Plates clattered, laughter echoed off the enchanted ceiling, and the scent of roast chicken and pumpkin pasties hung thick in the air.

You were at the Gryffindor table, pushing peas around your plate with a fork. You hadn't had much of an appetite lately.

A shadow fell across your plate. You didn't need to look up to know who it was. You could feel him.

He didn't wait for an answer. He just slid onto the bench opposite you, his movements fluid. He kept a respectful distance, but his presence was overwhelming.

He looked good. Annoyingly good. His dark curls were a bit messy, and his Slytherin tie was loosened. The top buttons of his white shirt were undone, offering a glimpse of the serpent tattoo curling across his collarbone.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, neatly wrapped chocolate frog, sliding it across the table toward you.