Katie.

The compartment door slammed shut behind us.

I tossed my bag into the luggage rack with way more force than necessary, flopping down onto the worn leather seat across from Adrien.

She was glaring out the window like she could set the countryside on fire with her mind.

"Hex them?" I offered, picking at a loose thread on my jeans.

Adrien didn't answer immediately.

"Hex Pansy and Millicent," she muttered darkly after a beat. "Hex them into bloody dust."

I smirked, even though it didn't reach my chest. "Was hoping you'd say that."

We sat there, stewing, the tension crackling hotter and hotter between us with every rattling mile of train track.

My knee bounced.

Adrien twisted the Zabini ring on her finger so hard I was half-convinced she was going to snap it off.

I opened my mouth — probably to suggest something wildly reckless and satisfying — when the compartment door creaked open again.

And there they were.

Draco and Blaise.

Looking about as casual as Deatheaters sneaking into a kids' birthday party. Suspicious. Shifty. Way too careful.

I stiffened automatically, catching Adrien's flicker of movement out of the corner of my eye — her body going rigid like she was bracing for impact.

Blaise spoke first.

"Adrien," he said, soft and coaxing, like her name was something fragile he was trying not to drop. "Can we talk?"

Adrien didn't move. Didn't blink.

Neither did I.

Blaise's eyes flicked to me — like he expected me to get up, give them space, play nice.

I didn't move either.

Adrien sat rigidly next to me, our shoulders brushing.

A wall. A warning.

If he wanted to talk — he was talking to both of us.

Blaise hesitated, jaw tightening, but he nodded like he understood.

Then Draco stepped further into the compartment, dragging the door half-closed behind him like he was locking us in. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, trying for casual but looking anything but.

I arched a brow, ice-cold.

"Before you start hexing—" Draco began.

"Don't finish that sentence," I cut in flatly.

He exhaled through his nose, rubbing the back of his neck like this was some minor inconvenience he had to suffer through.

"I'm not here to fight," he muttered.

"Really? Could've fooled me," I snapped, arms folding tighter across my chest.

He shifted, clearly hating every second.

"I need to explain," he said finally, voice low. "About why—why we didn't come meet you. At the park that night."

Adrien's jaw tensed beside me.

I tilted my head, mock-patient. "Enlighten us."

Draco's mouth twisted.

"My parents found out," he said bluntly. "About Adrien. About her bloodline — they were suspicious before — when they met you, but they found confirmation."

The words punched the air out of the compartment.

Adrien's whole body went still.

I didn't move. I didn't blink. I just stared at him, cold and razor-sharp.

"So what," I said finally. "They scolded you? Grounded you from the Quidditch team?"

His jaw locked.

"They made it clear," he said, voice rough, "that distance was expected."

I laughed — short, hollow.

"And you just—what? Rolled over?"

The words slapped between us, louder than the train rattling beneath our feet.

Draco's mouth twisted into something ugly.

"I knew you'd flip," he snapped, raw and ugly. "I knew you'd pick Adrien. No matter what I said."

I stiffened — just enough that Adrien noticed. Her hand brushed against mine, a soft anchor, before curling into a fist against her jeans.

Draco saw it too — the flash of hurt I couldn't hide fast enough.

And for a second, he looked like he wanted to rip the words back out of the air.

"Katie—"

"Save it," I said sharply, my voice low and steady.

Before Draco could dig the hole deeper, Blaise finally spoke — quiet and wrecked.

"I didn't want this either," he said, voice rough, eyes pinned to Adrien. "But my parents — they know too. About you—about us."

Adrien didn't turn. Didn't even blink.

"And?" she asked coolly.

Blaise swallowed, like the words tasted worse coming out than staying in."They demanded I end it," he said. "Distance. Full separation. And—" He hesitated, then added, even lower, "They want the ring back."

The ring.

The one still glinting faintly on Adrien's finger.

I felt Adrien's breath hitch, too sharp, too quick, before she strangled it down.

Blaise stepped forward like he could somehow fix it, reaching a hand out — but Adrien pulled back, slow and deliberate.

"You need it back for show," she said flatly. "For face."

Blaise flinched. "I'm still fighting for us," he said fiercely. "I'm not ending this, Adrien."

