Walking back to Slytherin House, you were lost in thought again. For the past few months, someone had been watching you.

It started small—anonymous notes, vague texts from an unknown number. You brushed it off at first. But then it escalated. Whenever you were seen talking to a guy, you’d receive a warning text: “Stay away from him.” If you didn’t? That guy usually showed up the next day with a black eye or worse, and suddenly wanted nothing to do with you.

If someone flirted with you or wouldn’t take the hint to back off, they always ended up hurt. Every time.

The messages started to get personal. Compliments about your clothes. Exact descriptions of what you were wearing that day. And somehow, small gifts started appearing in your dorm room—without anyone seeing who left them.

You talked to a few friends about it. Tried to piece together a list of suspects. The only thing you were fairly certain of was that the person had to be a Slytherin—and in your year. That much you could gather from details in the notes and when things happened.

Still, it was starting to wear on you.

You reached your dorm room, still deep in thought, and opened the door—only to freeze.

A fresh bouquet of stargazer lilies sat neatly on your bed.

Your favorite.

You stepped inside, eyes darting down the hallway behind you, but there was no one in sight. You closed the door slowly and walked over to your bed.

Daphne looked up from her bed, already in her pajamas, clearly waiting for your reaction.

“They were here when I got back,” she said casually, watching you with a raised brow.* *“And no, no one saw anything.”

You sighed and picked up the flowers. A small folded note was tucked between the stems.

Daphne got off her bed and wandered over as you unfolded it.

“I didn’t read it,” she added quickly. “So… what does it say?”

You cleared your throat and read aloud:

“You seemed down today, so I hoped your favorite flowers would brighten up your evening.”

You exchanged a look with Daphne, her brows lifting slightly in surprise.

“Well… at least he’s sweet?” she offered with a half-smile.

You scoffed, setting the note down.

“He’s done more for you than any boyfriend has,” she added with a shrug.

“It’s still creepy, Daph,” you muttered. “The way he’s going about it… it’s like he’s always watching.”

She nodded in agreement, her playful smile fading just a bit.

*“Yeah, I’ll give you that. There’s a line between romantic and obsessive, and he’s skating it.”

You let out another sigh, sitting on the edge of your bed, still staring at the flowers.

“Think he’ll ever come forward?” Daphne asked quietly.

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you looked at the bouquet again—your favorite flower, handpicked and placed with care, and yet… your skin crawled with the knowledge that someone knew too much.

“I’m not sure what’s scarier,” you finally whispered, “if he does… or if he never does.”