Chapter 4 – Building relationships

The fire crackled warmly in Albus Dumbledore's office as Harry stepped through the door. The space smelled faintly of lemon drops and aged parchment, the perfect blend of Dumbledore's eccentricity and wisdom. Fawkes trilled softly from his perch, his golden feathers catching the firelight.

Dumbledore sat behind his cluttered desk, a steaming teapot and two crystal glasses set to the side, along with a bottle of aged mead. He looked up as Harry entered, his blue eyes twinkling over his half-moon spectacles.

"Ah, Harry. Do come in," Dumbledore said, gesturing to the seat opposite him. "I believe you received my note."

Harry smirked as he sank into the chair. "I did. Your meddling?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I like to think of it as supporting," Dumbledore replied with a serene smile. "I noticed she was avoiding you. There is only so much I can do when it comes to matters of the heart, but I wished to offer what aid I could."

"She's stubborn."

"That she is," Dumbledore agreed with a chuckle.

"And the student assistant?"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled even more brightly. "Ah, Miss Black. A most capable young woman and one I believe you grew quite close to in your timeline."

Harry leaned back in his chair, his smirk softening into something more genuine. "Thank you. I suppose it's working. Narcissa has been a great help, and… it's given me an opportunity to keep her out of trouble."

"Sometimes, my dear boy," Dumbledore said, pouring two glasses of mead, "all one needs is a nudge in the right direction. Now, what brings you to my office tonight?"

Harry accepted the glass and swirled the amber liquid thoughtfully before taking a sip. The warmth of the mead spread through him, steadying his resolve.

"There are a couple of things I could use your help with," he began, setting the glass down. "After the holidays, I plan to start infiltrating Voldemort's ranks. I need to gather as much information as I can about his movements, his plans, and his weaknesses."

Dumbledore's expression grew serious, the twinkle in his eyes dimming slightly. "That is a dangerous course, Harry."

"I know," Harry replied firmly. "But it's necessary. He's already gaining power, and we can't wait until he's unstoppable. If I can get close enough, I might be able to slow him down—or even stop him."

Dumbledore nodded slowly. "And what of the children?"

"That's where I need your help," Harry said, leaning forward. "I need someone I can trust to look after them overnight while I'm gone. They've been through enough, and I don't want them dragged into this war any earlier than they have to be."

"You have my word," Dumbledore said solemnly. "I will protect them as if they were my own."

Harry's shoulders relaxed slightly. "Thank you. That means a lot."

"There's one more thing," Harry continued. "I think it's time to officially put the Order of the Phoenix in place. I know you've already begun the groundwork, but if we're going to stand a chance against Voldemort, we need to organise now."

Dumbledore stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Yes, I've been laying the foundations, but I have reached out to only a few trusted allies. If you believe the time is right, I will expedite things."

"It's time," Harry said firmly. "The sooner we're prepared, the better."

Dumbledore nodded, his expression resolute. "Very well. I will summon those I trust most and formalise the Order. But Harry…" He paused, leaning forward slightly. "You must remember that no one is infallible. Trust, but verify. Even the best of us can falter."

Harry nodded grimly, the image of Peter Pettigrew flashing through his mind. "I'll keep that in mind."

They sat in companionable silence for a moment, sipping their drinks as the fire crackled softly in the background.

"You've taken on a heavy burden, Harry," Dumbledore said quietly, breaking the silence. "But I see great strength in you. Not just in your magic, but in your heart. You remind me of someone I once knew—a man who believed in fighting for the greater good, no matter the cost."

Harry gave him a wry smile. "I just hope I don't lose myself along the way."

Dumbledore's gaze softened. "The fact that you worry about that is what will keep you grounded. Never forget why you fight, and who you fight for."

Harry nodded, the weight of his mission pressing down on him but bolstered by the wisdom and support of the man across from him.

"Thank you, Albus," he said, his voice quieter now.

