#gracewrites

The dried blood matting half of Lidia’s bangs down against her split scalp didn’t bother her nearly as much as it bothered Teia. She fussed over her gently, blotting a damp rag against Lidia’s head and tutting like a disappointed mother.

“This is what happens,” she scolded between soft pats. “You always run ahead, and you always draw attention, and you always get yourself hurt.”

Absentmindedly, Lidia replied, “I usually work alone.”

“Yes, and this is why.”

“Mm.” The only sign she felt pain was a series of rapid blinks when Teia pressed against a particularly painful cut.

“If you would stop looking around, I’d be done faster.”

Lidia turned her head back toward Teia. “Is it still bleeding?”

“Not that I can see.”

She rose to her feet and brushed the dust of fallen Minrathous buildings off her thighs. “Then I’ll live.”

Teia gave up quickly. She was no one’s parent, no matter how much she cared. “Suit yourself. But Lidia?”

“Hm?”

“You’ve done immensely well. Not just here - since Lucanis’ return as well. House Dellamorte is lucky to have you.”

She smiled thinly. “We’re all just Crows today, Teia.”

“Yes, we are.”

“Speaking of Lucanis…”

Teia nodded her head in the direction of the raucous cheering and the gathered crowd surrounding a few figures climbing down from the rooftop where the final confrontation had taken place. They both saw the flash of a purple jacket at the same time, and a wave of relief washed over them as they shared a look.

“Vi is back a ways, checking the fallen for ours so we can arrange the funerals,” Teia continued softly. “Since you’re upright, could you see to them as well?”

“Of course. Tell Lucanis not to worry about us and just take care of himself if you get a chance to talk to him.”

Teia nodded, and Lidia turned away. She hugged her cape around herself like a blanket as she snaked her way through what was left of the Minrathous streets, hopping over and ducking under various bits of debris that cluttered the city. She caught a few of her fellow Crows out of the corners of her eyes as she passed - most bloodied, bruised, and limping, but alive - and they all shared reassuring smiles with her once they noticed her. We lived, said their grins. We won, and we lived.

She saw Viago leaning against a mostly-intact building, heaving a deep sigh, and she called out to him. He lifted his eyes to her as she approached, but his lips were pulled down into a scowl.

Quietly, Lidia asked, “Is it that bad?”

“We lost just over twenty,” he answered, voice low and solemn. “Not as many as I expected, but… less than ideal. Most were fledgelings, but there’s a small handful of master assassins.”

She felt a selfish desire to ask anyone I know? but stifled it. “Do you need anything? A hand with the bodies? A cart?”

“A cart,” he agreed with a nod. “Though I don’t know if we could get one to the eluvian with the state of Minrathous. We might have to carry them through on stretchers.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed again. “Which means we’d need able-bodied volunteers, a relatively clear path back to the mirror, enough stretchers to make for less back-and-forth, a cart waiting in the Crossroads…”

“Maybe we can ask Lucanis if he knows a clearer route?” Lidia suggested softly.

He blinked, then sighed with relief. “You saw him?”

“Teia and I. He looks alright. Reasonably unharmed.”

He nodded again, more slowly this time. “It's nice to have some good news, at least.”

Lidia looked past Viago, into the building, and saw rows and rows of white linens draped over bodies. A cold, sick feeling gawed at her stomach as she counted them, and she wondered how many more would succumb to their injuries or simply hadn’t yet been found.

Another fear gripped her, too. She scanned the bodies again, making note of the taller ones. From the shoes she could see, none looked more distinctive than the regular steel-tipped Crow boots. Though some were burned beyond recognition. She felt guilty, searching for just one body among the two dozen lying before her, and guiltier still that she was looking for him at all. 

But she hadn’t seen him with the other Crows. He should have been with Teia, or Lucanis, or even here pestering Viago endlessly. She shouldn’t care. He didn’t deserve it. But she asked anyway.

“Viago–”

“I don’t know.”

“I didn’t even ask yet.”

