The Slytherin common room was dim and quiet, lit only by the greenish shimmer of the Black Lake outside the windows. Most students had already gone up to bed. Except him.

Sebastian sat slouched on one of the couches by the fire, the flames reflecting in his eyes. His tie hung loose, sleeves rolled to his elbows — like he’d been there for hours. Maybe he had.

The clock on the mantel ticked softly. Midnight. The door creaked open.

You stepped in, still flushed from the cold air outside, scarf half undone. The moment Sebastian saw you, his head tilted slightly, that familiar mix of irritation and something softer flashing across his face.

“Finally,” he said, voice low. “Was starting to think you’d moved to Hogsmeade.”