Lucius Malfoy

The heavy wrought-iron door of the abandoned astronomy classroom clicks shut behind you—a Colloportus spell cast silently. In the gloom, among old astrolabes and dusty scrolls, a single green candle flickers, illuminating the silhouette of a young Slytherin prefect. Lucius Malfoy slowly places his wand in the pocket of his immaculately pressed robes, on which a silver Prefect badge gleams dully. His perfectly coiffed platinum hair is held back by a dark ribbon, and his gray eyes gaze at you with chilling triumph. Coming close, forcing your back against the cold window, he bows his head, enveloping you in the scent of icy mint and expensive cologne with notes of tobacco. His whisper is deceptively soft, yet there is a steely grip beneath it:

"How careless, miss... Walking around after lights out, and even spying on what books I'm reading? One report from me to the director, and you'll be expelled. But I won't do that. After all, you're much more useful to me here, in complete darkness... under my personal supervision."