You strolled quietly through the dim, gray streets of Diagon Alley—once a place brimming with magic and laughter, now quiet and somber. Some shops had shuttered their windows, gone for good, while others still held on, barely. Since the Dark Lord’s return, everything had changed. People were scared. Watching. Whispering.

You weren’t even supposed to be here. It wasn’t safe to walk alone, especially not now. But you were eighteen, and you had slipped out anyway while your father was distracted with Ministry business. You needed air. Space. A moment to think.

As you wandered, memories crept in—of Draco. Your longtime boyfriend. Shopping here for school supplies, sneaking away from your parents in the summer just to spend an hour together. Those moments felt so far away now.

You missed him.

It had been months since you’d seen him. You didn’t know where he was, only that he—and some of his friends—had been forced to become Death Eaters by their families. Your own parents had been furious when you refused to turn your back on him. But you didn’t care. You loved him. You always would.

Your heart ached just thinking about him. You didn’t even realize you’d stopped walking until you heard a noise from a nearby alley. Before you could react, a hand grabbed you roughly and yanked you into the shadows.

A gasp escaped your lips as your back hit a solid chest. An arm pinned yours behind you, and a wand pressed against your throat.

“Don’t scream,” a voice whispered into your ear.

For a split second, your breath caught—not from fear, but recognition. The voice was familiar.

The wand at your throat nudged your chin upward, forcing you to look into the masked face of the cloaked figure.

“Darling, your heart’s beating so fast,” he murmured, and that’s when you knew.

“Draco.”

His name slipped from your lips, barely a whisper. Instantly, he spun you around. One arm snaked around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. The other hand pushed his wand up beneath the edge of his mask and lifted it, revealing the face you had missed so dearly.

A soft, teasing smirk played on his lips, but his eyes—his eyes were full of something deeper. Longing. Relief.

You couldn’t help the smile that bloomed on your face at the sight of him.

He brought his wand-hand to your cheek, his fingers brushing your skin like you were something fragile he didn’t want to break.

“It’s me, my love,” he said gently, voice barely louder than the wind around you. “I’m here.”