Dumbledore raised his glass in a silent toast. "To hope, my dear boy. And to victory."

They clinked glasses, the sound ringing softly through the room as the flames danced on.

O – o – o - o

A few days later, Harry sat at his desk, carefully reviewing the latest project proposals from his growing apothecary and potions enterprise. He tapped his quill thoughtfully against his chin, an idea forming in his mind. With a decisive nod, he scribbled out a new assignment: a collaborative research project, one where he could require Narcissa Black and Severus Snape to work together.

Within days, the two began meeting regularly to discuss their assignment. At first, their interactions were clipped and formal, but as time passed, Narcissa began to see a softer, more genuine side of Snape—one she hadn't imagined existed beneath his austere exterior. For his part, Snape found himself captivated by Narcissa's poise, wit, and the warmth that peeked through her cool demeanour.

One evening, as they worked late in the library, their hands accidentally brushed while reaching for the same scroll. Narcissa felt a surprising flutter in her chest, and Snape, uncharacteristically flustered, muttered an apology. A lingering glance passed between them, and from that moment, their relationship began to deepen in ways neither had anticipated.

Harry watched as the new project brought Narcissa and Snape closer together, and when he needed to he pushed things a little further. Then one day in early December, as he reviewed the assignment's progress, a soft knock interrupted him.

"Come in," Harry called.

Narcissa entered gracefully, a bundle of scrolls in her arms. She was dressed elegantly, her long blonde hair cascading over her shoulders.

"Professor," she greeted, a hint of warmth in her voice.

"Narcissa," Harry replied with a smile. "How is the project coming along?"

"Quite well actually, Severus is… unexpectedly brilliant," she admitted, placing the scrolls on his desk.

Harry smirked. "Unexpectedly? I thought brilliance was a requirement for your approval."

Narcissa chuckled softly. "Perhaps. Though he has a sharp tongue, he's surprisingly considerate once you get past the barbs."

Harry leaned back in his chair. "I'll take that as a glowing endorsement. Keep up the good work, Narcissa."

She nodded and left, leaving Harry to his thoughts.

Later that evening, in the library where Narcissa and Snape were working, their conversation took a more personal turn.

"Careful with that spell, Severus," Narcissa teased, watching as he practiced the wand movement. "We wouldn't want an explosion in the library."

Snape arched a brow, his tone dry. "I assure you, Narcissa, I've managed to avoid catastrophic explosions thus far."

"I'm simply being cautious," she replied with a sly smile. "You wouldn't want to mar that brooding charm of yours, would you?"

Snape paused, caught off guard. "Brooding charm?"

Narcissa tilted her head, a glint of mischief in her eyes. "Oh, don't tell me you're unaware of it. The dark robes, the penetrating glare—it's quite... compelling."

Snape cleared his throat, his ears tinged with pink. "I wasn't aware I had an audience," he muttered.

"Everyone has an audience, Severus," Narcissa said, her voice softening. "Even if it's just one person."

He met her gaze, something unspoken passing between them. "And what about you, Narcissa? Do you have an audience?"

She hesitated, her usual composure faltering for a moment. "Perhaps I do," she murmured.

The next morning, Snape found Harry in his office.

"I've come to a decision," Snape began, his tone steady.

Harry looked up, gesturing for him to sit. "Let's hear it."

"I want to accept your offer," Snape said, his dark eyes resolute. "But I need your help with something else—something personal."

Harry leaned forward, intrigued. "Go on."

"I wish to marry Narcissa," Snape said bluntly. "Her father will likely arrange a match soon, and I need to act before that happens."

Harry smiled slightly. "You're serious about this?"

"More than I've ever been about anything," Snape replied. "But my parents… well.. I don't have the means of approaching him myself.

Harry nodded. "Alright. I'll handle it. But you'll need to be ready to make your case to her father. Cygnus Black doesn't give anything away without a fight."

