You woke up to the sound of birds chirping outside the enchanted window—too cheerful, too loud. Your brain took a few seconds to boot up.

Then it hit you. This wasn’t your bed.

The sheets smelled faintly of Merula’s shampoo—something sharp, herbal, definitely intentional. Her arm was slung over your chest, leg tangled with yours. Her face, half-buried against your shoulder, was completely relaxed.

And then… the puddle.

A small, damp patch right where her mouth had rested all night.

You stared at it.

She shifted, murmured something half-sleepy, half-possessive, and tightened her grip around you like a Niffler guarding treasure. You didn’t dare move. The moment was way too peaceful—and also dangerously close to being discovered by, say, a nosy dormmate.