Adrien.

I didn't cry on the train.

Not when we passed the halfway point. Not when the castle came into view. Not when Maddie shoved a Pumpkin Pastie in my face and said, "If you don't eat this, I will."

But walking through those gates without him—that was different.

It felt like my ribcage was too small for my lungs.

Like I'd left something critical behind and was too proud to admit it.

Katie was glowing though—finally.

Not in the radiant, my-life-is-perfect kind of way—more like... iron sharp, storm-steady. She was with Rowan now. Everyone knew it. She didn't flinch when he grabbed her hand stepping off the carriage. She didn't even blink when they passed Malfoy on the steps.

She just... tilted her chin slightly. Looked forward. And kept walking.

Draco saw.

Oh, he saw.

And the way he looked at Rowan—like he couldn't decide if he wanted to duel him or crawl inside his skin and try to understand how confidence worked—was almost funny.

Except I was too heartsick to laugh.

"Well," Sage muttered beside me as we entered the Great Hall, "nothing like returning to the scene of the academic crime."

"Smells like burnt toast and teenage rage," Maddie added, already scanning the tables. "Alright. Who's my Hogwarts rebound?"

"I beg your pardon?" I asked flatly.

"Emotionally. For sport. You pick yours, I'll pick mine."

"She's not kidding," Katie said. Rowan dropped his arm around her shoulders like he belonged there. He kind of did.

Rowan's voice was easy as he glanced around. "If any of you need anything—safety, strategy, emergency anti-idiot spells—I'm officially in charge of your well-being now."

Maddie blinked. "Are you our emotional security detail or our hot bodyguard?"

"Both," he said without missing a beat.

Sage sighed dramatically. "I feel protected. And slightly aroused."

"Same," Maddie whispered.

I let out a small, begrudging laugh. It didn't fix everything. But it helped.

Dinner was buzzing with first-night energy. Floating candles, polished plates, students whispering about who broke up over the summer and who got hot.

An unknown figure waddled into the room with a flair that seemed rehearesed, robes trimmed in green velvet, mustache curled to filth.

"Oh no," I muttered.

"Is that—?" Maddie squinted. "The man, the myth, the jellyfish?"

"Professor Slughorn," Sage whispered. "Favors power. Kisses ass. Probably has tea with Voldemort's dentist."

He spotted us and immediately raised a hand in welcome. "Ah! The Blackwood girls! Miss Sun! Miss Robbins! And—Ah—our star chaser, Miss Adrien!"

Maddie blinked. "He memorized us?"

"Oh, he's already writing a fan letter to the Prophet," Katie said dryly.

Rowan leaned in toward her, his voice low. "Your fan club president has awful posture."

Katie snorted into her goblet. Sage smiled trying not to choke on her biscuit.

Draco passed by then, clearly overhearing the exchange.

Rowan? Just raised his eyebrow. Like Draco didn't matter.

Draco hated that.

I could see it—the way he clenched his jaw like he wanted to be the problem again.

But Rowan wasn't scared of him. Not even a little. And that? Unnerved the hell out of him, it was more than obvious.

We were halfway through roasted chicken and pumpkin mash when the air changed. Not visibly. Just—shifted.

Katie felt it first. Her grip on her fork tightened so hard I heard the metal squeak.

Rowan looked up. Tensed. Slight lean toward her—not aggressive. Just ready.

And then Blaise slid into view—just like a fucking snake.

Cool. Effortless. Like he'd just appeared from the shadows between tables. His robes were perfectly pressed. His smile... just crooked enough to look charming to someone who didn't know better.

"Evening, Adrien." His voice was low, velvet-dipped and venom-laced. "Still accessorizing like a Weasley groupie, I see."

I raised a brow. "Still mistaking ego for personality?"

But it didn't come out as sharp as I wanted. My throat was dry. My hand twitched near the sword necklace Fred had given me.

Blaise's eyes dropped to it immediately.

He chuckled. Not cruel. Not mocking. Just... quiet.

"Looks good on you," he said. "Shame he's not around to see it."

Katie inhaled sharply. Maddie muttered something like oh no you don't under her breath.

I got there first. My voice wasn't steady, but it was strong.

"He doesn't have to be here. He doesn't need to prove anything to you. I wear this because he knows me. Because he believes in me."

