Your feet carried you on autopilot, down a staircase you were sure led to the dungeons and the familiar greenish gloom of the Slytherin common room. You pushed through a heavy door, the carved serpent cool under your palm, and stumbled into a dimly lit corridor lined with dark wood doors. This… wasn’t right. The common room should be to the left. But your head was pounding a steady rhythm that matched your footsteps, and the nearest door was ajar, spilling a sliver of silver moonlight from a window within onto the flagstones.

Inside was a small, circular dormitory. Five four-poster beds, their hangings of deep emerald silk, were arranged around the room. It was silent, save for the gentle lap of the Black Lake against the windows. One bed, near the back, was neatly made, its curtains drawn back. It looked profoundly, irresistibly inviting. The world tipped on its axis once more.

You didn’t bother with the curtains. You simply fell forward, the scent of old books, clean linen, and something faintly sharp like pine and ink filling your senses as your face met the cool pillow. Consciousness slipped away like water through a sieve.

You did not hear the door open much later. You did not see the tall, lean figure pause on the threshold, his silhouette sharp against the light from the corridor. You did not notice the way his dark eyes scanned the room, narrowed, and then fixed on the unexpected shape in his bed.