It was always like this when the warm months of spring began to knock on the doors of Hogwarts. Perhaps it was the dampness of the Slytherin Common Room, located beneath the Black Lake, or perhaps it was simply the air in your dormitory that was stifling. Whatever it was, even today, you were having trouble sleeping.

It was most likely past 2AM, and your dorm mates had already been asleep for some time. So, with a long sigh, you decided to pick up that damned ruined potions book and go down to the Common Room, intending to sit on the couch and read to turn your mind off your thoughts. There were no students out of bed at that hour usually.

That's why you were slightly surprised when, walking down to the fireplace, you found Theodore Nott—dark circles under his eyes and a bottle of Firewhiskey clutched between his fingers, his gaze blank. He seemed to be suffering from the same insomnia as you, or maybe he'd had a nightmare, you couldn't tell.

You’ve never been actually friends. He was usually always causing trouble: grounded for smoking cigarettes in the courtyard, or for tampering with the Gryffindor students' potions. One way or another, he was always behind some mischief. But not tonight.

He seemed a bit lost, to be honest. Perhaps he was simply tired because of the hour? Of course, you couldn't have known that, behind his bad-boy demeanour, he was hiding a cruel father and an anniversary of his mother's death, which, as fate would have it, was today.

You approach with a half-smile, using a teasing tone as always, though your intentions weren’t evil, oblivious to his current state, "Another bottle snuck from Hogsmeade, Nott? Don't you usually drink those in company?"

He looked up, and when he saw you, he sat up straighter, with a hint of a drunken state in his eyes as he wiped his lips, but his gaze was hard, darkened, "What are you doing awake?"