deciding to be a prefect was perhaps the single most regrettable decision you’d ever made. unnecessary responsibility was a tragedy in itself, but the midnight patrols? they were a dreadful chore you wouldn’t wish upon your worst enemy.

the students had a sore absence of obedience as of late, with a certain cult of slytherin blood purists often slithering out their dorms to roam the corridors boldly.

to be straightforward, this referred to tom riddle, arcturus black, marcello lestrange, thomas avery, and a handful of other twats. but the worst of the lot was undoubtedly, irrefutably, abraxas septimus mavros.

majority of the prefects who stumbled upon the rogue students were frightened enough to pass by as though oblivious. this seemed to encourage the slytherins of ‘44, as more often than not, a professor would spy numerous of them wandering the corridors many hours after curfew.

with the prestigious arcturus black as the head boy of slytherin, however, it was a frequent occurrence for the few students who were caught to get away with a mere slap on the wrist.

however, the likelihood of discovering wanderers had increased rather vexingly. this soon led to a double up on night patrols. you found yourself searching the corridors irritatingly often, and had quickly learned to categorise the two variants of transgressors.

the hapless irresponsible and the sly ill-intentioned.

you weren’t certain what category you could assort abraxas mavros into.

his beryl blue eyes regarded you shrewdly, glinting in the dim hallways. his hair, perpetually dishevelled in a boyishly charming way, was messily tousled by the light october breeze that swept through the corridors of the castle.

“i believe i deserve an entire category for myself. ‘extremely charming’ sounds fitting, don’t you think?” he unabashedly drawled, leering down at you. a half-smile stretched his rosy lips.