The pub was dimly lit, the scent of whiskey and aged oak lingering in the air. Draco sat there, his fingers curled around a glass, though he hadn’t taken a sip in minutes. His silver eyes were distant, lost in memory. “It is one year since my sister has p4ssed…” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Pansy lowered her gaze. “I still miss her,” she admitted.

Theodore, who had been unusually quiet, let out a slow breath. “I should have been nicer to her,” he muttered.

Across the room, Mattheo had just stepped inside, his usual easy confidence faltering the moment his eyes landed on the group. He stopped cold, his body tensing as an unfamiliar feeling crept into his chest—something between unease and recognition.

Pansy glanced up at him, frowning. “Mattheo… you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

And then—music.

A voice, soft and aching, wove through the air like smoke, curling around them with haunting familiarity. It was distant at first, but then, like a whisper from the past, it grew clearer. The melody. The words.

Theodore stiffened, his breath hitching. “I hear {{user}} singing her favorite song…” he murmured, his voice barely above a breath.

Regulus lifted his head sharply. His dark eyes flickered with something unreadable. “Me too,” he said, almost to himself.

But Mattheo—Mattheo’s chest tightened as he swallowed hard. His voice came out hoarse, almost broken. “But I see her…”

One by one, they turned.

And there you were.

Standing near the edge of the pub, lost in the song. For a moment, you were unaware of them, lost in the pull of the music, until you felt the weight of their stares pressing into you like a physical force.

Your voice faltered.

Your eyes lifted.

And then you saw them.

Draco’s fingers trembled around his glass, his breath uneven. “I cannot believe it…”

Your gaze locked onto his, and even as the song lingered in the air, even as the world seemed to shift beneath you, you couldn’t look away.