Blaise didn't flinch.

"That's sweet," he said, tilting his head slightly. "Really. I admire loyalty. Even when it's misplaced."

My hand curled around the necklace on instinct.

"He's not a distraction," I snapped. "He's an anchor. You remember what those are, right?"

His eyes darkened. Not angry. Not defensive. Just... watchful.

"You think I don't get it," he said softly. "But I do."

That threw me.

Blaise glanced toward the staff table, then back at me—like he was considering something he hadn't meant to say aloud.

"You're scared," he said. "Not of me. Not really. But of how easy it was, once, to be something with me."

I froze.

"I remember that, Adrien. And I think you do too."

The space around us felt tighter suddenly. Rowan shifted again, this time more obviously. Katie was stone still beside him.

"You're not saying this because you miss me," I said, trying not to shake.

"I'm saying this because you miss you," Blaise said. "The you that didn't look over her shoulder. The one that didn't flinch every time someone mentioned war or Fred Weasley."

That was a low blow. A smart one. But still low.

He leaned in, voice low and private.

"You think I'm the villain. I'm fine with that. But don't pretend that means you're not still carrying pieces of me. I know what it looks like when you're pretending not to fall apart."

I didn't answer.

Not because he was right.

Because for a terrifying half-second, I didn't know if he was wrong.

"I'm not done," he said quietly, rising to leave. "You think you're safe. You think he's the end of your story. But you've still got my name in your mouth, Adrien."

He paused. Let it linger.

"You always will."

And then he walked off, clean and casual like he hadn't just ripped something open in my chest.

There was a long, horrible silence.

Then:

"On my mouth?" I whispered. "Seriously?"

Maddie choked on her cider. "I want to bleach my brain."

Sage raised her goblet. "To regret in tight pants."

Rowan, bless him, leaned into Katie's shoulder and said calmly, "Ten galleons says I hex him before October."

Katie didn't blink. "Twenty if you make it look like an accident."

I stared down at my plate.

My hand found the sword necklace again. My fingers curled around it.

And I didn't cry.

But I wanted to.

Fred wasn't here. Blaise was. And I hated how easy it was for his words to find the cracks in my armor.

But I didn't cry. I just held the charm tighter. And breathed.

I retreated into my shell for the rest of dinner, the shell that had been nonexistent since I was ten, but—shocker—here it was.

Turns out Hogwarts got a renovation over the summer.

"Well, this is new," Katie said, dropping her trunk at the foot of one of the five canopy beds now spread across the dormitory.

"Five beds," Maddie said, spinning slowly in the middle of the room. "Which means either Hogwarts expanded, or someone finally filed a noise complaint about Parvati's incense collection."

"I call the bed by the window," Sage said, flinging herself onto the mattress like she owned it. "Claimed. Staked. Hexed."

Katie raised an eyebrow. "I don't think dorm law works like that."

Sage tossed a throw pillow at her. "It does now."

Maddie flopped dramatically across the bed next to her. "This is going to be chaos. I love it."

"Same," Hermione said from the corner, already unpacking in a very Hermione fashion—scrolls sorted by subject, quills lined like tiny soldiers. "Though I can't believe they just merged rooms."

"They didn't," Ginny grumbled, standing in the doorway with her arms crossed. "They just forgot I exist. That's my room too, you know."

"There wasn't space in yours," Hermione said, not looking up. "Apparently they were rearranging based on year and... practical protection purposes."

Ginny narrowed her eyes. "So you five get a war bunker and I get Lavender Brown's leftover lip gloss fumes?"

"You can sleep in here," I offered automatically.

Katie pointed to the foot of her bed. "We'll charm a cot."

"I'm not sleeping on a cot like a disgraced side character," Ginny snapped. "I want a bed. With curtains. And shelf space."

Sage patted the floor beside her. "Or you could be our honorary sixth roommate. We'll build you a pillow fort and take turns massaging your Quidditch-induced rage."

Ginny grumbled, but I saw her smile as she turned on her heel and disappeared down the hall.

We didn't call it a sleepover.

It wasn't giggly or glittery or full of enchanted snacks. It was just... us.

Sitting on our beds in pajamas, hair still damp from long showers, the room lit only by the low flicker of enchanted candlelight. No pretenses. Just quiet.

