When Lennon stepped off the Hogwarts Express, a strange stillness settled over her.
The platform was its usual swirl of noise and movement—children running into the arms of parents, owls hooting from their cages, the rumble of trunks being wheeled across cobblestones—but to her, it all felt muffled, like the world had turned down its volume.
She gripped the handle of her trunk and quietly moved through the crowd. No one was there for her. No cheerful wave, no warm hug, no familiar face. Just the city and the sun and the start of summer.
She took a cab to her flat—small, quiet, tucked just above a secondhand bookshop in a sleepy corner of London. The shop below, Eldritch's Secondhand Tomes, always smelled of dust and lavender, and the bell above the door still jingled like an old memory.
Climbing the narrow stairs, Lennon felt a weight settle into her chest. Hogwarts had been dangerous, terrifying even—but it had also been full. Of people. Of magic. Of moments.
The flat was still and familiar. Nothing had changed. Her books were stacked where she left them, her old radio still playing fuzzy jazz from some far-off station, her tea mugs still drying on the counter. But she had changed.
And once the door shut behind her, and the hush of summer wrapped around her like a thick quilt, she let go of the composure she had been holding onto for months.
She didn't cry. She didn't scream. She simply sank to the floor, leaned her head against the cool wood of the door, and let the silence speak for her.
⸻
Three days passed.
She barely left the flat. The shopkeeper downstairs slipped bread and tea through her door without asking questions. She spent hours sitting by the open window, watching the city move on without her.
She thought about the diary. About the Chamber. About the look in Mattheo's eyes when he told her the truth—that it was his father in the Chamber. That the diary had been a Horcrux. That the darkness still lingered, somewhere, waiting.
And just as she was finishing a lukewarm cup of tea, someone knocked on her door.
She froze.
No one ever came.
Wand in hand, she opened it slowly—and blinked in disbelief.
"Theodore?" she asked.
The boy leaned against her doorframe with his usual smugness, a lopsided smirk on his lips. "Took long enough. You're impossible to track down."
She barely had time to process his presence before Lorenzo appeared behind him, carrying takeaway and giving her a warm grin. "Told you she wouldn't hex us."
And then came Mattheo, hands in his coat pockets, gaze calm and unreadable as always—but with a flicker of something softer beneath the surface. Relief, maybe.
"What—how—how did you even find me?" she asked, stepping aside as all three boys stepped into her tiny living room like they'd done it a hundred times before.
"Mattheo figured it out," Theo said. "Said you'd probably hide somewhere quiet, surrounded by books, in a place where the windows rattle when it rains."
"I said it felt like you," Mattheo added, his voice quieter. "Not hard to narrow down."
Lennon stared at them, dumbfounded, then exhaled with a dry laugh. "You're unbelievable."
"You're welcome," Lorenzo said, plopping down on her couch like he owned the place.
"I already have Fred and George," she muttered, shaking her head. "How much more chaos do you think I can survive?"
"Well," Theo said with a grin, "we're chaos with better fashion sense."
⸻
They stayed for hours.
Lorenzo made tea and complained about the Muggle kettle. Theo pestered her about what books she'd already read and rearranged her shelves when she wasn't looking. Mattheo sat by the window, watching the city with quiet eyes, but his attention never strayed far from her.
It felt warm. Safe.
And just as they were halfway through takeaway and Theo was insisting they plan a summer prank war with the Weasley twins, someone knocked again.
This knock was softer. Familiar.
Lennon's heart stuttered.
She opened the door—and nearly smiled in surprise.
"Remus?" she said.
The man stood there in his worn coat, his arms full of brown paper packages and pastries.
"I brought your favorites," he said, offering them with a warm smile.
She pulled him into a tight hug before he even stepped inside. "I missed you."
"I missed you too," he murmured, brushing a hand affectionately over her hair.
But when he stepped fully into the flat and saw the Slytherin boys spread across her couch, his smile shifted—polite, but edged.
Mattheo stood immediately, his posture calm, respectful.
Remus tilted his head. "You've made some interesting friends."
"They're not just friends," Lennon said gently. "They're… they've been here. Through everything."
Remus's eyes met hers, and something unspoken passed between them. He trusted her. He always had. But she could see the questions in his gaze.
"Mattheo, could I speak with you for a moment?" he asked, motioning toward the hallway.
Mattheo nodded once, and followed.
⸻
The hallway outside the flat was quiet and narrow, lined with faded wallpaper.
Remus leaned against the wall, folding his arms. "You care about her."
Mattheo nodded. "I do."
"She's not like most people," Remus continued. "She's been through more than you probably realize."
"I know."
Remus's brow arched slightly. "Do you?"
Mattheo looked him in the eye. "I know about her dad. About the night she lost him. About the way she keeps pretending she's fine, even when she's not."
Remus stared at him for a moment, then sighed. "You're young. And your name… your blood… it makes people assume things."
"I know that, too."
"Just promise me something," Remus said quietly. "That you'll be careful with her heart. She's strong, but she shouldn't have to keep surviving everything."
"I promise," Mattheo said, voice steady.
⸻
Back in the flat, Remus didn't stay long. He chatted with Lorenzo and Theo for a bit, offered Lennon a long, meaningful look, and kissed her forehead before heading out into the night.
And as the door closed behind him, Lennon turned to the boys still lounging in her flat.
"You're not leaving, are you?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Nope," Theo said, popping a grape in his mouth. "We've claimed your couch. It's ours now."
Lorenzo grinned. "Might even fix the leaky faucet if you're lucky."
Mattheo looked at her from the window and said softly, "We just wanted to make sure you knew you weren't alone."
She smiled at him, something warm blooming in her chest.
For the first time in a long while, the world didn't feel quite so heavy.