Adrien.

I don't remember packing.

I just remember silence.

Heavy. All-consuming. The kind that presses against your ribs and steals every word before it can reach your mouth.

No one spoke on the train.

No one looked out the windows.

The Burrow was quiet when we arrived.

Molly hugged each of us like she was counting ribs. Arthur looked like he'd aged twenty years. They didn't ask questions. They didn't need to. We carried the answers in our eyes.

We didn't go to our rooms.

We didn't move far.

We just... sat.

In the sitting room. In the kitchen. On the stairs. No laughter. No jokes. No teasing. Even Ron was silent, shoulders hunched beside Harry like they shared the same storm in their lungs.

I sat on the floor, back against the wall, knees pulled to my chest, my arms trembling from the inside out.

The worst part? I couldn't even cry anymore.

It was like the grief had burned too hot, too fast—leaving only smoke in my chest.

Across from me, Katie sat with her head on Rowan's shoulder, his arm around her like a lifeline. Sage was curled up between George's old broomsticks, and Maddie sat on the window ledge, staring out like she was waiting for something to come back through the trees. Cassian was leaning against the wall behind her, a hand on her shoulder, then he slid his hand and intertwined their fingers slowly.

No one said it—but we were all waiting.

Waiting to feel okay again.

I didn't know how long we sat there.

But when Katie stood—quietly, slowly, like her bones weren't sure they could carry the weight—I followed.

Not with words. Just with motion. Her hand skimmed along the doorframe as she left the room, and I slipped out after her without anyone noticing.

She didn't go far. Just up the stairs, past Ginny's room, and into the bathroom at the end of the hall.

I waited a beat. Then knocked.

"Katie?"

A pause.

Then, muffled, "It's open."

I stepped inside.

She was sitting on the edge of the tub, shoulders curled in, hands clenched in her lap like she was trying to hold herself still. Her eyes were red. Her cheeks blotchy. She hadn't even bothered to clean off the blood on her temple—it was crusted and cracked, a scar not even healed yet.

"Hey," I said softly, easing down on the tile floor across from her.

She sniffed. "I'm fine."

"You're lying."

"Obviously."

Silence stretched.

"I just needed a second," she said finally, voice hollow. "From everyone. From everything."

I nodded. "I figured."

Another pause.

Then, carefully, I said, "Do you want to talk about Draco?"

Her throat bobbed. She didn't answer at first. Then she whispered, "He looked at me like he was drowning. And I wanted to believe I could pull him out."

I swallowed.

"But he held me back, Adrien. He let it happen. I saw it in his eyes—he didn't want to be a killer. But he didn't want to be the one who wasn't either."

I crawled up onto the edge of the tub beside her, shoulder to shoulder.

"You still love him," I said, not accusing—just fact.

Katie leaned her head back against the tile. "I think some part of me always will. But I don't trust him."

Her fingers twisted in the hem of her shirt.

"And then there's Rowan."

My chest ached. "Yeah."

"He doesn't flinch," she said softly. "Not when I scream. Not when I bleed. He doesn't get scared of the parts of me I don't know how to hide anymore."

I smiled faintly. "He's kind of stupid like that."

Katie let out a wet laugh. "You love him, too."

"I love you more," I said, bumping her knee. "But yeah. I do."

She turned to me then, really turned, eyes glassy but clear.

"I don't know how to let Draco go," she said. "But I know I don't want to hold on to him more than I want to live."

My breath hitched. "That's enough, Katie. That's all that matters."

We sat like that for a moment.

And then—quietly, solemnly—Katie reached over, took my hand, and whispered, "You saved me, you know."

I blinked. "What?"

"That night. That fight. If you hadn't been there... I think I would've stayed. I think I would've gone down with him."

I couldn't speak. So I pulled her into a hug. And we sat there, on the edge of that tub in the bathroom of the Burrow, two girls who'd survived things they weren't ready to name, wrapped up in the kind of silence that only exists between sisters.

When the knock came downstairs—and someone screamed, "SAGE!"—we both jumped.

