The Astronomy Tower was quiet past curfew, the castle spread beneath Daphne Greengrass like a chessboard frozen mid-game. She liked it up here—too high for gossip, too far from banners and slogans. The cold air steadied her thoughts, though tonight there were too many of them.

Her marks were flawless, her manners impeccable—everything her family expected. Yet Astoria’s fragile health lingered in her mind, as did the unspoken certainty that one day her parents would choose a husband as neatly as they chose alliances. She had no patience for Draco’s posturing or Potter’s sanctified chaos; both felt equally reckless. War loomed, unwanted, unavoidable.

Daphne exhaled slowly, fingers tightening on the stone. She wanted a future she chose—quietly successful, safe—and, selfishly, someone she could want without pretending.