Katie.

Rowan and Adrien were circling each other on broomsticks like they were one step away from turning the sky into a dueling ring.

"She's going to hex him," Fred said beside me, arms folded over the deck railing.

"She's going to school him," I corrected, squinting into the yard. "Hexing would be merciful."

Fred huffed a laugh, but I could see the edge of something quieter beneath it. So I pushed off the steps and joined him at the railing.

"You alright?" I asked, nudging his arm. "You two looked... different today. In a good way."

His mouth quirked like he was trying to play it cool, but failing.

"Yeah," he said after a beat. "I think I really like her."

"Like her?' I mocked, then snorted. "Fred, you told her you'd marry her on the spot when she fixed your tie."

"Exactly," he said, flashing a grin. "And now I'm actually thinking about it."

I turned to him, blinking. "Wait. Seriously?"

He shrugged, but it wasn't casual. It was heavy. Real.

"She's not like anyone I've known," he said quietly. "She's chaos and heart and war and warmth. I keep thinking I've seen every side of her, and then she'll look at me like I matter, and I feel like I've barely scratched the surface."

I blinked again, jaw slack. "Wow."

Fred chuckled. "Yeah, tell me about it."

He paused, gaze dropping to his hands on the railing.

"I told her I love her," he said, voice lower now. "So many times now, actually."

That pulled my full attention.

"And?" I asked.

"She laughed," he said, but there was no bitterness in it. Just something a little sad. "Not in a mean way. Just... like she didn't know what to do with it—or thinks I'm joking. Like maybe no one's ever said it and meant it before."

My heart squeezed. Because yeah—that sounded like Adrien.

"Maybe she's scared," I offered. "Of it being real. Of letting it be real."

Fred nodded slowly. "Yeah. I think so too."

He looked at me then, that sharp humor fading into something vulnerable.

"How do I tell her I mean it?" he asked. "That I'd wait. That I'm not going anywhere."

I smiled gently. "You keep showing up. Like you always do. And when she's ready... she'll say it back."

Fred exhaled, something soft and grateful in the way his shoulders eased. "Thanks, Katie."

I bumped his arm. "You're not half bad at this whole love thing, Weasley."

He smirked. "Don't let George hear you say that. He'll never let me live it down."

Out in the yard, Adrien spun around Rowan midair and yelled something that made him curse and dive lower.

Fred chuckled. "Merlin help him."

"She's toying with him," I said proudly.

"And she's mine," Fred muttered under his breath with a grin, like he still couldn't believe it.

He didn't say a word for a while.

Just stood beside me, eyes locked on Adrien like the rest of the world had dimmed to background noise. And it hit me—really hit me—that he wasn't just infatuated. He was in love. That soft, terrifying, makes-you-do-something-stupid kind of love.

And it wasn't going away.

Not after today. Not after the way they'd looked at each other like the air between them had its own gravity.

I shifted beside him, arms crossed. "You're really gone for her, huh?"

Fred smirked. "Gone doesn't even cover it."

I squinted at him. "Okay, so say you were going to pop the question someday..."

He blinked. "You starting rumors, Blackwood?"

"Humor me," I said, raising a brow. "If you were serious—how would you do it?"

Fred looked down, thinking for half a second too long before shrugging. "Something loud. Chaotic. Inappropriate timing, obviously. Probably with fireworks. And glitter. Definitely glitter."

I gave him a look. "Fred."

"What?"

"Seriously."

He smirked, then rolled his eyes like I was dragging the truth out of him. "Alright, alright."

The grin faded just a bit, replaced by something quieter.

"If I ever did it," he said, voice lower now, "it wouldn't be loud. No fireworks. No crowd. Just her. Just... us."

I blinked.

Fred shrugged, gaze fixed out over the yard where Adrien and Rowan were still bickering like it was foreplay. "She doesn't need a big show. She needs to know I mean it. That it's not about anyone else watching. No audience. No distractions. Just me telling her I'd spend the rest of my life choosing her."

The knot in my chest tugged a little tighter. I wasn't sure what I'd expected—but it wasn't that.