The next day, Harry arranged a meeting with Cygnus Black for later that week. When he arrived at Black Manor, the grand estate's air of formality was almost stifling. Cygnus greeted him in his study, his sharp eyes studying Harry closely.

"Lord Blackwood," Cygnus said, gesturing to a chair. "I was surprised to get your letter. I heard you had returned, but was not expecting you to request an audience so soon. Is this a business call?"

"No, it is more of a personal matter. Although I am hoping that if the discussion goes well we can reach an amiable agreement on a business matter as well."

"Very well. What brings you here?"

Harry sat, his expression calm but serious. "I'm here to discuss Narcissa's future—and the man she wishes to marry."

Cygnus's brows furrowed. "And who might that be?"

"Severus Snape," Harry replied without hesitation.

Cygnus's expression turned incredulous. "Severus Snape? The name is vaguely familiar. He's a half blood is he not? Narcissa has never mentioned him, surely you jest."

Harry held up a hand. "I'm quite serious. Severus is not only one of the most brilliant minds I've ever met, but he's also a man of integrity and loyalty. I've hired him as the chief potions master for my empire, once he has his credentials—a position that comes with a considerable salary and influence."

Cygnus narrowed his eyes. "You've placed a great deal of trust in him, it seems."

"I have," Harry agreed. "And I'm willing to pay the bridal price myself to ensure the match is approved. We all deserve to be judged on our own merit, not because of our family."

Cygnus leaned back, considering Harry's words. "You must think highly of him to make such an offer."

"I do," Harry said firmly. "And more importantly, so does Narcissa. I believe they have the potential to make each other very happy."

Cygnus remained silent for a long moment before finally nodding. "Very well. If you're willing to stand by this match, I'll give my consent."

Harry smiled, relief washing over him. "Thank you, Lord Black. I'm sure you won't regret this decision."

"And what is the business deal you wished to discuss?"

"I have been told you have access to rare and high-quality potions ingredients that are otherwise - difficult - to obtain. I would like to establish a partnership to secure these exclusive resources. There are some ingredients I have in mind that I believe will enhance the quality and uniqueness of my products and I am willing to pay handsomely for them."

"I see. You certainly have me intrigued." They spoke for several more minutes before Harry excused himself stating the need to return to Hogwarts.

"I'll send an owl to arrange another meeting. We can work out the details," Harry said as he stood to leave.

"This arrangement could be beneficial for us both Lord Blackwood. I look forward to continuing our conversation."

Professor?"

Harry turned to see Sirius Black standing in the doorway, a look of surprise on his face.

"Sirius!" Harry exclaimed, grinning.

"What are you doing here?" Sirius asked, striding over to clasp Harry's hand.

"Business," Harry said with a shrug. "And you?"

"Visiting the family I barely tolerate," Sirius said with a smirk, glancing at Cygnus, who rolled his eyes. "My father died last year, so I'm allowed to leave Hogwarts for family business."

"I see." Harry laughed, deciding to take advantage of the opportunity that had been presented. "Well, since we're both here, would you be interested in joining me for a drink at the manor before returning to Hogwarts?"

Sirius grinned. "I'd like that."

That evening, the two men found themselves in the cozy lounge of Blackwood Manor. The room was a mix of elegance and comfort, lit by the warm glow of the fireplace. Between them sat a crystal decanter of aged firewhisky, its amber liquid glinting invitingly in the light.

As the hours slipped by, they swapped stories—Sirius recounting wild tales of his adventures at Hogwarts, while Harry shared carefully selected moments from his own adventures. Laughter punctuated their conversation, and an unexpected sense of ease settled between them. For the first time in a long while, Harry felt the weight of his mission lighten, if only a little.

Eventually, the moment he had been waiting for arrived. Harry took a deep breath, his fingers toying with the glass in his hand.

"Sirius," he began, his tone shifting to something more serious. Sirius looked up from pouring himself another glass, his brow furrowing slightly at the change.

