❝ STEPPING, I'M STOMPING, I'M ALL GONE. ❞ ☓ 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘯 𝘶𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭
this book has been fully re-edited and its original name being "his destructive little wildfire" but as it was created in 2021 and was hor...
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xvii. safe and sound ( act finale )
RUNNING THROUGH THE OF HOGWARTS' CORRIDORS, Deleine felt the weight of urgency pressing on her chest. Her legs pumped furiously, but no matter how fast she ran, it felt as if she were barely moving, like the castle itself was slowing her down. The halls blurred past her in streaks of stone and shadow, but the pounding of her heartbeat in her ears drowned out everything. She wasn't sure if she was going in the right direction, or if she was even meant to be running at all. Her thoughts swirled, disorienting, like a thick fog clouding her mind.
But one thing remained clear: she had to be there.
The maze—that maze, the one waiting for the champions—loomed just ahead. Her breath hitched in her throat as she skidded to a halt, eyes widening at the sight of the stands, packed with students and staff, all eagerly watching the Third Task unfold. The night air hung heavy with tension, the excitement palpable. Deleine's gaze swept over the scene, her pulse quickening. The boys had already gone inside. The maze had swallowed them whole.
She hesitated at the top of the stairs, her heart hammering against her ribcage. Her skin tingled with the eerie sensation that something was off, that the clock was ticking, and time was running out. One wrong move and—
"Deleine."
The sound of her name snapped her back to reality. She turned her head sharply, spotting her friends seated nearby. For a moment, her breath caught, but the urgency thrummed through her veins, louder than their voices. She blinked once, twice, then forced herself to look away, her feet carrying her down the stairs in slow, deliberate steps.
Before she could reach the bottom, however, a firm hand clamped around her arm, halting her in her tracks.
Deleine spun around, her eyes narrowing as she met the dark, brooding gaze of Severus Snape. His grip was tight, his face set in that usual unreadable mask of his, but there was a flicker of something else—concern, maybe?—in his eyes.
"What are you doing?" he demanded, his voice low but sharp, like a blade cutting through the thick tension around them.
Deleine's own frustration flared, matching his intensity. She yanked her arm free from his grasp, her voice rising in a heated whisper. "You locked me in a room, Snape!"
Her tone was biting, her words laced with fury. She could feel the weight of eyes on them now, the quiet hum of murmurs starting to spread through the crowd. Dumbledore, perched on his seat near the judges, watched them closely, his gaze unreadable yet piercing.