Katie and I blinked at each other, frozen, and then—

Thudding footsteps. A door creaked open.

Then another voice.

Low. Sharp. Familiar in a way that made something inside me splinter.

"Trouble?"

My name. The hallway spun.

I was moving before I even knew it. Stumbling out of the bathroom, down the stairs, heart in my throat, ribs cracking like glass.

And there he was.

Fred Weasley.

Hair windblown. Shirt rumpled. Eyes wild like he hadn't slept in days. His face went white the second he saw me—but he didn't hesitate. Not even a beat.

I crashed into him like the storm hadn't ended. Like the world still hadn't stopped shaking.

His arms locked around me, solid and warm and here. My face hit his chest and the dam just broke. I sobbed—loud, ragged, ugly. I didn't care. My hands twisted in the fabric of his shirt, and I held on like he was the only thing keeping me from dissolving completely.

He didn't say a word.

Just rocked me.

One hand tangled in my hair. The other gripping the back of my jacket like if he let go, I'd vanish again.

I felt his lips press against the side of my head.

Felt his heartbeat hammering against my cheek like a second countdown.

And still—he didn't speak.

Not until I pulled back enough to breathe, to look up through wet lashes, to touch his cheek like I couldn't quite believe he was real.

"You're okay," I whispered, just to hear it out loud. "You're okay—"

"I wasn't," he said hoarsely, cupping my face with both hands. "Not until right now."

His thumbs brushed under my eyes—like he could erase the tears. The blood. The damage.

"You didn't write," he added, and his voice cracked at the edges. "I didn't know. I—I thought I lost you."

"I didn't want to," I whispered. "I didn't mean to—"

He leaned in, forehead pressed to mine.

"I know," he murmured. "But I can't do that again. Not ever. I thought I was too late. I heard about that tower and—God, Adrien, I thought I'd missed my chance. I thought you were gone."

I let out a shaking breath, my hands sliding to the front of his shirt, over the space where my tears had soaked through.

"You didn't miss your chance," I said. "You showed up. You always do."

His fingers brushed over mine—and then lower, catching the edge of the bandage on my palm.

He didn't ask. Not yet. But his jaw clenched. His eyes scanned every inch of me like they could reverse time and undo it all. His thumb ghosted over the faint edges of the ruby ring, still glowing faintly like it had survived a fire.

"I felt it," he whispered. "When something hit. I didn't know what it was. I just... felt it in my chest. Like I couldn't breathe."

I nodded slowly, voice low. "It was him. Anselme. He tried to break me—he went to grab me and the ring pulsed and went flying. He tried to use me. The ring stopped him. It saved my life."

Fred's eyes burned. "I'm going to kill him."

"You'll have to wait your turn," I murmured.

We stayed like that—quiet, wrapped around each other—until the creak of the staircase broke the moment.

Katie came back first, her face pale and swollen from crying. Her eyes met mine across the room, and she nodded—barely. Then she walked straight back to Rowan, curling into his side like it was muscle memory. He didn't even look up. Just wrapped an arm around her and let her breathe again.

Sage and George hadn't moved from the sofa, tangled up together like magnets trying to remember how to rest. Maddie sat beside Cassian on the hearth now, their hands laced together, bandaged fingers interlocked.

Harry and Ginny were tucked in near the kitchen, talking in low voices. Ron and Hermione sat against the far wall. Ron's eyes were red. Hermione's lip was split. Everyone looked... wrecked. Quiet. War-torn.

Arthur cleared his throat. "We... we don't need every detail," he said gently, gaze sweeping over the room. "But if you can—what happened?"

No one spoke at first.

Then Katie sat up straighter, rubbing at her eyes. "The Vanishing Cabinet," she said. "They fixed it. We knew. We tried to warn Dumbledore."

I found my voice then. "They came through during the storm. Dozens of them."

George's face was tight.

"Through the Astronomy Tower," Katie said. "The fighting started there. We got separated."

Cassian added, "We tried to get the younger years out first. First and second-years made it to the dungeons. Everyone else just... held the line."

