Adrien.

Detention with Blaise Zabini was a special kind of hell.

Not the loud, obvious kind — like being hexed mid-lecture or having your eyebrows singed off by a faulty potion.

No. This was quieter. Meaner. Like poison laced into a compliment.

We were ten minutes in and I was already rethinking every choice that had landed me here.

Two weeks of this. Two hours each night. All because he forced a kiss and I forced my fist into his nose—broke it beautifully.

Worth it—I regret nothing.

Still.

"Merlin," Blaise muttered from across the room, wiping dust off an old trophy. "You'd think they'd update these punishments. What are we, house-elves?"

"House-elves do more useful work," I replied without looking up from my stack of mildew-soaked parchment. "You just complain and brood."

He gave a low, amused hum. "Funny. That mouth of yours used to say nicer things."

I set the scroll down and shot him a glare. "That mouth also used to have better taste."

He chuckled — low and sharp — and took a few slow steps in my direction, arms crossed over his chest like he wasn't the embodiment of a walking red flag.

"Tell me something," he said. "Does Fred actually like it when you bite, or is he just playing the long game?"

The comment landed like a slap.

I didn't answer. Didn't flinch. But I did sit up straighter.

His eyes dropped to my hand as I reached for a new quill.

And that's when he saw it.

The ring.

Simple. Silver. Set with a tiny red stone that pulsed faintly in the lamplight.

His entire posture shifted.

Gone was the smirk. The calm.

In its place was something darker. Sharper.

He took a step closer.

"That's new," he said, voice like smoke and venom. "Didn't think he had it in him."

I curled my fingers into a fist.

He noticed.

"Oh, Adrien," he said, and this time the smugness cracked at the edges. "You really let him put a leash on you?"

"Watch it."

He kept coming. "You think he's strong enough to keep you? Please. You were always a little... explosive. That was the appeal, wasn't it?"

I stood.

His smile widened.

"And now?" he murmured. "You've just become predictable. Domesticated. Boring."

I stepped back.

He followed.

"Fred's not coming back to play savior when you shatter," he said. "And you will shatter, Adrien. You always do."

He reached out—fingers brushing the edge of my sleeve—

And the ring glowed.

Fierce. Red. Hot.

He jerked back like he'd been burned.

"What the—?"

I didn't give him time to recover.

"Don't touch me," I snapped, every inch of me buzzing with heat I hadn't conjured.

"You think that's going to stop me?" he snarled. "A rock and a vow you don't even understand?"

I saw it then. The shift. Not just anger. Not just jealousy. Something darker behind his eyes.

And something darker behind mine.

The magic surged in my palms — reflexive, wild — and before I could stop myself, I shoved him.

Not hard. Just enough to make him stumble backward into the desk behind him.

His bag spilled sideways. Scrolls, ink, and—

A book hit the floor with a thud.

Not just any book.

Black leather. Bound with twine. No title.

The cover was carved with symbols.

My rune symbols. The same ones that curled along my forearm. The same ones that still burned under my skin when the magic surged too hard. The same ones that shouldn't be anywhere else.

I froze.

So did he.

We both stared at it.

The moment snapped.

Blaise dove forward, snatching the book off the floor in one fluid motion, clutching it to his chest like a lifeline.

But it was too late.

Something cold uncoiled inside me.

"Where did you get that?" I asked, voice sharp enough to cut glass.

He didn't answer. Just stood there—chest heaving, eyes darker than I'd ever seen them. Not angry. Not smug.

Just... guarded.

Like maybe, for the first time, he was afraid of me.

Or maybe afraid I'd figured it out.

My heart pounded.

I took a step closer. "Those symbols. They're mine."

Still no answer.

But his silence spoke.

My stomach twisted. "That book—it's not just cursed, is it?"

His fingers tightened around it.

"You've been carrying that thing around all year," I said, mostly to myself now. "Every time you show up—watching. Waiting. You've been different. Not just jealous—volatile."

His jaw clenched. "Careful, Adrien."

I laughed — short and sharp. "Why? Because I'm getting warm?"

I let the words hang, the air between us humming like a storm waiting to strike.

"You sent it, didn't you?" I whispered. "The letter in a black envelope. The runes."

His expression didn't change.

But that silence?

That was admission.

And it hit harder than any hex.

My breath caught. My skin buzzed — heat rippling just beneath the surface of my arms where the runes had first appeared.

He clutched the book tighter to his chest.

That was all I needed.

I stepped forward slowly, deliberately — the same way I'd once crossed the Quiddich Pitch just to piss him off, the way I used to crowd him into corners and make him forget how to breathe.

"Don't," he said quietly.

I smiled. "What's the matter, Blaise? Afraid I'll touch it and see what's really inside?"

He shifted — uncomfortable now, torn between wanting to stop me and not daring to move.