“No, but you have that look on your face.” Viago sighed and shook his head. “I don’t know where Illario is. Teia saw him last.”

Lidia frowned. “She didn’t mention anything to me, and I was just with her.”

He pulled a hand down his face before pausing to smooth down his beard. “I did not see him among the dead, if that’s what you’re asking, but I have no idea where else he would be right now.”

“Well, he isn’t with Teia, and he isn’t with Lucanis, where he was supposed to be.” 

She glanced over her shoulder just in time to see a pair of Crows carrying the mangled corpse of one of their fellows into the building. Viago sighed again and raked his fingers back through his hair. 

“Dammit. One of Teia’s fledgelings.”

Lidia looked back at him, horrified. “I thought you told them not to come!”

“We did,” he answered, voice pained and eyes closed. “But you of all people should know that doesn’t stop them from wanting to prove themselves.”

He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, steeling himself to write another name on his list. After a moment of silence and a nod at the two Crows as they left the building, he sighed again and said, “Go home, Lidia. We’ve been sending the ones who can walk back to the Diamond for now to care for the ones who can’t.”

“Teia told me to help you.”

“And you can help me by going home,” Viago snapped. “And tell them to put a cart in the Crossroads. And station some people with it in case we need them to carry stretchers through the streets.”

She frowned, but gave a single nod of understanding before turning away. They were all Crows today. And she knew better than to question an order from a Talon.

She was welcomed by the warmth of Trevisan air once the cool, watery feeling of the eluvian faded. For just a moment, she closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, drinking in the flurry of scents that always filled the Cantori Diamond. The smells of spices, wine, and smoke wafted up from the casino floor, but the familiar chatter and laughter was replaced by eerie quiet, broken up only by the occasional groan or cry of pain.

Lidia’s eyes darted toward a flash of purple and she called out, stopping Chance in his tracks. He leaned back, peering at her curiously from around the corner, but smiled warmly as she approached. 

“Lidia! You made it back.” He touched her shoulder gently before bowing with a flourish. “Welcome home, my lady.”

She returned the expression as best she could despite her headache and festering worry. “Thank you. The Fifth Talon would like a cart prepared in the Crossroads outside the Minrathous eluvian along with some strong, uninjured Crows who can carry bodies back on stretchers if need be.” 

“It will be done. Any other requests?”

She glanced around, but saw no one else nearby. “I heard some of our wounded came through. Where are they now?”

“Using the card tables as extra beds,” he answered before frowning as he smoothed his moustache. “We’ve already lost three, and one more seems to be on his way out. The healers who stayed are all busy, and everyone else went to Minrathous. It’s… going to get better soon. I’m certain. Your arrival can only herald better tidings.”

Again, Lidia bit her tongue to keep herself from asking if the dead were known to her. Instead, she simply nodded to signal her understanding and left. 

As she descended the many flights of stairs separating the rafters from the casino floor, her brow furrowed as her concern compounded on itself. Every step felt heavier as she ran over the names and faces of her favorite Crows in her mind. Lucanis, Teia, Viago, and Chance were safe. Jacobus stayed behind in Treviso after Lidia begged him to - their argument consisted of shouting and frustrated tears, but ended with several forehead kisses and a warm, loving hug once he finally agreed to stay. But the others? Heir, Dolores, Cazi, Valerian? 

Illario?

She hated herself for worrying about him the most. He had not earned back that space in her head, and yet he’d stolen it again. He occupied her thoughts in various stages of injury, and images of him maimed or charred or exsanguinated flashed through her mind. With everything he put her through, everything he lied about, she knew she should be savoring the idea of him dead somewhere in Minrathous. But it haunted her, the thought of never seeing him again. It ached like a stone with sharp edges lodged in her chest.

I should’ve left Treviso entirely, she thought bitterly as she rounded the corner of the final stairwell.

The floor of the Diamond opened up before her, and she sighed at the state of it. About half of the card tables had wounded Crows perched on them - several with especially nasty-looking injuries - and a corner of the room was sectioned off with makeshift dividers. A few trails of blood - droplets, drag marks, or both - meandered off toward different tables. It would take days to get this place functional again. 

