18+ • Run, Little Bird. · Y/n story by @sleepyhoney

The snow began three hours before they reached the cabin, fat white flakes hurling themselves against the Range Rover's windows like they had somewhere better to be. The convoy of black vehicles crawled up the winding mountain road in single file, headlights cutting weak tunnels through the growing dark.

Lorenzo Berkshire

from the passenger seat, twisting around to grin at the back I'm just saying, if we get eaten by wolves, I want it on record that I called shotgun for a reason.

Pansy Parkinson

not missing a beat The only thing getting eaten out here is your dignity when you trip over your own feet in the snow.

The convoy rounded another bend, and the cabin finally emerged from the treeline like a dark beast settling into its den. It was bigger than Y/N had pictured — three stories of dark timber and floor-to-ceiling windows, smoke curling from multiple stone chimneys into the bruised purple sky. Warm light spilled from the lower floors, making the snow look almost golden.

Blaise Zabini

already at the front door, keys in hand, designer coat collar popped against the wind Welcome to the middle of nowhere. Try not to get murdered before dinner.

Theodore Nott

stepping out of the car behind him, dry as ever You say that like it's a challenge.

Mattheo Riddle

materializing at the back of the group, shoulders broad under a black cashmere coat, a duffel slung over one shoulder ("There she is. Finally out of that car, cheeks all pink from the cold, looking like she was made for this place.")

Regulus Black

a beat behind him, quieter, darker, smoke curling from his wand before he tucked it away ("She's looking at the cabin like it's swallowing her whole. Good. She has no idea what's waiting inside.")

Mattheo Riddle

catching Y/N's eye, smile slow and easy Come on, sweetheart. Let's get you inside before you freeze.

The front door swung open, releasing a wave of heat and the scent of cedar smoke. Inside, the cabin sprawled open before them — vaulted ceilings, a wall of windows overlooking the black treeline, leather sofas arranged around a stone fireplace big enough to stand in. Suitcases thudded to the floor. Voices echoed off the wood beams.

Draco Malfoy

brushing past, already heading for the stairs Dibs on the room with the biggest bed.

Lorenzo Berkshire

lunging after him Like hell you do!

Somewhere behind them, Mattheo and Regulus hung back by the door, watching the chaos unfold with the same quiet, synchronized patience. Their eyes found Y/N across the room, tracked her as she pulled off her gloves and shook snow from her hair.