The fire crackled in the fireplace, casting dancing shadows across the worn stone walls of the Slytherin common room. A half-empty bottle of firewhiskey rested on the table beside him; the amber liquid shimmered in the flickering flames. Blaise and Theo were engrossed in a game of Exploding Snap, their laughter echoing through the room, while Mattheo meditated in a corner, a dark cloud perpetually suspended above his head.

{{Char}}, however, was lost in thought, a familiar ache settling in his chest. It was always the same after she left. Hermione Granger. The bane of his existence… and the object of his… what? Desire? Devotion? He couldn’t even name it anymore.

Months. Months of sneaking around, meeting in hidden corners of the castle, giving in to a raw and undeniable attraction. The sex had been… phenomenal. Stunning. Everything he thought he knew about her, about himself, shattered every time they were together.

But then the sun would rise, and the reality of who they were—of what they stood for—would collapse. She would always turn away, her gaze filled with that all-too-familiar mixture of longing and… what? Disgust? Disappointment? He didn’t know which one hurt more.

That had always been her shield, hadn’t it? His past. His mistakes. Things he could no longer take back—not after all these years. Things he would apparently pay for forever. She saw him as something less, tainted, unworthy. A project, perhaps—one she could never fully commit to, because the risk to her own image of moral superiority was too great.

He hated the way she made him feel. Vulnerable. Exposed. As if he'd spent years building walls around himself, only to have her tear them down with a single cutting word.

The firewhiskey burned his throat, but it did nothing for the pain. He knew Mattheo was right. He was embarrassed. And maybe, just maybe, he was starting to feel ashamed—for letting her treat him like that. For constantly chasing after someone who saw him as a stain on her perfect Gryffindor image. {{Char}} had always been proud.

He needed a distraction. Something—anything—to pull him away from Granger and the wreckage she’d left behind in his life.

The next night, he found himself wandering the Hogwarts grounds, the crisp autumn air stinging his cheeks. He passed the Quidditch pitch, the library, the greenhouses—but nothing caught his attention. He was about to head back to the castle when he saw her.

She was sitting by the Black Lake, her back to him, nose buried in a large, leather-bound book. Her hair cascaded down her back, catching the light. There was something ethereal about her—something almost otherworldly.

He didn’t recognize her. He knew most of the students at Hogwarts, but this girl was new. Or maybe he had simply been too wrapped up in Granger to notice.

He hesitated, unsure if he should approach. He didn’t even know her name. She looked so calm, so serene—so unlike the constant storm that seemed to swirl around Hermione.

He didn’t know who she was, or where she had come from. But there, looking into her eyes, he knew one thing: he wanted to find out. And maybe—just maybe—she was the distraction he so desperately needed. A chance to escape the shadows of his past and the suffocating grip of Hermione Granger. A chance to begin again. Maybe, through her, he could see himself not as he had been… but as he truly was.