So I leaned in. Close enough to smell the old paper and ink on his skin. Close enough to make him forget I was dangerous.

"Give it to me," I said softly.

His breath hitched.

I let my fingers ghost over his wrist.

And then—ripped the book from his arms.

He lunged instantly.

But I was faster.

I hurled the book across the room — it hit the far wall with a dull thud, bouncing off a chair leg and landing spine-up on the floor, pages fluttering like dying wings.

"NO!" he roared, charging after it.

I lifted a hand.

The air cracked.

Magic exploded from my finger, silent and brutal. It caught him mid-step, sent him crashing back into a desk. He hit hard — and stayed there, held by invisible force, arms locked, chest heaving.

"Adrien—" he gasped, straining against it. "Stop—what are you—"

But I wasn't listening.

I could feel the magic in me now — wild, white-hot. My runes pulsing under my skin, glowing through the thin fabric of my sleeves.

He clawed at the air. Kicked once.

Then again. And then... stopped. Slower this time. Breathing harder. His gaze, once feral and furious, started to flicker — confusion bleeding through.

And then something else. Clarity.

His body sagged slightly as the tension bled out of him.

And I knew.

I knew.

It hadn't just been him.

The book. The cursed magic. It had its hooks in him — deep. I'd just burned it off long enough for him to come up for air.

I lowered my hands.

The magic ebbed.

He crumpled forward, catching himself on the edge of the desk, panting like he'd just surfaced from drowning.

A long silence passed between us.

When he finally looked up, his voice was rough. Shaky.

"My parents gave it to me."

I didn't move.

"Said it was legacy magic. Something our line had preserved for generations. I was supposed to start studying it during fifth year. Just... pieces at first." He huffed, straightening up and meeting my eyes. "Symbols. Binding theory. But the more I used it, the easier it got. And the harder it became to stop."

His voice cracked. "I didn't realize how deep it went."

I swallowed, throat tight. "And the letter?"

He didn't answer right away.

Then: "That... wasn't supposed to happen like that."

"Then how was it supposed to happen, Blaise?" I snapped. "Because you cursed me. You cursed me."

"I didn't curse it." His voice was rough. Honest. "I didn't even write it. I was just... told to send it."

My stomach turned. "Told by who?"

He hesitated — just for a beat too long.

"I didn't ask questions," he said. "They told me it was supposed to trigger something. A memory. A reaction. I didn't know it would bind to you. I didn't know it would... do that."

"You didn't know it would slowly kill me," I corrected, voice cold. "You didn't know it would carve runes into my skin. Burn me from the inside out."

He looked like I'd slapped him. Because maybe I had.

"I recognized the energy," he whispered. "From the book. But I thought it would just..." He shook his head, jaw tight. "Just make you remember. That's what they said. That's all it was supposed to do."

That stopped me.

Because beneath the horror, beneath the rage, I saw it — the flicker of regret. Real and shaking in his hands.

He stood — slowly — rubbing his shoulder like the magic still lingered.

"I asked you for the ring back—then I saw your face when Millicent wore it," he said. "I didn't get a chance to explain—"

"No, you lied to Katie and I for a whole year, let us go in blind into a ambush and then decided to tell the truth, good job!" I shot, he flinched.

"You—" He hesitated, hsi eyes looking away for a second and then they locked back on mine, glossy as he bit the inside of his chee, "You never even looked back."

"Because I couldn't," I hissed, dropping my gaze and starting to twist the engagement ring on my finger. "Because I would've come back."

His breath hitched. His eyes found mine — wide, raw, wrecked.

"I loved you." He said, hallow.

Not possessive. Not poisonous. Just soft.

Real.

"I still do," he added, quieter now. "But that book... it made everything louder. Every thought. Every insecurity. Every time I saw him touch you — every time I saw you look at him the way you used to look at me — something in me just... cracked."

He looked smaller now.

Like the boy I'd kissed under a half-lit moon in the middle of the Quidditch Pitch in fourth year. The boy who held my fire in his hands like it wouldn't burn him. The boy who whispered things like, "You're not too much. They're just not enough."

And I hated how much I missed that boy.

I hated how much I still saw him — Buried beneath all this rot. Beneath the magic he let curl around him like armor. Beneath the mess and the silence and the violence he wore like a second skin.

The boy I fell for wasn't gone. He was just quiet now.

But in this moment? He was loud.

Bleeding through the cracks.

He took a step forward. Close. Too close.

And I let him.

His breath brushed my cheek. His voice was hoarse, low, wrecked. "I don't want to be this," he said. "I don't want to be the one who hurts you."

My pulse thudded. I could still remember how his mouth felt against mine. The way he used to say my name like it tasted expensive.

Like I did.

My heart twisted in my chest like it was trying to claw its way out.

"You already are," I whispered.

