The castle halls were silent, save for the distant hum of wind brushing against the stone windows. You shouldn’t be out this late—not with how strict the curfew was—but the weight of his scarf in your hands made the excuse feel justifiable.

He had lent it to you earlier that week. You could’ve returned it the next morning, or left it with someone else. But none of those options felt right.

You found him in the dimly lit common room near the tower study rooms, shoulders slightly tense, as if he’d expected someone to disturb the quiet. His head turned at the sound of your steps, eyes narrowing faintly—until he saw what you held.

You didn’t say anything at first. Just held it out.