Overlapping voices from various healers and patients filled the room. Most were voices she recognized, and she felt a wave of relief as they registered one by one. And as one of them filtered in, her head turned immediately toward the sound.

“I know, quite heroic,” said Illario with a soft groan. “Maybe someday the heroism will outweigh the stupidity.”

Lidia spotted him on a table, shirtless and wrapped in bandages, with his hair swept over one shoulder and a healer tending to his right side. He moved sluggishly and only when told, but his posture was still straight and his voice was still clear. He looked… decent.

She chided herself again for being so worried. Of course Illario was fine. Of course he made it with only minor injuries. Why wouldn’t he? He always had demonic luck. Why worry about him, Illario the traitor, Illario the liar, Illario the cheater, heartbreaker, manipulator–

“Lidia?”

She looked back at him at the sound of his voice, realizing her fingernails were starting to dig into her palms. She grabbed a stray coin off an empty card table and turned it over a few times in her hand as she made her way toward Illario.

He smiled at her approach, winced as he turned too far, and gave a slightly smaller and surprisingly sheepish grin when she reached his side. “Stay right there,” he said, holding out his unbandaged arm. “That’s always been my good side.”

Lidia rolled her eyes. “You couldn’t possibly say hello, or ask me how I am, or ask after Lucanis, could you? Do you even care?”

“I–” He hissed sharply and cursed as the healer pried something off his skin with a sticky sound. He leaned forward at the same time Lidia did, blocking her view of whatever was removed from him, and flashed another forced half-smile. “Of course I care, but I trust your delightful bluntness. I’m certain you would have told me the second you saw me if he was dead. I’m also certain you would look like you’ve been crying.”

She scowled and crossed her arms, angrily spinning the coin between her thumb and forefinger. “You’re a bastard.”

“I’m not, strictly speaking, but I never did get to know my father as well as I would have liked, so I’ll give you–” He cut himself off with another wince as the healer removed another piece from him. Once more, Lidia leaned forward to look, and once more, Illario intercepted her, this time by reaching for her arm.

“Don’t touch me,” she snapped, pulling away from him.

He let his hand fall back to the table. “If there’s one thing I can say about you, it’s that you never gave me mixed signals. I always know exactly where I stand. I love this about you - have I mentioned that?”

“You have. A pity I can’t say the same about you.”

Before he could respond, his head surged backwards and he let out a pained cry as the healer unwound one of the bandages on his arm.

“Apologies,” the healer muttered, “but now that the debriding is done, I need to replace these compresses and apply the rest.”

“Sure,” Illario groaned through his teeth. “You’re the expert.”

Lidia took her opportunity and shifted her stance to see the extent of his injuries. She couldn’t stifle a small gasp, which seemed to hurt him more than anything else.

A splotchy pink burn blossomed across most of his right forearm and about half his bicep, and it continued across the corresponding side of his torso. For the briefest of seconds, he turned his head to look at her fully, eyes wide and pleading, as he inadvertently revealed the connecting burn across the right side of his jawline and down his neck. The moment passed, and he lowered his face and sighed quietly.

Raw, red, sticky-looking flesh was visible in a few places, and as the healer set a small bowl on the table to free his hands, Lidia finally saw its contents: a small pile of dead, mottled tissue. How long had Illario been here, having his skin peeled off piece by blistered piece? Most of the burns looked deep enough to go past the pain, but in some places they were angry and crimson, shining as if wet. 

The healer covered them one by one with bandages soaked in a healing solution as Illario tried to be still. “I told you that was my good side,” he muttered, his lips pressed into a thin line.

Lidia tucked the coin into her pocket and hoisted herself up onto the table beside him, legs kicking off the edge. “So… what happened?”

His eyes fell to the uninjured hand he had resting in his lap. “Magefire.” His voice sounded low, unenthusiastic - a far cry from the initial charm he laid on so thickly. “But this lovely gentleman here–” he motioned lightly toward the healer– “has assured me the wounds are not fatal. Just scarring. You’re crushed, I’m sure.”

