Katie.

You could measure time in blisters now.

In the slow peeling of boot leather and the way our coats hung heavier with dirt than with rain. In how Adrien's braid had turned a shade darker from ash and low flame, and how George had stopped joking every time we broke camp, like it took too much effort to lift the mood now.

You could see it in our hands.

Scraped knuckles. Permanent smudges.

Fingertips that twitched toward wands even in sleep.

Cassian called it sharpening the edge. "You get comfortable," he'd said last week, "you get dead."

So we didn't.

Not even when we trained.

Adrien and I would spend every spare hour pushing our boundaries—sometimes literally. He had us mirrored, breathing together, flaring and grounding until sweat rolled down our backs and our magic crackled hot enough to singe the air. We'd hurl hexes at each other one minute and collapse laughing the next.

We didn't smile as much now, but when we did, it felt like surviving.

The tent smelled like smoke, iron, and exhaustion.

And right now? Onion. Burnt thyme. Whatever the hell Sage foraged earlier.

I stood over a dented pot, stirring clockwise with a cracked wooden spoon while Rowan knelt beside me, slicing mushrooms with slow, deliberate care.

"Why does everything we eat lately look like swamp water?" he muttered.

I snorted. "Because everything we eat lately is swamp water, give or take a vegetable."

Rowan smirked, but his eyes didn't stray far from the blade in his hand. We were all more careful with blades now.

I glanced toward the mouth of the tent.

Fred and George were the first to get up, brushing the dirt from their coats as they headed toward the tent—still murmuring about ward placements and fallback routes, their conversation quiet but clipped.

Sage followed a beat later, stretching with a groan before slipping her wand into her boot and padding off after them. Her limp was getting worse, though she'd never admit it. She muttered something to Maddie on the way by.

Maddie didn't look up. She was perched against the tree closest to the firepit, the same one she'd claimed since we made camp. A weather-beaten book lay open across her lap, but her eyes weren't moving. She stared at the same page for ten minutes straight before finally snapping it closed with a sigh and rising to join the others.

Rowan sighed once he finished with the mushrooms and pushed them off the makeshift cutting board he made before following Maddie into the tent.

It was quieter now.

The fire had burned low, all hiss and ember-glow. The scent of smoke clung to everything.

Adrien was still off to the side with Cassian, half in shadow, arms folded like a fortress. Her hair had mostly fallen from its braid, and her jaw was locked in that way I'd come to recognize: part defiance, part exhaustion, part dare you to challenge me.

Cassian leaned in slightly as he spoke, low and serious, and she didn't look away once.

Training talk again.

Probably strategy too.

The kind that made the air around them tighten. The kind that meant something was shifting.

I stirred the soup again—careful, steady circles—before tasting it. Still bland.

I added a pinch more salt. Then stirred again. Let the rhythm ground me.

And that's when I caught it.

That shift in cadence. The subtle dip in Cassian's voice.

The way Adrien's brows drew together, sharper than before.

That edge of something I wasn't meant to hear.

Not yet.

But when Cassian's voice softened, just a touch—I stilled without meaning to.

The ladle paused mid-stir. My ears sharpened.

"...thank you," Adrien said quietly. Her voice wasn't like before—wasn't sharp-edged or defensive. It was softer. Real. "For last year. For... being that person. Every time I flared, you were the only one who could bring me back down."

Cassian didn't say anything right away.

I glanced over just enough to see his arms drop from where they'd been crossed, hands sliding into his coat pockets.

Adrien kept going.

"And now you're training us. Me and Katie. I know you didn't have to. I know you've got other shit to deal with, or you could be doing. So... thanks. Really."

Cassian shifted his weight, eyes angled toward the firelight but not meeting hers. "I didn't do anything anyone else wouldn't have done."

"That's not true," she said, cutting him off gently.

Cassian blinked. So did I.

"You chose to help us last year when you didn't have to," Adrien said. "That matters. That says something."

