The castle was eerily quiet at this hour, the flickering torchlight casting long, dancing shadows against the ancient stone walls. Lilith Nightingale walked at a steady pace through the dimly lit corridors, her hands folded neatly behind her back. Being on patrol wasn't the worst duty a prefect could have—at least it got her out of the common room—but tonight, she wasn't alone.

Elias Thorne strolled beside her, exuding his usual air of effortless confidence, his hands lazily tucked into his pockets. Unlike her, he didn't seem to take this responsibility seriously, his hazel eyes flitting toward her every so often as if he had nothing better to do than study her in the dim light.

"You know," he mused, breaking the silence, "for someone so dedicated to following rules, you make breaking them look awfully tempting."

Lilith scoffed but didn't look at him. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

Elias smirked. "It means, Nightingale, that I think there's a rebel somewhere deep inside you. Just waiting to be let out."

She rolled her eyes, quickening her pace. "Keep dreaming, Thorne."

"Oh, I do," he replied smoothly, voice dropping just enough to send an unwelcome shiver down her spine. "But you already knew that."

Lilith turned sharply to glare at him, only to feel her cheeks warm under the weight of his teasing gaze. She cursed herself for letting his words get to her. She was better than this. Smarter than this.

"Pathetic," she muttered, pressing on. "Come on, we need to check the third-floor corridor before we're done."

Elias simply grinned, pleased with himself, and followed her lead. They had almost reached the staircase when the sound of shuffling footsteps echoed down the corridor. Lilith immediately stiffened, recognizing the familiar limp-footed gait of Filch.

Elias reacted before she could. Without a word, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her sharply to the side. Before she could protest, he shoved them both into the nearest broom cupboard, the door snapping shut just as Filch's lantern glow illuminated the hallway.

Lilith barely had time to process what was happening before she realized just how little space they had. Shelves and brooms pressed against her back, but more importantly—Elias was pressed up against her, his body close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating from him.

"We are prefects," she hissed in a hushed whisper, her heart hammering against her ribs.

Elias, far too relaxed for the compromising position they were in, smirked. "Oh, right. I forgot." But he made no attempt to move, nor did she.

The silence stretched between them, thick with something neither of them wanted to name. Lilith could feel his breath against her cheek, the closeness making every nerve in her body stand on edge. She willed herself to push him away, to say something cutting, but all she could think about was the way his hand was still resting against her hip from when he had pulled her inside.

Elias let the moment linger, his gaze dropping just briefly to her lips before he looked back up at her, his voice barely above a whisper. "Comfortable, Nightingale?"

Lilith swallowed, but her traitorous blush deepened. "You are insufferable."

His smirk widened. "And yet, you're not pushing me away."

Her fingers twitched at her sides, fighting the urge to shove him off just to prove a point. But for some reason, she didn't. And the longer they stood there, the more aware she became of every inch of him pressed against her, of the way their breaths mingled in the tight space.

Filch's footsteps finally faded down the corridor, but neither of them moved.

The tension in the air was thick enough to suffocate.

Lilith exhaled slowly, her voice lower now. "We should go."

Elias tilted his head slightly, as if contemplating. Then, with maddening ease, he whispered, "Or we could stay here a little longer."

Her breath hitched. He was teasing her, but Merlin help her, she wasn't sure she hated it.

The only thing she knew for certain was that this patrol had taken a very unexpected turn.

A long, agonizing silence stretched between them. Lilith felt her pulse hammer in her throat, and she wondered if Elias could hear it, pressed so close against her. His scent—something warm and faintly spiced—was distracting, his presence all-consuming.

He lifted a hand as if to brush a stray strand of hair from her face, but at the last second, he hesitated, his fingers barely grazing her temple before he let them fall back to his side.

Lilith felt like she was standing on the edge of something dangerous, something exhilarating, something she wasn't supposed to want.

The sound of a distant door opening down the corridor snapped them both back to reality.

Elias finally stepped back—though not by much—and reached for the door handle. "Alright, Nightingale," he murmured, his usual smirk returning, though it lacked some of its usual arrogance. "We'll call this a truce. For now."

Lilith straightened, inhaling sharply, forcing herself to shove past the strange warmth coiling in her stomach. "This wasn't a war, Thorne."

He chuckled as he pushed open the door, stepping into the corridor first and casting a quick glance around to ensure the coast was clear. "Could've fooled me."

Lilith followed, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. She didn't look at him as they continued their patrol, but she could still feel the ghost of his breath against her skin, the weight of the moment pressing down on her like an invisible force.

And, to her absolute horror, she found herself wishing they hadn't been interrupted. The warmth of his body against hers still lingered, a phantom sensation she couldn't shake. Every breath she took felt too shallow, as if she were still trapped in that broom cupboard, his presence overwhelming her senses.

She clenched her fists as they walked in silence, the echo of their footsteps the only sound between them. Elias, for once, didn't say anything either. And that unsettled her even more.

Lilith risked a glance at him, only to find him already watching her, his usual smirk subdued, his hazel eyes unreadable. It wasn't the typical arrogance he wore so well—it was something else, something softer, something she couldn't quite place.

She looked away quickly, pretending to fix her sleeve, but her mind refused to quiet. That look—it was going to haunt her.

As they reached the next corridor, Lilith's breath came in measured exhales, willing herself to regain control. She needed to focus on the patrol. Not Elias. Not the way his hand had lingered at her waist. Not the way her body had betrayed her by leaning into him.

She needed to forget this ever happened.

And yet, she knew she wouldn't.