#dungeons

Behold, the front cover of my forthcoming book on the idea of the dungeon, Down Down Down! Pre-order (and the full wrap-around cover) coming late summer, release in December. Hype copy from Strange Attractor Press below:

-Summary: In the Slytherin dungeons after curfew, a perfectionist student collides with Fred Weasley. Teasing turns honest as he reminds her she is enough as she is. One reckless, star lit adventure changes how she sees him and herself.

-Word count: 1002

-Pairing: Slytherin reader x Fred Weasley

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The dungeons were always quiet after curfew. That was why you liked them.

While the rest of the castle slept, you sat at your desk beneath the low green glow of the lamps, your parchment scattered with notes, your quill bleeding ink from hours of restless writing. You were not sure what you were still studying for; you knew the material by heart, but stopping meant thinking, and you did not want to think.

The world expected Slytherins to be sharp, composed, untouchable. You had built yourself into that perfectly polished version: top marks, top posture, never letting anyone see the cracks.

And yet, some nights, it felt as though the whole act was suffocating you.

That was when the laugh echoed down the corridor.

You froze. It was a sound that did not belong here, too bright, too alive. A Gryffindor sound. And then he appeared.

Fred Weasley.

Tall, dishevelled, grin far too confident for someone wandering into the Slytherin dungeons after hours. His tie was loose, his wand tucked behind his ear, and his eyes that impossible mix of mischief and warmth locked right on you.

“Well, well,” he said, stepping closer. “Did not think I would find a Slytherin up this late. Plotting world domination?”

You did not look up. “Do you not have a tower to be in, Weasley? Or do Gryffindors just wander around waiting for detentions?”

He laughed softly. “Guilty as charged. But you looked lonely. Thought I would keep you company.”

You set your quill down and finally glanced his way. “You don’t even like Slytherins.”

He tilted his head. “True. But you're not like the rest.”

You snorted. “You don’t even know me.”

Fred leaned against the nearest desk, arms folded, eyes glinting. “I know you are here alone, rewriting the same sentence for the third time. I know your jaw tightens every time someone mentions ‘expectations’. And I know you pretend not to care, but you do.”

You blinked. “You have been watching me?”

“Observing,” he said innocently. “Big difference. Besides, you are hard not to notice.”

Your heart stuttered in that annoying way it always did around him. Fred had that rare talent for making you feel seen and completely unguarded at the same time.

“You should not be here,” you muttered, turning back to your parchment. “If you get caught—”

“I will not,” he interrupted, hopping up to sit on the desk across from you. “You would cover for me.”

You raised a brow. “And why would I do that?”

He smiled, softer this time. “Because deep down, you like the trouble I bring.”

You tried to hold his gaze, but it was useless. He had this maddening way of looking at you as if he already knew your secrets.

Fred’s voice dropped, quieter now. “Why do you do it? All this?” He gestured at the books, the parchment, the ink-stained hands. “You have got the brains, the drive, but you look miserable.”

You did not answer.

He leaned closer, resting his elbows on his knees. “You know,” he said gently, “wanting to be someone else is a waste of the person you are.”

The words struck harder than you expected. You swallowed, staring down at your ink-stained fingertips.

“Easy for you to say,” you muttered. “You do not have people expecting you to be perfect all the time.”

He chuckled softly. “You think being a Weasley means no expectations? Half the school assumes I am just a joke with a wand. The other half expects me to live up to a name I did not even choose.”

You looked up at him then, really looked, and for the first time, Fred did not look untouchable. He looked human.

“Maybe that is why I like you,” he said after a pause. “You do not buy into anyone’s act. Not even your own.”

You let out a small, humourless laugh. “You have a funny way of complimenting people.”

Fred’s grin returned, brighter this time. “It worked, did it not?”

He slid off the desk and offered his hand. “Come on.”

“What?”

“Let us go.”

You frowned. “It is nearly midnight.”

“Exactly. The perfect time for bad decisions.” His eyes sparkled with mischief. “You have been locked up down here for hours. You need to breathe.”

You hesitated, then, against your better judgment, took his hand.

He led you through dim corridors and up narrow staircases, your footsteps echoing softly on stone. You did not realise where you were going until the cool night air hit your face at the Astronomy Tower.

The sky stretched wide and endless above you, the stars sharp and clear. Fred let go of your hand just long enough to rummage through his pocket and pull out a small box.

“Fireworks?” you guessed, smiling in spite of yourself.

“Not just fireworks,” he said, grinning. “Experimental fireworks. Highly unstable. Definitely not Ministry approved.”

You crossed your arms. “So this is how I die.”

He laughed and lit one. The spark hissed, then shot into the sky, bursting into silver serpents and red lions twisting together before fading into glittering smoke.

You could not help but gasp. “You made that?”

Fred shrugged. “You inspired it.”

Your heart stumbled again, traitorously. “Me?”

“Yes. You, all steel and grace and impossible standards. But beneath all that, you shine brighter than anyone else. You just do not see it yet.”

The words lingered between you, raw and real.

“Fred…” you began, unsure what to say.

He turned to you, his expression softer than you had ever seen it. “Do not try to be someone else, love. You are already the best version of yourself there is.”

For once, you did not deflect. You did not hide behind sarcasm or a smirk. You just looked at him, and in that moment under the hum of fading starlight, you let yourself believe him.