Something in the air snapped tight—not tense, exactly. Just... aware.

I barely breathed.

Cassian was quiet again, jaw working like he wanted to argue but couldn't find the words.

Then Adrien—of course it was Adrien—broke the moment before it could unravel too far.

"Maddie's lucky to have someone like you," she said. "Smart. Strong. The whole shebang."

Then she did something that made my breath catch.

She stepped forward.

And, without asking, she pulled him into a hug.

It wasn't romantic. Not even flirtatious.

Just Adrien being Adrien—bold and honest and fierce in her loyalty.

But the way Cassian stood there, rigid for half a beat too long, before finally—finally—letting his arms wrap around her... something shifted.

Something small, but seismic.

Right as they started to pull apart, the flap of the tent rustled behind me.

Fred stepped out into the firelight, freezing for just a fraction of a second at the sight in front of him.

I straightened, spoon in hand, and looked down quickly—pretending I hadn't seen any of it.

Because maybe it wasn't my business.

But something told me it was about to be.

Fred didn't hesitate.

He crossed the clearing like he'd been waiting for his cue, hand reaching out to Adrien without a word. She blinked once, still half-tucked in the space Cassian had stepped out of—but she didn't flinch. Didn't pull away. Just let Fred's fingers slide between hers like they always belonged there.

"Hey," he said low, brushing a kiss to her temple. "Sage managed to grab blueprints off the Lestrange estate on their last run."

Adrien arched a brow.

Fred smirked, his thumb grazing her knuckle. "We need a new set of eyes on them. Someone who doesn't think like a Ministry tactician or a trigger-happy twin."

She scoffed under her breath. "So me."

"Exactly," he murmured, tugging her gently toward the tent. "C'mon, war council's waiting."

As they disappeared past the edge of firelight, I exhaled.

Then—

"You saw that too, huh?"

I startled slightly at the voice beside me.

Cassian.

He was standing just to my right now, arms crossed, his gaze flicking after Adrien and Fred—then glancing at me with a knowing tilt of his head.

I didn't answer right away.

I just ladled soup into the bowl like it was the most fascinating thing in the world. "You gonna tell me what that was?"

Cassian didn't smirk. Didn't joke.

He shrugged instead—quiet and honest. "Something that surprised me."

I nodded slowly. "She has a way of doing that."

His silence said more than his words ever could.

I passed him a bowl.

And for a moment, neither of us said anything.

Because we were both thinking it—feeling it.

Things were changing.

And not just out there.

But in here, too.

"She's doing good," he said after a long moment, nodding vaguely toward the tent where Adrien and Fred had just disappeared. "Better than I expected."

I arched a brow. "You mean not burning the whole field down?"

He huffed. "I mean, that too—but no. She's... she's different when she trains."

I let the spoon clink against the side of the pot and leaned my hip against the bench. "How so?"

Cassian shook his head slowly, scoffing to himself. "She's raw. No polish. No filter. Just... blunt. Sometimes reckless, sometimes way too intense, but she listens. She learns. She owns every win, every mistake. Doesn't try to hide from any of it. Not really."

He took a small sip of soup, then exhaled like he wasn't even tasting it.

"And she always wears her heart like it's armor," he added quietly. "Like if she puts it out there first, no one can use it against her. That's rare."

I tilted my head, watching him instead of the fire. "You always this poetic about your students?"

Cassian blinked.

Then glanced over at me, a little sideways. "Was I?"

"You were," I said evenly. "And let me guess, it's not just the magic that caught you off guard."

His lips pressed together. Not defensively—just enough to stop whatever he might've said next.

I didn't let him off the hook. "You've been softening lately. Around her."

Cassian didn't deny it. But he didn't confirm it either.

"I respect her," he said finally. "She's strong. In a way that isn't always safe but... real. She pushes harder than she should. She throws herself into danger like it owes her something. She scares the hell out of me sometimes."

"But?" I prompted.

