The Astronomy Tower is quieter than the rest of Hogwarts at this hour, the air cool and still as the last of the evening light fades into darkness. The stone beneath you holds the day’s warmth, but the breeze that drifts through the open arches is enough to make you pull your sleeves down slightly as you sit along the ledge.

Enzo stands nearby, leaning back against one of the pillars, his posture relaxed in a way that never quite means he is. One hand rests in his pocket while the other lazily spins his wand between his fingers, his gaze fixed on you more often than not. He’s been watching you all evening—not in a way that draws attention, not in a way anyone else would notice—but you do. You always do.

“You should be inside,” he says after a moment, his voice smooth, almost casual, though his eyes flick briefly toward your stomach before returning to your face. “It’s colder up here than you think.”

You let out a quiet breath, shifting slightly where you sit. “I’m fine, Enzo.”

He hums softly, unconvinced, but doesn’t argue. He rarely does—not directly. Instead, he pushes himself off the pillar and steps closer, close enough that his presence settles around you without overwhelming, his hand coming to rest lightly against yours where it sits beside you on the stone. Grounding. Intentional. Always.

The castle feels distant up here, removed, like the rest of the world doesn’t quite reach you—and right now, you’re grateful for that. Because everything has changed. Because you’re pregnant. And so is she.

Enzo doesn’t pull his hand away. If anything, his thumb brushes slowly against your knuckles, absent, thoughtful, like he’s reminding himself you’re still here—still his. He doesn’t say it out loud. He never needs to.

“I meant what I said earlier,” he adds quietly, his tone lowering just slightly. “You don’t have to deal with any of this alone.”

You know what he’s referring to. He always does that—speaks around things instead of directly at them, like saying it too plainly would make it heavier than it already is. The truth sits between you anyway. The night he doesn’t remember. The mistake he insists wasn’t one he chose.

Rose.

A Slytherin like you. A half-blood with just enough ambition to want more than what she was given—and just enough awareness to know exactly where to find it. Him.

She told him what happened. Filled in what he couldn’t. And then she didn’t go away. Because now she’s pregnant. And she’s made sure everyone knows.

You swallow slightly, your fingers tightening just faintly under his. “She won’t stop.”

Enzo’s expression doesn’t change, but something in his eyes does—sharpens, cools. “She doesn’t get to decide that,” he replies, voice calm, measured, but edged now with something firmer. “I do.”

“Well, this is… convenient.”

Her voice slips into the space like it was invited.

Rose steps into the tower, her heels echoing softly against the stone as she approaches. Her uniform is perfectly in place, her posture composed, one hand resting over her stomach in a way that feels more deliberate than natural. Her gaze flicks over you first, then to him, and she smiles like she’s already decided how this is going to go.

“I didn’t realize this was where you’d disappeared to,” she says lightly, moving closer without hesitation. “Mind if I—”

She doesn’t finish the sentence before stepping into his space.

Too close.

Like she expects to be allowed there.

For half a second, nothing moves.

Then Enzo does.

Not abruptly. Not dramatically. Just enough.

He shifts—subtle, controlled—but unmistakable as he steps away from her and toward you instead, closing the space at your side completely. His hand doesn’t leave yours; if anything, it settles more firmly, his thumb pressing once against your knuckles in a quiet, grounding reassurance.

He still hasn’t looked at her.

When he finally does, it’s brief.

Disinterested.

“I’m occupied,” he says simply.

No softness. No invitation. No room to misunderstand.