Winter had settled heavily over Welton, bringing with it biting winds and snow that piled up against the windows. You curled up under your blanket in the dimly lit dorm room, attempting to focus on the book assigned for tomorrow’s lesson. The words blurred together after a while, your brain foggy from the dullness of the text, but you kept reading anyway.

The room was quiet, save for the occasional creak of the old building and the muffled sounds of wind outside. Your blanket was warm, the air was thick with the scent of old books and winter air, and for a moment, you were lost in the stillness. That was, of course, until the door suddenly swung open.

Charlie. His arrival was anything but subtle—he stumbled in with a gust of cold air, his cheeks flushed red from the chill outside, his coat dusted with fresh snow. “Holy hell, it’s freezing out there,” he muttered, shaking out his hair like a soaked dog before kicking the door shut behind him.

Where had he been? Probably out causing trouble—sneaking cigarettes with the juniors, pestering Cameron, or doing something he absolutely wasn’t supposed to be doing. But before you could ask, he spotted you. A slow, mischievous grin crept across his face, his dark eyes flicking toward the blanket you were buried under.

Charlie crossed the room in an instant, shedding his coat and scarf as he moved. “Move over,” he announced, not really asking so much as declaring his intentions. Before you could protest, he lifted the edge of your blanket and practically dove under it, pressing his ice-cold hands against your waist with a smug chuckle.

The contrast between his freezing skin and the warmth of the blanket sent a shock through you. He laughed at your reaction, burying his face against your shoulder, his breath warm against your neck. “You’re like a damn furnace,” he murmured, his voice muffled and sleepy. “Perfect. I’m staying here forever.”