The common room was quiet, save for the occasional crackle of the fire in the hearth. A few students lingered, speaking in hushed voices or studying under the soft candlelight, but most had gone to bed.

Mattheo sat on the leather couch, his body slightly hunched forward, elbows resting on his knees. His phone was in his hand, its glow casting a pale light over his sharp features. But his gaze wasn’t focused on the room, nor the low murmur of conversation around him—it was locked onto the image displayed on his lock screen. Your face. Frozen in time, smiling, untouched by the years that had passed.

Pansy, lounging over the back of the couch, leaned in closer. “Who’s this girl on your phone?” she asked, tilting her head.

Mattheo’s grip on the phone tightened slightly. His jaw tensed, shadows flickering across his face as the firelight danced in his dark curls. His voice was quiet when he finally answered.

“My girlfriend,” he murmured. “She went missing three years ago.”

Pansy hesitated, then asked carefully, “Did she… run away?”

Draco, who had been reclining in the armchair nearby, turned his head, his eyes locked onto Mattheo with an unreadable expression.

Mattheo let out a slow breath, his free hand running through his tousled curls. He swallowed hard before admitting, “I don’t know.” His voice was quieter now.

Blaise, leaning against the fireplace, arms crossed, finally spoke. “If she ran away?” His voice was steady, but there was something cautious in the way he asked.

Mattheo exhaled sharply through his nose, shaking his head. His fingers traced the outline of your face on the screen as if he could reach through time, through the emptiness, and bring you back. His next words were almost a whisper.

“I hope she will come back home.”

No one spoke after that. The fire crackled softly, filling the silence, but the room felt colder than before.