Arthur swallowed. "And Beauxbatons?"

Silence.

I exhaled. "Gone. Or at least—the West Wing. There was something under the school. Something Katie's mother left behind. We collapsed it. We didn't have a choice."

"The Labyrinth," Katie added quietly. "It wasn't a burial site. It was a vault. And whatever was inside... it tried to escape."

Sage glanced down at her hands. "We stopped it. But it wasn't clean."

Molly looked like she wanted to speak—wanted to mother all of us at once—but her eyes just shone with tears. "And you're sure it's over?"

"No," I said.

Katie met my gaze. "But it started with us."

So we'll be the ones to end it.

Without another word, I stood—fingers laced with Fred's, the ruby glinting in the light.

Katie stood too.

We led the way through the narrow back hallway, past the cluttered kitchen and crooked pantry door, out the back door that creaked like it had heard every heartbreak in the world.

Onto the deck.

The sky was a different kind of dark now. Not storm-dark. Not war-dark. Just... quiet.

The others followed. Silently. Wordlessly. Fred sat beside me on the steps, one hand still wrapped around mine like a lifeline. Katie leaned against the railing, Rowan standing just behind her like he'd never let her fall again. Sage curled up in a lawn chair beside George. Maddie and Cassian shared the porch swing.

We didn't speak right away.

We didn't have to. We were here. We'd survived.

But we all knew that wasn't enough anymore.

I was the one who broke the silence this time.

"Well," I said, flexing my bandaged hand, still faintly glowing like a haunted nightlight. "Turns out Anselme didn't care who read the cursed letter. Just needed one of us dumb enough to do it out loud."

Katie didn't flinch. "We were both dumb."

"But I was faster," I sighed. "So I win the trauma badge."

Sage groaned from where she was, now, draped upside down over a deck chair like dramatic furniture. "Do we get actual badges? Because if we are, Katie needs one for clocking Blaise."

"I want a second one then," I muttered, "for slapping Draco. Crisp. Cinematic."

Fred smirked without looking up from tracing circles on my knee. "Ten points to Gryffindor."

Maddie hissed as she adjusted her ice pack. "I want one for surviving Adrien's freaky rune detonation moment. I'm pretty sure I coughed up a piece of lung in the hallway."

"Was that what that noise was?" Cassian asked dryly. He leaned forward against the porch railing, expression unreadable. "You think he knew? Anselme. That it'd be you."

"No," I said, quiet but sharp. "He didn't care. Could've been me. Could've been Katie."

Katie's eyes didn't leave the trees. "He just wanted one of us cracked open."

"Too bad he got the wrong one," I said, sitting up straighter. "Because I'm not broken. Just... pissed."

Rowan's jaw flexed. "And your dad?"

Katie didn't hesitate. "Tried to kill me."

Rowan's knuckles went white on the railing. "I'll fucking kill him."

"Take a number," I muttered. "We're all booked up through July."

Maddie blew a breath through her nose. "They want something. From the runes. From our blood. From us. I'm done being hunted."

Katie leaned forward. "We've been the bait."

"We are the bait," I said. "But not anymore."

That got them quiet.

I stood. The pain in my ribs flared, but I ignored it. I looked at each of them.

"No more hiding. No more waiting. No more 'next time.' We go after them."

Silence.

Then George let out a low, impressed whistle from the lawn chair, where Sage was now braiding his hair like it was an Olympic sport. "Well. That was hot. Slightly terrifying. But hot."

"I'm serious," I said. "We hunt them. We fight them. We end it."

Fred exhaled. "We have to survive a wedding first."

I paused. "Come again?"

Fred lifted his eyebrows. "Bill's getting married. In six weeks. Fleur's been planning it since fifth year. If we show up looking like a battalion of cursed corpses, she'll kill us."

I blinked. "God, that's such a weird sentence. Okay. Fine. We attend the wedding. We wear things that don't have blood on them."

"I have a dress," Sage said brightly.

"I don't," Maddie said. "Mine caught fire."

"You were the fire," Cassian corrected.

