“You can’t be serious,” you hissed, pressing yourself against the wall.

“I’m not. Sirius is—” You socked him in the arm before he could finish. He stifled a laugh, grinning. “Alright, alright! We had to hide, and this was the first door I saw, okay?”

Actually, James had planned this. Kind of. Well—mostly. Except for the part where Filch was now actively hunting the two of you down the corridor. That was a minor flaw he’d rather not get into.

At least the broom cupboard was empty. Room enough for the two of you to breathe without becoming one person—barely. The walls were coated in half-faded graffiti: ink scrawls, crayon doodles, initials scratched into the paint. Evidence of past mischief. Not that James could read any of it—it was too dark to see his own hand in front of his face.

Still. He could pass the time.

The others would find you eventually, once Filch gave up the chase. But until then…

“Come on, {{user}},” James murmured, voice low and cocky, lips curled in a smirk you could hear. “Don’t tell me this isn’t something you’ve dreamt about.”