"Wow," I said, trying to keep it light. "Look at you. Getting all soft on me."

Fred grinned. "You asked."

"Yeah, and now I need a drink."

"Don't worry," he said, bumping his shoulder against mine. "I won't go picking out rings without you."

"Damn right you won't," I muttered, trying not to smile. "Speaking of... the ring?"

He glanced at me sidelong, smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You volunteering to help pick it out?"

"Would you need help?"

"Would I want it?" he shot back. "Absolutely."

I rolled my eyes, but the truth was—it was kind of sweet. In that chaotic Fred Weasley way that somehow worked.

Because whatever Adrien thought of all this... Fred? He wasn't joking.

Not even a little.

I laughed, but there was something deeper under my voice when I added, "You do realize you're sixteen and seventeen, right? That's... young."

He sobered a little. "Yeah. I know. But you've seen us. It doesn't feel temporary. Doesn't feel like some school crush. It's her. It's always her."

I bit my lip. "And your parents? The Weasleys aren't exactly... chill."

Fred chuckled. "Mum would have a heart attack. Dad would make tea. And Ginny would absolutely blackmail us with every photo from our childhoods."

I grinned. "Sounds about right."

Then Fred turned to me, leaning one elbow on the railing, expression unreadable. "Alright. Devil's advocate is fun. But what do you think? About me and Adrien. Getting married."

I blinked.

Because despite the sarcasm and swagger, there was something honest in the question. Something real.

And the answer settled in my chest before I could talk myself out of it.

"I think..." I said slowly, eyes drifting back toward the yard where Adrien was mid-spin, cursing Rowan out with theatrical hand gestures, "if anyone could make something that chaotic and impossible work... it's the two of you."

Fred's grin turned smug again. But his eyes?

His eyes were serious.

"Damn right," he murmured, more to himself than to me.

Before I could say anything else, I heard bickering getting louder—and sure enough, Adrien and Rowan came striding up the yard like they'd just finished a Quidditch match and both thought they'd won.

"I was right," Adrien declared, grinning smugly as she shoved her hair out of her face. "You dipped, not dodged. It was an amateur maneuver, Woods."

Rowan looked personally offended. "It was strategic retreat."

"It was sloppy form."

"I was being gentle," he said, mock-insulted. "Didn't want to bruise your ego in front of your fan club."

Adrien turned and raised an eyebrow. "Please. They've seen worse."

Fred snorted behind me. "True. I've been flattened by that broom before. Wouldn't recommend."

They climbed the steps, Rowan still catching his breath, cheeks a little pink—not just from exertion, if I had to guess. Adrien dropped beside Fred, reclaiming his lap like it was second nature, and Rowan slid down next to me, tossing a grin my way before glancing between us.

"What'd we miss?" he asked. "You two looked deep in conversation."

Fred and I shared a look.

"Oh, just planning a wedding," Fred said casually, stretching an arm around Adrien's waist.

Adrien blinked. "For who?"

"You," I said, just as casually.

Rowan chuckled. "Wait, really?"

Fred grinned. "Wouldn't you like to know."

Adrien rolled her eyes, but her cheeks betrayed her—just a little color rising. "Right..." she drew out.

And Rowan? He laughed. But his gaze flicked between the three of us like he wasn't sure if we were joking.

To be fair... neither was Fred.

And if Adrien had caught on, she wasn't running.

Not even close.

Most of July unraveled in a chaotic, glitter-drenched montage that only our crew could pull off.

It started innocently enough—with a covert spa night in the attic.

Maddie smuggled in self-heating face masks, Sage charmed the bubbles in our foot baths to sing Celestina Warbeck, and Hermione brought an entire crate of potion-infused skincare from her secret stash. Ginny snuck in champagne (which might've been pumpkin juice laced with something stronger), and I convinced us all to take Polyjuice potions for exactly ten minutes—to impersonate each other.

Adrien, as me, flirted shamelessly with the mirror. Me, as Hermione, corrected everyone's posture. Hermione, as Ginny, nearly hexed the wall. And Sage, as Adrien, locked herself in the bathroom to give Fred a heart attack. (He didn't recover for at least two hours.)

