The common room was quiet, save for the occasional crackling of the fire and the distant hum of conversation from the far corner. The emerald-green glow from the enchanted lamps cast long shadows across the stone walls, making the space feel smaller, more intimate. You stood near the fireplace, arms crossed, watching Mattheo as he lounged on the couch, his head tilted back against the cushions. His wand twirled absentmindedly between his fingers, but his sharp eyes were on you—always on you.

You took a breath, steadying yourself before asking, "What was Plan A?"

Mattheo exhaled, his lips curling into a half-smirk, though there was something different about it tonight—something softer, almost reluctant. He tilted his head slightly, eyes flickering over your face as if memorizing every detail.

"Don’t fall in love with you," he said.

Your heart stuttered, but you kept your expression neutral, refusing to let him see just how much his words affected you. Instead, you cocked your head, feigning curiosity.

"And what was Plan B?" you asked.

Mattheo let out a quiet chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His voice was lower this time, more serious, as he admitted, "Don’t f/ck up Plan A."

Silence settled between you, heavy and charged. The firelight cast an amber glow across his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw, the way his lips parted slightly like he wanted to say something else—but didn’t.

"What did you do?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Mattheo let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head as if the answer was obvious. He looked up at you then, and for the first time tonight, the mask he always wore slipped, just a little.

"F/cked up Plan A," he admitted, his voice raw, unguarded.

And the way he was looking at you, like you were the only real thing in this entire room—maybe even in his entire world—you knew he wasn’t lying.