Stormy night

˗ˏˋ 'ˎ˗

fireside - arctic monkeys

I can't explain but I wanna tryThere's this image of you and IAnd it goes dancing byIn the morning and in the night time.

˗ˏˋ 'ˎ˗

Zora lets out a long sigh, resting her chin on her knees. Sitting on her bed, she waits as Angelina finishes braiding her hair. She doesn't even dare complain that Angelina is pulling her hair too hard—one more comment and she might get scolded again.

Sunlight streams through the open window, warming her face. On the bed next to hers, Adeline is lying down, a book in her hands. Beauxbatons has already sent out the reading list for the upcoming school year, and it would be a lie to say she isn't already hopelessly behind.

The silence in their shared room has stretched for a solid five minutes. They all know it—these are the last few hours before they say goodbye to this room, this house, the Quidditch fields. There's no See you next year! this time. Zora's gaze lingers on the pile of suitcases near the door, and she has to blink rapidly to prevent her tears from falling.

"All done!" Angelina finally announces, securing an elastic around the end of the braid. "Your hair is officially tamed."

Zora rolls her eyes. "Thanks. Maybe I should call you up for the World Cup."

Angelina throws her a confused look.

"Mum explicitly told me to 'do something presentable' with my hair for Mr. Vassilev."

"Oh, that thing. Right. Yeah, don't count on me," Angelina replies, chewing loudly on a piece of gum.

Zora raises a brow. "You actually think I would do my hair for a man? Don't you know me at all?"

Angelina grins and moves closer. "Alright, Zora, we need to talk."

At those words, Adeline slams her book shut, throws it onto her bed, and scrambles to sit with them. She exhales dramatically. "Finally. I've been waiting for this."

Zora narrows her eyes. "Are you two plotting against me or something?"

Angelina takes Zora's hands, and Adeline looks at her with a suspiciously sweet smile. Zora immediately puts her hands away. "Wow. You guys are freaking me out. Did someone die?"

"Just listen," Adeline huffs, exasperated. "Tonight is the last night of camp. Forever."

Zora nods slowly. "Yeah, no shit, Adeline."

"The last night, Zora," Angelina presses.

Zora sighs. "Okay, spit it out already."

"It's the last night you have to finally hook up with Samuel," Angelina declares.

"What? What the hell are you—"

"Are you gonna do it or not?" Angelina cuts her off.

"But—"

"Because if you don't, I will," Adeline adds casually.

Zora clicks her tongue and throws a pillow straight at her face. She exhales sharply, dragging a hand down her face. "Nothing is going to happen between Samuel and me," she finally mutters.

Angelina sighs. "Told you."

"What do you mean, told you?"

Angelina groans. "You're so oblivious, Zo! That guy has been in love with you for seven years, and not once have you done anything about it." She gestures wildly as she speaks. "And it's insane because the guy is perfect—handsome, rich, literal royalty, decent at Quidditch, romantic—"

"And sexy as hell," Adeline adds, running a hand down an imaginary set of abs.

"I will never understand you, Zora," Angelina says, crossing her arms. "How can you just... ignore all of that?"

Adeline snickers. "Maybe because she's too busy annoying Wood to realize that Samuel is obviously her soulmate."

At the mention of his name, Zora's head snaps toward Adeline, scoffing. Angelina, however, stares at the blonde like she's just delivered some divine revelation. Then, as if struck by lightning, she suddenly claps her hands and jumps to her feet.

"Holy shit. That's it. Wood."

Zora frowns. "What about him now?"

"Oh, please," Angelina says, rolling her eyes. "This whole rivalry? This so-called hatred? It's actually just a crush, isn't it, Zora?"

Adeline gasps, as if everything suddenly makes sense, and scrambles to her feet. "Oh my God! Zora tormenting poor Wood all these years, acting like she's just making fun of him—but in reality, it's a whole other purpose, right ?"

Zora immediately stands up, glaring. "You guys are disgusting. Stop talking or I'll vomit."

"Oh, come on. Wood is hot too," Angelina argues. "Tall, athletic, great eyes, killer smi—"

"Yeah, when he smiles," Zora cuts in, rolling her eyes.

