Katie.

Fred didn't say anything at first.

Which, for Fred Weasley, was terrifying.

He led me down through the Burrow in silence, out the back door, past the pond, and into the little clearing near the garden where the gnomes used to terrorize us like ankle-high demons. The moonlight pooled soft across the grass, and for half a second, I thought maybe he just wanted to stress-eat together or ask me which fireworks flavor was safest to lick.

Then he turned.

And he looked serious.

"Okay," I said, folding my arms. "You've either murdered someone or you're about to propose. There's no in-between with that face."

He exhaled a laugh, but it didn't reach his eyes.

"I'm not about to," he said slowly. "Not right this second. But... I'm thinking about it."

I blinked.

And then blinked again.

"Wait. Seriously?"

"Yeah."

"Seriously-seriously?"

He nodded.

And I did the only logical thing a girl can do when faced with the reality that her chaotic, absolute menace of a best friend—sister— is about to get engaged to her other best friend.

I choked on air.

"You—you want to marry her?! Like actually? As in, legally? On purpose?!"

Fred gave me a look that was somewhere between amused and deeply insulted. "Yes, Katie. On purpose. I'm not going to accidentally propose."

I held up a hand. "No, I know. I'm just—hang on—why now?"

He rubbed the back of his neck. "You've seen what's happening. The Knockturn Alley stuff. The letter. Adrien going back to Hogwarts in a week. Every time I think I've got time, something new shows up and reminds me I might not. And I—I'm tired of waiting."

His voice dipped there, like the rest of it was too heavy to say.

I exhaled slowly. "Fred."

"She's it, Katie," he said, and damn it if his voice didn't catch a little. "I've known since the summer started. Hell, probably since the moment she smirked at me in the Great Hall after you guys were transferred in. I want this. I want her. And I want her to know, no matter what happens, that I'm in. Fully."

And just like that, the panic melted into something else.

Something warm. Fierce.

I smiled, soft and lopsided. "You absolute disaster romantic."

He laughed quietly. "You love it."

"I do." I stepped forward, hands on my hips. "Okay. So you're doing this. Like, actually."

"That's the idea."

"And you're telling me why? Because I'm emotionally stable and great with long-term planning?"

"You're the only person I trust to tell me if this is the dumbest idea I've ever had."

"Okay, fair."

"And because... you know her. Better than anyone. I just—I need your take. Do you think she's ready? And when? I was thinking either before term starts, or wait until Christmas. I don't want to overwhelm her, but I don't want her walking into that school thinking she's alone either."

Oh.

Oh.

This man wasn't just proposing.

He was anchoring her.

I sat down in the grass without warning. Fred blinked.

"Did you—what are you doing?"

"I need to be lower to the earth before I give someone permission to ruin my best friend's life," I muttered, then motioned him down. "Sit, Weasley. This is gonna be a process."

He dropped down beside me, brows raised, patient.

"She loves you, you idiot," I said finally. "Everyone with eyes can see that. Even Ron. And he thought Ginny had a crush on McGonagall for a year."

Fred winced. "God. I forgot about that."

"But," I said, holding up a finger, "you need to do it right. She's not just going to say yes because she loves you. She's going to say yes because she believes she can build her future around you. So if you're doing this, you need to make it real."

"I was planning to."

"Then don't do it now."

Fred blinked. "What?"

I grinned. "Wait until Christmas."

"Christmas?"

"Yeah. When she's back. When she misses you. When the dust has settled a little, and you can make it something special. Private. Intense. The kind of thing she'll remember for the rest of her life, even if she never tells anyone the details."

Fred went quiet for a moment, then nodded slowly. "Christmas."

"Unless she nearly dies again, and then propose on the spot."

He laughed. "Noted."

I looked at him—really looked at him—and felt that ache of knowing someone's about to take a massive leap.

"She's going to say yes," I said softly. "And she's going to mean it."

His smile flickered back, wrecked and hopeful.

"Yeah?" he asked.

"Yeah," I said. "But if you hurt her—"

"I know," he cut in, hand over his heart. "You'll feed me to a kelpie."

"Exactly."

We sat there in the grass for a long moment, the kind of stillness that only comes with real decisions.

Fred stood first, brushing grass off his jeans, then offered a hand to help me up. I took it, still trying to process the fact that I was now partially responsible for an impending proposal.

