The weeks following Lennon's panic attack passed in a strange, suspended quiet.
The wanted poster with her mother's face had long since stopped fluttering in the corner of the room, but its presence remained etched in Lennon's chest like a burn. Each day since, the flat had been calm—gentle conversations, soft music playing from a dusty wireless, quiet meals shared with too many unsaid things floating in the air.
Summer was drawing to a close, and the train back to Hogwarts loomed like a promise and a threat.
Theodore and Lorenzo packed their bags first. Both boys had received curt letters from their families, reminding them to return "promptly and without excuse." Neither had told their parents where they'd really been—especially not that they'd spent part of the summer at a Gryffindor girl's flat.
Their families wouldn't have approved.
Not because of Lennon herself—but because of everything she represented. The girl who fought for the light, the girl who had helped save Ginny Weasley, the girl who refused to bow to bloodline expectations. A girl their parents wouldn't trust—because they feared her kind of strength.
Theodore hugged her awkwardly at the door, his voice soft. "We'll see you on the train, alright?"
Lorenzo followed, more casual but no less sincere. "Don't get too used to the quiet. You're stuck with us again in a few weeks."
They didn't look back when they left. Maybe it would've been too hard.
Lennon closed the door behind them and let out a long breath, the flat feeling suddenly twice as empty.
Mattheo stayed.
He didn't say why. He didn't need to. He simply took his bag back to the corner of the room and went about the day like it was just another one.
That evening, the sky outside shifted from soft blue to golden amber, bathing the flat in warm light. Lennon sat by the window with a cup of tea she wasn't drinking, knees drawn up to her chest. The photo of her father rested beside her—him in his Auror robes, smiling like he knew something the world didn't. It was the only picture she had left. The only part of him that hadn't been taken.
Mattheo sat nearby on the sofa, flipping lazily through a book he wasn't really reading. The silence stretched between them, not uncomfortable, but charged. Full of things unsaid.
"I should be packing," Lennon said quietly.
"You've still got a few days."
She looked at him, her lips twitching into something like a smile. "You're still here."
Mattheo shrugged. "Didn't feel right to leave. Not yet."
Lennon lowered her gaze. "I don't want to be alone."
"You're not," he said simply.
The words settled in her chest like warmth spreading from her heart outward. She got up slowly and crossed the room, sitting beside him on the couch, their shoulders brushing.
For a long while, they didn't speak. The air was thick with the kind of tension that came from shared pain, quiet understanding, and something deeper—something neither of them had dared name yet.
Lennon broke the silence. "Thank you… for staying. For everything."
Mattheo turned to her. "You don't have to thank me. I wanted to."
Their eyes met—and something shifted. The space between them felt impossibly small.
He reached out slowly, like he wasn't sure she'd let him. But she did—leaning in just enough to close the space, just enough to let her breath mix with his.
The first kiss was hesitant, unsure.
The second wasn't.
It deepened with a quiet urgency, a release of all the tension that had built up over weeks of proximity, trust, and unspoken longing. His hand found the side of her face, hers tangled in the front of his shirt. Neither of them said a word.
They kissed like it was the only thing grounding them to the earth.
When they finally pulled apart, Mattheo rested his forehead against hers, breath still uneven.
"We probably shouldn't…" he whispered, but he didn't move away.
"I know," she whispered back.
Neither of them moved.
The night settled around them like a blanket—soft and fragile and fleeting.
Maybe this moment didn't change everything. Maybe they didn't know what it meant yet. But for now, with the summer ending and the world waiting outside her door, Lennon allowed herself to feel something she hadn't felt in a long time.
Safe.