Her headache throbbed dully, reminding her not to take his bait tonight. Instead, she said, “I’m just surprised you got hit at all. You’ve always been the luckiest bastard in Antiva.”

“Well, this time, I left Antiva.”

“Which you have done before, and you know what I meant anyway, idiot.”

He shrugged with his good arm, still refusing to meet her eyes. “Lucanis and I were cornered, and I stood in front of him. Foolish thing to do, I know. But I suppose I was trying to make up for something he would probably tell me not to worry about anyway. He was fine last time I saw him, if you’re concerned.”

“I’m not. Unless he tripped over something during his victory march, he’s alive and well…” She trailed off as she looked him over again. His right arm injured, mostly on the outside; his right side burnt while the left half of his body remained untouched; only the lower right corner of his jaw and cheek scorched… he shoved Lucanis behind him with his left arm and shielded his eyes with his right.

“Then I’m sure he’ll give me a stern talking-to for trying to protect him in the first place,” Illario said wearily, finally glancing up to her. “Who knows, maybe all I really achieved was making the First Talon look weak in front of the others.”

“Or making yourself look even more pathetic.”

“Which would just be impressive at this rate, no?” He breathed a soft, humorless laugh. “Illario Dellamorte, the Crow who lost all his dignity in record time. They’ll sing about my failures someday.”

As the healer left to attend to another patient, Lidia touched Illario’s leg, the weight of her hand pleasant and warm on his shin. “If nothing else, it was brave.”

He gave an indecisive tilt of his head. “It was also stupid.”

“More than one thing can be true.”

He gave a wan smile. “Lucanis probably would have been fine if he hadn’t been babysitting me in the first place.”

“Knowing him, he fought harder with you next to him.”

He studied her face, his eyes searching hers for a moment. “You’ve blood on you,” he said, nodding toward her hairline. “Your own?”

“I’m alright.”

“That’s not the answer to my question.”

She rolled her eyes. “It is mine, but I’m still alright.”

“Are you going to tell me what happened?”

“Venatori.”

When she did not continue, he deadpanned, “The picture you’ve painted so far is vivid.”

“Don’t vex me, Illario.”

“Am I not allowed to ask for details? To be concerned for you?”

She glared at him. “Now you’re concerned about me?”

“One concussion makes another more likely,” he reminded her in that insufferably knowing tone of his. “And I would hate for my hard work in facilitating your recovery from that first one to go to waste.”

“Yes, but whose fault was my first concussion?”

Indignantly, he flattened his hand against his chest. “I accept no responsibility for the actions of previous targets.”

“But said previous target would have been asleep if it wasn’t for you playing hero.”

“Must we always revisit that night?”

“You brought it up!” Her head ached as she raised her voice, and she massaged her tender scalp gently as she closed her eyes.

His teasing smirk faded to a soft frown, but he replaced it with a subtle smile before joking, “And here I had hoped you would be kinder to me now that you’ve seen the extent of my injuries.”

“Not a chance. My skin is still crawling from being this close to you,” she answered while making no attempt to move farther away.

He arched a brow smugly. “Well, I suppose, as you said, more than one thing can be true.”

“I am… glad… you made it,” she managed reluctantly. “I was looking for you among our dead.”

“Hoping to see me with my skull split, were you?”

Her hand slid up and his uninjured one met her halfway. They locked gently at his side. “You would deserve it, but… no. I was hoping I wouldn’t see your boots.”

“Oh? And I would have thought you’d only know me by my gloves.”

I would know any part of you, her mind brought forth. She blanketed the thought and tucked it away to be scolded later.

“I suppose I’ll be escorted back to the villa and left there to recover,” Illario mused aloud when she didn’t answer his quip. “I wonder if it’ll be too much to ask for Caterina to let me stay in my own room again. And I’m sure Viago will be just as thrilled as you are that I survived.”

“He’s busy. I’ll take you.”

