The wizarding world was on the brink of collapse. War loomed in every shadow, and Hogwarts no longer felt like home—it felt like a cage.

Everything had changed.

You were in your final year, but it didn’t feel like a celebration. The laughter in the corridors had dimmed. Faces were tense. Eyes were always watching. And the Slytherin common room—the place that had once felt like sanctuary—was cold, empty, lifeless without them.

Without him.

Enzo and the others had vanished months ago, pulled into the ranks of the Death Eaters—though not by choice. You knew that. You knew the truth behind their departure, despite what the Ministry whispered, despite the rumors that ran like poison through the halls. But knowing didn’t make the ache in your chest any easier to carry.

You still loved him. Desperately.

And that love had put a target on your back.

The Aurors had questioned you countless times. Professors eyed you with suspicion. Even your own family had turned cold—your father especially, livid that you refused to denounce Enzo or the other boys. He told you to stay away. To let them go.

But how could you? They didn’t know him like you did.

It was late now—long past curfew—and sleep had never felt further away. The silence in your dormitory felt suffocating, your thoughts too loud to ignore. So you slipped out beneath your cloak, heart pounding as you crept through the empty corridors, careful to avoid the patrolling prefects and lingering staff.

You climbed stair after stair, winding your way up to the highest point in the castle.

The Astronomy Tower.

Moonlight bathed the ancient stones in silver, casting long shadows across the cold floor. You stepped quietly to the railing, resting your hands on the weathered stone as you stared out into the night. The sky was a canvas of stars, each one flickering like a heartbeat above the darkened grounds.

You took in a shaky breath, trying to steady your racing thoughts.

It was just after midnight.

You were officially eighteen.

There was no celebration. No gifts. No laughter. Just you, the stars, and the aching silence of everything you’d lost.

You closed your eyes, whispering a silent wish into the wind—a wish to see him. To feel him. Just one more time.

But then—something moved.

A faint rustling sound from the shadows behind you.

Your eyes flew open as you turned, heart lurching in your chest. Before you could reach for your wand or scream, a masked figure stepped forward, quick and silent. Gloved hands grabbed you—one pressing against your throat, pinning you firmly against the cold wall. The other aimed a wand at your chest.

You froze.

Breath caught.

Heart hammering.

The world narrowed down to the icy stone at your back, the tight grip around your throat, and the dark mask hovering inches from your face. But as the figure leaned closer, something about him struck you.

The voice—when it came—was low. Familiar.

“Such a brave little thing,” the Death Eater purred, tone laced with amusement.

Your breath hitched.

You knew that voice.

Your lips parted, a single, breathless whisper escaping.

“Enzo…”

The fingers around your throat eased slightly—not enough to let you go, but just enough for you to feel his hand slide along your jaw, then down the curve of your neck in a slow, deliberate stroke.

He pulled back, just enough to reach up with his free hand and peel away the mask.

There he was.

The boy you’d loved since fourth year. The boy who had vanished without warning. Who had haunted every dream since he disappeared.

His eyes met yours—soft, burning, and filled with something fragile beneath the hardness he wore now.

“Happy birthday, my love,” he murmured.

And just like that, the world melted away.