"There's something I need to tell you," Harry said, setting his drink down carefully on the table. His voice was calm, but Sirius could sense the weight behind it.

Sirius leaned back in his chair, his usual grin replaced by a look of cautious curiosity. "Alright, I'm listening."

Harry took a deep breath and began. He told Sirius everything—how he had come to this time, the truth about his real identity, and the devastating future he was determined to change. His voice never wavered, but as he spoke of Amelia, his parents, and the horrors Voldemort unleashed, there was a rawness that Sirius couldn't ignore.

When Harry finished, he pulled a neatly sealed envelope from his pocket and slid it across the table. "This has everything—proof of who I am, my memories, and what I know about the future. I came here for one reason: to save Amelia, stop Voldemort, and protect my parents. They might never know the truth about me, but if I can keep them alive, it will be worth it."

Sirius didn't reach for the envelope immediately. Instead, he stared at it as though it might burn him. Finally, he picked it up and placed it down again, unread, his fingers drumming lightly on the table. "You're James and Lily's son," he said softly, his voice almost reverent. "From the future." He glanced at Harry, a small, incredulous grin breaking through. "I guess James manages to get his head out of his arse at some point, then."

Harry laughed, the sound breaking through the tension. "I suppose he does."

Sirius chuckled but soon grew serious again. "So, why tell me now?"

"Because I need your help," Harry said earnestly. "After the holidays, I'm planning to actively monitor Voldemort. His movements, his followers—anything I can learn. If possible, I might even try to infiltrate his inner circle. But it's dangerous, and I can't do it alone."

For a moment, Sirius said nothing. Then, his lips curved into a familiar, mischievous grin. "Let me get this straight—you're asking me to join your time-traveling, dark-lord-defeating, parent-saving mission?"

Harry smirked. "When you put it like that, it sounds absolutely insane."

"Insane is my specialty," Sirius replied, the humour in his voice doing little to mask the seriousness in his eyes. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. "We should bring the rest of the Marauders in. And Lily—she'd kill you if she knew you didn't ask for her help."

Harry shook his head. "No. The fewer people who know, the better. Dumbledore is already forming an order to fight against Voldemort, so we'll have support, but I can't ask my parents to get involved. Last time, they were targets because of a prophecy about me. If I can keep them off Voldemort's radar, maybe they'll have a chance to live normal lives."

Sirius frowned. "Do you really think James and Lily will just sit this out? Even if you try to keep them out of it, they're not the type to stand by while others fight."

Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I know. But I have to try. The longer I can keep them safe, the better our chances of changing everything."

Sirius studied him for a moment before nodding. "Okay, you've got my help—Harry, Hector, whatever you want to call yourself. Always. And for what it's worth, I think your parents would be proud of the man you've become."

Harry's throat tightened at the words, but he managed a small smile. "Thank you, Sirius." He lifted his glass. "To impossible missions and making it count."

Sirius raised his glass in return. "To the Potters—and to the crazy plan to save them."

The two men drank in silence, the weight of their shared mission settling between them. But as they exchanged a small, understanding smile, it was clear neither of them would be facing the road ahead alone. As the evening wore on, Harry felt a sense of satisfaction. Snape had taken a step toward his future, Narcissa's happiness seemed within reach, and even Sirius had found his way back into Harry's life.

One step closer to setting things right,Harry thought.

The next morning after class, Harry relayed the news to Snape, who was visibly relieved.

"Thank you, Professor," Snape said quietly, his voice heavy with emotion.

"You're welcome, Severus," Harry replied with a grin. "Now go and tell Narcissa. I think she's waiting for you."

Snape hesitated for only a moment before nodding and leaving the room.

As Harry watched him go, he couldn't help but feel a sense of accomplishment. One more piece of the puzzle had fallen into place, and for once, the future seemed just a little bit brighter.