Angelina scoffs. "Oh, please. That guy has smiled, like, what ? Four times in seven years—and every single time, it was at you."

Zora shakes her head, turning to rummage through her trunk for something to wear tonight. "Fuck off. You guys are talking absolute shit."

Adeline smiles, stepping closer. "You do realize he has just as many abs as Samuel, right?"

Zora groans and grabs a handful of T-shirts, throwing them at both girls. "I will not be speaking to either of you until you both shut up—and until you, Adeline, finally make out with Thomas, and you, Angie, stop laughing because I swear, I will only talk to you again when you've shoved your tongue down Jane's throat."

She marches toward the door, leaving them in stunned silence.

Adeline blinks. "Did she just—"

"Don't think I haven't seen you checking her ass out, Johnson," Zora calls over her shoulder before slamming the door shut.

Angelina gapes. Adeline bursts out laughing.

˗ˏˋ 'ˎ˗

The night has long since fallen, draping the sky in an almost inky black, dotted with stars. The moon casts a pale light over the small field where the students have gathered for their final night together. 

Zora stands at the edge of the crowd, a butterbeer in hand, watching the scene unfold before her. 

Since sunrise, tears have threatened her eyes and she has fought them back, refusing to drown.

She takes a slow sip, letting the warmth spread through her, and forces a small smile when she spots Jane engaged in a drinking game with a few younger boys. She frowns when her gaze shifts to Thomas, dancing alone in the middle of the field, utterly unbothered. Her chest hurts when she sees Angelina and Adeline downing shots, their laughter ringing out in the field. It's them she will miss the most. Her sisters—not by blood, but by something just as strong. A part of herself she isn't ready to leave behind.

The thought of returning to the cold Krum estate sends a shiver down her spine. It feels cruel, to rip herself away from the golden light of the French countryside, from the heat of summer, from the warmth of Angelina and Adeline's arms around her. And for what? To be auctioned off to the highest bidder, reminded at every turn that she has failed where Viktor has succeeded?

She takes a sip, ignore her stomach twisting. 

Then, she catches Oliver's gaze.

Across the fire, he watches her, a bottle loosely hanging from his fingers. He takes a slow sip without looking away. They haven't spoken in three days—not since the fight in the common room. Not since the words they threw at each other like knives. 

She remembers his, still aching like fresh burns. But she remembers hers, too. And she does not regret them. Because she is right. He settles for too little, just to please his father. And she knows, too well, the hollow ache of chasing after someone's approval, of shaping yourself into what they want, of becoming something you don't recognize just to earn a fleeting look of pride.

A few seconds past before Oliver looks away. And less that a second later, Samuel drops down beside her.

"Evening, Krum," he greets, his voice low and amused. "You okay? You're not completely wasted, betting all the guys here that you can beat them at whatever ridiculous drinking game you've come up with. That's concerning."

Zora rolls her eyes but chuckles. "I'm observing tonight."

"Not exactly the best night for that," he points out. "It's our last."

She exhales slowly, tilting her head against his shoulder. He leans into her in return, their bodies fitting together in the way only old friends do. A few seconds pass before she whispers, "You're not sad?"

"About what?"

"Leaving."

Samuel shifts, clearing his throat. "I don't know. I'll miss you guys, obviously. But the camp, Coach Joe, Quidditch... I guess it doesn't feel real yet."

She glances up at him, and, as always, sensing the conversation is heading somewhere too heavy, she deflects. "You weren't really the best Keeper anyway, Ntembe."

He laughs, biting his lower lip before shaking his head. "You'll be the death of me, Zora Krum."

"I know."

She shivers slightly, and without a word, Samuel pulls off his sweater and drapes it over her shoulders.

Zora scoffs. "What a gentleman."

"Just trying to rack up some points to climb the waiting list and finally meet your mother," he teases.

She shakes her head with a small smile.

He sighs dramatically. "Alright, I think your girls need you now."

Zora follows his gaze to where Angelina and Adeline are gesturing wildly for her to join them. She exhales, squeezing Samuel's hand briefly before pushing herself up, not without crossing Oliver's eyes. 

˗ˏˋ 'ˎ˗

It happened very fast.

No one saw it coming.

The storm.

