The White Room was cold again — that same sterile brightness that made your skin crawl if you stared too long at the endless white.
I popped my knuckles as the portal behind them sealed shut — Cross, Fox and Weasley now left to rebuild the Fraternity the right way. Draco cracked his neck, practically vibrating with leftover adrenaline. Daphne brushed a streak of someone else's blood off her sleeve like she was straightening her skirt for tea.
Freyja — eternal, ageless, annoyed Freyja — appeared out of nowhere, leaning back on a table that hadn't been there two seconds ago. She was dressed in a violently pink sweatsuit this time, hair in a messy bun. She looked like she'd just come back from a yoga retreat and a murder.
"Alright, puppies." Freyja snapped her fingers — the Room flickered with streaks of color that swirled around them like holograms. "Wanted world: done. Sloan? Dead. The Loom? Corrected. The Fraternity? Back to doing their job instead of playing Mafia. Good job, meatheads."
Draco scoffed. "You're welcome, Freyja."
"Don't push it, Malfoy." She flicked him a look sharp enough to slice.
I just crossed my arms. "The rewards?"
"Yes yes just follow me." Freyja said as she lead us to the wheel.
"Oii Jon, Daph I am going first." Draco said as he spined the wheel.
"Sure." I said back as I waited to see what Malfoy will get this time.
Ding,
Vibranium Falcon Wings EXO-7 ( Captain America: Brave New World)
In an Instant Draco put on the wings and fled past us.
"Wohooooo!!!! This is awesome!!!!" Draco shouted as he landed beside us.
"Well not bad with your nano armor suit and now this you can tank many attacks." I patted Draco's back.
"Ms. Greengrass please step forward." Freyja said as Daphne step forward.
"Wish me luck." Daphne said as she spined the wheel.
Ding,
Aikido (Advanced)
"Well it's not that bad I guess." Daphne said.
"Daphne you know it's like gamble you could get anything." I said as I side hugged her.
"Yeah, I know."
"Now Jon please," Freyja said as I steeped up and spined the wheel.
Ding,
Kawasaki Ninja H2R
"Wow it's actually good." I said as I touched the bike.
"Hey Jon is it not that bike we keep hearing so much about in the wanted world." Draco asked as he inspected the bike closely.
"Yeah it is Draco." I said.
"Well now you got your things shall we talk about your next mission guys."
"Please continue Freyja."
A swirl of frost and static projected the new target: Joseph Crackstone. Half-rotten corpse, half-smirking stranger — because the soul wearing his bones this time wasn't from that grave. It was modern. Ambitious. A disease in a world that shouldn't have it.
Freyja's voice dripped iron.
"Jericho. Nevermore. Pilgrim scum rose from the dirt because Laurel Gates couldn't let the past rot. Problem is — this soul? He's not some clueless Puritan. He's modern. He wants all your freak cousins dead. Vampires, witches, wolves — all of them. He kills the balance, he breaks the wheel. You kill him, you kill her, you come home."
Draco was twirling a butterfly knife, unimpressed.
"So we stomp a dead man's second chance. Should be fun. Drop us in when he's fresh out the grave?"
Freyja nodded once. Her hand hovered over a swirling portal rune.
"Fastest way. One and done — right at the resurrection."
But I raised my hand, casual and disrespectful as hell — and Freyja hated when I did that.
"No."One word — but the frost cracked a little. Freyja tilted her head, eyes narrowing.
I stepped forward, hands shoved in my pockets, grin half-cocked like I was already somewhere else.
"We're not just hounds. We're wolves. We like to hunt. And honestly?" — I looked at Draco, who shrugged and nodded, and Daphne who was already smiling. — "We wanna taste the modern world again. Stay a while. Play with our food."
Freyja's nostrils flared.
"Play with your food?"
Daphne cut in, voice like silk hiding steel.
"Let the local outcasts do the messy puzzle. That Wednesday girl? She'll dig up Laurel Gates for us. She'll sniff out the rot. All we do is blend in, wait for the corpse to crawl out… and we kill it."
Draco leaned his shoulder on me, smirking.
"Also, we'd like to enjoy cars, pizza, phones, high school drama — the whole cringe buffet. Been a while since we pretended to be normal freaks. Make us teenagers again, yeah?"
Freyja stared at them. For once — she looked almost humanly exhausted.
"You want to go undercover as children?"
I clicked my tongue.
"Well if you have forgotten we are technically 15 in our original world . So yeah fifteen. Same age as Wednesday. We enroll in Jericho. New legacy students. Nobody will look twice when the freaks do freak shit."
A pause. Freyja's fingers drummed against her wrist. The White Room flickered like an angry sun behind her. Then, she barked a short laugh — like a hammer cracking ice.
"Fine. Be wolves in school uniforms."She raised her hand — the portal behind her shimmered into deep pine forests, the gothic gates of Nevermore cresting out of the mist.
Freyja's final warning was soft, but every word was a nail in their coffins if we screwed up.
"Blend. Hunt. Slaughter. No balance broken beyond what you're there to fix. If you get too loud, if you change too much — I pull you out in pieces."
I just winked.
"Yes, ma'am."
Daphne blew her a mocking kiss. Draco snapped on sunglasses he didn't need — just because he could.
Together —we three teenage Wolves stepped into the portal, laughing like kids who knew they'd burn the playground down when the time came.
I swear, there's a weird sweetness in the Jericho air. Maybe it's the scent of pumpkin spice drifting from that café we keep walking past. Maybe it's the fact that for the first time in weeks — years, if I'm honest with myself — none of us have blood on our boots.
We stepped off Freyja's little white-room bus stop right into small-town America with nothing but a hotel key and a half-broken GPS. And Draco, naturally, decided he'd handle the driving. So my GTR's key ended up in his reckless hands before I even blinked. Should've fought him for it. But then Daphne slipped her hand into mine — and that was it. Lost cause.
