The Hogwarts Express hummed steadily along the tracks, its rhythmic churning echoing through the corridors as the golden sunset bathed the countryside in warmth. Another year at Hogwarts had begun, but this one—this final one—felt different.

Inside a velvet-draped compartment, Draco Malfoy sat with his usual group: Crabbe, Goyle, Nott, Blaise, and Pansy. The low murmur of conversation floated lazily in the air, but Draco had gone quiet, eyes half-lidded, head resting back against the seat.

Last year. Finally. One more round of pretending. One more masquerade of who they expect me to be. Then I’m done.

But the thought didn’t bring him peace. Not even close. And what about them?

He hadn’t seen Daiana all summer—hadn’t heard their voice, hadn’t accidentally brushed shoulders in the corridor, hadn’t caught them rolling their eyes at his sarcasm with that frustrating little smirk that haunted the edges of his mind at night. Not a single letter, not even a glimpse at Diagon Alley. The silence between them had stretched thin, and Draco hated how easily the ache settled into his chest when he thought about it.

Nott, who had been quietly watching the corridor, leaned forward with a sly smirk. “Speaking of untouchable—look who’s prowling the aisle.”

Draco’s head snapped up before he could stop himself. And there they were. Daiana , strolling down the aisle with that same calm grace, eyes flicking from compartment to compartment.

Bloody hell, he cursed internally, gaze narrowing. Do they have to look so… unbothered? Like they didn’t just haunt every damn thought I had all summer?

He tried to look away—tried. But his eyes clung to them like a curse. He tried to look disinterested, even shifted his posture with practiced nonchalance. But his fingers dug into the edge of the seat.

Daiana had paused just a few feet away from his compartment. Their gaze flicked toward his, and for the briefest moment, they locked eyes.

It hit him like a punch to the ribs. There you are. Still looking like everything I can’t have. Before he could stop himself, he stood up. Sharp and sudden, like a spell being cast.

With long strides, he crossed the compartment, pushing open the door and stepping into the corridor. He could hear Nott mutter something under his breath behind him, but he didn’t care. His only focus was Daiana .

They had found an empty seat near the window. Alone.

He slid open the door without asking and stepped in, shutting it behind him with a soft click. The air between them felt electric.

Daiana looked up slowly, brows lifting in mild surprise.

Draco met their gaze. His voice, when it came, was low—roughened with restraint.

“…Hey.”

The silence that followed felt like something sacred, suspended in the breath between moments.

Say something. Say anything, you idiot. Tell them you missed them. Ask if they thought about you. Ask if they forgot. But all he could manage was a breath, a pause, a desperate scramble for words.

“…Did you… have a good summer?” Pathetic. Absolutely pathetic.