He sighed fondly - if a touch sadly - and stroked her knuckles with the pad of his thumb. “Do you remember the last time you took my care upon yourself? I don’t suppose you’ll be making me pastina this time.”

Lucanis’ wake. She made a hot meal every day and shared it with Illario in silence as they sat in his bed and he stared into the fireplace. At the time, she had no way of knowing that his grief was doubled by guilt and only compounded by her kindness. She did not regret it, not even now, and that frustrated her more than anything else.

She hopped off the table and pulled lightly on his arm. “On your feet, Dellamorte. Come on.”

He swung his legs over the side of the table and winced. “Where are we going?”

“Home. I’m not letting you take up space in the Diamond when others may need it more.”

“I won’t argue with the promise of a more comfortable seat,” he responded with a grimace as he rose to his feet. Looking down at their hands, still entwined between them, he added, “Though we could stop for coffee on the way…”

“The owners of Café Pietra could be lying under rubble in Minrathous right now.”

“...So, no?”

“No.”

She pulled him out the Diamond’s front door and they started the long walk back to Villa Dellamorte. Out of habit, Illario walked at her side so she was safely between him and the buildings. She pretended not to notice, but heat rose in her cheeks all the same.

At a side street, she directed him to turn, and when he gave her that quizzical where are you taking me look, she explained, “We have to stop at the market.” 

“For what?”

“Pastina, idiot,” she said pointedly, as if it should have been obvious.

He smiled and leaned against her, further entangling their arms. “I don’t deserve you, cara mia.”

She glared at him sideways. “No, you don’t. And don’t call me that. Lucanis would be cross with me if I let his brother starve, that’s all this is.”

Neither of them knew if that really was the extent of it. But for once, he neither questioned nor corrected her. 

“Can I have a hug?” Harry asks, looking so comfy in his hoodie and sweats, leaning against the doorway leading into the living room. 

You look over at him as you toe off your shoes by his front door, “Why?” you say, scrunching up your nose at him. 

“Why?” He asks, eyes wide and his mouth slack. His hands that were once down by his sides are now held out in a “Why’ motion. Almost like he couldn’t believe you’d ask that. 

“Because it’s been a year since I've seen you and I want a hug,” he says, like it was obvious. 

“God, you’re so dramatic,” you laugh, shaking your head at him. “It’s been two days Harry. Two days!” You hold up your hand, showing off the number two with your fingers. 

You had business in New York, dealing with a particularly stubborn client. You're a photographer, and you went to shoot a wedding. The bride wasn’t exactly happy with her last photographer, so you stepped in and offered to retake her bridal party and groomsmen pictures so she’d at least have some good pictures to remember her special day. 

It was all a big headache, but you got it done and she was happy in the end.

He just shrugs, looking like a sad puppy “Felt like it.” 

Then he shakes his head at you like you're the problem and says, “Stop distracting me, come here. Come hug me, right now,” He says, fake pouting. His finger pointed towards the ground right in front of him now. 

You watch as Harry crosses his arms over his hoodie covered chest and waits.

 When you don't move for a minute he starts tapping his foot looking at you, staring intently. 

 He’s a piece of work. 

Rolling your eyes, you fake huf to make it seem like you don’t want to when, in reality all you want is for him to wrap you in his arms and never let go. 

You give in and walk over and stop right in front of him, looking up you find his bright green eyes focused intently on your flushed face, or rather the bottom half of it.

Was he staring at your lips? 

No, he couldn’t be. Right?” 

“Well? Are you going to give me my hug?” Harry asks, finally looking right into your eyes. A small smile playing on his lips. 

He holds out his arms, waiting patiently for you to hug him. 

And you do, you hug him, wrapping your arms around his waist as his arms go around your shoulders. Your head rests right over his heart, and you can hear the fast pace of it beating loudly in your ear. 

Is he nervous? 

Why is his heart beating so fast?

God he’s so warm, you never want to let go. 

“I missed you,” you whisper into his chest, tightening your arms around him. 

“I missed you too, love.” 

