The chilling crispy air bit into his bones, the ice crackled underfoot, and wintry trees stood like ballet dancers—strong and still in the seasonal gusts as if it was just another ordinary night. It was far from that. Zack plowed through the knee-high snow, trickle of blood traced his path. The crunching sound of another two pairs of footsteps struggling to chase after him seemed far behind. His head was ringing ominously.

"Zack!" Cissnei's voice broke through from a yard away. "Zack, slow down! We need to treat that wound!"

He didn't stop. The fresh wound on his left jaw was probably infected. But that wasn't what hurt him at that particular moment.

"Dude, snap out of it!" Kunsel joined in, also struggling to match Zack's pace. "You need urgent treatment. Let's go back!"

"There's no treatment. It's over by the time you're wounded," Zack replied, not bothering to stop or turn around to face them. He knew Kunsel and Cissnei meant well. They were worried about him. But right now what hurt the most wasn't the wound on his jaw, it was the wound in his heart. He needed some space.

"Don't say that," Cissnei's voice was practically begging. "There's still hope. Let's bring you to Professor Brindlemore."

"She doesn't know shit about werewolves," Zack retorted calmly, still.

"We don't know that—"

Zack's steps halted instantly, his upper body turned to face his two Hufflepuff companions as much as the knee-high snow allowed him to. The motion was so abrupt it brought Kunsel and Cissnei to an immediate stop.

"It's getting cold. Go back to your rooms."

"You can't—"

"Please," Zack's stare was pleading, weaving doubts in his friends's hearts. "There's no cure for the wound. And it's not getting infected anytime soon."

"You know we care for you. We're always here for you," Cissnei's voice was low.

"I know."

They obliged. Begrudgingly. Still, the two stepped back slowly, leaving him in the snow tracked by a trail of blood drops. Zack stared at the striking contrast of red and white, and resented how they looked like tainted innocence. Just like the way Angeal was tainted by lycanthropy. And the fact that Zack couldn't save him.

Zack dragged his feet again. He wasn't even sure where he was heading. But he didn't want to return to his room where Angeal's bed was currently vacant, with the occupant running amok during the full moon. The frosty bite did nothing to calm his heart. But he pushed himself anyway.

With no destination in mind, he reached the backyard of Hogwarts, where a lush greenhouse stood sturdy among the plowed-away snow. The variety of colors and plants against the pure white snow gave the illusion of warmth. Instinctively, Zack placed his palm on the glass, looking in.

It was cold.

He wasn't sure if it was because of the glass, or because of his hand.

The moment he woke up, he felt snuggly warmth, like the wintry sun tumbling out when all else was cold, somehow cozy even when the north wind bit. The ambiance smelt like morning dew, and verdant hues surrounding him filled his senses with earthen, arboreal air. It was almost as if it was summer, and he just woke up from a horrible nightmare.

"You're awake," a soft voice greeted him. "Are you okay?"

Zack sat up to look at the girl beside him. She had long braided hair with soft wavy bangs, petite and lithe. Her cheeks were slightly rosy, and her eyes... Zack swore he had never seen such beautiful eyes before. She was ethereal.

"Someone rarely visits the greenhouse outside of herbology class," the girl stood, a rattan-woven basket hanging on her arm.

Zack blinked as if he had just been brought back to reality. Looking around, he realized he was inside the greenhouse, filled with plants and flowers. He must've gone in last night. He could see a blood trail a few feet away that served as a painful reminder that what happened wasn't just some twisted nightmare. It was very real.

His fingers instinctively crept up to trace the fresh wound on his jaw. It had stopped bleeding, but wounds inflicted by werewolves would always scar.

"The wound isn't fatal," the girl said, placing her basket on a plant rack. "I applied some potion to help heal your wound." There was a perceptible pause before she continued. "But it seems like it would never fully heal."

It wasn't a normal wound.

She knew.

But he wasn't about to spill his guts after the night he had. His lips quirked into a smug grin. "There goes my handsome face, eh?"

To his surprise, the girl raised a brow teasingly. "Bold of you to assume handsomeness for your own."

"Huge strike for my ego there," he laughed, motioning finger guns towards her direction. Her laugh rang melodiously into his ears. He probably would get addicted if he wasn't careful. "I'm Zack. Thanks for treating my wound."

"No problem," she shook her head. "I'm Aerith."

His eyes trailed down to the blue stripes adorning her robe. "You're a Ravenclaw."

"I am."

"And Ravenclaws have herbology class on Sunday?"

She shrugged, turning around to pick a full watering can and start attending to the plants. "Not exactly. I just love helping around at the greenhouse."

"For grade?"

