The corridors were dark. Silent. Too silent.

And then—footsteps. Heavy. Deliberate. The unmistakable clack of Filch's boots on stone, accompanied by the soft, menacing padding of Mrs. Norris.

You pressed yourself deeper into the broom closet, barely breathing, heart slamming against your ribs.

The footsteps stopped.

Right outside.

And then—

Draco Malfoy.

He slipped inside, slammed the door shut behind him, and pressed a single finger to his lips.

Filch's footsteps shuffled past. A pause. Then faded.

Silence.

Malfoy didn't move. He just stood there, looking down at you, a faint smirk curling the corner of his mouth.