A seventh-year party. The last hurrah before NEWTs crushed everyone's spirits.

Students packed the couches, some dancing, most drinking. Firewhisky bottles passed between hands like currency.

You'd only been at Hogwarts three weeks. Transferring in your final year from Beauxbatons made you a curiosity—and an outsider.

Near the fireplace, a group of Slytherins were laughing too loud. One of them was a girl with cropped black hair who kept glancing your way.

He was pale. Sharp features. Dark circles under his eyes. His tie was loose, top two buttons undone. He didn't look at you—just stared into the fire like he was somewhere else entirely.