It was exactly the kind of unhinged bonding we needed.

Next came the Burrow Hide-and-Snog Incident.

We'd all agreed on boundaries: snog where Molly wouldn't find you.

No one followed that rule.

Adrien and Fred broke a watering charm in the greenhouse and tried to claim it was a fertilizer mishap. Ginny and Harry set off a privacy ward so strong it tripped the Floo alarm.

Rowan and I, on the other hand, spent the entire time bickering over a hiding spot and didn't realize we had bickered the whole time—and so loud that Molly caught us.

Molly's lecture was the stuff of legends.

Which made the Unofficial Hogwarts Girl Squad Sleepover that much sweeter.

We took over the attic—again—with silencing charms and pillows enchanted to bite back if anyone tried to sleep early. Maddie told a terrifying ghost story involving a banshee and Blaise's cursed hairbrush.

Sage cried laughing.

Hermione fell asleep with a hexed book on her face.

Ginny prank-called Charlie.

Adrien braided my hair while humming, and I (in a rare moment of softness) asked her if Fred looked at her differently now. Adrien didn't answer with words. Just smiled. Like she knew exactly how he looked at her.

The Great Prank War of July followed like clockwork.

It started when George snuck a color-changing charm into my shampoo. My hair turned Weasley red for a full day.

I retaliated by enchanting George's socks to scream when mismatched.

Fred got caught in a web of glitter wards set by Adrien.

Rowan replaced Fred's favorite trousers with exact duplicates two sizes too small—and couldn't stop grinning when Fred waddled around like a hexed penguin.

Maddie, Sage, and Hermione teamed up to reverse all of George's prank triggers.

And the final blow? Ginny set up a fake Owl Post letter addressed to Fred from "The Ministry of Prank Regulation" fining him for mischief crimes dating back to first year.

The boys conceded. Victory was sweet—and sparkly.

Backyard dueling became our new summer training.

Adrien taught Sage how to counter a Disarming Charm with flair.

Hermione ran drills with Maddie like it was her full-time job.

Ginny challenged me to a rematch almost daily—though by mid-July, I'd started dragging Rowan in as my practice partner.

It started with strategy.

Then it turned into flirting.

Then it turned into Rowan catching my wrist mid-duel and smirking, "You trying to disarm me or distract me?"

I just smiled, close enough to knock the breath out of him. "Both."

Meanwhile, Adrien and Fred kept disappearing.

Sometimes into the greenhouse.

Sometimes behind the attic door.

Sometimes just out of view, pressed against shadowed walls like secrets waiting to be kissed.

And we pretended not to notice. Because whatever they were burning through—it looked like it was made of stars.

But everything shifted the night Rowan and Draco finally collided.

We were back at the shop when it happened.

Adrien and I had just finished reorganizing a shelf of Fanged Fizzbombs when the bell above the door chimed—and in walked Draco Malfoy like he owned the bloody cobblestone street outside.

He wasn't alone. Blaise hovered near the entrance, clearly just there for backup, but it didn't matter. The second Draco's eyes landed on me and then flicked—just once—toward Rowan, it was like the temperature dropped.

"So this is the new guy?" Draco said, voice smooth as frostbite—casual on the surface, but sharp enough to draw blood. "Oliver Woods' little brother, yeah?"

Rowan's jaw tensed before he even turned fully toward him.

I stepped in before Rowan could speak, my voice calm but edged. "Draco—don't."

Draco gave me that same tired smirk I remembered too well. "What? I didn't say anything."

"No," I said coolly, crossing my arms. "But you know exactly what you're doing."

His gaze flicked to Rowan, then back to me. "Just surprised. You used to have a type."

"And you used to have a truce with Adrien and me," I shot back. "Both of you," I leaned over to shoot a glare at Blasie, who avoided my eye and beamed at Adrien behind the counter. "What happened to that?"

He didn't answer—just shrugged like it was beneath him.

That was when Rowan finally stepped forward, slow and steady.

"No need to be surprised, Malfoy," he said, voice low but solid. "You met me last year. Remember? I wasn't the one hiding behind Daddy's influence and vague threats."

