Back in the Hufflepuff common room, the golden tones of early evening bathed the stone walls in a gentle warmth. The fire crackled in the hearth, casting dancing shadows across the squashy armchairs and thick rugs. Most students had retreated to their dormitories or the library, leaving the space peaceful and half-quiet — just the way they liked it.
The trio sat nestled together in front of the fire. Hadrian lounged in the middle, one arm lazily draped over the back of the couch, while Iris sat with her knees pulled to her chest on his right, sipping from a steaming mug of cocoa. Dora sprawled on his left, hair a soft bubblegum pink today, her head resting against his shoulder.
"Well," Dora said with a satisfied sigh, "I think I can die happy. I saw unicorns. Real unicorns."
"You're not dying anytime soon," Iris said, elbowing her gently. "I still need you to teach me that eyebrow-wiggling charm."
Dora grinned. "Flirtatious eyebrow wiggling is an art, not a spell."
"I'd argue you're overqualified," Hadrian added with a smirk, which earned him a light swat on the arm from Dora.
There was a pause — not awkward, just companionable — filled with the gentle pop of the firewood and the sound of distant footsteps echoing through the castle.
"I never imagined I'd have this," Iris said softly, gazing into the fire.
Hadrian turned to look at her, but she didn't meet his eyes. Her voice remained calm, but there was a hint of that old ache hiding in its corners. "A home. People. Laughter."
"You do now," Hadrian said simply. "And you always will."
Dora reached out and linked pinky fingers with Iris. "You've got us. You're stuck with us forever, sorry."
"Worst fate ever," Iris said with a snort — but her smile was wide and real.
They stayed like that for a while, basking in the warmth, not just of the fire, but of one another. Hadrian absentmindedly played with a lock of Dora's hair, which shimmered from pink to a soft amber wherever his fingers ran through it.
"We should start naming our trio," Dora said suddenly.
"Oh no," Hadrian groaned. "You've got that look."
"The Naming Look," Iris added with a knowing nod.
Dora sat up dramatically. "We could be… the MetaTwins and the Bookworm!"
"Excuse you," Hadrian said, "I am clearly the brains of this operation."
"No," Iris chimed in, "you're the schemer. There's a difference."
"Rude," he muttered.
"I could be the face," Dora offered.
"No," both twins said at once.
Dora pouted, and Hadrian ruffled her hair. "You're the heart."
She blinked. "You mean that in the sweet way or the 'bleeding-heart-doomed-to-care-too-much' way?"
"Both," Iris said gently, resting her head on Dora's shoulder. "That's what makes you special."
Hadrian leaned his head back, content. For all the effort he had made to shape this world — all the careful tweaks and alterations — this was the part he hadn't expected: how real the joy would feel. How easy the love would come.
As the fire dimmed and the warmth settled deeper into their bones, the three simply sat together in the golden hush of the common room.