O – o – o - o

The late afternoon sun bathed the Hogwarts grounds in golden light as Harry walked toward the castle. His heart was unusually heavy today. After months of watching his parents from a distance, moments of admiration mingling with bittersweet longing, he'd finally decided it was time to take a step closer to the mother he'd didn't remember.

He'd overheard her mention to Mary Macdonald that she planned to spend some time in the library this afternoon, so Harry made his way there, rehearsing what he might say. Despite the calm demeanour he'd perfected over the years, the prospect of speaking to his mother—this younger, vibrant version of her—filled him with a mix of excitement and trepidation.

When he entered the library, it didn't take long to spot her. Lily Evans sat at a table near a window, a stack of books at her side, her red hair catching the sunlight like a flame. She was scribbling notes furiously, her brow furrowed in concentration. Harry hesitated, drinking in the sight of her. She looked so alive, so determined.

Gathering his courage, Harry approached.

"Miss Evans?" he said softly.

She looked up, startled but polite. Her green eyes—the same eyes that had always gazed at him with love in his memories—met his.

"Yes?" she asked, her tone curious but guarded.

"Do you mind if I join you?" Harry gestured to the chair across from her. "I've been meaning to speak with you."

Lily tilted her head, studying him with a mixture of curiosity and wariness. Finally, she nodded. "Of course, Professor Blackwood."

Harry smiled as he sat down. "Please, call me Harry when we're not in class."

"All right, Harry," she said, her tone softening slightly. "What can I do for you?"

For a moment, Harry struggled to find the right words. How could he express the depth of what he felt, the connection he longed for, without revealing the truth? Finally, he settled on the simplest approach.

"I wanted to thank you," he began, his voice quiet but steady.

Lily's brow furrowed. "Thank me? For what?"

"For the essay you wrote on werewolves," Harry said, choosing his words carefully. "I know about Remus –" she gasped at this and covered her mouth with her hand.

"I'm going to help him. You may not know this but I own a potions empire. Access to Wolfsbane is easy enough."

"That's very kind of you."

"It's very – bold - of you to use an essay as a means to help a friend and - admirable. You are obviously someone who stands up for what's right, no matter the cost. That's rare."

Lily blinked, taken aback by his sincerity. "Well... thank you," she said, her cheeks tinged with pink. "But I'm not sure I deserve such high praise. I'm just trying to do what feels right."

"That's exactly what makes it so remarkable," Harry replied, his gaze steady. "Not everyone has the courage to act on their convictions."

She looked at him for a long moment, as if trying to understand his motives. "You're not like most purebloods I've met," she said finally.

"Is that a compliment?" Harry teased gently.

"It is," Lily said, smiling faintly. "You're kind, but there's something else... a sadness about you. As if you've seen more than someone your age should."

Harry's heart clenched at her perceptiveness. "Let's just say life has taught me a few hard lessons," he said carefully.

Lily tilted her head, her green eyes searching his face. "Do you ever talk about it? About those lessons?"

"Not often," Harry admitted. "But perhaps I should."

Lily nodded thoughtfully. "Sometimes, sharing your burdens can make them easier to carry."

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The sunlight streaming through the window cast a warm glow over the table, and Harry felt a strange sense of peace in her presence.

"You remind me of someone I used to know," Lily said suddenly, breaking the silence.

"Oh?" Harry asked, his heart skipping a beat.

"My cousin Rose," Lily said. "She had the same quiet strength, the same way of looking at people like you could see right through them."

Harry smiled, though his heart ached. "She sounds like someone worth remembering."

"She was," Lily said softly.

The conversation shifted then, moving to lighter topics. Lily spoke about her studies, her frustrations with certain Slytherins, and her plans for the future. Harry listened intently, savouring every word, every smile.

Eventually, the shadows in the library grew longer, signalling the end of the afternoon. As Lily began gathering her things, Harry spoke again.

"Lily," he said, the name feeling both familiar and foreign on his tongue.

She paused, looking at him expectantly.