His voice dropped. "But she makes me want to believe in something bigger again."

I studied him for a second. "Does Maddie know you're starting to sound like that?"

Cassian looked down into the bowl in his hands. "No," he said quietly. "And I'm not even sure what that is yet."

I nodded slowly. "Just be careful," I said, gentler this time. "Adrien's a storm. You don't get to stand in the middle of her and not expect lightning."

Cassian didn't reply. But the flicker behind his eyes said he'd already been struck. He shifted his weight, staring into the fire like it held something only he could see.

"She didn't trust me at first," he said, voice quieter now. "None of you did, really. But her least of all. Thought I was just another sharp edge, another soldier, another Slytherin."

"You were," I said softly.

"Yeah." His mouth tugged up, but there wasn't humor in it. "But she still asked... she came to me with those runes burned into her skin. Said they wouldn't settle. Said they weren't listening."

I remembered that. The multiple times Adrien's hands would shake. Her whole body hummed with something too big for her frame.

"She thought she was unraveling," he said. "But I saw it—what it really was. Her magic wasn't breaking. It was expanding. She was leveling up faster than she could anchor herself."

I nodded. "And you helped."

He glanced over at me, then back at the fire. "I helped because I knew how it felt. What it meant to carry that much power without a map. She needed someone who didn't flinch. Who wouldn't try to stop her. Just... keep her steady until she figured it out herself."

"That's what she thanked you for tonight."

He didn't say anything for a moment. Then: "Yeah."

He shifted again, more uncomfortable now. "I didn't think she'd remember. Not with everything else. But she did."

"She remembers everything," I said. "Even when she pretends not to."

He nodded slowly. "You know what's wild?"

"What?"

"I offered to help her with her runes because I thought she'd break them. And she did. Just not the way I expected."

There was something soft in his voice now. Something vulnerable.

"She doesn't need me," he added. "But she lets me help anyway."

I didn't say anything. I didn't need to.

The fire crackled between us. The soup steamed gently. Somewhere behind the trees, someone laughed.

And then—

Footsteps.

Fred and Rowan stepped into the firelight from the tent flap, mid-laugh about something I couldn't catch—probably some wisecrack Adrien made in the tent. Rowan was still grinning to himself, parchment tucked under his arm like he'd forgotten it was there. Fred nudged him with an elbow, muttering, "Told you it'd work," before looking up and clocking the scene in front of him.

His smile faltered—not completely, just enough.

His eyes flicked between Cassian and me. Then to the direction Adrien had gone. Then back to Cassian again.

Not accusatory. Just... studying.

Rowan caught the silence too, his grin fading into something more curious than anything else. His brows drew together, like he was trying to piece together a puzzle he didn't realize he was holding.

Cassian didn't move. Didn't look away.

Fred cleared his throat, reaching for the ladle in the pot beside me. "Soup smells done," he said lightly, though I caught the edge under it. "We were thinking of bringing some into the tent. Adrien cracked something."

Rowan nodded. "A workaround for the curse layering. She thinks she found a thread in the Lestrange wards that'll let us slip through without triggering the outer ring."

"Not a guarantee," Fred added, as I handed him an empty bowl like he hadn't just been watching Cassian like a hawk. "But a damn good start."

I handed him the full ladle. "Tell her I said she's brilliant."

Fred gave a low chuckle. "She already knows that."

Cassian still hadn't spoken. Still hadn't looked away from where Adrien had gone.

And as Rowan moved to help Fred with the soup, murmuring something about firewood and fluxweed, I couldn't help watching the way Cassian's jaw ticked once.

Whatever this was—whatever it was becoming—Fred had noticed it too.

And Rowan was starting to.

But Maddie?

Maddie hadn't.

Not yet.

But I had a feeling... that was about to change.

The tent glowed warm and low, a soft hum of enchantments lighting up the canvas in pale golds that flickered like firelight. I ducked inside with a bowl in each hand, steam curling around my face as the scent of the soup hit me—herby, earthy, and somehow exactly what we all needed.

