The arrivals hall at Heathrow was its usual blend of exhaustion and chaos - wheelie suitcases squeaking across tile, voices echoing in a dozen languages, and the soft murmur of reunions all around.

Demy stepped through the frosted glass doors with a yawn barely concealed behind her hand. She was in her comfiest jeans, a grey hoodie pulled up to shield her from the London drizzle, and oversized sunglasses she had no business wearing indoors. But she was trying to be lowkey. Trying not to overthink.

She wasn't ready.

Not for what came next.

Her phone buzzed. Harry Styles: "I'll send a car. Promise it won't be blacked out and creepy."

But instead of a sleek driver in a suit, it was Gemma standing by the railing with a homemade cardboard sign that read:

"Demetra"

Demy stopped in her tracks.

Her brain short-circuited for a beat before she registered the familiar smirk under a beanie and coat.

"Gemma?" she blinked.

"In the flesh," Gemma replied, lowering the sign and striding over. "Harry's at the studio. He thought I'd be the... less dramatic welcome committee."

Demy opened her mouth. Closed it. "I... didn't know you'd be here."

"Well, I wanted to see for myself if you were real and not some fever dream from a moody album era," she teased, eyes twinkling.

Demy laughed, tension breaking slightly. "And?"

"So far, jury's out. You look a little too perfect for someone who just got off a flight," Gemma said, then looped an arm casually around her shoulder like they'd done this a hundred times. "But I'll allow it."

They started walking toward the parking lot.

After a beat, Demy murmured, "I thought you hated me."

Gemma snorted. "Please. I was mostly just mad at Harry for turning into a sad poet with no social life. And let's be real - he's dramatic enough for both of you."

Demy smiled, the kind that reached all the way to her ribs. "You're not what I expected."

"Neither are you," Gemma said, then added dryly, "You're much less annoying than I imagined. Don't tell Harry, it'll ruin the sibling rivalry."

"Your secret's safe with me."

They exchanged a look - brief, but sincere.

"Look," Gemma said as they approached the car, "I may have wanted to throttle you last year, but... I've seen the way he talks about you. The way he lights up when your name shows up on his phone. Whatever happened before, whatever comes next - just... be good to him, yeah?"

Demy blinked back the sting behind her eyes.

"I will," she said. "I swear."

Gemma unlocked the car and tossed the sign into the backseat. "Cool. Now let's go. I've got snacks and embarrassing childhood stories to prep you with before you see him."

Demy slid into the passenger seat, her heart a little steadier.

This was real.

She was here.

And maybe, this time... it would go differently.

+++

The studio door clicked shut behind her, and for a second, Demy just stood there, blinking in the low light, heart thudding so hard she was sure someone could hear it.

Then-

"D!"

It hit her like a wave - laughter, footsteps, arms wrapping around her all at once.

Jeff was the first, nearly knocking her over with a bear hug. "Oh my God, it's really you!"

Then Sara, breathless with a squeal. "Are you kidding me right now?!"

Tyler spun her in a circle while Mitch chanted "DEMY! DEMY! DEMY!" like they were twelve and she'd just scored the winning goal.

Demy laughed, breath catching halfway through, and when she looked up - her eyes shimmered.

"You guys..." she whispered, overwhelmed.

"Shut up, you're gonna make me cry," Sara said, fanning her face dramatically.

Jeff pulled back, looking her over like a proud dad. "You look amazing."

"I feel amazing," she said, wiping under her eye with the edge of her sleeve. "This is surreal. I didn't think- I mean, seeing you all here again, I-"

"Hey," Mitch said, gently squeezing her shoulder. "You're here. That's all that matters."

She gave a watery smile. "Any news from Ronna?"

"Still in Jamaica babysitting celebrities," Jeff said. "But we sent her a selfie the moment you landed. She sent back about nine crying emojis and a voice note that was mostly just squealing."

Demy laughed, her heart ballooning with every passing second. "This is... the best welcome."

Then she caught a glimpse of him.

Harry.

Leaning in the doorway of the recording booth, arms crossed loosely, one foot propped against the frame, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

His eyes - bright, soft, amused - were fixed entirely on her.

He hadn't moved.

But he didn't need to.

He was watching her.

Soaking her in.

When everyone else stepped back to let her breathe, she took one small step toward him.

His smile deepened.

And then, finally, they moved.

They didn't rush it.

No drama, no scene - just quiet recognition as they stepped into each other's space, wrapped arms gently around each other, and held on.

She whispered against his neck, "I missed this."

He answered low against her temple, "Me too."

When they finally pulled back, Mitch cleared his throat loudly. "Alright, alright - no more romance until you write us at least two more bangers."

Demy snorted. "You' just wanna use me for my melodies."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Correction - she's here to steal our lyrics."

"Hey!" she protested, smacking his arm lightly.

"Classic Demy," Tyler sighed. "Waltzes in, charms everyone, hijacks the songbook."

"When have I ever done such a thing?"

Laughter rolled through the studio, easy and familiar.

"I can't believe this déjà vu," Demy said, spinning slowly on the spot, letting her fingers brush the edge of the soundboard. "It's like nothing's changed. It's like we are back in Jamaica."

"And yet everything has," Jeff said knowingly.

Harry watched her from behind, a softness in his gaze that only deepened as she turned and caught his eye.

"Alright, alright," he said, clapping his hands once. "Enough nostalgia."

Everyone turned toward him.

"Say your goodbyes, pop star."

Demy blinked. "Wait, what?"

"We're leaving," Harry said, already grabbing his coat off the hook.

"Leaving where?"

He slung it over his shoulder. "Hello? Dinner. Or did you think I dragged you to London just to cry in soundproof rooms? You owe me dinner, woman."

She laughed, cheeks still pink from the attention. "OK, OK. I owe you dinner. Where do you want to go? I am kinda hungry to be honest."

"You're always hungry," he said with a wink. "Come on. We've got a lot of catching up to do."

Jeff called after them, "Bring her back in one piece!"

"No promises!" Harry shouted over his shoulder, already nudging her toward the door.

She turned once more at the threshold, looking back at the team she'd once created something magical with - a place, a moment in time, and now again.

Sara gave her a two-finger salute. "Go get your cheesy pasta and your feelings, babe."

Mitch added, "Also... if it gets emotional, we want details."

Tyler just held up his phone and whispered dramatically, "Group chat lives for this."

Demy grinned, then turned back to Harry.

"Ready?" he asked.

She nodded.

"Ready."

And together, they stepped out of the studio - into the London night, into whatever came next.