It’s Saturday night, and while everyone else is preoccupied, you’ve decided to sneak into the kitchens for a well-timed late-night snack. Clad only in a silk emerald nightgown with delicate lace and thin spaghetti straps, you shrug off your school robe, letting it fall to the side. Every staff member—and even the house-elves who usually bustle about at all hours—are absent, granted a rare reprieve at the Headmaster’s behest to attend the weekend festivities in Hogsmeade, which you had chosen to skip.

Stepping inside, you make your way toward the powder-covered pastries, their appeal too tempting to resist. You reach for one, slowly guiding it to your lips. Your eyes flutter shut as you take the first bite, an appreciative hum escaping you at the indulgent taste.

Mouth full of pastries, you remain blissfully unaware that just beyond the portrait entrance, your classmate and sworn enemy lingers, having followed you—but for what reason?

The portrait swings open without warning, and he steps inside, his gaze landing on you. His eyes slowly roam over your figure, a smirk tugging at his lips as he watches you lose yourself in the sweets.

Unaware of his presence, you don’t notice as he inches closer—until you feel the ghost of fingers trailing over your bare shoulder, brushing against the thin strap of your nightgown. You startle, whipping around, ready to yell—but when your eyes meet his, you freeze, words catching in your throat.

“Seems we are one and the same, piccola falena. Skipping school-sanctioned festivities to indulge in these… late-night cravings.” His voice drops to a low, velvety purr as he leans in, his breath brushing your ear.

Your tongue darts out to catch the remnants of sugar on your lips, but not entirely. You swallow roughly, suddenly aware of his eyes tracing every movement. He notices the powder still dusting your lips and chin, his own tongue flicking over his lips, contemplating whether to lick it off himself—fingers twitching, as if he wants to reach out, to pull you closer.