Katie was braiding Maddie's hair absently. Hermione had her legs curled under her as she finished reading something with far too many footnotes.

Sage was polishing her wand like she was preparing it for a duel.

And I was silent.

Again.

Until Katie broke the stillness. "We should talk."

No one argued.

Maddie flopped onto her stomach and groaned. "Do we have to?"

"Yes," Katie said gently.

Sage let out a breath. "Cabinet?"

"Cabinet," Hermione confirmed. "Still hidden. Still active. Still very much a problem."

"Draco's been watching Katie," Maddie added. "And I don't mean 'ew-he's-staring-again' watching. I mean intensity. Like he's waiting for something."

"Rowan's not scared of him," Katie said. "That makes it worse."

"And Blaise..." Sage trailed off, glancing at me. "He's being too quiet."

Everyone went still. Their eyes drifted to me.

I looked down at my hands. My fingers were still curled around the sword necklace.

"I know you haven't said much," Katie said softly, "but we're worried about you."

"I'm fine," I said automatically. It didn't even sound convincing to me.

Hermione sat forward a little. "Adrien..."

I closed my eyes.

"I just miss him," I whispered.

No one moved.

"I miss Fred so much it feels like someone scraped out part of me and left it echoing," I continued, voice low and cracking. "And I hate that Blaise still gets to me. I hate that he looks at me like he's already won. Like Fred leaving gave him a chance."

There was a long silence.

Then Maddie whispered, "Because he thinks he knows how to wear you down."

"He does," I said. "He knows what buttons to press. He doesn't seem to be cruel about it anymore. He's calm. Patient. Like he's waiting for me to come back to him just because Fred isn't here."

"He won't win," Katie said. Fierce. Certain.

"He might try," I murmured. "But he doesn't get to rewrite me just because he stayed."

Sage reached over and squeezed my ankle. "We'll hex him if he breathes wrong."

"I'll hold him still," Maddie offered, voice like fire.

Hermione looked up from her notes. "I'll find something in the Restricted Section."

Katie moved beside me, pulled my hand gently from the necklace, and held it.

"You're not alone," she said. "Not with us. Not ever."

And for the first time since leaving the Burrow... I believed it.

It was barely 8:30 and I already hated everything.

My robe was half-buttoned. Katie's hair was braided on one side and a bird's nest on the other. Maddie had only one boot laced. Sage looked like she'd gotten into a fistfight with her bedsheets and lost.

And then there was Rowan.

Cheerful. Awake. Carrying two cups of tea. The audacity.

He handed one to Katie like he was offering her a priceless relic. She took it without blinking, growled, "If you speak before I finish this, I will unfriend you in three languages," and immediately took a sip.

He turned to me with a grin. "And good morning to you, sunshine—"

I didn't let him finish. "Where's mine, Captain Caffeine?"

Maddie blinked dramatically. "Wait. There was tea? There were two cups of tea? And neither was for us?"

Sage stopped walking entirely. "Are we... chopped hippogriff liver?"

"I—" Rowan looked between us, realizing his mistake a beat too late. "Okay, in my defense—"

"You have no defense," I cut in. "You've committed a war crime."

"An act of betrayal," Sage added.

"Against three extremely powerful, under-caffeinated witches," Maddie said sweetly. "Bold choice."

Katie sipped hers like it was wine, smirking behind the rim. "I tried to warn you."

Rowan put his hands up. "I can fix this. I'll start a rotation. Morning tea for all. Assigned mugs. Sugar preferences. The works."

I narrowed my eyes. "So this is you accepting the position of House Boyfriend Barista?"

"I will wear the title with honor," he said, solemn as anything.

"Excellent," Maddie chirped. "Mine's Earl Grey, two sugars, and a splash of emotional validation."

Sage slung an arm over my shoulder. "And I'll take mine with a lemon wedge and a threatening note addressed to Umbridge."

Rowan groaned, already regretting everything. "This is going to ruin me, isn't it?"

Katie clinked her tea against his and said, "Absolutely."

And that was the morning Rowan Woods was officially inducted as the Tea Mule of Gryffindor Tower.

May Merlin have mercy on him.

