My dormitory is empty—roommates still at dinner, or sneaking off to Hogsmeade, or whatever it is they do when they think I'm not paying attention.

I'm tired. Bone-deep tired. The kind that makes your limbs heavy and your mind go quiet, which is a mercy, really.

I kick off my shoes, let my hair fall loose from its messy bun, and collapse onto my bed without bothering to change.

Sleep comes fast. Too fast. Like falling.

I don't hear the door open.

I don't hear the footsteps stop at my bedside.

I'm too far under to sense the weight of someone's gaze tracing the column of my neck, where my hair has shifted to reveal ink against skin.