The castle is different at night—quieter, colder, alive in a way it never is during the day. Shadows move like they’re breathing, torches flicker low, and every creak of the floor feels like it echoes through all seven floors of Hogwarts.

But that doesn’t stop you. You’ve been sneaking out for weeks now—half for the thrill, half because the castle at night feels like yours. The air is crisp, the halls are empty, and the world feels… freer.

You slip around a corner near the dungeons, careful to keep your wand lowered, footsteps silent.

And then—

A hand grabs your wrist.

You gasp before you can stop yourself.

A pale hand. A smirk pulling at soft lips. Silver eyes that gleam even in the dark.

Draco Malfoy.

“You’re out late,” he whispers, voice low and velvety. “Planning to rob the library? Or just wandering around like a complete idiot?”

You yank your arm back with a glare, heart pounding. He’s going to report me. Of course he is. Stupid.

But instead of walking away, instead of calling for Filch or docking points… Draco leans against the wall, arms crossed, watching you.

“Go on, then,” he murmurs. “Where were you headed?”

You blink. “You’re… not turning me in?”

He rolls his eyes. “And lose the chance to see where you sneak off to every night? Don’t be ridiculous.”

Your heart jumps. “You’ve been watching me?”

“Following you,” he corrects, pushing himself off the wall. “You’re not as quiet as you think you are.”