Katie.

It was cold outside the Room of Requirement.

Not winter-cold — not physically. But the kind of cold that settled behind your ribs when you knew something was ending.

Or about to.

Draco stood in front of the blank stretch of stone wall, shoulders tense, jaw clenched, staring at nothing.

I adjusted the strap on the pack I'd brought him — filled with spare parts, potions, and one badly repurposed invisibility charm I absolutely wasn't supposed to have.

"Brew these in order," I said quietly. "The blue one slows magical corrosion, but only if it's fresh."

"I know," he murmured.

I handed him the vial anyway. "You always forget that part."

His hand brushed mine as he took it. Brief. But it burned.

"Thanks," he said, eyes still on the wall. "For this. For everything."

"You're welcome," I said.

But I didn't mean it.

Because I hated this. Every moment of it.

I hated how I still couldn't follow him in. How he still didn't tell me why.

"Draco—"

He turned sharply, eyes flashing. "Don't ask me again."

His voice wasn't loud. But it was rough, raw — the kind of edge that came from too many sleepless nights and too many buried choices.

I stepped forward anyway. "You're going to get yourself killed."

His jaw flexed.

"I know," he said finally, bitter and quiet.

I reached for his arm — fingertips brushing fabric. "You don't have to do this alone."

He pulled away.

Slow. Deliberate.

Like touching me burned.

He looked at me then, and it knocked the air out of me. Because it wasn't just tiredness in his face.

It was guilt. And grief. And something I didn't want to name.

"I'd rather it be me than you," he said.

It wasn't a line.

It wasn't pity.

It was the truth — heavy and stupid and noble in the worst way.

My throat closed. "You can't keep doing this. Pushing me away like it protects me. It doesn't."

"You think I don't know that?" he snapped. "You think this doesn't kill me every time I let you walk away?"

"Then don't let me." I found it pouring out of my mouth before I could stop myself.

He stared at me, breath shallow, lips parted like he wanted to say something — anything.

But instead, he turned.

He placed a hand on the wall. It shimmered, shifted, and a door began to bloom from the stone.

"Draco—"

He didn't look back.

"Don't," he said again. Softer now. "If you say goodbye, I won't go in."

And just like that, the door swallowed him.

Gone.

He didn't say goodbye.

He never did.

I stood there for a long time, staring at stone, my heart beating too loud in the silence.

And then I turned — fists clenched, eyes burning — and walked away like I hadn't just shattered in the hallway outside a door that wouldn't open for me.

Gryffindor Tower was too quiet when I pushed through the portrait hole.

Which was the first sign.

No laughter. No card games. No bickering over tea or Quidditch stats.

Just silence. And eyes. Everywhere.

Rowan. Adrien. Maddie. Sage. Ginny. Harry. Ron. Hermione.

Even Cassian had looked up from whatever cursed nightmare he'd been studying.

Adrien was standing. Arms crossed. Face pale.

Rowan's jaw was tight. He wouldn't look at me.

Harry stepped forward.

"We need to talk," he said, voice calm. Too calm.

My stomach dropped.

"What's going on?"

"We know about the Room of Requirement," Harry said. "We know Malfoy's using it."

I said nothing, feeling my heart swell.

Harry's eyes sharpened. "And we know you've been helping him."

The world tilted sideways.

"What?"

"Dobby and Kreacher saw you," Hermione said. "They followed Malfoy like Harry asked. You were with him."

All the blood drained from my face.

Sage blinked. "Wait. Is that true?"

My mouth opened. Closed. No sound came out.

Adrien took a step forward. "Katie—"

"I can explain," I said, voice cracking.

"Please do," Rowan said coldly, flexing his fists and flaring his nostrils.

So I did.

Everything.

I told them about the repairs. The meetings. The broom. The magic. The guilt. The way I'd helped him, fixed him, protected him — not because I trusted him, but because I couldn't stop.

And when I finished?

Silence.

Heavy. Crackling. Unforgiving.

Adrien stared at me like she didn't even know my name. Like I was something she'd just realized had teeth.

Rowan's mouth was a hard line, jaw flexing like he was trying not to fall apart.

Sage was the first to say anything.

"You've been helping Malfoy?" she said slowly. "Malfoy? Your ex? The one that lied to you, to Adrien—almost got Adrien killed last year? The Blondie-with-a-dark-side, Malfoy?"

