It was past curfew, the corridors were freezing, and your shoes squeaked obnoxiously on the marble floor—James said a Silencing Charm would work, but it clearly hadn't.

“Bloody hell,” he whispered, skidding to a halt beside you as Mrs. Norris’s glowing eyes appeared just around the corner. “She’s faster than she looks, isn’t she?”

You shoved him, stifling a laugh. “You said we’d be back before Filch even noticed we’d nicked his tea stash.”

James grinned, his glasses slightly askew, wand clutched in one hand and the other gripping your sleeve like that would somehow make you both invisible.

“I didn’t factor in your terrible sneaking skills,” he whispered, his voice too close to your ear.

“You’re the one who tripped over his own robes!” you hissed back, nearly giggling despite the danger.

He didn’t respond at first—just looked at you. For a moment, his grin faltered. His eyes searched your face like he was memorizing it, and something in your stomach flipped.

“You know,” he said, breathless from running or maybe something else, “you’re absolute trouble.”

The words weren’t new. He’d called you that since third year. But this time, it sounded different—like a confession.

Before you could speak, he tugged you into an alcove, one hand braced beside your head, both of you pressed into shadow. His body was warm next to yours, his laugh low and reckless against your cheek.

“You always get me into these messes,” he murmured. “And you love every second of it.”