Her mouth twisted into something that wasn't quite a smile.

Wasn't even close.

"Good to know," she said. "I'll make sure to remember that."

Blaise opened his mouth — to argue, to beg, I wasn't sure — but Adrien slid the ring off her finger before he could say anything else.

She held it between two fingers, sharp and deadly.

And then, without a word, dropped it into his palm.

The soft clink of metal against skin was louder than any scream.

I stayed seated next to her.

I didn't brush past Draco.

I didn't soften for Blaise.

If they wanted distance? Fine.

We could give them distance wide enough to drown in.

Draco shifted, looking like he wanted to reach out. Blaise looked like he wanted to collapse.

Neither of us gave them the chance.

Adrien turned back toward the window — face blank, body rigid.

I leaned back into the seat, arms folded tight.

Cold. Untouchable.

The silence between us screamed louder than any hex ever could.

And somehow — somehow — they still had the bloody nerve to ask:

"Everything alright?"

That did it.

I shot to my feet so fast the compartment shuddered.

"Alright?" I echoed, my voice slicing through the air like a whip. "You think this is alright?"

Both boys froze.

"You're lucky," I seethed, stalking a step forward, "that we don't hex you so far into next week you miss the bloody Welcoming Feast."

Blaise's face tightened. Draco's mouth flattened into a grim line.

"Oh, don't look at me like that," I snapped, glaring at Blaise first. "You—You had the fucking nerve to give her that ring. Swore it meant something. Swore you'd stand by her — by us — when things got hard."

Blaise flinched, his hand closing around the Zabini ring still tucked in his palm.

"And what happens the second Mommy and Daddy Zabini get twitchy?" I said, voice rising. "You hand over your spine like it's a fucking party favor."

Blaise's jaw worked, like he wanted to fight back — but nothing came out.

I didn't even give him a chance.

I turned on Draco, so fast he actually recoiled half a step.

"And you," I said, voice low and venomous. "You didn't even try, Malfoy."

His whole body tensed.

"You knew," I hissed, stepping closer, "you knew I would stand by Adrien. You knew exactly what choice I'd make — and you didn't even bother to fight for us."

The lights in the compartment flickered faintly.

Adrien hadn't moved, but I could feel the crackle of magic building off her skin too — a low, dangerous hum, like the air before a storm.

"You could've warned us. You could've stood up to them. You could've picked something besides the easy, coward's road," I said, barely breathing.

Draco opened his mouth — but I cut him off, shoving both hands into the air, magic sparking and fizzing across my fingers.

"And instead, you add to the pile of bullshit we're already drowning in," I said, voice shaking with rage. "Because guess what?"

I stepped back toward Adrien, feeling the heat coming off her now like wildfire.

"Lou left," I announced, slicing the words like a blade across the compartment. "Packed up. Walked out. Gone."

Both boys froze — truly froze this time — faces draining of color.

Adrien finally lifted her head from the window, her hands resting lightly on her knees — glowing faintly, small flecks of old magic trailing up her arms like living constellations.

The Zabini ring was gone.

The hope was gone.

We were done.

Draco reached toward me — maybe to comfort, maybe to apologize — but sparks crackled across my wrist before he could touch.

He pulled back sharply.

Blaise looked at Adrien like he wanted to fix it, like he could still find the right words.

He opened his mouth—

Adrien cut him off with a single, sharp look.

"Go," she said, voice flat and cutting. "Go back to your shadows. To your politics. To your pretty little safety nets."

Blaise flinched like she'd slapped him.

"And take Pansy and Millicent with you," she added, deadly soft.

The magic sparking off her skin flared bright for a second — not uncontrolled, but intentional. A warning. A promise.

Neither boy moved.

For a heartbeat, we all just stood there — the girls on one side, burning with fury and betrayal, the boys on the other, looking lost and ruined and too fucking late.

Finally, Blaise dropped his eyes.

Finally, Draco lowered his hand.

Without another word, they slipped out of the compartment.

The door slammed shut behind them.

The second they were gone, the magic fizzled out — leaving nothing but silence and the faint smell of scorched air.

Adrien sagged back into her seat, her hands still trembling slightly.