Draco's expression shifted, barely, but it was there—the flicker of something bitter behind his eyes.

Rowan continued, not louder, just more certain. "I get it. Guys like you—used to being the smartest, the sharpest, the center of the room. Then someone walks in who doesn't care about your name or your bloodline... and it rattles you."

Draco's eyes narrowed. "Careful, Woods."

Rowan didn't flinch. "I'm always careful."

And he stepped closer—just enough to put himself in front of me without blocking me out.

"Thing is," he said quietly, "you don't scare me. And I'm not here to play whatever game you think this is. But I'll say it once—back off."

The air between them tightened like a wire.

I didn't say a word.

Didn't have to.

Because in that moment—Draco blinked first.

And walked out without another word.

Rowan didn't move. Just exhaled once and looked down at me like the adrenaline hadn't even touched him.

"You okay?" he asked.

I nodded, chest tight in the best and worst way.

Because something had shifted—and Draco Malfoy had felt it too.

And Rowan? He'd just proven he wasn't afraid to take up space beside me. Not even in the shadow of an old war.

But the way he moved—just enough to place himself between me and Draco—was louder than any curse he could've thrown.

I didn't breathe for a second.

Didn't realize my hands were clenched until Adrien came up beside me and pressed her fingers lightly against mine.

The shop was quiet for a beat too long.

And Rowan... Rowan turned to me and didn't say a word. He didn't need to. It was in the way he looked at me—like that one moment of stepping forward was something he'd been holding back for months.

Later, when Fred and Adrien asked him about it, Rowan had just shrugged, casually as ever, and said, "I pick sides. Always. And I pick her."

And that?

That wrecked me a little.

Later that evening, as we were closing up, the four of us were restocking shelves, pretending the air wasn't still crackling from earlier.

Fred threw an arm around Rowan's shoulders as they passed in the backroom and gave him a smug little nudge. "Look at you. Standing up for our Katie like a proper Gryffindor."

Rowan didn't miss a beat. "You jealous?"

"Only that I didn't get to hex Malfoy first," Fred said, grinning. "I've got Zabini to keep an eye on anyway..."

Rowan scoffed and nodded.

"Yeah, well..." He glanced toward me, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. "I'm tired of waiting."

And before I could process that—

He turned, stepped in close, and cupped my face in his hands like he'd been thinking about doing it for weeks.

And then he kissed me.

Right there in the middle of the shop.

Not a teasing peck. Not an accidental brush.

It was deliberate. Focused. A little desperate. All breath and heat and the slow, maddening pressure of months of building tension snapping clean.

I didn't stop him.

Didn't even think to.

I just kissed him back like I'd been waiting, too.

When we broke apart, flushed and breathless, Fred let out a low whistle.

"Took you long enough."

Adrien didn't even pretend not to smile. "Finally."

And I?

I wasn't sure what came next.

But for once... I didn't care.

Because in that moment, in the flickering glow of shop lights and late-summer air, it felt like everything was finally catching up to where it was supposed to be.

Once closing time rolled around, Adrien was watching Rowan and me like it was her new part-time job. Every time I glanced over, she looked like she was physically holding back commentary. Her eyes bounced between us like a Quidditch match she'd bet money on.

"Don't," I warned under my breath, stacking receipt books behind the counter.

"Don't what?" she asked far too innocently, nudging the drawer closed with her hip.

"That face," I said, pointing. "The matchmaking face. The 'I'm-about-to-make-this-worse-on-purpose' face."

"I have no idea what you mean," she lied. Badly.

"You're smirking."

"I always smirk. It's a character trait."

"Yeah, well, smirk in silence."

"Fine." She turned to Fred and stage-whispered, "She likes him."

"I'm right here!" I groaned.

Fred, who was restocking glitter bombs, smirked and leaned over to Adrien. "Think we should leave them to finish locking up... alone?"

Adrien tilted her head, exaggeratedly thoughtful. "I don't know... you think they can handle all that tension without burning the place down?"