Maddie yawned so dramatically it looked like her soul was trying to leave her body. "If this is the start of the year, I'd like to go back to Fred's rooftop blanket fort and pretend war isn't a thing."

"We have class," Sage mumbled, dragging her feet like she'd been exiled. "And posture. And probably Voldemort's cousin disguised as a chalkboard."

Rowan was still suspiciously chipper. "On the bright side—Quidditch tryouts are coming up."

Katie perked up immediately. "Already?"

"Yep. McGonagall announced it this morning. Some of us"—he pointed between me, Katie, and himself—"are already locked in. Keeper, Beater, and Chaser spots are safe."

"That's me," I said, rubbing my eyes. "Still chaser. Still emotionally unstable. But fast."

"Which means," Rowan continued, ignoring me, "we're holding tryouts this Saturday for reserves. Anyone who wants to not die this season should show up."

Maddie blinked. "We're allowed?"

"Of course," Katie said. "Alternates are open to any upper years who qualify."

Sage blinked. "But does that mean we get to actually fly during tryouts?"

"Yes?" Rowan said, clearly amused.

Maddie narrowed her eyes. "So... what you're saying is... we willingly put ourselves through physical humiliation in front of half the school, all while being judged by hormonal teenagers with snitch obsessions?"

"Basically," I said.

"Great. Sign me up," Maddie muttered. "But only if you two—" she pointed at me and Katie, "—help us train. I'm not dying alone."

Sage groaned. "Do we have to run? I hate running."

Katie smirked. "Flying isn't running."

"I hate that too."

"You love it," I said. "You just don't like being bad at things immediately."

Sage scowled. "Correct. Which is why I want a full training montage by Thursday."

Rowan nodded solemnly. "I'll bring dramatic music and glittery water bottles."

Maddie raised her hand like she was in court. "And I reserve the right to flirt with the entire Slytherin team for sabotage."

"Strategic chaos," I said. "I support it."

Katie smirked proudly and raised her cup like she was delivering a royal decree."To corruption, caffeine, and Quidditch domination."

The rest of us just stared at her.

Sage gestured at her empty hands. "Would love to toast, but some of us were left for dead this morning."

"I'm parched with betrayal," Maddie added, holding up an invisible goblet. "To Rowan's sins."

I mimed clinking an imaginary cup with Katie's. "Mmm. The taste of neglect."

Rowan groaned, dramatically pinching the bridge of his nose. "I am never going to live this down, am I?"

"You started it," Katie said sweetly, sipping her tea like the unbothered goddess she was.

"You've encouraged this monster," Sage said, pointing at me.

"And now you're the tea supplier to a pack of emotionally unstable Gryffindors," I added. "Congratulations, Captain."

Rowan muttered something about regret, but the corners of his mouth twitched like he was fighting a smile.

"Better warm up that teapot, Woods," Maddie chirped. "You've got four personalized orders and a new life purpose."

"Bringing you all tea was not in my back-to-school checklist," he grumbled.

"Neither was falling for a Blackwood," Katie said with a wink.

Rowan sighed. "I really should've transferred—back to Dumstrang."

We all laughed—loud, unruly, still sleep-drunk and full of sarcasm. But it was the best we'd felt since stepping back through the castle doors.

Even if we were still tea-less.

It was barely 9:00 AM and already the Potions dungeon smelled like overheated ginger root, passive aggression, and at least one spell gone wrong in the last twenty-four hours.

Slughorn swept in like a man arriving to thunderous applause, robes trailing dramatically behind him despite the complete lack of fanfare.

"Ah! My favorite faces!" he bellowed, beaming far too brightly for this hour. "Today, we'll be preparing a coordinated sequence of elixirs—each dependent on the previous. Precision, timing, finesse!"

Sage flopped into her seat beside me. "So... chain reaction chaos."

"I thrive in that," Maddie said, cracking her knuckles like she was about to fistfight a mandrake. "Let me at the unicorn horn powder."

Katie sat down with a grin, already rolling up her sleeves. "Who wants to see me set someone's eyebrows on fire by accident?"

Rowan dropped his bag beside her and slid into the seat across from us. "As long as it's not mine, proceed."

Slughorn was still explaining the finer points of our assigned brew, hands gesturing wildly. "This is advanced potion sequencing! Think of it like a conversation between ingredients—each one responding to the last!"

