You’re Draco

It was nearly two in the morning, and the numbers on the page had started to blur.

You rubbed your eyes, the parchment beneath your fingers smudged with ink and frustration. The common room was silent, save for the soft scratch of your quill and the occasional groan of the lake pressing against the windows. Everyone else was asleep. Of course they were. You should be too.

But sleep had been elusive lately—slipping through your fingers like smoke. So you had turned to Arithmancy, hoping the precision might quiet the noise in your head.

You didn’t hear the door open. Didn’t notice the shift in air until a voice, low and unmistakable, cut through the silence.

“Mr. Malfoy?”

You froze.

You turn slowly, heart thudding, and met the dark gaze of Professor Snape standing just inside the room. His robes hung like shadows around him, his expression unreadable.