firecracker ???

Harry didn't move for a moment, just watching her. 

She put her brooch down now and looked back at him.

The firelight licked gold across her cheekbones, her eyes unreadable in the way they always were when she was fighting off the urge to feel something too deeply. She sat with one leg folded under her, posture straight as ever, hands clasped lightly in her lap. Waiting.

And maybe—just maybe—hoping.

Harry took a slow step forward, then another.

He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small velvet box. His hands, for once, weren't shaking. Not because he wasn't nervous—but because this, unlike most things in his life, felt right. Rooted. Solid.

Lyra's eyes flicked to the box, and then to him. "This is going to be something ridiculous, isn't it?"

Harry gave a lopsided smile. "No. Not this time."

He crossed the last of the distance between them and held the box out.

She took it, fingers brushing his as she did.

When she opened it, she didn't react immediately—but Harry saw the way her breath caught.

The ring nestled inside was slender and precise, made of white gold with a single emerald—rich, dark green, and carved into a quiet twist of silver around it. No flash. No flourish. But it shimmered softly, deliberately. Like it had always been meant for her hand.

He cleared his throat. "I, um... I picked it out with your aunt and your mother. One weekend. You were out getting that, what do you call it, the ridiculous spell-facial thing with Daphne."

Lyra blinked. "Oh. That... was a very expensive afternoon."

Harry chuckled. "So was this."

She looked up, a smile rising at the corner of her lips. "It's Malfoy silver."

"I wanted it to match the rest of you."

A pause.

Then, very quietly, she said, "It's beautiful."

Harry took the ring from the box and held out his hand. "May I?"

Lyra hesitated only a second before offering her left hand.

Harry slid the ring onto her finger slowly—carefully. Reverently.

When it was finally in place, he brought her hand to his lips and kissed her ring finger—just once. But it felt like the most solemn vow he'd ever made.

She didn't say anything.

So he did.

"I'm not asking for forever," Harry said softly, "not yet. But I am promising you this."

He met her gaze, not blinking.

"I'll come back. No matter what happens. No matter where I go or what I have to do—I'll come back to you."

Lyra stared at him, eyes unreadable but shining faintly. The fire cracked between them.

"You've always been the reason," Harry continued. "When I thought I wouldn't make it out... when I thought maybe I wouldn't want to... it was always you that kept me fighting."

He took her hand again and held it tight between both of his.

"I love you," he whispered. "Enough to live for you. Enough to die for you. But most of all—enough to come back."

Lyra exhaled once shakily.

Then she reached into the folds of her robe and pulled out a slim black box of her own.