell me to walk."

I swallowed hard, blinking up at him. "And if everything around us falls apart?"

He brushed his knuckles lightly against my cheek, so gentle it nearly undid me. "Then we build something better," he said simply.

I stared at him, chest tight, the weight of everything between us nearly crushing and yet somehow holding me together at the same time.

"You promise?" I whispered.

Blaise smiled—soft, wrecked, devastating. "With everything I've got."

He leaned in and kissed me—slow, steady, the kind of kiss that tasted like a vow.

And for a moment, just a moment, I let myself believe him.

The moment broke when Draco wandered in, looking mildly horrified to find us being emotional.

"Katie's out cold," he said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "We should head out before your mum gets back and realizes we crashed the party."

Blaise grabbed his jacket off the chair, smirking. "Party's a strong word. Mildly controlled anarchy, maybe."

I laughed softly, wiping my hands on a towel.

But as they both turned toward the door, something inside me twisted.

I couldn't let them leave without telling them. Not this time.

"Wait," I said, catching them both.

They stopped instantly, both of them snapping back toward me like I'd cast a tethering spell.

"There's something you should know," I said, exhaling shakily. "Before you go."

They went still.

"My parents," I said. "They're separating. Officially."

Silence.

Thick and heavy.

Then—

"Fuck," Draco muttered under his breath.

Blaise didn't say anything at first—just crossed the room and took my hand, squeezing hard.

"I'm sorry," Draco said, awkward but real.

"We're not going anywhere," Blaise said firmly, voice low and steady. "Not unless you kick us out—" He paused, looking around the kitchen with a small grin. "Metaphorically of course."

"Yeah, Laura is scary when she's pissed...but even metaphorically," Draco added quickly, "you're absolutely not allowed to do."

I smiled—small, cracked, but real.

"I wasn't planning on it," I said.

They left a few minutes later, Blaise pressing one last lingering kiss to my forehead before slipping out into the cool night. And for the first time in days, even with the world tilting off its axis beneath me—I didn't feel like I was falling alone.

The next morning was a slow crawl of bad sleep and worse coffee and tea.

Katie, Zoe, Sage, and Maddie sprawled around the kitchen table in various stages of undead.

I was halfway through a cup of tea when the back door creaked open.

Laura stepped inside, looking... off.

Her hair was a mess. Her clothes rumpled. There were dark circles under her eyes so deep you could have fallen into them.

Before any of us could say anything, she dropped a battered envelope onto the table in front of Katie.

"This was on the front porch," she said, voice oddly flat. She shined her glossy eyes around the table before muttering something inaudible to herself and moving, sluggishly, out of the room and upstairs.

Katie stared at the letter like it might bite her.

"...but she came through the back..." Sage muttered nearing a nudge from Maddie and a snort from Zoe.

None of us moved. None of us breathed.

Something heavy shifted in the room—something that hadn't been there before.

Something was coming. Something we couldn't stop.

Katie glanced at me.

I nodded once, small and tight.

Slowly, she picked up the envelope.

The parchment inside was heavy, almost greasy between her fingers.

She unfolded it carefully, as if the paper itself might be cursed.

She cleared her throat, voice scratchy. "It just says..."

She swallowed. "'We know who you are.'"

Dead silence.

Katie turned the letter around, showing us the bottom.

Burned into the parchment, in oily black ink, was a symbol — jagged, unfamiliar, wrong somehow.

A dark emblem. Curling around itself like smoke and fangs.

Maddie made a weird, squeaking noise.

Sage actually flinched.

Zoe leaned forward, expression darkening. "That's not the Ministry."

"Not even close," I said, stomach flipping.

Katie set the letter down carefully, like it was a bomb.

"Well," she said, voice too loud in the small kitchen, "that's not ominous at all."

Sage let out a nervous laugh that cracked halfway through. "It's probably a prank, right? Some stupid Slytherin thing?"

Zoe shook her head slowly, frowning at the emblem. "That's not Slytherin. That's something else."

Maddie tucked her legs up into the chair, hugging her knees. "What does it mean?"

Nobody answered.

Because we all knew the truth, even if we didn't want to say it: It meant someone was watching.

Someone who knew exactly who Katie was.

And they were just getting started.

By mid-afternoon, the house was starting to feel too full, too loud, too heavy.

Maddie was the first to leave, stuffing the last of the snacks into her bag and hugging everyone like she was going off to war. "If you get another creepy letter, don't open it without me!" she said brightly, waving from the porch.

"Noted," Katie called after her.

Sage left next, arms overloaded with discarded pajamas and at least two stolen mugs."You lot attract more drama than Zoe used to," she muttered, but her smile was real.

Zoe lingered the longest, tossing a casual wave over her shoulder, like she wasn't lowkey scanning every shadow as she left.

Katie and I stood in the doorway, watching them disappear down the drive.The quiet that settled after was thick, almost sticky.

It should have felt peaceful. It didn't.

Katie leaned her head against the doorframe, letting out a slow breath.

"Draco told me something last night," she said, voice soft.

I glanced at her, feeling the shift immediately. "Yeah?"

She straightened up, fiddling with the hem of her shirt. "His parents. They're... summoning me."

I blinked. "Like, officially?"

Katie nodded, lips pressed into a thin line. "Requesting my presence at the Manor."

I made a face but tried to play it off. "You're allowed to have your own friends, Katie. Plus, you know—boyfriend privileges and all that."

She snorted quietly, but it didn't touch her eyes.

"It's just..." She trailed off, frowning down the empty street. "Something feels off."

"Because of the letter?"

"Because of everything." Her fingers twisted in the fabric of her sleeve, restless. "The timing's weird. The way Draco said it was weird."

I crossed my arms, leaning my shoulder against hers. "You don't have to go if you don't want to."

She looked at me then, something raw flickering in her eyes.

"I don't know if I have a choice."

We stood there for a minute, two stubborn disasters pretending the world wasn't already shifting under our feet. Pretending like we still had time to figure it out. Pretending like we weren't already being hunted.