Sage raised a brow. "What happens if one ingredient ghosts the others?"

"Then your cauldron explodes," Hermione said flatly from behind her book.

"Classic," Maddie muttered. "That's how I approach dating."

Katie leaned over the table and flicked a peppermint sprig at her. "Focus. We have to survive this without setting the table on fire."

"That was one time," I said. "And the floor was slippery."

"You slipped into your cauldron," Sage deadpanned.

"Which is exactly why I'm leading the stirring portion today," I huffed.

Rowan reached for the valerian root and tossed it into our pile. "If I die in here, tell the staff I died doing what I loved—being surrounded by chaos witches and herbal sedatives."

Slughorn clapped his hands once, startling half the room. "Begin, my dears! Show me something marvelous!"

As the first puff of colored smoke wafted toward the ceiling, Sage muttered, "Ten galleons says someone turns purple."

"Twenty if it's Malfoy," Katie said.

"Fifty if it's us and we style it like fashion," Maddie added.

Rowan groaned. "This is why we don't get invited to group projects."

"You love us," I said, smirking as I lit the flame under our cauldron.

He sighed. "Unfortunately."

And with that, the bubbling began.

Katie was already organizing ingredients like a battlefield. "Let's make something explode—but, you know, academically."

Rowan stifled a yawn across the aisle. "Please don't light your sleeves on fire this time."

"I make no promises," I said, nudging a vial of fluxweed into place. "It's a part of the show."

The warm-up task was simple: brew the base of a reactionary potion, let it settle, then enchant it to change color without altering the base structure. It required timing. Precision. Actual restraint. Naturally, half the class looked like they were about to sob.

Except Harry. Surprisingly.

And Katie. Of course.

My potion simmered to the perfect golden hue. When I stirred clockwise three times and added just the right amount of moonstone, the whole thing turned a soft shimmering silver—exactly what Slughorn wanted.

He clapped so hard I actually startled.

"Brilliant, Miss Blackwood! And Miss Blackwood as well!" He turned between me and Katie like we were Hogwarts' golden duo. "A fine example of sharp lineage meets raw precision! Flawless control!"

Harry got the same praise—Slughorn always did have a bit of a celebrity bias—but I didn't mind. For once, Potter actually looked like he belonged in class instead of daydreaming about Voldemort and trauma.

Sage muttered to Maddie, "Wow. We're living in a fantasy draft where Adrien and Katie are the MVPs and I'm the team mascot."

"I'm the angry one with snacks," Maddie whispered back.

"Valid."

But even with Slughorn's praise ringing in my ears, I felt it—that flicker of chill at the base of my neck. That pressure. Like someone watching with too much interest.

I didn't need to turn.

Draco.

Across the room, he was leaning over his cauldron like it owed him an apology, jaw tight. His potion was perfect—because of course it was—but his attention was not on his ingredients.

Katie didn't look at him once.

Rowan noticed.

And that made things worse.

Rowan, cool and collected, added belladonna to his mix with the kind of casual efficiency that made Draco twitch. Then—just to twist the knife—he leaned slightly toward Katie and murmured something that made her laugh.

That laugh might as well have been a hex to the face.

Draco's jaw tightened. His stirring got more aggressive. A little splash of green hissed out of his cauldron.

Sage whispered, "If looks could kill, Rowan would've spontaneously combusted mid-pour."

Katie didn't even blink. "He can keep watching. I've got nothing left to say to him."

Maddie clinked her stirring rod against her cauldron like a toast. "To icy stares and ex-boyfriends realizing they fumbled the literal bag."

Slughorn called for everyone to bottle a sample. "Remember—this is about reaction control! Not dramatics, my dears!"

I bottled my silver potion, hands steady even as I felt another set of eyes on me.

Blaise.

Not saying a word. Not smiling. Just... watching.

I glanced down at the necklace tucked under my collar—the sword pendant's texture was a little cold against my skin.

Rowan stepped up to the front workstation, sleeves rolled with casual precision, that maddening calm on his face like he didn't even know he was about to humiliate half the class just by existing. Slughorn, absolutely delighted, puffed up like he was presenting the crown jewel of the bloody Slug Club.