Sage waved her off. "Don't worry. I'll glam you all. We'll look like cursed royalty."

"I better look hot," I muttered. "I've almost died too many times to count."

Katie leaned her elbows on the railing beside me. "We go. We smile for pictures. We pretend to be okay."

"And then?" I said. "Day after the wedding? We vanish. No goodbyes. No tears. Just movement."

A long pause. That kind of pause that felt like the first page of something bigger.

Katie stood tall. "I'm going. But I don't expect anyone else to."

Rowan stood too. "You think I'm letting you go without me?"

Cassian popped his knuckles, cracked his neck, and nudged Rowan. "You'll need someone to keep you from losing a limb. Again."

Maddie crossed her arms. "We blew up an ancient underground death maze. You think I'm not going?"

Sage raised her hand like she was volunteering for detention. "Do I get to hex people?"

"Absolutely," I said.

"Then I'm in," she chirped. "George?"

George pulled her into his lap with a casual shrug. "Darling, I go where the chaos goes."

Fred hadn't moved.

Not at first.

He just looked at me.

That look that always said more than any words could.

Then—quietly—he stood, crossed to me, and slid his arms around my waist.

"Looks like I'm in too," he murmured, his voice against my skin. "Wherever you go."

Later—after the others had gone inside, after the porch light dimmed and the laughter faded into silence—I pulled Fred into the garden.

The air still smelled like storm.

The earth was damp under our feet, soft and unsteady. Fireflies blinked in slow, dreamy pulses, lighting the path like the stars had come down to rest. The back garden felt like a secret. Like the only untouched thing left in the world.

Fred didn't ask where we were going. He just followed, his fingers laced with mine like he already knew I couldn't let this night end without saying it.

I stopped at the edge of the treeline—where the wildflowers grew a little too tall and the fence had long since given up standing.

Then I turned, taking his other hand.

"The ring saved me," I whispered, my voice hoarse with everything I couldn't say earlier. I turned my palm over so he could see the faint red shimmer of the ruby—still glowing, still warm, like it remembered. "When Anselme tried to grab me... it pulsed, flinging him across the corridor we were in. Like it knew. Like it refused."

Fred stared down at it. At the mark. At the shimmer. Then at me.

His expression cracked open—raw, unreadable.

"Adrien..."

I didn't let him finish.

"Let's elope," I said, voice barely louder than the wind threading through the grass.

His head jerked up. "What?"

"No guests. No speeches. No war. Just us." I swallowed. "Before we go. Before everything turns to hell again."

He was silent for a beat. One long, aching second.

Then his eyes traced over me—my bandaged palms, the faint scorch marks on my neck, the bruises beneath my collarbone that hadn't quite faded yet. The girl in front of him was still cracked open.

But still here. Still his.

Then his mouth tilted into the slowest, most beautiful grin I'd ever seen.

"God, I love you."

My chest clenched.

"Is that a yes?" I asked, trying to smile. Trying to breathe.

Fred stepped into me, hand sliding up my jaw, fingers burying in my hair like he couldn't hold me close enough.

"That's a hell yes," he murmured. "Marry me before the world catches fire again."

I didn't say yes.

I just kissed him.

Hard. Desperate. Like it was the last soft thing I'd ever have.

His hands gripped my waist, sliding around my back as he pulled me flush against him. I could feel the storm we hadn't spoken about still lingering in his chest—the fear, the rage, the heartbreak of almost losing me.

He kissed me like he still wasn't sure I was real.

And I kissed him like I was trying to memorize it.

The heat of his mouth. The press of his body. The way his thumb brushed over the edge of the ruby like it was part of me now—something sacred.

His breath caught when I whispered it again, right against his lips.

"Let's disappear. Just for a night."

His voice broke. "Anywhere."

"I just want you."

"You've got me," he said, fierce and low. "You've always had me."

And under the stars—under the weight of everything we'd lost—I kissed my fiancé like it was the last calm moment we'd ever get.

Because tomorrow?

The manhunt would begin. And this time, we weren't running.

We were coming for blood. Together.