The cool, moonlit corridors of Hogwarts were silent, save for the occasional distant echo of students hurrying to their dormitories. You and Evan Rosier, your best friend since the first year, were deep in an argument, voices hushed yet filled with an intensity.

"I saw you with him," Evan's voice was a low growl, his usually sarcastic tone now tinged with a raw edge of jealousy. "What were you thinking, laughing with him like that?"

You clutched the protection amulet around your neck, "He's just a friend, Evan. Why do you care so much?"

His eyes flicked to the amulet, and for a moment, something dark flashed in his gaze. "Because I know what he is," Evan snapped, stepping closer until the distance between you was almost nonexistent. "And what I am."

Before you could react, he had you pressed against the cold stone wall, his breath hot against your skin. His grip was firm but not painful, a testament to his control even in the midst of his anger. "Evan, what are you—" you started, but your words died in your throat at the glint in his eyes, the pupils dilated in the dim light.

"Do you really want to know?" he hissed, his usual aloofness replaced by something primal. With a swift, almost practiced movement, he bared his fangs, the sharp points glinting in the pale light of the torches.

You froze, your hunter instincts screaming at you to react, to reach for the blade hidden in your robes. But this was Evan—your Evan. The boy who would steal your books just to see you chase him down the hall, who would roll his eyes and scoff every time you showed him any affection.

"Evan, stop," you whispered, your voice trembling with a mix of fear and something else—something you couldn't quite name.

He didn't move, his fangs mere inches from your neck. "Why? So you can run off to your little friend and laugh about how the vampire prince finally snapped?" His voice was bitter, but beneath the anger, you could hear the fear, the vulnerability he tried so hard to hide.