We stood there for a second in the moonlight, him squinting like he was trying to remember something important.

"What?" I asked.

He tilted his head. "Be honest. Ring size. What's Adrien's?"

I snorted. "You're kidding."

"I'm dead serious. You think I'm gonna guess? That girl would curse me if I got her something too tight and it cut off circulation mid-battle."

"She'd curse you for the symbolism."

"Exactly. Help me."

I thought for a second, then held my fingers up. "If I remember right, she's a size six. But her fingers swell when she's stressed so maybe do a six and a half, just to be safe."

Fred raised a brow. "You know that off the top of your head?"

"I live with her, Fred. I know her wrist size, hex preferences, and how many fake smiles she's got. Ring size is the least invasive stat in the archive."

He laughed, then got quiet again. "Any idea what kind of stone she'd actually want? I know she'd act like she didn't care, but... she would."

"Oh, that one's easy," I said. "Rubies."

"Rubies?"

I nodded. "Yeah. She says they're the only stone that looks like it's got blood and fire trapped inside. Romantic, right?"

He let out a long breath, like he'd just been given coordinates to the one place he needed to be. "Ruby it is."

I elbowed him lightly. "If you propose with a ruby and not a single ounce of blood or fire metaphor in your speech, I'm taking the ring back myself."

He grinned. "Deal."

We started walking back toward the Burrow, the glow of the rooftop lanterns coming back into view—and that's when it hit us.

"Oh crap," I muttered.

"What?"

"We've been gone forever," I muttered. "They're gonna think someone died."

Fred cursed softly. "Alright. We need a cover story. Something casual but believable."

"Bathroom?"

"We were gone for twenty minutes, not taking the scenic tour of the plumbing system."

I snapped my fingers. "Emergency baking mission."

Fred blinked. "...what?"

"Tarts. We panicked. Decided everyone needed tarts. You and me. Domestic stress response."

He stared at me.

I stared back.

"Come on, Fred. You know it'll work. No one questions free pastry."

He opened his mouth to argue—then paused. "That's... horrifyingly logical."

"Thank you."

He rubbed his face. "Okay. We say we got caught up testing a new tart recipe. Something fancy. Maybe a little charmed sparkle on top. Bought us time."

"And deflection," I added. "They ask what we were really doing, we shove a tart in their mouth."

"We say it's a peace offering," Fred said, catching on now. "Or a bribe."

"Depending on the sibling."

He grinned. "Okay. Let's whip them up fast. Conjure the tray. Warm 'em up. Flash charm some filling."

"Do we actually know how to bake these?"

He looked at me flatly. "Katie, I work in a joke shop. I've turned someone's eyebrows into blueberries. I think I can handle a tart."

I burst out laughing as we rushed into the kitchen.

Ten frantic minutes later, we were carrying a silver tray stacked with shimmering, slightly lopsided berry tarts—some of which were sparkling a little too enthusiastically—but it was fine. It was fine.

Fred looked down at our chaotic masterpiece. "This is either going to save us or get us hexed."

"Either way, it'll taste amazing."

He nodded. "Alright. If anyone asks why they smell burnt lemon, we say it's intentional."

"And if anyone asks why your shirt's inside out?"

He looked down. "Bloody hell—"

"I'll fix it," I said quickly. "Just smile. Let me do the lying."

Fred straightened, took a deep breath, and smirked. "How do I look?"

"Like a man who just decided to marry my best friend."

"Terrifying, then."

"Extremely."

And with that, we pushed the door open.

The rooftop glow greeted us first—soft string lights flickering gently, pillows scattered everywhere, and the general hum of too many inside jokes shared in too little time.

The moment we stepped through, tray in hand like domestic warlords, three heads whipped toward us.

Rowan, Maddie, and Adrien were mid-debate. And I do mean mid.

"I'm just saying," Maddie huffed, cross-legged on her pillow, "she deserves at least one magical ferret to the face. Per hour."

"Too easy," Rowan argued. "She needs psychological warfare. Something subtle. Slow."

Adrien pointed a finger between them, serious as death. "We curse every quill in her drawer to scream her secrets aloud while she's writing."

"That's genuinely brilliant," Rowan said, blinking.

Adrien shrugged. "I contain multitudes."

