The common room pulsed with loud music and laughter, packed with drunken students— you and your best friend Pansy included.

Slytherin had just won the Quidditch Cup, and the celebration felt endless. Mattheo and his friends—Theodore, Draco, and Lorenzo—were taking shots when his gaze suddenly landed on you.

You and Pansy were dancing, completely unaware of how many eyes were on you.

Mattheo’s eyebrows lifted as he watched you, unmoving. Draco leaned closer, his voice low. D: “Isn’t that…?” Mattheo barely breathed the words in reply. M: “Holy hell…”