One minute, the air is heavy and warm, clinging to the skin despite the cold of the night. The next, the sky rips open.

A violent gust of wind sweeps through the field, sending bottles down, making the trees shudder. Then, the first drop falls. Another. And then—chaos. The rain crashes onto them like an avalanche, cold and ruthless, drenching them within seconds.

Shouts and laughter echo through the darkness as students run for cover, arms over their heads, slipping in the wet grass as they run toward the house. The fire dies, smoke curling toward the dark sky. Thunder rings out and almost makes the ground move.

Oliver curses and spots Thomas already running for his life towards the path that leads to the house, almost falling over a few times. He sighs and starts to imitate him as he wonders why the hell he said yes to Thomas to come tonight. Because apart from absolutely dreadful conversations he got into, the fact he is drenched now and lost a good night of sleep, he didn't enjoy himself even for the slightest second. 

Also for the fact he had to watch Samuel and-

Zora.

He stops.

He glances around, scanning the figures running away. He sees Andrew shoving his way through the crowd, Angelina laughing as she slips on the grass, holding on to Adeline, even some younger ones—

But he doesn't see her.

He exhales sharply, glancing up at the sky. He could just leave. He should just leave. She's probably already in the house, knowing her. 

Instead, he curses under his breath and turns back.

His shoes splash through the ground slowly becoming mud as he jogs back toward the party, the bonfire nothing but smoke in the dark. The tables are still there, filled with half-empty cups and bottles, chairs overturned in the rush to leave.

Despite the darkness, he sees her.

Zora stands in the middle of the field, utterly unbothered by the storm. Rain runs down her skin, catching in her lashes, trailing over her lips. She moves slowly, methodically, collecting bottles and stacking them with an almost ridiculous level of focus, like she has all the time in the world. Her long, soaked hair sticks to her face, her dress clings to her frame.

He exhales, frustrated. Of course.

"Krum." His voice cuts through the rain.

She lifts her head, blinking at him through wet lashes.

"Wood," she greets, far too casually, wiping a hand over her cheek.

Oliver takes a step closer, the rain hammering against his skin. "What the hell are you doing?"

She lifts the bottle in her hand, unimpressed. "What does it look like?"

Oliver rolls his eyes. "We have to go, the storm's getting worse."

"Such a drama, Wood." Her voice is slow and lazy under the effect of alcohol. "Relax, storm's just a storm."

Oliver lets out a sharp breath, his patience thinning. "Yeah? And storms come with lightning. And wind. And trees that fall. This isn't funny, Krum. Let's go."

She suddenly bursts out laughter. "Forgot you were a tree specialist, Wood."

He clenches his jaw. Merlin, she was impossible.

Then, without thinking, he reaches for her wrist. He can feel the rapid pulse beneath her skin. She was breathing harder now, her fingers twitching slightly, but she didn't pull away.

His mind is racing, calculating which way should be the quickest to the house and suddenly, he remembers something. "C'mon. I know a place." He has to shout to make himself heard under the rain. 

She blinks at him, lips slightly parted. "God Wood, are you going to murder me and cut me into pieces ?"

He groans, let go of her wrist and starts running in the opposite direction towards the entrance of the wood. She just follows him, too drunk to understand anything happening.

The wind howls through the trees, the rain seems to be falling harder, and Oliver's heart pounds as they run through the soaked grass. He can hear Zora's laughter cutting through the storm.

Loud, breathless, a laughter that comes from the heart, a sound that could cure any wrongs in the world.

Without even realising it, a genuine smile is plastered on his face.

"This better be worth it, Wood !" she shouts over the rain.

"Shut up and run," he throws back.

"Shit !"

Zora suddenly stumbles, her foot slipping in the mud. Oliver reacts before he can think, catching her just before she falls.

She laughs against his shoulder, breathless. "Okay—okay, I can't—I can't run anymore—"

Then she blinks up at him, dazed. "Too much butterbeer. I drank too much."

Oliver sighs. Of course you did.

He tries to think for a minute. He watches her, face drowned in the rain, then looks at the wood in their view and catches a glimpse of the shelter. He stares back and forth between the hut and her and proceeds to avoid thinking too much. 