He didn't step back.

Didn't stop looking at me like I was still his.

And gods help me — I wanted to forget how much of me used to be.

His gaze dropped to my lips.

Then my hands. Then the ring.

Everything in him froze.

That heat — that pull — collapsed in an instant.

The tension broke. His eyes turned glassy, again. And when he spoke again, it was soft. Barely audible. "He gave you that?"

I said nothing.

His throat bobbed. "Of course he did."

There it was. The knife.

He stepped back like it hurt. Like he was the one bleeding. But all I could think was: Fred didn't have to be told to remember me.

He just did.

I turned away before I could say it out loud.

Because if I did —It would break us both.

I let the silence stretch just long enough for it to sting. Then, slowly, I reached into my robe pocket and pulled out my wand.

Blaise blinked. "Adrien—?"

"Don't." I flicked my wrist, voice dry. "You've said enough for one detention."

The book on the floor shuddered.

I flicked my wand again, and it levitated — high, careful, wobbling slightly like it knew I hated touching it. I didn't let it near my skin.

"I'm taking this," I said casually, circling around him with the cursed grimoire floating like a particularly dangerous balloon. "You'll be finishing tonight's detention solo. Maybe clean up the centuries of toxic masculinity while you're at it."

Blaise didn't move.

"Next time, try leading with vulnerability before the magical corruption," I added sweetly, tossing him a wink as I strolled toward the door. "See you tomorrow night, handsome."

I left him standing there, slack-jawed and soul-wrecked, as the door slammed behind me with the kind of finality I wished I could trademark. Although I found my own shoulders releasing tension, my heart finally slowing and a breath being shoved out I wasn't aware I was holding.

Holy Shit.

I continued walking, twisting the ruby ring on my left hand, and found my heart fluttering at the thought of Fred. His touch, his kiss, his smile, his jokes, his laugh—any doubt that Blasie just tried to insinuate evaporated as the ruby sparkled up at me.

I made it halfway to Gryffindor Tower before the adrenaline wore off and the full body tremble kicked in. But I kept the book floating steadily ahead of me — arm's length at least — all the way up the last staircase.

The portrait hole opened to chaos.

No Katie. Of course not. She needed "air" again, whatever that meant now.

But the rest of the crew?

Very much present.

Sage was halfway through reenacting a duel with a cushion. Maddie was upside down on the couch like it helped her "channel her inner Divination core." Rowan and Cassian were arguing over whether putting sugar in coffee counted as "adulting."

"Emergency," I announced, letting the book hover in the center of the room like a bomb. "Everyone shut up and look traumatized."

All four froze.

Rowan squinted. "Is that—?"

"Yes," I said. "It's cursed. It's Blaise's. And it may or may not be the very pulse of the runes tattoos that tried to kill me."

Sage blinked. "You brought it here?"

"I levitated it. I'm not an idiot."

Maddie sat up — slowly — like she was rethinking all her life choices. "Okay but... why is it here?"

"Because," I said, flopping dramatically into a chair, "Blaise just admitted he didn't curse me — but he was told to deliver the black envelope, the cursed letter. He recognized the magic. He's been carrying this thing around since fifth year—all this year too, and I think it's been feeding off him like a magical parasite-slash-insecurity amplifier."

Rowan nodded slowly. "Sounds like a Slytherin."

Cassian shot Rowan a side-eye.

Sage narrowed her eyes. "Did you hex him?"

"No."

"Slap him?"

"No."

"Stab him with a rune-carved quill dipped in venomous regret?"

"Tempting," I admitted. "But no."

Cassian raised a brow. "So what did you do?"

I smiled. "Threw the book across the room. Pinned him to a desk with raw magic. Made him feel things. Walked out looking amazing."

"Classic," Sage said, slumping back with a proud sigh.

Maddie leaned forward. "Did he cry?"

"Emotionally? Absolutely."

"Ugh. Sexy."

Rowan blinked. "Is... is that a thing now?"

"It's always been a thing," Sage said solemnly.

Cassian was still watching the book with mild disgust. "Please tell me we're not keeping that thing in the dorm."

"Nope," I said. "We're bringing it to someone who knows how to not get possessed."

"Snape?" Maddie guessed.

"Cassian," I said. "You're up."

Cassian groaned.

Rowan leaned toward him. "You did say you wanted to feel useful and that you knew those runes."

"Useful, not cursed." He growled, glaring at the levitating book. "Me and my big mouth."

"Semantics," Sage added, already digging through her bag for snacks.

I stared at the book, still floating silently over the center table.

I should've felt triumphant.

But mostly? I felt like I'd just opened the first page of something that wouldn't stop until it burned me alive.

Gryffindor practice was halfway to chaos.

Sage had already thrown her bat at a bludger like it owed her money.

Maddie was looping lazy figure-eights above the stands while humming Dancing Queen.

