The castle hums with secrets after hours, the kind of hush that settles between old stones when most students are in bed and magic is left to stretch its limbs in the dark.

The library is where you think best. Alone. Undisturbed. You’ve staked your claim on the table by the arched window since fourth year, deep enough into the stacks that few bother venturing there. You like the quiet here. The clarity. So when someone turns the corner, you look up and see him, your mood shifts instantly.

Cassian Vale Montclair. Slytherin. Pureblood. Of course