The fire crackled low in common room. The boys sat scattered across the room, their usual arrogance and bravado stripped away.

Mattheo leaned forward, elbows on his knees, his dark curls falling over his brow. His voice was raw, edged with guilt. "I promised to protect her... but I wasn’t there when it mattered."

By the window, Tom stood rigid. "I promised her the world," he admitted quietly, "and all I gave her was nothing." His reflection was pale, fractured against the cold glass, mirroring the cracks inside him.

In the corner, Theodore sat slouched in a armchair. His voice was low, barely audible. "I promised to always listen... but I didn’t hear the things she never said." His gaze never lifted from the floor, as if searching for meaning in the cracks between the stone.

Draco, usually composed and cold, looked lost. He stood stiffly by the fire. "I promised to make her proud," he said, voice strained, "and I failed her."

Lorenzo sat on the floor, back against the wall, idly twisting a silver ring between his fingers. "I promised to keep her laughing," he murmured, his voice trembling, "but now... I can’t even smile without her." His lips quivered, but no smile came—not even a flicker.

Blaise's voice was rough when he finally spoke. "I promised to never let her go," he said bitterly, "but I couldn’t hold on tight enough." His jaw clenched, frustration mingling with sorrow.

Regulus stood by the fireplace, his dark eyes flickering with the dying embers. "I promised to never leave her side," he admitted softly, "but in the end... I did." He exhaled a long breath, the weight of it palpable. "Promises are fragile things," he added, "and sometimes, they’re all we have left."

The room fell into silence, the echoes of their confessions lingering like ghosts. They had vowed to be your protectors, your joy, your strength—but in the end, they had only been human. And sometimes, that simply wasn’t enough.