Fred stepped forward with the tray, flashing a smug grin. "Speaking of brilliance—who wants tarts?"

Maddie immediately raised both hands. "I knew you two were up to something. This is bribery."

"No," I said sweetly. "This is damage control."

Adrien raised an eyebrow, accepting one of the sparkling berry tarts without breaking eye contact with Fred. "...Okay, what did you do?"

Fred didn't flinch. He just leaned down and kissed the top of her head, then sat behind her like he'd never left, already peeling back the edges of a tart for her like she couldn't possibly do it herself.

Adrien narrowed her eyes for one long second—

Then shrugged and took a bite. "Fine. You're lucky this is good."

"I know," Fred said around a mouthful. "I taste-tested three and lost sensation in my tongue, but worth it."

"Should we be worried that one of them is glowing?" Rowan asked, poking a tart with his wand.

"It's not glowing," Fred said. "It's... radiant."

"Like your ego," Maddie muttered, shoving a whole tart in her mouth anyway.

I handed Rowan one and collapsed into the nearest pillow with a dramatic sigh. "We had a vision. Of tartness. It could not be ignored."

"Was the vision also shirtless?" Adrien asked without looking.

Fred grinned. "Don't worry, Trouble. You're still the only one who sees me that way."

Rowan made a sound like he was dying. "Please. I just got my appetite back."

"Can we circle back to the quill curse idea?" Maddie asked, now laying across Rowan's shins. "Because that's a campaign I'm ready to fund."

"I second that," I said, licking sugar off my fingers. "Add it to the Emotional Damage Spreadsheet."

Rowan looked around, chewing slowly. "Hey, where are Sage and George?"

We all paused.

Then looked at each other.

"Oh no," Adrien said flatly.

"Oh yes," Maddie countered, eyes lighting up.

Fred raised a brow. "Should we send someone to check on them?"

"No," Adrien and I said in unison.

Rowan snorted. "It's either harmless flirting or a hexing duel."

"Or both," Adrien muttered, leaning back against Fred's chest. He automatically curled an arm around her, absent-mindedly brushing his fingers over the chain of her necklace.

The sword pendant glinted faintly in the warm light.

And for just a second, she relaxed.

She still looked at him like she was trying not to trust too much.

But she let herself lean.

The tarts were passed around again. Jokes layered on top of curses. Debates continued. At one point Maddie suggested transfiguring Umbridge's Ministry office into a bouncy castle with no exit. Rowan supported this wholeheartedly.

And the night carried on—

A little sweeter.

A little sharper.

Exactly like Adrien's necklace.

The next morning, Rowan and I were supposed to open the shop.

And technically, we did.

The sign flipped. The lights were on. The register worked.

But if we're being honest?

We'd done approximately ten minutes of actual work.

The rest of it had been thinly veiled flirting, accidental shoulder brushes, and him pretending not to watch the way I hexed the inventory scrolls into organizing themselves while wearing the world's tightest ponytail.

"What are you even doing with that Quill Vault?" he asked from behind the counter, leaning one elbow on the display case as he watched me flick my wand at the shelves like it was a ballet routine.

"Trying to make the quills stand upright instead of staging a mutiny," I said, narrowing my eyes at a particularly defiant one.

He grinned. "That's the hottest thing I've seen all day."

I turned around slowly. "We've been here an hour and a half."

"Exactly. You in war with writing utensils is the highlight."

"Tragic."

"True."

He took a step closer. "Do I get a reward for not interrupting while you were taming the scroll demons?"

I tilted my head, considering. "What kind of reward are we talking?"

"I was thinking a kiss, but I'll settle for verbal praise if you're feeling stingy."

I stepped closer too, arms folded. "You're relentless."

"You're flustered."

"You wish."

He smirked, all stupid hair and smugness, and gods help me, I did want to kiss him.

But before I could launch a witty comeback—or, let's be honest, climb him like a ladder—the bell on the door jingled and a customer wandered in.

We both jumped and immediately pretended like we were not five seconds away from losing professionalism entirely.

Throughout the next hour and a half, in a lull between customers and with the sunlight slanting through the front windows like it was conspiring with fate, Rowan leaned against the counter beside me, quiet for the first time all day.

Then he said it—soft, thoughtful.

"Katie."

I glanced over. "Hmm?"

He rubbed the back of his neck, not nervous exactly, but... calculating. Like he wanted to say this right.

