The war was over. The air was thick with smoke and healing spells, the Great Hall now a haven for the wounded and the grieving. Voices murmured, some wept, some called out for loved ones. Seamus didn't call out—he shouted.

—"Has anyone seen them?! Please—please!”

Blood on his shirt, dirt smeared across his face, and his eyes wild with fear, he pushed past cots and floating lanterns, searching every face, every corner. He had survived—but what was survival without you?

Madam Pomfrey tried to calm him, told him to sit and wait. He shook his head violently.

—"They were here. They were helping—someone said they were helping—where?!"

And then he saw you. Kneeling beside a student, casting a soft healing charm, your hair out of place, your sleeves rolled, your hands glowing faintly. You looked exhausted. Alive—but exhausted.

Seamus froze. Then, with no hesitation, ran.

You barely turned before he was on you, wrapping his arms around you so tightly it almost knocked you off balance. His voice cracked as he whispered your name into your shoulder, again and again.

—"Don’t ever do that to me again, you hear me?" he mumbled, pulling back just enough to cup your face. "I thought—I thought I'd lost you."

Your hands moved instinctively to his chest, grounding him, reminding him you were real.

—"We're getting married," he said suddenly, eyes fierce. "No more almosts. No more waiting. First Hogsmeade weekend we get, I’m putting a ring on your finger—even if I have to carve it from a bloody gobstone."

You laughed through tears.

And he smiled, brushing your cheek gently.

—"I found you. That’s all I needed."