"For life," she countered, pausing to cradle a strangely ordinary orange daffodil planted in a corner. "These flowers are more resilient than humans. They grew despite harsh weather. Some were being trampled on, but they never let that erode their warmth."

"Wise."

Aerith grinned smugly. "I have my moments. Sometimes. All the time. Take your pick."

Zack smiled. Her words touched the deepest of his soul, rendering him speechless. He stared at her, moving about to water the preserved fauna. Behind her, golden arcing rays of morning sunlight conjured the most brilliant of mosaics, enveloping her form, soft and diffuse. She looked beautiful. Divine, even.

"Would you like to go out sometime?" he blurted out, almost spontaneously.

She paused, tilting the can in her hand that stopped the trickling of water. "Like, a date?"

"As a date," Zack emphasized.

Her emerald eyes shifted sideways as if she was considering something in her head. "You know you could ask me to patch that wound up for you instead."

"You out of all people knew this wound cannot be treated," Zack slightly snorted.

"Yet," she shook her head, putting away the watering can before approaching him. "You don't know that for sure. What if I discover a concoction that could fix this?"

She was close enough for him to stare into her irises, count her long eyelashes, and trace the way her outfold creases paralleled her eyelids. She had the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen and he found it so hard to find his composure.

"Then I'd say you're the most brilliant Ravenclaw I've ever met." His voice was low, warmer than he intended. Just enough to reach her.

"And you'll be the bravest one to tough it out with me," Aerith smiled. "Whichever house you're from."

"Gryffindor," Zack supplied, lips quirking into a flirty smile. "Dinner tonight?"

"Where did you even get this dragon blood?" Aerith asked, her hand mixing expertly on the cauldron.

Zack shrugged, adding Murtlap tentacles as she stirred the wolfbane potion. "You can stereotype me as a Gryffindor. Adventure runs in our blood."

Aerith reduced the heat before looking up at him, silently pondering the weeks they had spent together. Zack frequented her at the greenhouse more often than anyone ever did in her life. Sometimes they went out on dates where he took her for a stroll down the street markets which always ended up with dinner. There was innate kindness in Zack that Aerith couldn't help but fall in love with the more time they spent together.

"Do you think I'm a stereotypical Ravenclaw?"

"The pure-blooded bookworm wizard who is also scared of the forest?" Zack crushed the occamy egg and sprinkled it into the cauldron. "Nah. You're one of a kind."

"You're calling me a nerd?" she teased.

"I'm calling you special," he looked into her eyes. "I don't think I've ever met a woman in my life who stole my heart so fast and so hard."

That was so cheesy she couldn't help but chuckle. "For being scared of the forest?"

"For loving plants despite being scared of the forest," he clarified. "It doesn't matter what scares you. You're beautiful, kind, loving, and non-judgemental. Even if you're scared, even when they don't deserve it. You're brave and forgiving, and I don't think I can stop listing out the reasons why you're just perfect the way you are."

She hadn't felt love so strongly since her mother. "You were the one out there trying to save a werewolf friend, something most wizards would find disgusting."

"Most wizards wouldn't approach me in a ten-mile radius if they knew I had a werewolf scar."

He hadn't transformed, so he was saved from scrutiny. But that didn't change the fact that it was a matter of time until he did and people found out. Perhaps they saved each other in ways neither of them realized. Because between the murder of her ostracised parents and the lycanthropy of his best friend, they were both exhausted from the effort to stay afloat in the discriminatory world.

She reached up to trace the scar on his left jaw, healed but marred from the silver and dittany she treated him with. He was perfect.

He cupped her hand gently to his face and reveled the feeling of her skin on his.

She was warm.

She tiptoed and leaned in, and he met her halfway down in a slow arduous kiss. The brew forgotten.

Kunsel secured the parameter, Cissnei was rounding the exit of the wilds as Zack chased after the being into a dead end of sycamore giant barks. The creature looked lost upon realizing he was cornered, trying to climb up the tree when Kunsel jumped down from the branch with a shield charm. It cried into the full moon and it broke a part of Zack at how the werewolf was trying to fight its natural instinct. There was still a piece of Angeal in that creature. There was still a sentience that upheld Angeal's sense of honor which refused his werewolf side to hurt others, even if that failed sometimes. But the occasional victories gave Zack hope that this was salvageable.

"Injure him enough so that we can bring him back to the shack," Zack ordered. "Don't kill him."

"Roger that," Cissnei took out her silver shuriken, her feet digging into the dirt to keep herself firm on the ground. "Kunsel, ready to seize him!"

The shuriken flew off her grip, flying to graze the side of the werewolf's legs. It staggered for a while, as Kunsel waved his wand. "Incarcerous!"