"When we go back to Hogwarts," he said slowly, "what are we?"

I blinked.

He didn't flinch—just kept watching me, steady as ever.

"I'm not asking to rush anything," he added. "I just... I want to know what this means before we're surrounded by everyone else again. Because I've gotten used to having you like this. No noise. No crowd."

My heart did something.

He shrugged, trying for casual and only sort of landing it. "And let's be honest, I'm gonna look very successful walking into the castle flanked by Adrien, Sage, Maddie, and you."

I raised an eyebrow. "Oh, flanked now?"

He grinned. "The Gryffindor hero arc. Surrounded by powerful, terrifying women? I'll survive out of sheer intimidation."

I laughed, but the flutter in my chest didn't fade. "You're an idiot."

"Yeah," he said. "But I'm your idiot... if you want that."

I stared at him for a second.

Then I reached across the counter, grabbed the front of his shirt, and pulled him in just enough for our foreheads to touch.

"I do," I said. "But just so you know—if you do screw this up, Adrien will kill you before I even get the chance. Sage will dispose of the body. Maddie will provide the alibi."

He smiled like he'd just won something important. "That's fair."

And for a minute, right there in the quiet, with prank boxes stacked behind us and sunlight in our eyes—

It felt like something real.

Something solid.

Even in the chaos.

The bell over the door jingled again.

I didn't even look up. "Unless that's a delivery of emotional stability, I'm not interested."

"It's better," Maddie announced, sweeping in like she owned the place and knew the tea was steeping.

Right behind her, Sage walked in—glowing. Like, not metaphorically glowing. She looked like someone had cast a soft glamor charm on her face and told her a secret she could never tell.

"Oh no," I muttered, squinting. "She's radiant. Something's wrong."

Maddie tossed her jacket over the counter. "Oh, something's right."

Rowan leaned toward me. "Is she... floating?"

"She's smirking," I whispered back. "She never smirks unless someone got hexed or kissed."

Sage just gave us a Cheshire grin and wandered behind the counter like she hadn't just broken every rule of casual entrance.

Before I could pry, the door chimed again—and in came Fred and Adrien, mid-whisper argument that ended with Fred casually smacking her on the butt with the back of his hand like it was a punctuation mark to whatever snark she'd just delivered.

Adrien gasped—scandalized—and spun around, laughing so hard she choked on air.

"Frederick Gideon Weasley!" she wheezed, smacking his arm.

"You started it," he said, completely unbothered. "You insinuated that I snore."

"You do snore!"

"And now you're getting punished."

"I was hexed by a Bludger yesterday, and this is still somehow the most dramatic thing to happen to me all week," George muttered as he walked in behind them, dodging Adrien's half-hearted swipe.

Then he added, a little too casually, "Though... I've had a decent distraction lately."

Fred turned on him immediately. "What kind of distraction?"

George shrugged, reaching for a tart from the bag on the counter like he hadn't just dropped a verbal bomb. "You know. Something... shiny. Dangerous. Keeps me on my toes."

Sage—leaning casually against the counter, absolutely glowing—raised a brow. "Oh? Should we be worried?"

George didn't even look at Sage when he replied, voice low and a little too smooth, "Only if you bite."

Adrien cleared her throat sharply like she needed to exorcise whatever just possessed the air.

Fred gave an exaggerated gasp. "George Fabian Weasley. Are you flirting?"

Rowan fake-fainted into the wall. "Call St. Mungo's. He's caught feelings."

Maddie pointed dramatically toward the ceiling. "Someone grab the ledger. We're logging this day in history."

Sage, calm as a summer storm, just smirked. "Maybe he should be worried."

George leaned against the counter like he hadn't just caused a full-on group glitch. "Wouldn't have it any other way."

There was a beat—just long enough for everyone to internally combust.

Then Fred clapped his hands once, loud enough to snap the spell. "Okay! Before George starts writing poetry, let's refocus."

He spun, grabbed a Butterbeer out of the mini fridge behind the counter, popped the top with a flick of his wand, and handed it to Adrien with a wink. "Snoring and chivalry. Total package."

Adrien rolled her eyes but took it anyway, grinning despite herself. "You're about to be the total package with a black eye."

Fred beamed. "Romance isn't dead."