Adrien was already crouched at the center table, ink smudged on her fingers and half her hair escaping the braid she never quite finished. She looked up at me like she hadn't slept—but whatever exhaustion was there, it was buried under something electric.

"You're gonna want to sit for this," she said.

Fred brushed past me with his own bowl, glancing down at her with a half-smile. "Sit and eat, or sit and freak out?"

"Both," Adrien muttered, already turning back to the map sprawled across the table.

I passed a bowl to Rowan, then to George, who was doing his best impersonation of a human puddle on a rolled-up cloak.

"Feet down," I warned, kicking the side of his leg.

He groaned dramatically. "You burn one batch of rice—"

"Three," Maddie corrected, brushing past me.

"Three?" Sage echoed, flopping down beside George. "I thought it was just the stew and that thing that looked like regret in a pot?"

"There was a pudding incident," Maddie added helpfully, and George groaned louder.

Fred leaned over Adrien's shoulder as she tapped the map with her quill, dragging all of us back to focus.

"There's a seam," she said. "Along the east boundary. Curse-bound, but not sealed."

Rowan crouched beside her, unrolling the parchment he'd been carrying. "The garden path?"

She nodded, flipping a page in her notes. "If we suppress our magical signatures for twenty-seven seconds, we can slip through without triggering the blood spells or the internal sweep wards."

"Twenty-seven seconds?" I echoed. "That's barely a breath."

"Better make it a fast jog," Adrien said.

Sage raised her hand, mouth full. "I've been training."

"Cardio?" I asked.

She swallowed. "No."

Rowan stared. "Helpful."

"Emotionally, I'm always helpful," she said proudly, grabbing a piece of bread from George's plate.

Fred wrapped an arm around Adrien's waist, pressing a kiss to the side of her head. "You're a genius, you know that?"

She smirked, but I caught the way her shoulders relaxed slightly under his touch.

Across from them, Maddie leaned toward George and whispered (not quietly enough), "You think if we told Adrien she wasn't allowed to solve everything, she'd spontaneously combust?"

"She wouldn't," George replied. "But we might."

I handed Maddie her soup just in time for her to mutter thanks, her eyes briefly flicking past me—toward Cassian, who had just stepped inside.

I didn't miss the flicker in her expression. And I definitely didn't miss the way Cassian's eyes caught on Adrien for a second too long.

We didn't say anything about that.

Not yet.

Because the map was on the table. The wards were charted. And Adrien had cracked the first door open.

So we sat. Ate. Memorized.

The fire had burned low, more embers than flame now. The tent behind us was silent—Fred snoring softly somewhere near the back, Adrien curled into him like they were sharing the same breath. George muttered something incoherent in his sleep, and Sage groaned in response before rolling over, cocooning herself in her blanket.

Rowan and I sat just outside the tent flap, cloaks wrapped tight against the October wind. My wand lay across my knee, fingers curling absently around the grip. His was in his lap, steady, like it always was.

"Soup wasn't bad," he said eventually, voice low.

I snorted. "That's the nicest thing you've ever said about my cooking."

"Don't get cocky. It wasn't good."

I bumped his shoulder with mine. He let it happen.

A beat passed. The trees rustled. A fox called somewhere out in the distance. The wind carried with it that late-autumn sharpness, like winter was watching just past the horizon.

"She's really going to do it," I murmured.

Rowan glanced sideways at me. "Adrien?"

"Yeah. This plan. The way she broke down those wards like it was a logic puzzle... She's different now. Sharper. But still so—Adrien."

"Heart-on-her-sleeve," Rowan said, echoing the exact phrase Cassian and I had mentioned earlier.

I nodded, pulling my knees closer to my chest.

Rowan didn't press. Just waited. Like he always did when I wasn't sure how to start.

Eventually, I sighed and looked at him.

"There's something weird with Cassian."

He frowned. "Weird like—?"