He exhales deeply and runs a hand through his hair. "Oh, for—"

Before she can react, he grabs her waist and lifts her off the ground.

"What the- Wood!" she gasps as he throws her over his shoulder, one arm holding her firmly in place.

"Put me down !" she protests.

"Not happening." His voice is tight, his grip firm. "You're useless right now."

She tries to move, but he holds her steady, her legs dangling over his shoulder as he starts running.

He doesn't think about it. About the situation. 

Doesn't think about how close she is.

Doesn't think about the way her body is pressed against his shoulder, the warmth of her against him despite the cold rain soaking through his clothes.

Doesn't think about the way her fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt to hold her.

Doesn't think about the fact her dress has ridden up, her bare thighs now under his fingers.

Oliver grits his teeth, his grip tightening instinctively. Focus.

Just a few more steps.

Once in front of the hut, he shoulders the door open, stepping inside before setting her down—not exactly gently—onto her feet.

And that's when it hits them.

The heat of their bodies. Their closeness. 

Oliver's hands are still at her waist, his chest rising and falling with each ragged breath. Zora doesn't move either. His stomach drops.

Neither of them speaks. The rain hammers against the roof, water dripping from their clothes, their hair. Every breath feels too loud. Then, slowly, too slowly, he steps back.

Silence.

Zora exhales sharply, running a hand through her soaked hair. "What the hell is this place, Wood ?"

Oliver clears his throat, running a hand down his face. "Hm, I-, I built it last year. One of those Sundays where I had nothing to do."

She raises an eyebrow and turns to him. "You built a fucking hut?"

He shrugs. "Figured the younger ones could use a place to have fun and hide from the coaches. I offered them to do that and they said yes. They were happy."

She turns to him, lips already parting for what he's sure is some kind of teasing remark—but something in her expression shifts.

It's so subtle, so fleeting, that Oliver almost misses it. 

She swallows, glancing down for a brief second. "...That's—"

He tilts his head, ready to hear a mockery. "That's what?"

She shakes her head, looking away. "Nothing."

A small smile appears at the corner of his mouth. "I think this is the first time you don't have something to say."

"Oh, shut up."

Silence falls in the small room. Oliver doesn't even dare to look at her anymore. Zora sighs, moving toward a blanket in the corner.

"Is this clean?" she asks.

He shrugs. "Doubt it."

"Great."

Despite her sarcasm, she drags it over and sinks down onto the floor. Oliver follows, stretching his legs out beside her, their knees nearly touching.

For a moment, there's only the sound of the storm.

Zora is the first to speak. "About what happened last time in the common room, I-"

"Don't." Oliver cuts her off.

Zora turns her head and watches him, her expression unreadable.

"It's done," he adds, looking in front of him. "We don't have to talk about it anymore."

She opens her mouth to speak again but he speaks first. "Please."

Zora raises her hand in surrender and sighs. Oliver puts his head against the wooden wall. He doesn't want to talk about it again. About his so-called dream. About Puddlemere. Most of all, he doesn't want her to know she is right and she has seen right through him.

His eyes drop to her body beside him. Long and tanned legs spread in front of her. White and used trainers, mismatched socks, small scratch on the bottom of her calves, her knees, her thighs, fingers playing with the end of her dress. He swallows.

"You-", he clears his throat, "you hurt yourself," he says.

She stands up and follows his eyes to her calves. "Oh. That's nothing. I don't even feel it."

He chuckles slightly.

"What ?" she says.

"Of course you don't. You're drunk."

Zora scoffs. "Believe me, after that run in the rain, I'm not anymore."

He just smiles.

"I can't believe we're probably going to die of hypothermia, and the last person I'll see is you," Zora mutters, shivering.

Oliver exhales a laugh, his breath misting in the cold. "And I'm the dramatic one?"

She nudges him, her touch brief but enough to make his entire body lock up. He clenches his fists against the urge to react, to look at her, to acknowledge just how close she is.

"I can't believe it's all over tomorrow," she adds. "But you must be excited to go back to Hogwarts. Win your damn Cup so we don't have to hear you talk about it anymore."

Despite her tone, he can't help but smile. "Yeah, I'm excited," he admits. "But I-, I'll miss this too. Don't think I'm completely heartless, Krum."