"No," Rowan muttered, "but George might be if he keeps looking at Sage like that."

George didn't even blink. "Still worth it."

Sage rolled her eyes but her smile gave her away. "You're lucky I like your face."

Fred leaned into Adrien, loud enough for all of us to hear. "I'm very lucky you like my butt-slapping hand."

Maddie groaned. "I want a refund on my ears."

Rowan leaned over to me. "Are they always like this?"

I nodded. "You know they are...and weirdly? I think it's working."

The rest of the work shift was more chaos than commerce. A mini montage of distracted flirtation and magical incompetence.

Rowan stocked Exploding Teacakes upside down and set off a chain of pops so violent Maddie cried laughing.

Adrien tried charming the inventory scroll to auto-fill the ledgers. It caught fire. Fred fanned the flames with a clipboard like he was helping.

Fred kissed Adrien while she was levitating items. She nearly dropped a whole shelf. He said it was worth it.

George and Sage disappeared into the backroom for exactly fifteen minutes. Sage returned smug. George returned disheveled.

Nobody said anything.

Everybody noticed.

I ran into Rowan in the supply aisle. He pinned me between a shelf and his smirk. I told him to move. He didn't. I kissed him instead.

We made it back to the front with only minor hex damage.

By midafternoon, the guys decided we needed food. Or maybe they needed a break from the flirt-to-work ratio.

"We're grabbing food," Fred announced, dragging George along. "No one explode anything."

"No promises," Adrien said sweetly.

George waved at Sage. "Try not to hex anything too flammable."

"Try not to trip over your own charm," she replied.

He tripped leaving.

Rowan kissed me goodbye and whispered, "See you soon, girlfriend," loud enough for Adrien to catch, and she only gasped silently—beaming at me.

The door closed.

And all hell broke loose.

"OKAY," Maddie shouted. "SAGE. TALK. George Weasley? Stockroom smooching? Late night snogging? We need timestamps."

Sage blinked. "You mean George 'made me snort Butterbeer laughing and then kissed me against the potions shelf' Weasley?"

We screamed.

"You kissed?!" Adrien shouted.

Sage nodded. "Multiple times. 10/10. Highly recommend."

Maddie slapped the counter. "Was it hot? Wall-grabbing? Hand-in-hair?"

"Wall-adjacent," Sage replied. "Light wand interference."

Maddie muttered, "I have questions about wand safety..."

Adrien waved her off. "They're fine. Emotionally? Debatable."

I leaned against the counter, smug. "Well. Since we're all sharing..."

Everyone turned, while Adrien looked like she was about to completely explode.

I popped a crisp in my mouth. "Rowan and I are official."

Sage gasped.

Maddie screamed.

Adrien blinked. "Like... public and everything?"

"Forehead touching. Backroom kissing. Supply closet hand-holding. The works."

Sage slapped my arm. "YES."

Adrien handed me a celebratory crisp. "Welcome to the club."

Maddie pointed at all three of us. "You know what this means?"

Sage groaned. "Matching jackets?"

Maddie grinned. "Matching revenge plans."

Sage raised her Butterbeer. "To chaos, couples, and emotionally unstable redheads."

We toasted.

Loudly.

And the rest of the shift?

Disaster. Perfection. Ours.

We'd finally closed the shop.

The lights were dimmed, the door locked, and most of the glitter hexes had stopped going off (which was as close to "clean" as this place ever got). The seven of us sprawled across the front sitting area in various stages of exhaustion, sugar crashes, and Butterbeer buzz.

Maddie had commandeered a beanbag chair like a throne and was flinging sour candies into the air and catching them with her mouth—mostly.

"Okay," she said around one. "Not to ruin the vibe or anything, but I'm officially the only one not romantically involved and it's starting to feel illegal."

Adrien, curled up in Fred's hoodie on the counter, raised an eyebrow. "You say that like it's not your entire brand."

"It was my brand," Maddie countered, tossing a candy at her. "But now you're emotionally stable, Sage is glowy and mysterious, Katie's all snuggly with Rowan—Ginny and Hermione are toeing the line—and I'm just out here flirting with pastry displays."

"You did wink at that tart tray pretty hard," Sage muttered.

"I was making eye contact with destiny."

I grinned. "So what are we looking for here, Maddie? Tall, dark, and handsome? Cursed? Questionable moral compass?"

