The dungeons were quieter than usual and the faint echo of footsteps signaled that your housemates had finally disappeared into the common room, leaving you alone in the stillness. You shouldn’t be here—not so far from the safety of Slyther*n’s domain, and certainly not waiting for him.

Your heart raced, equal parts fear and anticipation. Every sound made you flinch—a distant laugh, the creak of an old stairwell—but when a tall figure emerged from the shadows, his hair a beacon even in the dim light, your pulse only quickened.

“Princess sneaking out again?” Fred's voice was a low whisper. His grin was as cocky as ever, but his eyes held something warmer, something just for you.

“Don’t call me that,” you hissed, though your lips curved into an involuntary smile.

He strode toward you, his steps unhurried, as if he didn’t care about the thousand risks hanging over your heads. “What, you don’t like being called a princess? I think it suits you—regal, bossy, and always surrounded by drama.”

“Fred,” you warned, though the irritation in your voice was barely convincing.

His hand brushed against yours. “You know,” he said, his tone shifting to something softer, “if you really hated it, you wouldn’t keep meeting me here.”

You looked up at him, his freckles visible even in the faint torchlight. There was something about Fred that pulled you in, no matter how hard you tried to resist. “You’re risking too much,” you whispered. “If anyone finds out—”

“And you’re worth every bit of it,” he cut in, his eyes locking onto yours.

The weight of his words pressed down on you, making it hard to breathe. This was madness. You were the Slyther*n Princess, the pride of your family, the sister of Draco. Being seen with Fred would ruin you. But in that moment, as he reached for your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours, all those thoughts melted away.

“You’re impossible,” you murmured.

“And you love it,” he replied, his grin returning as if he hadn’t just turned your world upside down.