Boundless

𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐀𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 (𝟐𝟖)

Mattheo Riddle

We all heard it.

You didn't need to be eavesdropping to catch the sound of Sebastian's voice slicing through the train corridor like a wandless hex. Sharp. Cold. Designed to cut her down in public, where it would hurt the most.

"...We're done, Ollie."

And then he was gone, storming past our compartment like he hadn't just tried to humiliate her. Like he hadn't just thrown away something most people spent their whole damn lives trying to find.

Blaise let out a low whistle from where he was slouched across two seats. "Guess someone's not coming to Christmas dinner."

No one laughed.

I didn't wait for anyone else to react. I was out of the seat and into the corridor before I even realised I'd moved. I found her still standing where he left her, hands clenched into fists, face flushed, but her eyes... calm.

Not broken. Not crying.

Just breathing.

I didn't say anything—just stepped up beside her and offered my hand. Her fingers slid into mine without hesitation, and I guided her back into the compartment.

"Move," I told Theo quietly, nodding to the seat beside him. He shifted without question, and Ollie sank into the corner, curling herself into the space like she was folding in on herself. I dropped down beside her.

She didn't cry.

Didn't sniffle or tremble or say a word.

Instead, she leaned into me, her fingers pressing gently against the sleeve of my jumper, anchoring herself. I slipped my arm around her without hesitation. She fit there like she always had — like time hadn't passed and mistakes hadn't happened.

"Want us to hex him?" Pansy asked flatly, examining her nails.

"That's a stupid question," Blaise muttered. "Of course we do."

"I want to kill him," Draco said, clenching the book in his hand.

"I want to skin him," Enzo added cheerfully, unwrapping a Chocolate Frog.

Ollie laughed.

Just a breath. A tiny one. But it was enough.

I looked down at her.

That laugh was real.

She wasn't heartbroken. Not really.

There was no wreckage in her eyes, no trace of the frantic girl who'd shown up at my door a week ago with tear tracks on her cheeks and doubt wrapped around her like a second skin. This Ollie wasn't grieving — she was relieved.

She was free.

And maybe that scared me a little. Not because I wanted her to fall apart — I didn't. I'd patch her up every time if that's what she needed.

But I'd spent so long thinking Sebastian had his claws in her too deep. That no matter what we'd been, what we still were... I'd never be enough.

But I was wrong.

She sat with me for the rest of the ride, tucked under my arm, half-asleep by the time we crossed into Scotland's flatlands. Everyone had stopped trying to cheer her up by then — partly because she was already smiling again, partly because none of us were used to seeing her like this. Peaceful. Not performing.

And me?

I didn't mind that she wasn't mine. Not yet. Not fully.

I had time now.

And I'd earn her all over again.