She sat up dramatically. "I want someone with intentions. Either romantic or villainous. I'm open."

Fred coughed into his bottle. "Careful, love, that's how Adrien ended up nearly hexed into a coma and in a relationship with me."

Adrien smacked his leg without even looking. "Zero regrets."

"Anyway," Maddie continued, flopping backward, "this year, I'm manifesting. Hogwarts is crawling with potential. Slytherins, Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws—maybe even another Gryffindor—Durmstrang transfers, dramatic seventh years..."

George smirked. "You just want a brooding boy with a secret chamber and a tragic backstory."

"AND A GOOD JAWLINE."

Rowan, lounging with one arm over the back of the couch behind me, stretched. "So what I'm hearing is, I need to bring backup."

I blinked. "Wait. You're the only guy going back with us, aren't you?"

The room went quiet for a second.

Fred grinned slowly. "Oh wow."

George cackled. "One bloke. Four girls. Rowan Woods, you brave, reckless man."

Rowan raised both hands like he'd just won the Triwizard Tournament. "I plan to be respectfully terrified at all times."

"Smart," Adrien said, grinning. "You mess with one of us, you get all of us."

"I already do," Rowan said, looking at me. "And I'm still alive."

George pointed between Rowan and the rest of us. "This is going to be like dropping a fox into a very organized henhouse—with hexes."

Maddie beamed. "He's our emotional support Gryffindor now."

Fred raised his bottle. "To Rowan. The sacrificial lamb of Hogwarts 1997."

We all clinked bottles or candy wrappers or whatever was nearby.

The final days at the Burrow blurred together like a spell cast too quickly—colorful, loud, warm, and just a little unstable.

The shop stayed open, barely. Most of us spent more time laughing in the aisles than working. Maddie and Sage took over the prank wall and ended up charming a fart hex into every pair of socks in the discount bin. Adrien "accidentally" locked herself in the supply closet with Fred for ten minutes, and when she came out her hair was a mess and Fred looked smug and suspiciously winded.

I kept catching Rowan watching me.

Not in a creepy way. Just in a there you are, I see you, I still can't believe this is real way.

We stayed up too late every night. Backyard hangouts turned into bonfires. Ginny challenged Sage to a broom race and lost gloriously. Maddie and I had a popcorn duel that ended with both of us sobbing with laughter while Hermione tried to lecture us about messes and "muggle plumbing capacity."

Rowan stole my hoodie one night and didn't give it back. I didn't ask.

I kissed him under the stars behind the Quidditch shed. No one saw. He looked at me like I hung the constellations after.

The fire pit was low. Everyone had drifted off. The girls were upstairs packing. George had passed out in the chair outside. Fred and Adrien had vanished.

Rowan and I sat on the back steps, our legs barely touching. Quiet.

"I should say something," I finally muttered.

He didn't push. He never did.

"It's Draco," I said.

There. Name dropped like a curse word.

Rowan nodded slowly. "I figured we'd get here."

I kept my gaze on the grass. "It's not unfinished. Not really. But it's... unhealed."

He exhaled. "Because you loved him."

"Because I believed him," I whispered. "Because I chose him. Over my instincts. Over everything. And he still—" I bit the inside of my cheek. "He still let them come for us."

Rowan stayed quiet.

"I don't know what to do when we get back. What if he tries to talk to me again? What if he doesn't?" I laughed, but it cracked. "What if I fall apart the second I see him?"

Rowan looked at me then, really looked. "Then you fall apart. And I'll be there when you do."

That undid something in me.

"Rowan—"

"I'm not trying to fix it," he said, voice steady but raw. "I'm not here to win against a ghost. I'm just here. With you. While you figure it out. And if that means watching you hurt over someone else?" He reached out, brushed a thumb under my eye. "Then so be it—doesn't mean I'll enjoy it, but it's a part of life."

I stared at him, chest tight, throat tighter. "You're not a rebound."

"I know." He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "But maybe he was a lesson. And I just get to be the part where you finally learn to breathe."

I leaned into him and kissed him—not hot, not messy, not fireworks.

Just real.

Just mine.

The next morning was chaos in it's finest, the platform was loud, full of owls and steam and voices saying goodbye like they might not see each other again for years.

It always felt like this.

Heavy. Hopeful. Haunted.

