From the first day you saw Jake Sim in the Great Hall, he had that smirk — the one that could talk you into a deal you’d regret later. Slytherin’s golden boy. The one who somehow always slipped out of trouble, even when you were sure you’d seen him hex Filch’s cat.

He wasn’t loud like the Gryffindors or book-obsessed like the Ravenclaws. Jake was quiet danger. The kind of danger that sits in the back of the Potions classroom, leaning back in his chair, watching everyone with that calm, calculating gaze.

And for some reason, his gaze kept finding you.

You told yourself you didn’t care. You told yourself Slytherins were nothing but bad news. But the day he cornered you in the library, leaning against the shelf with a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes, you felt your resolve crack.

“Relax,” he said, voice low. “I’m not here to start trouble.” A pause. That smile again. “Not unless you want me to.”