I slumped down across from her, pressing the heels of my palms into my eyes to stop the world from spinning.

Neither of us spoke. We didn't need to.

Because right now, it was just us.

Just like it had always been.

And this time — this time — we weren't going to let anyone else break it.

Not again.

By the time the train screeched to a stop, the fire crackling under my skin had dulled into a low, stubborn burn.

I didn't bother looking for them — Blaise or Draco — as Adrien and I pushed through the crowd, side by side, our shoulders squared like a shield.

They weren't ours to look for anymore.

The platform buzzed with noise — students shouting, Prefects herding stragglers, first-years tripping over their own feet.

I caught sight of Draco and Pansy herding some first-year Slytherins—and with a faint glance at Adrien, she nodded and pointed.

Prefect badges.

"Fuck..." I clenched my fists as she took my other hand, charging forward.

It should've felt normal. It didn't.

We climbed into one of the carriages, squeezing in with the twins, Harry, Ron, and Hermione, all of them rattling off questions and jokes at a million miles an hour.

I didn't say much. Neither did Adrien.

But when George nudged over to make room, I took the seat next to him — a little too close, maybe.

Adrien slid into the space between Fred and Ron, flashing a sharp little smirk when Fred slung an easy arm over the back of the seat like it was no big deal.

Across the clearing, I caught the flicker of a stare — two stares — searing straight through the crowd.

Draco. Blaise.

Both frozen by their own carriage, watching us.

Their expressions were blank to everyone else.

But not to me.

I saw it. The sharp snap of jealousy. The realization they weren't invited anymore. The flicker of regret they were too late to take back.

Good.

Let them watch.

The castle loomed up ahead — tall and dark against the purple smear of sunset.

It should've felt like coming home. It didn't.

Inside the Great Hall, the noise crashed over us — the glittering candles, the enchanted ceiling, the smell of roasted meat and warm bread.

We slipped into our seats at the Gryffindor table without hesitation, without looking back.

Adrien dropped between Fred and Ron—again—like she belonged there. I slid in between George and Hermione, flashing a too-sweet smile when George nudged my knee under the table, all conspiratorial mischief.

The girls from Slytherin were already staring — Pansy whispering viciously behind her hand, Millicent shooting dirty looks across the room.

Adrien just tilted her head and smiled at them — all teeth, no kindness.

George caught the look and snickered. "Blimey," he muttered to Fred. "Should've packed extra fireworks."

"You're the fireworks," Fred said, grinning at Adrien.

Across the Hall, Blaise and Draco had taken their seats — boxed in between the other Slytherins, looking stiff and miserable and pretending not to glance our way every thirty seconds.

I caught Draco's eye once — just once — and held it.

I didn't look away first. He did.

Victory felt small and sour in my chest, but I clung to it anyway.

Because I knew — we both knew — he'd made his choice.

And so had I.

The noise dulled as the staff filed in at the High Table.

Dumbledore. McGonagall. Hagrid. Sprout.

And then—

A figure I didn't recognize. Pink. Frilly. Smiling so hard it looked painful. The woman moved with the kind of precise, sugary tightness that made my teeth ache just watching her.

"Who the hell invited a Christmas ornament?" Adrien muttered under her breath.

Fred snorted into his goblet.

Hermione frowned. "That's Professor Umbridge," she said quietly. "She's from the Ministry. They're sending her to... oversee."

The way she said it made the hair on the back of my neck rise.

Oversee. Control.

I didn't like that. I didn't like her. Not one bit.

Dumbledore rose to speak, but before he could even clear his throat, the woman — Umbridge — stepped forward, her smile sharpening.

The hall went still.

Her voice, when she spoke, was high and girlish and sickly sweet.

"Good evening, children," she chirped. "I look forward to a most harmonious year with all of you."

I felt Adrien stiffen across from me.

I didn't blame her.

Because I recognized the smile she wore.

It was the same kind Lucius Malfoy wore when he was planning something cruel.

The same kind Rita Skeeter had worn when she smelled blood.

It wasn't friendly. It was a warning.

Adrien caught my eye, her mouth tilting into something cold and knowing.

Yeah. This year wasn't done trying to break us.