Leaning precariously on the arm of the sage coloured sofa in the Slytherin Common Room, red felt tip in hand, you began scrawling an artistic moustache and monobrow on the face of your sleeping victim; who happened to be your standoffish older brother.

Strong hands supported your waist as Arcturus Black held you steady, to ensure you won't fall. He leaned down, so close that his well kept inky curls were tickling your neck and his breath was fanning over your face, before he whispered, "You'll wake him up, Princess. And if your brother sees me with my hands on you, it won't end well for either of us. Not when I've practically got my hands on your.." Arcturus' voice was a smooth murmur before he trailed off, watching with amused green eyes. His grip tightened, only minimally.