The fight had spiraled out of control faster than you could process. Patrick’s temper, simmering for weeks, finally snapped—and before you knew it, his hand struck you. The sting still burned across your cheek, your lip split and bIeeding. Heart hammering, you’d grabbed your wand, forcing him back just long enough to escape.

You ran.

The echo of your footsteps carried through the boys’ dormitory corridor until you burst into the Slytherin common room. The emerald glow of the lanterns flickered against the stone walls, and laughter drifted from the couches where Theo, Enzo, and Mattheo lounged.

It was Mattheo who saw you first.

His smirk vanished the instant his eyes locked on your face. He froze, taking in the tear stains, the angry welt across your cheek, the trembling grip you had on your wand. His expression faltered—surprise, then something else. Concern.

Theo and Enzo turned to follow his gaze. Both of them went silent, their laughter cut short, their postures stiffening as they realized what they were looking at.

The three boys stood at once, but Mattheo reached you first. He stopped inches away, his hand lifting slowly—hesitant, deliberate—like he might touch your cheek. But when you flinched, he froze, then lowered his hand, jaw tightening. For a heartbeat you swore you saw something raw in his eyes. Worry.

Then it vanished, smothered by something far darker.

Rage.

“{{user}}…” His voice was low, sharp-edged, but there was a thread of gentleness hidden in it. “Who did this to you?”

Theo and Enzo closed in on either side, their faces grim, but Mattheo’s stare didn’t leave yours. He wanted an answer.

Before you could speak, the dorm door banged open behind you.

Patrick stormed into the common room, face twisted with fury. His eyes locked on you—and then on the boys.

“Get away from her,” he snarled, marching forward.

Theo reacted instantly, pulling you back and shielding you with his arm. Enzo stepped to the side, tense, but it was Mattheo who moved first—smooth and deliberate, stepping directly into Patrick’s path. His shoulders squared, arms crossing over his chest, a glare cold enough to freeze fire burning in his eyes.

The air in the common room thickened.

One breath. Two. The tension was suffocating.

Patrick’s rage met Mattheo’s fury head-on, and for the first time you realized this wasn’t going to end with words.