"I hope we can talk again soon," Harry said. "I've enjoyed getting to know you better."

Lily's expression softened, and she smiled. "I'd like that too, Harry."

As she walked away, her red hair swaying behind her, Harry felt a profound sense of gratitude—and longing. He'd taken the first step toward forging a connection with her. For now, that was enough.

O – o – o – o

On the last day of classes before end of term exams Amelia found herself once again standing outside Professor Blackwood's door, clutching a note from Dumbledore. She stared at the worn wood, hesitating. She'd almost refused when the headmaster had asked her to deliver it. After all, she was still doing her best to avoid Harry. If she avoided him, she could manage to go a few hours without thinking about him. And if she could stop thinking about him, she could focus on what she should be thinking about—her studies. And Richard.

Her stomach twisted with guilt. She'd missed dinner with Richard. Again.

She raised her hand to knock again, but froze when she heard soft, feminine laughter from the other side of the door.

Her chest tightened painfully. Was he on a date? The thought stung more than it should, and that scared her. She clenched her fists to stop the trembling in her hands.

Before she could talk herself out of it, the door opened, and there he stood.

"Amelia," Harry said, his smile brightening when he saw her. His eyes lit up in that way they always did when he saw her, and for a moment, it made her forget her racing thoughts.

"It's been a while," he added warmly. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Wordlessly, she handed him the note, unable to meet his gaze. But before he could take it, she blurted out the question burning in her mind.

"Do you… have company?" Her voice was sharper than she'd intended, and she cringed at how jealous she sounded.

Harry's brow lifted in surprise, and a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"Just a friend," he said smoothly as he took the note. "Would you like to come in?"

Amelia hesitated, her pride battling with her curiosity. Just a friend, she told herself that over and over as she stepped inside.

The warm, inviting space smelled faintly of spice and vanilla. Her eyes landed on a familiar figure sitting at the table.

"Lily," Amelia said, surprised.

"Amelia," Lily greeted her with a bright smile. "I didn't see you at dinner. Everything alright?"

"Yes, fine. Just had lots of studying to do."

"I understand." Lily gave her a knowing look, glancing between her and Harry with a smile that made Amelia's cheeks flush.

"What brought you here, Lily?" Amelia asked, trying to sound casual.

"Dessert," Lily replied with a chuckle.

Amelia blinked. "What?"

Just then, the children came running in from the bedroom, their little faces lighting up when they saw Amelia.

"Miss Bones!" they cried in unison, barreling toward her with hugs that nearly knocked her over.

Harry grinned. "Lily told Miss Evans yesterday that she made cupcakes all by magic," he explained. "She has been begging her to try them ever since."

"I did, Miss Bones!" Liliana beamed proudly. "All by myself! Do you want one?"

Amelia knelt to her level, her heart softening at the young girl's excitement. "Of course. I'd love one."

Lily brought her a cupcake, watching closely as Amelia took a bite and hummed in approval.

"It's delicious."

"Thank you," Liliana said, grinning from ear to ear.

Just then Lily stood, brushing off her skirt. "Well, I should be going." She glanced at Amelia with a teasing smile. "Thank you for the cake, Lily. Good night, Amelia."

Amelia opened her mouth to say something, but Lily was already heading for the door.

And just like that, she was gone, leaving Amelia alone with Harry in the quiet, firelit room.

The silence stretched between them, warm and heavy with unspoken words. Their eyes locked, and for a brief, electric moment, the rest of the world seemed to melt away.

Harry stepped closer, his gaze never wavering from hers. His expression was soft, but there was something unreadable in his eyes—something that made Amelia's pulse quicken.

"I'm glad you came in," he said quietly. His voice was low, almost intimate in the quiet room. "I've missed you."

Amelia swallowed hard, willing her heart to stop racing. She needed to say something, anything to break the tension, but her mind was blank.

"You're always glad," she finally said, her voice a little too sharp. "It's easy for you."