Maddie turned toward me like she was trying to figure out if this was a prank. "Tell me you're joking."

I couldn't.

Cassian just let out a quiet whistle. "Well. Shit."

Adrien took a slow step forward, arms folded tightly over her chest. Her voice was deadly calm.

"You lied to all of us."

"I didn't mean to—"

"You let me stand on that pitch," she snapped, voice rising, "and rip you apart in front of everyone — and you still didn't say a word!"

"I was trying to protect—"

"Don't," Rowan cut in, voice sharp. "Don't say you were protecting him."

That hit harder than I expected. More than I wanted to admit.

"Rowan—"

He shook his head once. "You don't trust us."

"I didn't want to drag you into it."

"But you dragged yourself into it," Adrien said, eyes blazing. "And then you let us all feel like we were the problem."

"I didn't mean to—"

"No," Sage said, stepping in now, eyes wide and betrayed. "You chose not to. You chose secrets. You chose him."

"I wasn't—"

"You lied to us, Katie," Maddie said, her voice cracking. "To me. You were the one always yelling about honesty and trust and sticking together. How many times have you called us out for hiding things?"

I didn't answer. I couldn't.

"You stood there," Adrien said, louder now, "and let me feel like the villain. And the entire time, you were helping the one person who nearly got all of us killed last year."

"It wasn't like that—"

"Then what was it like?" Rowan's voice was quiet now. Flat. Which made it worse. "Tell me. Because it sure as hell feels like you picked him."

I opened my mouth to argue.

But nothing came out.

Because maybe I had.

Even now.

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

The silence that followed was worse than any scream.

Adrien's mouth twisted — like the apology burned.

"That's...not enough," she said, turning sharp and fast, storming up the stairs before I could say anything else.

Rowan just looked at me one last time.

Not with anger.

Worse.

With disappointment.

And then he followed Adrien without another word.

Maddie ran a hand through her hair and let out a curse under her breath.

Sage shook her head. "I would've helped you, you know. All of us would've. You didn't have to do this alone."

Cassian just stared at the fireplace, then muttered, "Guess no one's sleeping tonight."

No one else said a word.

And no one stopped me when I turned and walked out the portrait hole. Not this time.

The cold hit me the second the portrait door closed behind me.

I didn't know where I was going.

Didn't care.

My legs just moved — past the stairs, down two halls, around a corner — until I found myself alone in an empty classroom on the sixth floor, door half-rotted, glass long gone.

And then I broke.

I didn't fall to my knees. Not at first.

It started with the shaking.

Hands. Breath. Vision.

Like my body knew something was cracking before I let myself admit it.

I backed into the wall and slid down slowly, my spine knocking against the cold stone, and when I hit the floor, I stayed there.

Everything hit at once.

Rowan's face — the way he looked at me. Like I'd gutted him.

Adrien's voice — her rage, her heartbreak. Like I'd betrayed her trust in the worst possible way.

Sage. Maddie. Cassian.

All of them.

Gone quiet when they used to fight for me.

I pressed my hands to my face like that would stop it. The stinging behind my eyes. The nausea curling in my gut.

But it didn't.

It just made it worse.

And when the tears finally came, they came hard.

Hot. Shaking. Ugly.

I cried like I was choking on it — because maybe I was.

I tried to breathe, but the sob caught halfway up my throat. I curled in tighter, pressing my knees to my chest and digging my nails into the fabric of my robes like I could hold myself together with force.

I couldn't.

Because I'd ruined it.

Not just my relationship with Rowan.

Not just Adrien's trust.

Not just my place in the only group of people who ever made me feel like I belonged.

I'd ruined everything.

And I didn't even know why anymore.

No — that was a lie, too.

Because deep down, I did know.

Part of me couldn't let Draco go.

Even when I wanted to. Even when I hated myself for it. There was something in him — broken and sharp and familiar — that called to something just as broken in me. Something I hadn't figured out how to turn off.

But that wasn't the worst part.

The worst part was that I still loved Rowan.

I did.

My heart still ached for the way he smiled when no one else was looking. The way he held me like I was something worth holding. The way he listened — really listened — like every word I said mattered.

He made me feel steady when the rest of the world spun too fast.

And I still shattered him.

Because I hadn't been strong enough to choose.

Because I hadn't been honest enough to try.

I sobbed again. Louder this time.