Adrien stood nose-to-nose with Fred, her hands in his hoodie sleeves like she didn't want to let go. He was saying something low—too quiet for the rest of us to hear—but whatever it was made her smile. Just barely.

Then he kissed her.

Not like the night before, when I caught them snogging under the stairs with zero shame.

This one was slow. Soft. Final.

When they pulled apart, Adrien didn't say anything. Didn't even look back. She just grabbed her bag and drifted toward the train like she might fall apart if she stayed one second longer.

Fred didn't move.

Not for a full minute.

George cleared his throat behind us. "Well... not trying to be dramatic, but I guess it's my turn to say goodbye to the glowing menace who bewitched my sanity."

Sage rolled her eyes. "That's a lot of syllables to say you're going to miss me."

George grinned. "Shut up and kiss me before I lose my nerve."

She did. In front of everyone.

And okay—I'm not proud of the sound I made. But it might've been a squeal. Or a sigh. Or something worse.

Maddie was worse. "Oh my Godric Gryffindor—he kissed her like he had a quota."

"Plot twist," I whispered. "He does."

When they finally broke apart, Sage turned, smug and smugger. George looked stunned.

We waved goodbye—messy and loud and dramatic—and then it was just us again: me, Rowan, Maddie, Sage, and Adrien, standing in front of the Weasleys like we were about to ship off to war.

Which... we kind of were.

"You lot write," Molly said, hugging each of us one by one. "If anything seems off. Or strange. Or dangerous."

"Even mildly suspicious," Arthur added. "We're not taking chances this year."

"We'll send a letter the second a Slytherin blinks wrong," I promised.

"Perfect," Molly said brightly, dabbing her eyes.

Rowan gave her a wink. "You'll be sick of us by October."

"Impossible," she sniffed. "Now go before I pack myself in your trunks."

We laughed, waved again, and started boarding.

The moment the train doors shut behind us, the noise changed. It got... tighter. Closer.

I slid into a compartment with Rowan, Maddie, Sage, and Adrien trailing behind. Adrien didn't say a word. She dropped into the seat beside me like she was made of bricks.

"Alright, team," I said, dusting my hands. "Sage. Maddie. Welcome to the Hogwarts experience."

Maddie crossed her legs. "Do we get a welcome pack?"

"Sure. Rule number one: don't trust staircases. They're flirty and unfaithful."

"Two," Rowan added, "always assume Peeves has heard you. He has. He will weaponize it."

"Three," I said, pointing between Sage and Maddie, "don't let McGonagall's stare scare you. She only hexes when you really deserve it."

"Perfect," Maddie said, unfazed. "I thrive on rules I intend to break."

"Four," Sage added slyly, "don't fall for Quidditch players. They're cocky."

Rowan raised a brow. "Do I count?"

I gave him a look. "You're exempt. You've been vetted."

He leaned in. "By who?"

"Me."

That earned me a kiss on the temple and a smirk that made Maddie gag dramatically.

But then I felt it—Adrien shifting beside me.

Quiet.

Still.

Not right.

She leaned her head on my shoulder like she was trying not to cry in public. Which, knowing her, was probably true.

I nudged her gently. "Hey."

She didn't answer.

"You okay?"

"No."

That one hit.

I tilted toward her just enough for my words to stay between us. "You want to talk about it?"

She nodded a little, her voice muffled. "I thought I was ready."

"To say goodbye?"

She nodded again.

"But now I feel like someone peeled something out of my chest and just... left it behind with him."

I didn't say anything right away.

She wasn't one for dramatics. If Adrien was this quiet, it meant something had cracked.

"You love him," I said softly.

"I hate how much," she whispered.

I reached over and laced my fingers with hers. "Then hate it. Be mad about it. Miss him. All of it's okay."

She looked up at me, eyes glassy. "But what if I break without him?"

"You won't," I said. "You'll ache. And cry. And threaten to hex the next person who offers you tea. But you'll survive. Because you're Adrien fucking Blackwood. And because you've got us."

She didn't say anything for a long moment.

Then she nodded again—and finally, finally, whispered, "Thank you."

I squeezed her hand tighter and leaned my head against hers.

Outside the window, the world rushed by like it was trying to carry us somewhere new.

Inside the compartment, we held onto each other like maybe we were enough.

Because we were.