Grimmauld Place reeked of blood and burn salve.

You lay stretched across the threadbare sofa in the drawing room, robes torn and skin scorched. Every breath scraped fire through your ribs, but the pain barely registered. Not with all the yelling.

“She shouldn’t have even been there!” Kingsley’s voice was sharp, slicing through the air like a spell. “That’s not a battlefield for someone without proper backup.”

“She was backup,” Tonks snapped, pacing furiously. Her hair had dulled to a stormy grey, streaked with panic. “She was right behind me—and if she hadn’t been, I’d be the one laid out with a damn curse burning through my chest, not her.”

“I told you this wasn’t the time to bring her along,” Moody barked. “She’s not cleared for field work—”

“She’s not a child,” Remus cut in, quieter but no less firm. He sat beside you, pressing another damp cloth to your wound. You hissed, more from frustration than pain.

“I asked to go,” you managed, voice rough as gravel. “You lot act like I tripped and fell into a Death Eater ambush.”

“No one’s saying that,” Molly said gently from the hearth, wringing her hands. “But love, you took a curse straight to the chest—”

“Because I threw myself in front of Tonks,” you said, glaring at the ceiling. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

Tonks stopped pacing. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“That martyr thing. Like I wanted you to take a hit for me.”

“I didn’t do it for credit. I did it because I care about you. Because that curse was aiming straight for your heart.”

Tonks swallowed hard, her eyes flicking toward the torn mess of your robes, now stained with dittany and blood.

“I’m not sorry I went,” you added, softer now. “But if you want to yell at me for it, you can do it after I stop coughing up smoke.”

The room fell quiet.

Remus shifted slightly, brushing his knuckles against yours in a wordless thank-you. Moody muttered something under his breath about “emotional idiots” and clunked out. Kingsley exchanged a look with Molly and followed.

Tonks crossed the room and crouched beside you, brushing a bit of ash from your cheek. “I should be furious with you.”

“I’d be disappointed if you weren’t.”

She rolled her eyes, biting back a smile, and threaded her fingers through yours.

“You saved my life,” she whispered.