The wind howled through the cem/tery, rattling the bare branches of nearby trees.

The group stood in a solemn huddle around the gr4ve, the weight of the moment pressing down on their chests like an invisible force. The larger crowd had long since drifted away, leaving only those who truly mattered.

Draco stood closest to the gr4ve, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. Beside him, Mattheo stood rigid, his fingers twitching at his sides.

Theodore lingered slightly apart from the others, his face calm but his eyes betraying the quiet sorrow he refused to voice. Regulus stood next to Blaise, his usual impassive expression marred by something softer.

Lorenzo, ever the composed figure, remained still, his dark brown eyes flickering across the scene.

They had all come to say goodbye, though none of them could truly accept it. The sense of loss wrapped around them like mist, clinging to their skin, sinking deep into their bones.

Later that evening.

Mattheo, the one who always masked his emotions behind wit and recklessness, had locked himself in the bathroom, away from prying eyes.

The water ran steadily from the faucet, a soft hum against the deafening silence. Mattheo gripped the sink tightly, his knuckles pale, his red-rimmed eyes fixed on his reflection. He looked like a mess, but he didn’t care.

The sound of the door creaking open behind him went unnoticed.

You stood there, watching him, the weight of the day pressing heavily on your chest.

“Hey, Mattheo.”

He went still.

For a long moment, he didn’t move. Slowly, with hesitation thick in every movement, he turned around.

His wide, disbelieving eyes met yours. His chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven breaths.

It was you.

His lips parted, but no sound came. His voice—so full of confidence—was gone. He took a step back as if his own body couldn’t comprehend what he was seeing.

“You’re…” The word barely made it out. His hands trembled as he reached forward, hesitating, unsure if you were real. “You’re de4d. I saw—” His voice cracked.