She suddenly straightens, looking at him with mock horror. "Wait, you have a heart?"

He rolls his eyes, shaking his head. She grins.

"I mean it," he says, quieter now. He rubs the back of his neck, feeling the weight of her gaze. "I know I don't act like it, but... this place, it means a lot to me."

She watches him for a beat, then sighs, her breath coming out uneven. "Leaving doesn't scare you, though. Your future's already mapped out. Oliver Wood, one of the best Keepers of his generation, wins a spot with Puddlemere." She deepens her voice, mimicking a radio announcer, gesturing dramatically with her hands.

Oliver tries to smile but stiffens, the tension twisting his chest. He should be used to it by now—the expectations, the constant talk about his future. He shifts uncomfortably, looking at her.

He wants to say something. He wants to apologize for what happened in the common room, for the things he said. It was unfair. 

"I'm not worried about you either," he says instead. "I'm sure you'll find a way to beat me from the opposing team."

She meets his eyes, that signature smile on her lips. "You know me so well, Wood."

He is surprised at the way things are going. He would have never thought they could have a real conversation that lasted this long. He wonders if maybe it's because she's still a bit tipsy or if they really are capable of decent conversations. 

But then, suddenly, images of her and Samuel flashes through his mind before he can stop it. He swallows hard, his skin heating.

It's ridiculous. He has no right to care. No right to ask. But suddenly, the words are burning is lips.

He clears his throat.

"You and— I mean, it's not going to be, um—"

Zora raises an eyebrow. "Spit it out, Wood. Merlin, you've never been good with words, it's actually kind of impressive."

He wants to tell her that, actually, he usually manages just fine. That sure, he might be a bit awkward in social settings, but he always gets by. But with her, it's different. With her, the words are always hard to find, always come out wrong.

He exhales sharply and closes his eyes. "You and Samuel. Is it going to be hard, not seeing each other anymore?"

There's a pause. A long one. So long he starts regretting even asking.

When she doesn't answer immediately, he opens his eyes, glancing at her. Then, out of nowhere, she laughs. Loud and sudden, like he just told the best joke of the year. It fills the small hut and drowns out the sound of the rain.

His brow furrows. "What?"

Zora finally calms down, shaking her head. "Nothing, nothing. Why do you ask? You jealous?" She tilts her head, watching him under long, wet lashes, and it's—

It's too much.

The way she's looking at him, like she knows exactly what she's doing. The way the heat rushes to his neck. The way his brain short-circuits entirely.

"I—no. Of course not. That's— I mean" he manages to say, throat dry. "Why would I be?"

"Relax, Wood. I'm messing with you. You being jealous? That would be—ew. Against nature."

Against nature.

He forces a laugh, but it feels wrong. "Yeah. Obviously."

Against nature.

Oliver? Jealous? Of Samuel? Ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous.

Right?

Zora stays quiet for a moment before sighing. "Samuel and I aren't together. We never were. But yeah, it's going to be hard. Like it will be with everyone here."

Without realizing it, Oliver feels himself relax. But then her words settle in. Like everyone. Does that include him? Probably not.

Silence falls between them again, the rain drumming steadily. Minutes pass. Oliver broods, lost in thought. His mind is a mess—tangled in things he doesn't know how to say, how to deal with, how to acknowledge.

Then, suddenly, he tenses as Zora's head falls against his shoulder. He stiffens, instinctively ready to shift away, but then he hears her slow, even breathing. She's asleep.

Oliver freezes. Every single nerve in his body screams at once. His breath catches, his entire world narrowing down to the warmth of her against him, the way her hair smells.

And in the end, he doesn't move.

˗ˏˋ 'ˎ˗

Zora jolts awake.

Head pounding, dry throat, body heavy with exhaustion. Waking up feels like a punishment. She blinks, disoriented, her mind struggling to piece together the night before. 

The party. The storm. The hut. Oliver's hands on her thighs.

Heat surges through her body at the memory.

It's too warm in the small space now, the air thick and suffocating. The storm is gone, chased away by the morning sun streaming through the cracks in the wooden planks. She shifts, realizing—her head had been resting on Oliver's shoulder.

And he's still asleep.

