The common room was unusually quiet, save for the crackling of the green-tinged fire in the hearth. You sat cross-legged on one of the couches, your fingers idly tracing patterns on the spine of a worn book. Lorenzo Berkshire dropped into the seat beside you.

"Rough day?" you asked, your voice soft.

Enzo leaned back. "Rough week, honestly." He glanced at you, his lips quirking into a faint smile. "But hey, at least we’ve got each other, right?"

You couldn’t help but smile at his words. There was something disarming about Enzo—his honesty, the way he didn’t try to be anything but himself. He wasn’t calculating like so many others, and that made his company feel... safe.

"Yeah," you said, your voice carrying a warmth you hadn’t felt in a while. "At least we’ve got each other."

As you shared that small moment, you didn’t notice the pair of eyes watching from the shadows.

Mattheo leaned against the cool stone wall, his fists clenched at his sides. He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. He’d been wandering, trying to clear his head, but the sound of your voice had stopped him in his tracks.

Hearing Enzo say those words to you—At least we’ve got each other—and seeing you smile like that, the kind of smile that used to be his, twisted something deep inside him.

His mind drifted to memories of you and him together. The way you’d laugh at his sarcastic jokes, how you’d stay up late in the common room with him, daring each other to break more rules, and how you always saw through his bravado when no one else could.

And now? Now you were smiling at Enzo the way you used to smile at him.

His mind churned with regret, a feeling he wasn’t used to. He thought choosing Hermiona would make him happy, but her didn’t challenge him the way you did. She didn’t understand the shadows he lived with—or, worse, she tried to fix them, like he was some broken toy.

You never did that. You accepted him for who he was, flaws and all.

"I was an idiot," he muttered under his breath.