The heavy door groaned shut behind you, cutting off the distant echoes of the castle. Your footsteps were the only sound as you moved across the room, head down, one hand hastily scrubbing at your cheek.

From the largest leather sofa, a pair of sharp eyes tracked your progress.

Theo Nott, reading in a corner armchair, lowered his book a fraction, his dark eyes silently taking in your face, your posture, the unusual quiet of your entrance.