You love it when he calls you that, makes you all warm and fuzzy inside. Like maybe, just maybe he likes you more than he lets on. 

Turning your head up, you rest your chin on his sternum gazing up at his stubble covered tan face. 

God he looked beautiful. 

You and Harry met during his One Direction days when he came home to England to celebrate his mothers wedding. You were a newer (amateur) photographer just trying to make a bit of money to put yourself through college. 

You guys hit it off right off the bat, you couldn’t believe how nice and warm he was. Not that he wouldn’t be knowing Anne but you could only imagine what living in the spotlight would do to a person's ego. 

He was funny, whenever you’d be taking pictures of him he’d always make a face or strike a pose. 

 You could remember making conversation with him and completely freaking out inside trying desperately to not show it. If he had noticed, he never said anything. 

He was probably used to it by that point. 

You both eventually crossed paths again when you were hired to shoot with the band for promo for their last album before hiatus. 

You guys caught up and have been best friends ever since. 

You couldn’t remember the exact day you fell in love with him but you could remember the day you realized it. 

Harry had just come off stage of his first solo album tour, you were backstage waiting for him. You watched as he came down the stairs backstage and made a direct line towards you, not paying a lick of attention to anyone else. 

He hugged you breathless, his huge smile on his face. 

He didn’t let go until you patted his back, needing him to ease up just a bit. When he pulled back he just smiled down at you, his hands on your cheeks, his thumb slowly stroking your cheekbone. 

You just stared up at him and you could feel this love wash over you, and you just knew. He was your person, and it didn’t matter if he felt the same. You’d love him from a distance just to be around him. 

“What is it?” He mutters, looking down at you. 

You shake your head slowly, still just looking up at him. A smile spreads across your lips, “I can’t believe you’re real.”  

When you realize what you said, your eyes go wide and you pull back from him. 

“Like, you know,” You chuckle awkwardly. “Because you're my best friend, and, and you're a famous singer and I'm no one, really. I can’t believe you even want me arou-” 

He cuts you off with his hands touching your cheeks and his lips encasing yours. 

You stand there shocked, your hands frozen in the air. 

Harry’s lips are soft in yours. He pecks your lips once before going in again and slowly kissing you. He eases you into it, his top lip catching between both of yours before he nips at your bottom lip. 

Once the shock of the kiss slightly wears off, you kiss him back. Your hands come up to rest on his forearms where his hands rest on your cheeks. Your lips take his, your tongue peeking out and running across his bottom one. 

Harry opens his lips and lets you take control for a minute before coming in and running his tongue over yours, before pecking you twice and pulling back. 

“Why’d you do that?” you ask, staring up at him, wide eyed and confused. Your chest heaves trying to catch your breath and your lips tingle from the way he kissed you with such passion. 

“Because you wouldn’t shut up.” He says like it was obvious, smiling cheekily. 

“You do that often?” you say more jokingly than a question, raising your eyebrow as you look up at him. 

He shakes his head, a chuckle falling from his pink lips, “Only with you.” 

As you go to say something, he just shakes his head and places his hands on your cheeks pulling you up to his mouth and whispering, “shut up, and kiss me.” 

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It was a beautiful blood red gown that reached the floor. A slit rose to her mid-thigh and the neckline showed off just enough. “Thank you, mom.” Y/N spun around the room and faced the mirror.

Hundreds of garlands of mistletoe and ivy hung from the starry black ceiling. Y/N was so captivated by the sight that she nearly missed the final step. “Whoa, love,” George steadies her with a firm hand on her waist. “You look.” George’s words get stuck in his throat. “Thank you, George.” Y/N smiles. Her hands come up to his tie, to subtly put some room between them. “There,” she says with a pat. “You look stunning too.”

He takes a step back and offers her his hand and navigates her through the lantern lit tables. “Is that…” Y/N motions towards the head table. George’s hand tightens around hers before quickly loosening. “Apparently, he has been promoted.” Percy gives a curt wave before turning back to Harry Potter. “Working for Crouch?” Y/N laughs. “Most stuck up job in the industry, I presume.” George laughs. “Probably fetching his tea, huh,” Y/N jokes. “Oh Percy, be a dear and make me a cuppa.”

