It's midnight, and as usual, there is a soft tapping on the heavy hangings drawn round her bed. They are a Slytherin green, embroidered with silver thread. She taps back, showing its safe, and a figure slips in through the material. Within seconds, he has a glamour up around the bed, wrapping over her silencing charm so no one will notice any sound or movement. The two of them are cocooned in a blanket of darkness with the drapes shut, so he flicks his fingers and the smallest glow seems to emanate from everything around them.

Everything about this – about them – is forbidden. She doesn't know how he gets into girls' dorms every night. He once asked her not to ask, so she doesn't. She doesn't know how he gets into the Slytherin Common Room at all, but she doesn't ask about that either. Maybe it's because he should have been in Slytherin? He's more so than the rest of their house put together. Maybe it's because he's a parselmouth? Who knows. For all she knows it could even be his connection to the castle. She can see that clearly, after all, the castle seemed to do anything he asked of it.

She lifts a hand and draws him to her. He follows unresistingly, though he immediately takes control, strong, muscled body pinning her to the bed as he claims her lips with his.

Later, he pulls on crimson sleep pants as he always does - a gorgeous blood red against his beautiful tanned skin. He strokes he cheek and tucks a strand of golden blonde hair behind her ear. He locks eyes with her, and as always she is entranced by his intense emerald orbs. They say everything he cannot promise her out loud until he defeats The Dark Lord. And as always, they are all too aware of how this – how they – are forbidden. The knowledge is like electricity tingling along their skin wherever they touch. He kisses her gently one last time, as he always does, and whispers "Don't tell."

She won't.