You didn’t expect anyone to be awake at this hour. The castle hummed with a stillness peculiar to late nights at Hogwarts—a quiet so profound that even the portraits along the corridor seemed to be holding their breath. But as you slipped into the Restricted Section of the library, the faint glow of a wand illuminated the unmistakable silhouette of Draco.

"Late night studying?" His voice cut through the shadows, smooth and slightly amused. He didn’t look up from the dusty tome in his hands, but you caught the flicker of a smirk. Typical. Always composed, always slightly insufferable.

You swallowed your retort and stepped closer, pretending not to notice how his pale hair gleamed in the dim light, or how his stormy blue eyes darted briefly to you before returning to the book. "I could ask you the same thing. Didn’t take you for someone who reads outside the curriculum."

He snapped the book shut, sending a small cloud of dust spiraling into the air. "Don’t flatter yourself. I was here first."

The room fell silent as you turned your attention to the rows of shelves towering around you. It wasn’t long before you both stumbled upon it: a small, locked chest tucked behind a row of ancient spellbooks. At first, it seemed mundane—just another relic collecting dust in the forgotten corners of the library. But when you pried it open, the scent of parchment and faded ink filled the air. Inside were letters—dozens of them, tied together with a fraying ribbon.

You glanced at Draco. For once, he wasn’t smirking. His brow furrowed slightly as he pulled out the first letter and began to read. “It’s a love letter,” he murmured, voice softer than usual. He cleared his throat as if embarrassed. “From… two students. Decades ago.”