The autumn air was crisp as students streamed into the castle after their afternoon lessons. Lilith Nightingale had spent most of her day avoiding unnecessary interactions, but fate had other plans.

She strode into the library, intent on reviewing her Advanced Potions notes before the next class. The scent of old parchment and burning candle wax filled the vast room, the towering shelves lined with endless books. It was one of the few places she could find solace, away from the constant prying eyes of her peers.

As she settled into a quiet corner, she heard the distinct sound of someone pulling out the chair across from her. She looked up, already annoyed.

Elias Thorne.

His Gryffindor tie was loosened, his golden-brown hair as tousled as ever, and his infuriating smirk firmly in place. He held a book in his hands—one she was certain he had no intention of reading.

"Of all the places to sit, Thorne, you choose here?" she asked coolly, arching a brow.

Elias grinned, propping his chin on his hand. "Well, you make studying look so intense. Thought I'd see if the rumours were true."

Lilith exhaled sharply, returning her gaze to her notes. "Don't you have somewhere else to be?"

"Not really."

She glanced at him, unimpressed. "Then I suggest you find somewhere."

Elias didn't move. Instead, he leaned in slightly, eyes scanning the open textbook in front of her. "Advanced Potions? Fascinating," he mused, flipping a page before she could stop him. "Tell me, do you ever do anything other than study?"

She slammed the book shut, causing a few students nearby to look their way. "Unlike you, I take my education seriously."

Elias laughed under his breath. "Oh, come on, Nightingale. You wound me. I take my education very seriously. Just... in a more practical way."

Lilith scoffed. "Is that what you call barely passing your exams?"

He placed a hand over his heart in mock offense. "Ouch." Then, after a beat, his smirk returned. "You should really lighten up, you know. You might find that not everyone is as awful as you think."

"I never said everyone was awful," she countered smoothly. "Just you."

Elias chuckled, and for a brief moment, silence settled between them. He wasn't pushing her to argue, wasn't trying to get under her skin—just sitting there, an unreadable expression flickering behind his hazel eyes.

After a long pause, he spoke again. "You ever wonder what you'd be like if you weren't always carrying the weight of expectations?"

Lilith blinked, her usual retort dying on her lips. The question was too personal, too unexpected.

Elias, however, seemed unfazed by her silence. He stood, stretching lazily. "Think about it," he said, before disappearing between the towering bookshelves.

Lilith stared after him, a rare uncertainty settling in her chest.

And, to her annoyance, she did think about it. The thought followed her as she returned to her studies, lingering in the back of her mind like a whisper she couldn't quite silence. Even as she refocused on her Potions notes, her quill tapping rhythmically against the parchment, his words replayed over and over.

What would she be like without the weight of expectations? Without the carefully constructed barriers she had spent years perfecting? Without the Nightingale name pressing down on her shoulders?

She shook her head, as if physically trying to rid herself of the thought, but it stayed with her. It followed her out of the library, through the corridors, even into the common room later that evening. As she sat in her usual armchair, a book open on her lap, her fingers absently traced the spine of the pages without really reading.

She told herself Elias's words meant nothing. That they were just another one of his attempts to rile her up, to make her think about things she had no business entertaining. But the worst part was—he had a point.

And she hated that more than anything.