So, here we are.
The first night is all cheap hotel linens and muffled laughter through thin walls. The three of us took adjoining rooms at the Jericho Motor Inn, which sounds shady as hell but actually isn't bad. Draco's room is already a tornado of clothes, boots, and empty coffee cups — he's been bouncing off the walls since he found out there's no curfew and no Slytherin prefects to hiss at him for nicking sweets from the vending machine.
Daphne claims she's unpacking, but I catch her more often curled up on the too-soft bed, scrolling through that tourist pamphlet Jericho puts out for people who love maple syrup festivals and antique shops. She keeps poking me with the corner of it.
"Jon, look — they have a candle-making workshop tomorrow. We're going."
"We are absolutely not making candles, love."
"We are. You can make one that smells like your motor oil and stubbornness."
I just grunt and toss the pamphlet on the dresser. She laughs and climbs onto my back, arms winding around my neck like I'm some tame beast she gets to command.
I guess I am.
Day two.
Draco's already outside. I hear the low purr of my GTR echoing through the lot at 7 a.m. Like clockwork, I open the curtains to see him standing by it — sunglasses on, hoodie half-zipped like he's posing for some underground fashion mag. When he spots me, he flips me off, grins, then revs the engine so loud an old couple loading their Prius look ready to flee town.
I shake my head and close the curtain.
Next thing I know, Daphne's shoving a paper cup into my hand. Black coffee, the way I like it. She's already dressed — jeans tucked into boots, my hoodie slung over her shoulders instead of her own jacket.
She leans into my side while I take that first sip. Her head fits under my chin perfectly when she's barefoot. Always has.
"Do you think Draco's going to get arrested?" she asks, not even a hint of concern in her voice.
"Probably," I say into my coffee. "But Jericho doesn't have the budget to keep him locked up."
She giggles and I swear that sound alone makes the whole damn mission worth it.
Day three.
Jericho is all old brick buildings, sleepy streets, and coffee shops that think adding extra whipped cream makes up for watery espresso. We don't care. We camp out at one called Beans & Brews every morning like it's our personal HQ.
Draco insists on paying for everything, flicking his fancy wizarding gold at the cashier just to watch her stare. When that doesn't work — because American baristas don't take galleons — he whips out the cash Freyja stuffed into our pockets back in the white room. He's generous to a fault. Tips double the cost of the coffee just because he likes the grin it puts on the barista's face.
"Building my reputation," he says smugly as we sit by the window. "If I'm gonna be a legend in a school full of freaks, I might as well be the rich, charming one."
I roll my eyes. Daphne leans her chin on her hand, watching us with that look that makes me feel both powerful and hopeless all at once. The look that says I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be — with her.
In the afternoons, we ride.
Jericho's roads aren't exactly designed for beasts like my Kawasaki Ninja H2R, but that doesn't stop me. Draco has the GTR, blasting down the main drag like he owns it. We drag race each other to the edge of the forest. Sometimes we stop, engines hot, wind tangled in our hair, just to breathe.
Daphne rides pillion with me every time. Her arms tight around my waist, helmet tapping the back of mine when she laughs. She doesn't ask where we're going. Doesn't care. Neither do I.
One night, the sky is all bruised purple and cold stars when we pull off onto an empty overlook. The GTR's headlights flick off behind us. Draco stays by the car, probably messing with the radio. I park the bike on the shoulder and we just sit there — her legs swinging over mine, my hands tracing lazy circles on her hips.
"I wish we could stay like this," she murmurs into my neck.
I hum. "On the run from nothing?"
"Exactly."
I turn my head to kiss her. It's easy — so easy. The road hums under us, the wind tugs at her hair, and for a moment I forget we're wolves at all. We're just us. Two people in love, sitting on a roaring monster of an engine, parked on the edge of nowhere.
She pulls back, nose brushing mine. "Tell me we'll always have nights like this."
I tighten my hold. "We will."
She believes me. That's enough.
Day five.
We've seen every boring antique shop Jericho has to offer. Draco keeps buying things he absolutely doesn't need — an old pocket watch, a battered leather jacket, a baseball cap that says Bite Me. He wears that last one just to piss me off.
We get donuts from the corner bakery at dawn and watch the sun come up over the sleepy street. Sometimes Daphne curls up under my arm on a park bench while Draco tries — and fails — to chat up the local librarian. He returns empty-handed every time, pouting and throwing powdered sugar at me until Daphne threatens to hex him in broad daylight.
A week later.
We finally do it.
Papers signed. Fake birth certificates Freyja conjured up tucked into a manila folder that Draco smugly hands over to Principal Weems at Nevermore's front gate.
She eyes us like we're three feral dogs she's been forced to adopt.
"Jon Bonds, Daphne Greengrass, and Draco Malfoy, is it?" she says, clipped and prim, adjusting her glasses.
Draco bows dramatically, nearly smacking me in the face with his elbow.
"Ma'am," I deadpan, fighting back a grin.
Weems stares. She clearly regrets everything already.
And just like that — we're in.
Wolves in sheep's clothing. Or maybe sheep pretending they aren't wolves. Either way — we've got time. Time to mess around. Time to hunt the dead when they rise. Time to love each other stupid in this weird, beautiful mess of a school.
Late that night, I lie beside Daphne in the tiny twin bed we share in the hotel — last night before we move into the Nevermore dorms. Her head is on my chest, her breath warm where it seeps through my shirt. She's half-asleep but I know she's listening.
"We'll be okay, yeah?" she whispers.
I press my lips to her hair.
"We're always okay," I tell her, soft and certain.
And we are.
We're wolves — and we're home