"I vote we give them a chance," Fred said, grabbing Adrien's waist and tugging her toward the door.

She let him, throwing one last smug glance at me. "Try not to combust."

I narrowed my eyes. "Try not to defile the greenhouse again."

Fred threw a wink over his shoulder. "No promises."

Adrien spun in his arms and looked up at him with that wicked sparkle in her eye. "Speaking of promises..."

Fred raised a brow. "Oh?"

"Still owe me that raincheck from the prank war night," she murmured, fingers curling into his shirt.

He grinned, leaning in. "Dinner in the wheat field. Tonight. Just us. No glitter. Probably."

She pretended to think. "Only if there's wine—" she turned, then rounded on him again, "And kissing."

"I'll bring both," he said, pressing a kiss just below her ear before tugging her out the door.

"Don't wait up!" Adrien called with a laugh as they disappeared into the fading light.

"Not planning on it!" I yelled back.

But by then, they were gone.

And Rowan was still behind me.

And I was still very much not okay.

Silence settled again, heavier now.

Rowan ran a hand through his hair and let out a slow breath like the adrenaline had finally caught up to him. "Well... that happened."

I crossed my arms, still slightly breathless, trying to get my heart to stop doing laps. "You kissed me."

"You kissed me back."

"Details," I muttered, then added, "That was... bold."

Rowan gave me a look—half defiant, half apologetic. "I told you. I was tired of waiting."

A beat passed. He shifted, his voice a little quieter. "Was it too much?"

I hesitated, my arms falling slowly to my sides. "No. Just... fast. I didn't expect it."

Rowan nodded, gaze flicking toward the empty counter like he needed something to stare at that wasn't me. "You're still thinking about him. Malfoy."

It wasn't a question.

I sighed. "I am. Not in the 'I want him back' way, but... he left marks. We were complicated."

"Still are?"

"No," I said firmly. "Not anymore. That ship sailed the minute I realized I wanted something real. Something that wasn't all sharp edges and secrets. The minute he lied to me."

Rowan looked back at me then, something softer in his eyes. "And me?"

"You're chaos too," I said, stepping closer, tone teasing. "But... maybe the kind I don't mind."

His mouth quirked into a smirk. "So what does that mean?"

"It means," I said, toeing the space between us, "I'm still sorting through my past. But you've got my attention. And I'm ready to move forward."

"Slow?" he asked.

"Reasonably slow," I replied. "Unless you kiss me like that again."

And just like that, he stepped forward, brushing a lock of hair behind my ear like he'd been dying to do it all night.

His voice dropped. "Define 'reasonably.'"

I didn't get the chance.

He kissed me again—and this one wasn't polite.

It wasn't testing the waters.

It was fire and tension and everything I didn't realize I'd been holding back.

His hands found my waist like they belonged there, and mine curled into the front of his shirt without thinking. The kiss deepened—slow and hot and maddening—and I could feel the shift, the spark that said this wasn't just a one-time thing.

When we broke apart, I couldn't tell if I wanted to curse him or drag him upstairs.

"You," I said, breathless, "are going to be a problem."

Rowan grinned. "You say that like it's not what you want."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Cocky."

"Confident," he corrected, stepping in close again. "I'm not Draco, Katie."

The words landed harder than I expected. Because he was right.

He wasn't Draco. He wasn't cold or calculated or too proud to try. He wasn't all apology and damage control.

He was steady. Present. Still here.

"I know," I said quietly, eyes locked with his. "That's kind of the point."

Rowan's gaze softened, just a little. "Then let me prove it."

"Starting now?"

"Only if you're done pretending you don't like when I call you out."

I let out a snort. "Oh, I hate it."

He leaned in, close enough for my heart to forget how to behave. "Good. Because I'm a patient guy. I've got what's left of the summer and the term to make you hate it more."

I rolled my eyes—but I didn't move. "And after that?"

His grin shifted—something slower, deeper. "After that, I keep proving I'm not him."

I didn't answer. I just kissed him again—one last time before the moment slipped too far away.

And this time, when we pulled apart, I didn't feel haunted.

I felt ready.

Maybe not for everything. Not yet.