Ron was complaining about "phantom Quaffle trauma" and Harry was absolutely going to pretend like he wasn't hungover from whatever secret Weasley concoction he and Ginny had downed the night before.

I'd scored twice. Might've screamed "suck it" once. It was fine. Character building.

And on the sidelines?

Cassian — Mr. Tall, Dark, and Grumbling — was lounging on a bench with his nose buried in a cursed rune manual, muttering about "cross-circles of abjurative counter-markings" while watching Maddie with the subtlety of a man trying not to be obvious about being completely whipped.

"Oi," Ginny called from the far hoop. "Adrien, stop flirting and fly."

"I'm not flirting!" I shouted back. "First of all, I'm engaged to your brother—and I'm delegating my research to a willing Slytherin!"

"Same thing!" Maddie chimed in, doing a barrel roll like a show-off.

"Definitely not," Cassian muttered without looking up, "but I'm insulted none of you brought snacks."

"Can't eat snacks if you're cursed," Sage yelled, teasing—dropping a chocolate frog into his lap.

He flipped her off casually with one finger, unwrapped the chocolate frog silently and turned the page.

It was shaping up to be a pretty standard Gryffindor disaster session.

Until—

"Did I miss roll call or something?"

We all turned.

Katie.

Dragging herself across the pitch like the morning personally offended her. Half-dressed, hair wild, dark circles under her eyes, and that deadpan frown that said she either needed caffeine or an exorcism.

Sage gasped. "It speaks."

Maddie clapped. "We found her! Check under the Forbidden Forest next time!"

Katie squinted. "Why didn't anyone wake me?"

I dropped my broom and didn't hesitate. "Because you're always passed out, gone, or out getting air like some tragic Victorian ghost bride."

Her head snapped toward me, eyes narrowing. "What's your problem?"

"You are," I said, stepping toward her, voice flat. "You disappear, lie to our faces, dodge every question — and then waltz in like nothing happened."

"Oh, you mean like you've been doing for weeks now?" she snapped. "Melting down on loop while the rest of us scramble to keep up?"

"At least I don't preach honesty and trust and working together only to turn around and lie to every person I love!"

She flinched like I'd struck her.

I didn't stop.

"You want to talk about secrets? You've been screaming at us for weeks not to keep any — and now you're doing the exact same thing."

Katie's voice trembled, but she squared her shoulders. "I didn't ask for any of this!"

"None of us did!" I yelled. "But we don't get to walk away just because it hurts."

She took a step closer, face flushed. "Don't act like you've been so honest. You didn't even tell me the runes were spreading until I saw them glow!"

"Because I was scared, Katie! And because I knew you'd notice eventually — if you were actually paying attention!"

Her hands balled into fists. "Don't you dare put this on me."

"I'm not," I said, my voice shaking now. "I'm just done pretending everything's okay when it's not. You're falling apart, and you're dragging the rest of us with you."

"And you're trying to control everything because you can't stand the idea of someone else being the mess for once!"

I froze.

That one cut too close to home.

Before I could fire back, Rowan's voice boomed across the pitch.

"ENOUGH!"

He stalked toward us from the sidelines, eyes burning — jaw clenched so tight I could hear it click.

"This is insane," he snapped. "You're both spiraling and blaming each other for bleeding."

We both stared at him, breathing hard.

He turned to me first. "Adrien, you're not wrong. But you can't demand honesty and then unload like this in front of everyone."

My throat tightened. I looked away.

He turned to Katie. His voice gentled, but didn't soften. "And you — you've been pulling away from me for weeks. From all of us. And yeah, I get it. You're scared. But we can't help you if you won't let us see you."

Katie opened her mouth.

"Don't," he said quietly. "Not unless you're ready to be honest with at least one of us."

A beat passed.

Then Katie's gaze flicked from him... to me.

Her face crumpled for just a second — something between guilt and rage and heartbreak.

"I need air," she choked out, voice cracking. And then she turned and ran.

Off the pitch. Past the gate. Out of sight.

The silence left behind rang like thunder.

Ginny let out a long breath. "She's already outside..."

Ron looked around helplessly. "So... still doing drills?"

Cassian flipped a page. "I'm just here to catalog magical trauma."

Sage raised her hand. "Permission to tackle Adrien later for maximum catharsis?"

Maddie shook her head, walking toward me. "You okay?"

I sank to the ground, heart still hammering. "No."

Rowan dropped beside me. Quiet. Steady.

"She needed to hear it," he said.

"I know," I whispered.

"But it still sucked."

"Yeah."

Ginny plopped onto the grass behind us. "I vote emotional blackout nap and chocolate after this."

Sage stretched. "Or a minor arson."

Cassian didn't look up. "I recommend both."

And for a second, even through the ache, I almost smiled.

Almost.