Harry's brow furrowed, his head tilting slightly. "Easy?"

"You're… charming. Always saying the right things. Always smiling like you know some secret no one else does." Her words tumbled out in a rush, surprising even herself.

Harry blinked, then chuckled softly. "Trust me, Amelia, it's not as easy as you think."

Amelia crossed her arms, trying to put some distance between herself and the way he made her feel. "Why are you even here? You could be anywhere, doing anything. Why come to Hogwarts?"

Harry leaned against the table, his arms crossed casually, but his eyes never left hers. "Maybe I came because there was something—or someone—worth being here for."

Her breath caught in her throat. She opened her mouth to argue, to brush it off as some playful flirtation, but Harry's expression was serious now.

She looked away, her gaze falling on the flickering fire. "I have a boyfriend," she whispered, more to herself than to him.

"I know," Harry said softly.

"And I'm happy with him." Her voice wavered.

Harry stepped closer, the distance between them shrinking again. "Are you?"

Amelia's head snapped up, her eyes narrowing. "That's not fair."

"I'm not trying to be fair, Amelia." His voice was steady, calm. "I'm just trying to be honest."

Her heart twisted painfully. She wanted to deny it, to push him away, but she couldn't. Not when he looked at her like that—as though he saw every part of her, even the parts she tried to hide.

"I should go," she said abruptly, turning toward the door.

Harry didn't move to stop her, but his voice followed her, soft and full of quiet conviction. "I hope you won't leave it so long next time."

Amelia paused with her hand on the doorknob, her shoulders tense. For a moment, she thought about turning back, kissing him the way she'd been dreaming about, but she couldn't. Not yet.

Without another word, she opened the door and stepped out into the cool night air, her heart pounding in her chest.

As the door clicked shut behind her, she took a deep, steadying breath. She needed to think. She needed to sort out the storm of emotions raging inside her.

But no matter how hard she tried to focus on anything else, one thought remained clear in her mind.

Harry Blackwood was dangerous.

And not in the way she'd been taught to fear.

In the way he made her feel—like maybe, just maybe, she was meant to be standing right there with him.

A week later, on the eve of end of term exams, Amelia leaned against the cool, narrow walls of a broom closet, her hands resting on Richard's chest as his lips pressed gently against hers. The warmth of the moment should have enveloped her, drawn her in, but instead, her mind wandered—pulled relentlessly toward someone else.

Harry..

The thought of his lopsided smile and the way his deep green eyes seemed to see right through her broke her focus. She sighed, and Richard immediately pulled back, his brow furrowing in concern.

"It is never a good thing when you sigh, Amelia," he said, his voice tinged with disappointment. "Especially when we are kissing."

"Sorry, Richard," she replied, her tone soft but distant. "I'm just thinking."

"You're always thinking," he said with a small, resigned smile.

"I can't turn it off."

"I know."

Amelia looked up at him, guilt flickering in her eyes. "I'm sorry, Richard. I can't do this anymore."

He sighed, his shoulders sagging as though he'd been bracing for this moment. "I think I've known for a while," he said quietly. "That your heart is… elsewhere, Amelia. It was only a matter of time before you figured it out."

Her breath caught, her cheeks flushing. "What?"

"I've seen the way you look at him—Professor Blackwood," he admitted, the words heavy with reluctant acceptance. "And I hate to admit it, but he's much better suited for you."

Amelia hesitated, her voice barely a whisper. "He's different from anyone I've ever met. I can't stop thinking about him."

Richard smiled faintly, his gaze softening despite the ache in his chest. "Thank you for being honest with me, Amelia. You're an incredible woman, and you deserve to be happy."

"You're a good man, Richard," she said, her voice earnest.

"I just hope he's worthy of you."

She swallowed hard, nodding, before stepping back. With one last glance, she slipped out of the closet, leaving Richard behind to process the bittersweet ending of their relationship.