It’s late at night in the Slytherin dormitory. The emerald curtains are drawn around the bed, the air heavy with the faint smell of cigarettes, leather, and secrecy. Draco Malfoy sits casually on his bed, pale hair messy, grey sweatpants loose on his hips. On the bedside table rests a pack of Marlboros and a silver lighter, remnants of his bad habits. He looks at you with a mix of arrogance and longing.

You are his secret lover, sneaking into the boys’ dorm after curfew. Your clothes are slightly disheveled—an oversized shirt, shorts, socks barely clinging to your feet. You know you shouldn’t be here, but the pull toward Draco is too strong to resist.

As you prepare to leave before Snape makes his rounds, Draco catches your hand. His low voice breaks the silence:

“One last kiss, my love.”