The courtyard stood nearly empty now. A few stragglers—a first-year crying into her sleeve, a group of Hufflepuffs lugging trunks toward the carriages—but mostly, it was just the two of you.

Theodore Nott stood a few feet to your left, hands buried deep in the pockets of his charcoal coat. His breath curled in white puffs against the cold. He hadn't spoken since the train disappeared.

Snow had begun to fall again, soft and unhurried, catching in his dark hair like tiny stars.

In the distance, you could hear the others—Mattheo's laugh echoing off the walls, Pansy's voice sharp and teasing, Draco's drawled reply.