The air crackled with raw energy as the ruins of the old manor trembled around them.Hermione stood tall, her cloak billowing, eyes burning with unwavering confidence.

“You can’t defeat me,” she said, voice steady, filled with absolute certainty.

Mattheo was on one knee, breathing heavily, his dark curls falling over his sweat-dampened forehead. His fingers tightened around his wand, but he didn’t raise it. Instead, he exhaled sharply, tilting his chin up just enough to meet her gaze.

“No,” he admitted, a smirk tugging at his lips. “I know…” His eyes flickered past her, toward the shadows stretching across the stone floor. “But she can.”

A gust of wind howled through the broken windows as you stepped forward, the dim light illuminating your face. The moment Hermione saw you, her breath caught, her fingers twitching around her wand. Her eyes widened in disbelief, her entire body going rigid.

“No…” she whispered, shaking her head as if trying to dispel a nightmare. “That’s impossible. You shouldn't be al!ve. I made sure of it three years ago.”

You chuckled softly, stepping closer. “Guess you didn’t try hard enough.”

For the first time, hesitation flashed in Hermione’s eyes.

But you weren’t focused on her anymore. Slowly, you turned to Mattheo, your expression softening as you reached for him. He looked up at you, his stormy eyes searching yours, and in that moment, the battlefield faded away. Your fingers brushed over his jaw before you leaned down, pressing your lips to his.

The world stilled. The firelight flickered against your skin, and for a moment, there was nothing but warmth—the quiet, unspoken promise in the way he kissed you back, his fingers gripping your waist as if to anchor himself to you.

When you pulled away, his gaze was fierce, unyielding. He was no longer on his knees. He rose beside you, standing tall, fingers laced with yours.

You turned back to Hermione, your smirk deepening as you lifted your wand.

“Now,” you murmured. “Let’s finish what you started.”