The kind of sound that never leaves a room.

I pulled the sleeve of my robe over my face like it could muffle the wreckage of it. But nothing could drown it out.

Not anymore.

I'd been hiding behind excuses for so long — I didn't want to drag them into it, I was protecting them, it wasn't that bad — but the truth?

The truth was simple. I lied.

I lied to the people I loved most.

And now they were gone. Not dead.

But gone in a way that felt so much worse.

I cried until my throat hurt. Until my chest stuttered. Until my face was wet and raw and hollow.

And then I sat there — in the middle of a ruined classroom — arms wrapped around myself like that could stop the ache.

And I whispered, "I'm sorry," to no one.

And to everyone.

And maybe — just maybe — to both of them.

The days that followed felt like living underwater.

Everything was muffled.

Slower. Colder.

No one said anything cruel. Not really.

But silence can cut deeper than any curse when it comes from the people you love.

Adrien hadn't spoken to me since the common room.

Sage avoided eye contact — which, for her, was practically a public hex.

Maddie's laugh used to find me like a warm light. Now it dimmed whenever I walked into the room.

Cassian didn't say much at all — but his glances were sharp. Like he was waiting for me to shatter again so he could decide whether or not to pick up the pieces.

And Rowan...

Rowan was polite. Painfully so.

He didn't brush against me when we passed. Didn't say my name unless someone else already had. He didn't pull away — not exactly.

He just stopped reaching.

And somehow, that was worse.

He would sit near me in the common room, but he never reached for my hand. He walked beside me between classes, but never close enough to brush shoulders. He laughed when the others laughed.

Smiled when it was polite.

But when I looked at him, really looked — I saw it.

The space I'd carved out between us.

And I didn't know how to fill it back in.

Still... I kept helping Draco.

Less often. Less intensely.

But I didn't stop.

I told myself it was unfinished work. That I owed it to him. That walking away now would make everything worse.

But the truth? I didn't know who I was if I wasn't fixing something.

Even if the thing I was fixing might've been the one breaking me.

It was late one evening — after most of the castle had gone quiet — when I dropped off a pouch of supplies outside the usual corner near the Room of Requirement.

I wasn't going to stay. Just leave it and go. But the door opened before I could step away.

And there he was.

Draco.

Pale. Disheveled. Hair damp from whatever spell had gone wrong or right or just hard enough to make him sweat.

He didn't say anything at first.

Just looked at me.

And I knew — he felt it too.

The shift. The distance.

"You're quiet lately," he said, voice low — not accusing, just... careful.

I stared at the floor. "I'm tired."

Too fast. Too flat.

He tilted his head. "You weren't tired before."

I shrugged, arms folding around myself like armor. "A lot's changed."

He took a slow step forward.

"Has it?"

The way he asked it — not sharp, not smug. Just soft, and a little tired — like he already knew the answer, but still needed to hear it.

Something twisted behind my ribs.

I didn't meet his eyes. "I can't keep doing this."

He went still.

For a long beat, he didn't say anything. Then, softer than I expected: "I figured."

I looked up.

His expression wasn't angry. It wasn't detached.

It was... something else.

Like he'd been bracing for this. Like he'd already mourned it.

"I didn't mean for it to get like this," I said, voice barely above a whisper.

"I know."

"I don't hate you."

"I know that, too."

His eyes flicked to mine. And for the first time in weeks, I saw it — the part of him he didn't show anyone else.

Not anger. Not detachment.

Just quiet ache.

He reached for me then — a small movement, tentative, hand brushing toward mine like it wasn't sure it belonged there anymore.

And for a second... I wanted to let him.

But Rowan's face flashed behind my eyes — that look of betrayal, of disbelief — and it burned.

I stepped back.

Draco's hand froze midair. Then slowly fell to his side.

His jaw twitched once. His gaze dropped.

And gods, I hated how much I wanted to close the space again.

"I'm trying to figure out what I believe," I said, my voice catching.

"I get it," he murmured. His voice wasn't bitter. Just sad.

And quiet.

Like someone who'd finally stopped trying to rewrite the ending.

He stepped back into the shadows by the wall — not disappearing, not storming off. Just... retreating.

Giving me space I hadn't even asked for.

"You know where to find me," he said.

Then, almost like an afterthought: "If you decide you still want to."

And the door closed behind him.

Softly. Like it wasn't sure what it was sealing out.