"Mr. Woods! Excellent—always a steady hand. Show us how to layer a dual-reactive serum under heat-shifted conditions, would you?"

Rowan gave the tiniest nod and got to work, paired with a Ravenclaw sixth-year who looked like she'd forgotten how to breathe.

His knife work was clean. Ingredient prep, seamless. The man folded powdered billywig wings like he was closing a love letter.

Katie, standing across from him,, was definitely watching—chin propped on her hand, eyes narrowed, and the hint of a smirk playing at her lips.

And across the room?

Draco, arms crossed, face unreadable—but not unemotional.

He didn't speak. Not a word. But I saw it: the slight twitch in his jaw, the way his fingers curled tighter over his own stirring rod, the flicker of narrowed eyes every time Rowan adjusted the flame perfectly without even looking.

His potion was still textbook. Still flawless. But his posture was rigid.

Controlled.

Bottled.

Dangerous.

Sage leaned in toward me. "Draco's doing that thing where he doesn't blink so he doesn't commit murder with his eyeballs."

"Can't relate," Maddie whispered. "I commit emotionally motivated arson with enthusiasm."

Rowan dropped in the final tincture, and the potion turned the exact right iridescent blue-gray. Slughorn beamed.

"Superb, Mr. Woods! Absolutely pristine! Miss Rowley, excellent assistance—though I daresay Mr. Woods could brew with his eyes closed!"

Katie tilted her head toward me. "He's not even trying to show off."

"Nope," I said. "That's just who he is."

Rowan stepped away from the cauldron, and for just a moment—just a flicker—his gaze caught Draco's. Not mocking. Not smug.

Just unbothered.

Draco held the stare for a beat longer than necessary.

Then returned to his own work in silence.

But I saw it. The tension behind his perfect composure. The irritation in the way he re-rolled his sleeve. The way his next stirring motion was just a touch too sharp.

Not loud. Not obvious. But real.

And the best part? He knew Katie saw it too.

Sage whispered, "He's going to crack. Probably during Defense."

"I'm betting before that," Maddie added. "Someone say 'Rowan' too loudly in his presence and it's over."

"Let him," Katie muttered, lips barely moving. "I hope it eats him alive."

I glanced down at my necklace and tried not to think about Blaise watching me again.

But I could feel it. That same heat behind my neck. Eyes lingering too long.

When I looked up, Blaise was across the dungeon, looking down at his notes.

But I knew better.

By the time we stumbled out of Potions, the air in the corridor felt ten degrees lighter—like we'd all just escaped a very fancy, very tense pressure cooker. Rowan was smug. Katie was smug about Rowan. Draco was brooding so hard I swear the torches dimmed when he walked by.

Maddie sighed dramatically, stretching like she'd survived a battlefield. "If I spend one more hour pretending to care about root-to-liquid ratios, I'm going to brew my own patience potion and chug it like firewhisky."

Sage twirled her wand like a drumstick. "I only stayed awake because I was waiting for someone to accidentally inhale powdered dandelion root."

Katie cracked her knuckles. "Still annoyed I didn't get to throw a bezoar at anyone."

"I was rooting for sabotage," I muttered.

Rowan raised an eyebrow. "You mean that wasn't sabotage when you bumped into Draco's table?"

Katie gave him a smile too sweet to be pure. "Slughorn said it was 'unexpected ingredient redistribution.'"

"That's not a thing," he replied.

"Sure it is. I made it one."

I was still trying to mentally erase the image of Draco glaring daggers at Rowan like he wanted to monologue him into the grave. The restraint it must've taken for him not to comment mid-class was impressive. But it was simmering. I felt it.

"Oh," Maddie added, sidling up to me as we climbed the stairs, "did anyone else notice Blaise eyeballing you again like you're an extra credit assignment he never turned in?"

"He always looks like that," I muttered. "It's his face."

"No," Sage said with a grin. "His face was three inches from melting the floor when you laughed at Rowan's potion."

"Maybe he's finally realizing his emotional damage isn't hot," I said.

"Bold of you to assume that's not his pickup strategy," Katie added.

We rounded the corridor and entered the Defence Against Dark Arts classroom, where everything immediately felt colder. Snape stood at the front like he'd been waiting for a chance to ruin someone's life. The room was too quiet, too stiff. As usual.