Zora freezes, swallowing hard. She's half-draped over him, his arm loosely slung around her waist.

Brilliant. Just fucking brilliant.

She inhales sharply and moves to sit up, trying to escape before—

"Finally!"

The voice at the entrance makes her jump violently, smacking the back of her head against the wall of the cabin.

Oliver groans beside her, walking up.

Zora turns her head toward the door, where Angelina, Adeline, Thomas, and Andrew stand with their arms crossed, looking at them.

"Oh, look who's alive," Andrew says. "We were about to call the Ministry and report a missing persons case."

"You didn't come back last night," Angelina adds, raising a brow. "We thought you were dead in a ditch somewhere."

Zora pinches the bridge of her nose, exhaling hard. "Yeah, well. The storm. We had to find somewhere to go."

"Uh-huh." Adeline smiles. "And you two just happened to take shelter in the same place?"

"Yes, because I obviously wanted to be stuck with him all night," Zora snaps, throwing a pointed look at Oliver, who is just now blinking himself awake like a disoriented puppy.

He looks at the group at the door, then at Zora, then back at the group. His mouth opens slightly like he wants to say something—

"What time is it?" he finally manages to say.

"Time for you to explain why you two were cuddled up in here," Angelina answers.

Zora groans. "We weren't—! It's not—!" She gestures wildly between them. "It was freezing and we had no choice, okay?"

Andrew snorts. "Sure, sure. No choice at all."

Oliver, still not fully functional, clears his throat awkwardly. "Uh. Nothing happened."

Angelina cocks his head. "You say that like you're trying to convince yourself, Olie."

Zora slaps Oliver's arm. "Could you sound less suspicious?"

"I am being clear!" Oliver protests, looking at her helplessly before turning back to the others. "Krum was being an idiot thinking it was a good idea to clean up under the rain. I tried to get her to move and then I remembered this hut I built last year, closer. That's all. Nothing happened." 

But the way his voice falters at the end, the way he shifts uncomfortably, the way he can't seem to look Zora directly in the eyes make the other more suspicious.

Adeline smiles. "Uh-huh."

Angelina sighs dramatically. "Well, whatever didn't happen, you might want to get moving. Breakfast is nearly over, and people are starting to ask questions."

Zora groans, rubbing her face. "Great."

She walks out of the cabin, pushing her group of friends aside. Without looking back, she walks. The ground is muddy, and she almost falls a few times, which brings her straight back to last night and the run through the rain with Olivier.

Zora hears the group of friends behind her, laughing, shouting. She walks by the remnants of the evening—bottles scattered on the ground, overturned tables, the fire out. Then, finally, after a few minutes, the house appears, its white stones immaculate under the sun's rays.

Arriving in front, she pushes the door, and it's like a shock. Everyone is rushing outside, shouting, trying to close their suitcases, some finishing their breakfast, and Mr. Vural is already closing his office.

Last day. Last minutes in the house. 

"Zora!" calls Mr. Vural. "Where have you been?"

She shakes her head to clear her thoughts. "I—long story. I need to finish my suitcase, I—"

Like a zombie, she half responds under the questioning gaze of the director before heading up the stairs to her room. Once inside, she meets her reflection in the mirror. Shoes full of mud, as well as on her wrinkled dress, leaves tangled in her messy hair.

She sighs and collapses onto her bed. Everything is messy in her mind—last night's evening, the sadness of leaving, the anxiety of going back home.

"So?"

Angelina's voice and the door closing make her sit up. She rolls her eyes. "There's nothing to tell. You left without me, I was drunk, Wood saw me, we went to take shelter as close as possible, end of story," Zora says, starting to change.

"You scared us," Adeline says in a suddenly serious tone.

Zora looks up at her and gives a small smile. "Sorry."

Angelina sits on the bed and sighs. "Then we saw Wood wasn't there either, we quickly did the math."

Zora groans while putting on her t-shirt and doesn't respond. "Shame you waited until the last night to do that, though," Angelina adds. "But luckily your best friend is spending another year with him, I'll send you letters to keep you updated on his love life. Although, I'm not sure if those two go well together, but—"

Zora throws a pillow at her to shut her up. "Nothing happened. End of discussion. Got it?"

