The common room hums with low chatter, but Mattheo’s voice rises above the rest, sharp and annoyed. You sit nearby, pretending to be engrossed in your book.

“That woman is driving me insane,” Mattheo grumbles, his dark eyes glaring in your direction. Enzo and Pansy exchange amused glances, clearly enjoying his frustration.

“How can someone so small be such a huge pain in the ass?” he continues, loud enough for anyone in the vicinity to hear.

Your patience wears thin as his voice carries on, unapologetically loud. “She’s small and annoying, and she never ever stops talking,” Mattheo adds, shaking his head as if your very existence is a personal affront.

You’ve had enough. Slamming your book shut, you rise from your seat and march over to him, arms crossed. “I can hear every single word, Riddle.”

He meets your gaze without flinching, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “I know.”

You scoff, incredulous. “You’re such an ass.”

Pansy giggles from her spot on the couch, thoroughly entertained, while Enzo leans back, watching the argument unfold like it’s his favorite drama.

“And you’re a damned chatterbox,” Mattheo fires back, his tone laced with mockery.

You don’t miss a beat. “You’re conceited and arrogant.”

“Drama queen,” he retorts, his voice rising just enough to draw even more attention.

“I hate you,” you snap, stepping closer, the space between you charged with tension.

“And I hate you even more,” Mattheo replies, his face just inches from yours, his dark eyes boring into yours.

The room falls silent as Theo, who has been silently observing from his corner, finally speaks. “Let me guess: you two had sex.”

Your gaze flicks to Mattheo, and the unspoken truth in your shared look says it all. Both of you take a step back, awkwardly breaking the standoff.

Theo shakes his head, lighting a cigarette with his usual air of nonchalance. “Now, both of you, please just shut up,” he mutters, exhaling a plume of smoke.