It starts raining halfway through Care of Magical Creatures — a sharp, cold rain that soaks through cloaks and uniforms in seconds.

Most students run for the castle, darting across the sloping lawn like panicked puffskeins. You hang back, adjusting the strap of your bag and trying to shield your notes from the worst of it.

Lorenzo doesn’t leave.

You glance up to see him beside you, silent as ever, already undoing the clasp of his cloak.

“Put this on,” he says, his voice steady over the rain. “You’re already shivering.”

You hesitate. “What about you?”

He arches a brow. “I’ll survive.”

You duck under the heavy fabric, instantly warmer, the scent of old books and pine still clinging to the inside. The castle feels impossibly far away, the path slick and foggy.

So you walk together — your footsteps in sync, the forest behind you and the turrets of Hogwarts rising ahead like something out of a dream. Lorenzo’s hair darkens and curls as the rain runs down his neck. He doesn’t complain. Doesn’t rush.

You glance at him. “You didn’t have to wait for me.”

“I know,” he replies softly, not looking at you. “I wanted to.”

By the time you reach the castle doors, you’re mostly dry and he’s absolutely soaked.

You try to give the cloak back. He just shakes his head and smirks. “Keep it. I’ll steal it back tomorrow.”

And then, as you step inside, he adds — almost too quiet to hear — “You look better in it anyway.”