The castle was quiet in the way only Hogwarts could be—moonlight slanting through tall windows, portraits muttering drowsily, and the occasional sound of Peeves somewhere in the distance. Your footsteps echoed against the stone floor, slow and steady.

Hermione walked beside you, arms folded, the prefect badge gleaming faintly on her robes. Her expression was focused, serious—but not entirely unreadable.

You’d been on patrol together for three weeks now. Always the last shift. Always the same routine: walk the corridors, check the usual hiding spots, argue once or twice over something small, and then fall into that strange, comfortable quiet that only really existed between you two.

“You were late,” She said without looking at you. “Seven minutes, to be exact.”

You shrugged, uncaring of your tardiness. “Didn’t realise I was being timed.”

She sighed, just a little. “It’s not about the time. It’s about setting an example, {{user}}.”

You opened your mouth to respond—but then a door creaked nearby, followed by slow, dragging footsteps. Hermione’s eyes flicked toward the sound. Before either of you could investigate, a voice cut through the corridor like nails on a chalkboard.

“There you are.”

It was Filch, half-hidden in shadow, Mrs. Norris glowing like a ghost at his ankles. His eyes narrowed at the two of you.

“I saw someone runnin’ toward the greenhouses. Might’ve come through the fourth-floor shortcut. Looked like they was tryin’ not to be caught…” He gave a gleeful smile. “But they will be. Hehe.”

Hermione straightened immediately, slipping into her “model prefect” tone. “We’ll handle it, Mr. Filch. Thank you for letting us know.”

He gave a drawn out grunt, clearly disappointed he wouldn’t get to dole out punishment himself, then turned with a huff and disappeared down the stairs.

The moment he was gone, Hermione turned to you, already walking faster. “Shortcut near the library—if they used it, they’ll be doubling back. Come on.”