“Making fun of Percy without me?” This time Y/N’s hand tightens around Georges. The couple turns around to greet a stunning Angelina and a–well a–Fred Weasley. His eyes catch Y/N’s. “You look–” “Hey, George,” Angelina cuts in and all eyes but Fred's cut to her. “Want to dance?” George looks at Y/N. “Go, George. If you say no, I am going to go dance with her and neither of you idiots will ever see either of us again.” “I second that.” Angelina’s eyes cut to Fred.

“Yes, ma’m,” Angelina pulls him to the dance floor. The Weird Sisters pick up in volume. “May I have this dance?” Fred offers his hand. Looking into his eyes, Y/N accepts. Their feet follow the rhythm with ease. “Mum taught me some lessons,” he explains. His fingers fawn out over the material resting on her waist. “You look breathtaking.” Y/N’s eyes close as the song slows, and he pulls her to his chest. “Please, say something.” His heart flutters under her ear.

“Why –” Fred waits patiently. “I thought–” Y/N takes a deep breath. With a step back and a slow spin, Fred pulls her back into his arms. “Why did you do that to him?” Her e/c eyes meet his brown eyes. “Why did you do that to me?” She feels her heart shatter.

“I didn't mean to. That was not how that was supposed to go, I promise, my love. Look,” he points up. Looking at the starry sky, her eyes catch on the mistletoe. “Fred,” Y/N groans. “No, look.” Past the mistletoe Y/N sees it. Everyone stands in awe as the fireworks light up the night sky. “Fred,” her hands tighten on his robes. “They were meant for you. Always for you.”

“What about that mistletoe, huh?” George glides past with Angelina, who gives a thumbs up.

“You are an idiot. You know that?” Y/N laughs. “A complete fool, both of them.” Angelina shouts before being twirled away. “Yeah, but I am your idiot if you will have me.” His eyes crinkle as he smiles. “Only if I can be your love.” Fred takes a step forward. His right foot separating her legs, a hand resting securely on the small of her back. He leans forward as she tilts back, waiting for her answer. “You have always been my love.” Grabbing his lapels, she tugs him towards her, securing them together as one.

Above them, the fireworks had disappeared and the stars read:

“Look,” Blaise continued, not even trying to hide his amusement. “I wish I could help you, but the note clearly states that he needs me.” Harry clenched his fists until his nails were digging into his palms, until he felt the sting of the cuts they were making there. He looked at Pansy over Blaise’s shoulder. She looked almost apologetic.

“I don’t know what happened tonight, but we’re his friends too. We’ll make sure he’s okay,” she assured him. Harry returned to glaring at Blaise.

“Have a goodnight, Potter. Granger. Weasely,” He said, giving them each a look in turn. “We’re off to comfort your boyfriend now.” And with that they turned away and disappeared up the stairs to Draco’s room.

Hermione didn’t even mention the fact that girls weren’t allowed in the boys’ dorms to Pansy, she’d broken that rule a couple times herself after all. Instead, when they were left alone and the silence was becoming unbearable, she said, “Harry, I’m sure he-”

“No!” Harry shouted, shoving away from their hands. “It’s fine. He doesn’t need us. He has friends already. He doesn’t need me. He’ll be fine.”

“Harry, that’s not-” Ron started, but Harry was already storming up the stairs to their room.

“Goodnight!” He called over his shoulder, effectively ending the conversation.

When he got to the room, he kicked off his shoes, flung himself onto his bed, drew the curtains, and laid down flat on his back, staring at the ceiling. He played the scene from the Three Broomsticks on repeat in his mind, he tried to ignore the voice telling him that Draco was trying to push him away, and he thought of nothing but the look on Draco’s face as he kneeled on the ground and the sound of him whispering “I’m sorry” over and over again until morning.

Read the rest of this chapter here.