Angelina rolls her eyes. "Fine. OK. Take it easy, chicken."

They finish packing in silence before heading downstairs. It seems most of the students have already left, along with their coach. Zora places her luggage at her feet and sighs.

Zora Krum doesn't want to go home. 

The past years, leaving camp has been sad, sure—but there's always the next summer to look forward to. The next round of bonfires, the next matches, the next weeks spent in the sun with scraped knees and broomsticks and adrenaline pumping through her veins.

But there won't be a next summer.

And most of all, she hates goodbyes. 

Coach Joe already said goodbye yesterday as she had to leave early. It's just them now. 

"You look like you're planning to run off into the woods and live there forever."

Zora turns her head, finding Angelina and Adeline watching her.

"Maybe I am," she mutters, kicking at a loose rock near her feet. "What if I just stay? Think they'll notice?"

"They'd definitely notice," Adeline says. "Durmstrang needs its bitch."

Angelina nudges her shoulder. "Come on, we all hate this part. You're not alone in that."

"Doesn't make it less shit," Zora grumbles.

Adeline sighs, then—without warning—throws her arms around Zora, squeezing her so tightly that she barely has time to react.

"You're my best friend, Krum," Adeline says into her shoulder. "You're not getting rid of me that easily."

Zora swallows hard. "Yeah, yeah, alright—no need to get dramatic about it—"

Angelina laughs, then joins the hug, trapping Zora between them. "We will see each other again. I don't care how much I have to bribe my parents. You're stuck with us."

Zora lets out a breath, closing her eyes for half a second. "Good," she mutters.

When they finally pull away, she smiles. "Just don't get too bored without me, yeah?" Zora knows she will see them again. But when, now ? 

Adeline rolls her eyes. "Please. I'm looking forward to the peace and quiet."

Angelina smiles. "Liar."

Zora huffs a laugh, then nods towards the boys by the luggage. "C'mon. Better say bye to those idiots."

Samuel and Andrew are busy arguing about some last-minute bet when she reaches them, but they shut up the second Zora walks up.

"Ah, Krum," Andrew says, smiling. "Thought you might just slip away without a word."

"As if you'd let me," Zora says.

Andrew claps a hand on her shoulder. "I'm going to miss you, Krum."

She raises an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," he says, then smiles. "Not enough to cry about it, though."

She shakes her head and gives him a tight hug. "See you Ands." 

Andrew waves at her and walks toward Angelina and Adeline. Zora turns to Samuel, smiling shyly. He opens his arms and she goes to hug him. They stay like that for a few seconds. 

"Well, I-"

Samuel cuts her off. "You write, okay ? I promise we'll see each other soon. You'll come visite, right ?" 

She smiles, happy he understands how hard it is for her. Zora nods and he kisses her forehead. 

"Be good, Zora. Sitakuacha," Samuel says before walking away. 

And then, she has barely time to breath and there's no one left.

No one except Oliver.

He has just got out of the house, his bag on his shoulder, his broom on his left hand. 

She hesitates.

Because she could just leave. She doesn't have to say goodbye.

But—

She sighs, adjusts the strap of her bag, and walks towards him.

He notices her before she reaches him, straightening slightly. He looks at her. His face is unreadable, but his fingers twitch in his pockets.

Zora stops a step away, arms crossed. "So."

"So," Oliver echoes.

A pause. A long, stupid pause.

Then, finally, she exhales. "Guess this is it, huh?"

Oliver nods. "Yeah."

Another silence.

And maybe—maybe it should feel final. Maybe she wants it to feel final.

But instead, there's something unfinished in the space between them. 

She looks away and clears her throat. "Thank you for last night. When you looked for me." 

Oliver chuckles awkwardly, a hand on his neck. "Oh- I, uh, it's nothing." 

Zora looks at him again and sighs. "Well, see you, Wood." 

He nods. "See you, Krum." 

She purses her lips, nods slowly. Turns. Starts walking toward the iron gates, feeling his gaze on her.

Before opening it, she stops. 

Doesn't look back.

But with a smile on her lips, she calls over her shoulder—

"I'll miss your face when I beat you, Wood." 

Because damn yes, she will.