The werewolf fell, smirching himself as he struggled against the bind. The shuriken came back into Cissnei's hold as she approached the werewolf to drag him away. But just before Cissnei reached him, the werewolf broke free with a counter charm, launching himself towards Cissnei with his claws and fangs. It was too sudden a movement. Cissnei reached back for her shuriken, Zack had his wand out casting Stupefy.

The charm caught the werewolf on air, just at the same time Cissnei had her shuriken out. The momentum propelled the werewolf forward, and before they knew it, the shuriken impaled the werewolf's chest.

The werewolf's eyes widened before his entire body limped lifelessly. The forest felt thick and overwhelming. It became difficult to breathe as realization kicked in. Kunsel dropped down in distraught, and Zack realized Kunsel was blaming himself for his weak spell that Angeal could easily break through.

Zack squeezed Kunsel's shoulder. "It's not your fault."

"I was weak."

"Angeal was strong," Zack corrected him. "It was a choice; Cissnei being bitten by a werewolf, or this."

He was breaking inside, but he had to stay strong for just a few more hours. At least in front of Kunsel and Cissnei. He snapped at them the first time he was bitten. He'd rather break if he couldn't support them. They needed to best version of him right now, more than ever.

They buried Angeal at the edge of the forest, knowing full well their society wouldn't be as accepting had they known Angeal was a werewolf. Zack reached out to touch Angeal's cheek before lowering his corpse down the grave. The feel crept into his skin and broke him entirely.

Angeal was cold.

Zack wasn't exactly sure what happened after. His mind was messed up, he couldn't exactly think straight. His feet carried him somewhere he remembered by heart. By the time he reached the greenhouse, Aerith had her fingers soiled for tending the flowers. Her lips bloomed into a smile—so bright and tender.

Zack let the dam inside him break. The dam that had been holding his emotions intact, in control. And he cried. He couldn't help Angeal. He couldn't protect Kunsel and Cissnei. He couldn't change anything. He was useless.

His body trembled in his sobs, and Aerith's arms wrapped around his frame into a comforting hug. He didn't care that her fingers were soiled. He didn't care if he looked weak.

She was warm.

She held him through the night, keeping him together and sane, occasionally dropping kisses across his skin, giving especially tender kisses over his scar. He pulled her into a tight embrace, matching her fury emotion with his own touches and kisses that brought them deep into the throes of passion.

They woke up in his bed in the Gryffindor common room. He was staring at the decorative ceiling above his bed, contemplating the events that had happened. He needed to inform the school about Angeal's death eventually. Angeal's bed was empty, untouched. He needed to let it go soon enough.

Aerith stirred in his arm, her bare skin pressing into his felt warm, thawing into his freezing heart.

"What's on your mind?" she asked in soft whisper.

His thumb absentmindedly traced circle patterns on her bare shoulders, giving small shivers down her skin. "About how ostentatious and cynical our world is."

She hummed comfortably. "What do you mean?"

"Your parents were murdered because they deviated from the wizarding norm. Even though the research your late father was conducting about reversing or slowing down the maledictus process was noble, hatred for infected species triumphed over humanity," he explained. "In the effort to keep Angeal safe from this society, I compromised the safety of those I held dear."

She pressed soft kisses on the side of his chest. "You think you're too soft on Angeal's werewolf form?"

He was quiet for a while before asking. "What if I turn into a werewolf?"

"Then you can help me find out if vampires exist," she joked.

He gave her an incredulous glance. "Really? I turn into a werewolf and you're going Twilight on me?"

She chuckled before glancing up to look at his scar, one arm snaked around his bare chest possessively. "I'll scour the forest to keep you safe."

"You're scared of the forest," Zack laughed.

"Hey, you said I was brave."

"Yeah, you are," Zack sighed slightly. "But I find it hard to believe you'll harm a plant."

"Well, maybe not literally. But I'll conquer my fear to save you. I'll toughen the society to find a cure for you. I'll brew lots of wolfbane potions for you," she replied. "No matter how many lifetimes it takes, I'll always find you."

He shifted slightly to hover over her, pressing a firm kiss on her lips. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, fingers sensually toying with the hair at the base of his neck.

"Stay with me today," he whispered into her lips.

"Only today?"

"How about forever?"

"Deal"

His bed was warm from their night together, in contrast to how cold Angeal's bed was. Tomorrow, perhaps someone new would occupy the bed. But he would never forget how cold Angeal was to his touch.

Right now, though, Aerith was in his arms; warm and passionate—as if she was comforting him inside out. Against the cold pretension and iniquitous world, her warmth exuded hope and optimism. She was his goddess, his strength, his savior.

And she was enough for him to remain steadfast in his legacy, even if the whole world went against him.

He would not give up on his journey to rectify the corrupt world they live in, one step at a time.

As long as she was by his side, he'd take the world by stride.