"Weird like..." I trailed off, fingers tightening around my wand. "Like he's softening toward Adrien. And not just in a friendly 'I want you to live through this' way. In a... way way."

Rowan blinked. "Shit."

"Yeah."

"You think Adrien knows?"

"I don't think so. Or maybe she does and she's ignoring it. She hugged him earlier. Purely platonic. But the way he looked at her afterward..."

Rowan ran a hand down his face, groaning under his breath. "That's messy."

"You think?"

He huffed a dry laugh. "Cassian's with Maddie. Adrien's married to Fred. Who might actually kill him if he ever even thought about it. That's not messy. That's a war crime."

I gave him a look, but my chest tightened.

"I don't think Cassian wants to feel that way," I said quietly. "But... something's shifting. I saw it earlier. And if I saw it..."

"Maddie will eventually," he finished.

I nodded, staring into the embers. "And then what the hell do we do?"

Rowan didn't answer at first. He just reached over, curled his fingers gently around mine, and held on.

"Right now?" he said. "We watch. We listen. And we wait for someone to either make a mistake or say something stupid."

I sighed again, letting my head drop to his shoulder. "That's comforting."

"Better than soup," he said.

And despite everything—despite the fear and tension and mess—I laughed.

He didn't say anything for a while after that. Just kept his fingers wrapped around mine like he wasn't planning to let go.

The fire cracked softly. Someone shifted inside the tent—probably Maddie rolling over. I could still hear Fred's low, rhythmic breathing, and the occasional scratch of George mumbling nonsense.

Rowan turned his head, his breath brushing my temple. "How are you doing with... all of it?" he asked. "Knowing Caleb's out there somewhere?"

I didn't answer right away.

Because how do you answer that? When your own brother might be hunting you like prey. When the past you shoved so far down suddenly has a name and a pulse again.

"I don't know," I said finally. My voice barely a whisper. "It's like a cold draft under the door—you don't see it, but you know it's coming for you."

He exhaled hard through his nose. Not in frustration. Just... feeling it with me.

"He doesn't get to have you," Rowan murmured. "Whatever he thinks he's doing—he doesn't get that."

I swallowed thickly. "I know. But that doesn't mean he won't try."

Rowan's grip around my waist tightened, his other hand stroking down my arm in slow, grounding passes.

"You and me," he said, tilting his head. "We're okay?"

I nodded against his shoulder. "Yeah. We are."

And I let myself believe it.

At least for tonight.

The next morning came too fast.

The tent buzzed with the quiet rustle of gear being packed, boots thudding against earth, spells muttered under breath. No one spoke louder than necessary. Nerves had their own kind of gravity—and today, we were all feeling the pull.

Adrien stood near the edge of the clearing, her braid half-done, notes still clutched in one hand, wand tapping absently against her thigh. Focused. Grounded. Brilliant.

Fred adjusted his jacket as he joined her, muttering something that made her smirk—just for a second—before she nodded once, sharp and clean. George and Sage moved to the back of the group, George carrying one of the kits, Sage twirling her wand lazily like they were just going on a picnic instead of infiltrating a blood-warded estate.

Maddie had already tied her hair up and double-knotted her boots. She didn't say much as she passed, just flicked her fingers in Adrien's direction like some kind of half-hearted good luck charm. Cassian followed her a beat later, silent but steady, his eyes flicking to Adrien once—and then to me. His nod was brief. Neutral. Maybe too neutral.

Rowan fell in beside me as I finished shouldering my bag.

He didn't say anything either. He didn't need to.

Adrien and I led the pack as we stepped out of the woods, heading east toward the boundary line. The air felt charged—like we were stepping into the current of something ancient and waiting.

The Lestrange Estate was still out of sight—just a silhouette on the horizon—but it already felt close. The kind of close that curled in your gut. That settled into your ribs and whispered: no going back now.

I didn't look back. Neither did Adrien.

We just kept walking.