"Wands out," he said without looking up. "We're beginning with partner drills. Spell link exercises. I will be observing. And no—just because you excelled in Potions, Miss Blackwood, does not mean you are allowed to set your partner on fire."

"Technically, that wasn't fire," I whispered to Katie. "It was volatile light."

Katie smirked. "Totally different."

We filed in and grabbed our usual spot. The Ravenclaw sixth-year from Potions—Rowan's very stunned former partner—snapped out of her crush fog long enough to drag her friend to the other side of the room.

Sage leaned in. "We need a scale. On one end is 'Rowan being terrifyingly perfect.' On the other end is 'Draco pretending not to notice.'"

"They're both at eleven," Maddie said, flicking her wand into her hand like a knife. "I'm ready for a duel and a drama bomb."

Rowan stepped up to demonstrate when Snape pointed at him—again. And to no one's surprise, he was sharp, calm, and devastatingly good. Wand raised. Posture perfect. Spells crisp, clean, timed like a heartbeat.

He moved like he was born to do this.

Draco, stationed with Blaise near the back, muttered something.

"Showy," he said, not loud—but meant to be heard.

Rowan didn't so much as twitch.

Still mid-demonstration, he angled his wand slightly, eyes on the target.

"Jealousy's a rough cologne, Malfoy," he said, voice just cool enough to sting. "You should wash it off."

Sage gagged behind her hand. Katie bit her lip so hard I thought she'd draw blood. Maddie whispered "Oh my god" like it was a prophecy.

Even Snape—Snape—stilled for a breath.

Draco didn't reply. Didn't blink.

But I caught it.

The subtle tick in his jaw. The tight way he adjusted his sleeve. He didn't break, not out loud. But something in him shifted. That quiet, venomous way Draco spiraled inward.

Rowan finished the demonstration, wand steady, and turned back toward us without so much as a glance in Draco's direction.

Katie looked like she wanted to kiss him and applaud at the same time.

I leaned toward her. "That's gonna bite us later."

"Probably," she whispered. "But Merlin, it was worth it."

Snape prowled between the desks like a vulture in slow motion, robes snapping just loud enough to be threatening. His voice cut the air like a scalpel.

"Since our Gryffindor Quidditch Star has inspired such rapturous performances," he said dryly, glancing at Rowan with just enough disdain to make it personal, "we'll now be partnering off. I expect silence, control, and no theatrics. If you intend to embarrass yourselves, do it efficiently."

Rowan leaned toward Katie and whispered, "That's his version of a compliment."

Katie smirked. "He'll be writing you hate sonnets by midterm."

"Partner assignments," Snape continued. "Woods and Thomas. Granger and Weasley."

Hermione and Ron exchanged a look that somehow managed to scream both domestic dread and latent tension.

"Zabini... with Blackwood."

Time stopped.

Not literally. But it felt like the entire dungeon inhaled and then held its breath.

I froze. Katie straightened. Rowan stopped mid-stretch like he was one syllable away from objecting. Sage and Maddie? Murder-ready.

Snape didn't flinch. Didn't even look at me. He just kept walking, like he hadn't just lit a fuse and walked away.

I swallowed the acid rising in my throat. "Of course."

Blaise was already standing, wand in hand, smile so polished it could've passed inspection at Gringotts.

"I'm honored," he said smoothly.

"I'm armed," I replied, matching his fake-polite tone with just enough bite to make him blink.

Behind me, Katie hissed, "You want me to switch with you? I'll throw hands and hexes."

"I'm good," I murmured—more for me than for her.

Snape swept past like a bat-shaped storm cloud. "Begin."

And we did.

But not before the peanut gallery weighed in.

"I give Malfoy two weeks before he tries to sabotage Rowan's broom," Sage whispered, sprawled halfway across her desk like she was narrating a murder mystery podcast.

Katie didn't even blink. "One week. And if he thinks I won't launch a bludger at his teeth over it, he's sorely mistaken."

"He's already twitching," Maddie chimed in, twirling her wand between her fingers. "Like one sarcastic remark away from spontaneous combustion. It's beautiful."

Sage glanced back toward my end of the room. "And your ex is staring like he thinks this is a redemption arc."

"I will hex him," I muttered, eyes on Blaise as I raised my wand to block the opening maneuver.

"With what?" Katie asked dryly.

"Something itchy. Something cursed."

"I'm just saying," Maddie whispered, "he's one more hair flip away from becoming our next sanctioned school-wide humiliation project."

"We'll call it Operation: Narcissist's Downfall," Katie said, deadpan.

"I'm in," I said. "But I get to lead."

"Obviously," Sage replied. "You've got the trauma and the cheekbones for it."

Then Blaise cast.

It was fast, calculated—too smooth. But I blocked it. Held my stance. Matched it like I'd been practicing all summer just to shut him down.

Our magic collided midair and split like twin strikes of lightning.

He stepped closer—just enough to crowd the space, close enough to be heard only by me.

"You look tired," he murmured. "I was hoping a summer with the Weasleys would... soften you."

I smiled, sweet and venomous. "Careful. The only thing I'm soft on these days is revenge."

His eyes flicked to the charm around my neck.

Then back to me. "Funny," Blaise said, voice lower now. "He's not here."

I didn't blink.

"No," I said, wand still steady. "But his spellwork's still on me."

I let the pause drag—just enough for him to think I'd stop there.

Then I tilted my head, smile curving slow. "Want to see what else stuck?"

That landed.

His jaw ticked. Just slightly.

Behind me, someone choked. I think it was Sage.

Maddie outright gasped like she'd just been blessed.

Katie muttered, "Oh my Godric."

Rowan, bless him, let out a soft, strangled cough—and then muttered something about taking psychic damage.

Even Draco looked up from across the room, gaze sharp, unreadable.

Blaise, to his credit, recovered fast. But the hit was clean. He reset his stance with a little too much force—like the air had shifted and he couldn't quite stand in it.

My final spell? A precise, whip-fast deflection that sent his last hex straight into the corner of the dueling mat—on purpose. Just a hair off target.

Snape didn't speak. But he didn't critique me, either.

We finished the drill. And when we bowed at the end, I didn't smile. I didn't flinch.

But I did flick my fingers over the sword charm at my neck, just to drive it home.

By midday, the Gryffindor table was covered in what could only be described as a war crime against free time.

Scrolls, books, diagrams, and two heavily annotated assignments sat in front of me and Katie, both stamped with Snape's signature ink and disdain. Mine was six feet long, titled Supplemental Applications of Charm Link Theory in Unstabilized Duel Environments. Katie's was something equally horrifying about magical bloodline defenses and battlefield shielding.

Sage poked at my scroll with a spoon. "He gave you a thesis. Like, an actual thesis. This is war."

"I think he's just trying to kill me academically," I muttered. "Emotionally. Slowly. With parchment."

"Still better than Blaise's lingering," Maddie added, biting into an apple. "At least Snape doesn't flirt and assign trauma."

Katie rolled her eyes and muttered, "Debatable."

I reached for my notes again, flipping past two pages of runes and charm-link breakdowns. "This one actually came with a footnote. 'If this is too advanced, say so.'"

Sage snorted. "Translation: Fail and I'll mock you forever."

Katie shifted beside me, flipping her scroll closed like it might curse her if she looked at it too long. "He's watching us."

"Like a hawk," I agreed. "Or a bat. Or something that doesn't blink."

"He didn't even argue when Slughorn praised us," Katie added. "But then he assigns this?"

"Validation through suffering," I said dryly. "On brand."

Sage leaned over to Maddie. "Ten galleons says Adrien's parchment ignites itself before Saturday."

Maddie looked thoughtful. "I'll double it if it tries to strangle her mid-practice."

Katie nudged me gently. "You okay?"

I exhaled through my nose. "It's fine. I'll figure it out. I always do."

She didn't push, just tapped her own ink bottle and said, "You don't have to do it alone."

I glanced across the Hall at the wide windows. Rowan was on the pitch, running formations for tryouts, all sharp lines and shouted commands. He looked calm. Confident. Solid.

That helped.

A little.

I looked down at the necklace, the little silver sword charm catching a streak of sunlight through the window.

Snape could throw every cursed essay in the library at me. I wasn't backing down. I dipped my quill and went back to work. Because if they were watching us this closely?

We were already dangerous. And I was just getting started.