The late afternoon sun draped the castle grounds in golden light, casting long shadows as students drifted back to their dorms.

“I don’t get it,” Lorenzo muttered. “We’ve been talking about her for days, and yet none of us have actually done anything about it.”

“That’s because none of us are stup!d enough to make a f00l of ourselves,” Regulus interjected smoothly. “Well—except maybe Mattheo.”

Mattheo scoffed. “Excuse me?”

Tom smirked. “Regulus has a point. You lot act like you’ve never seen a girl before.”

Theodore only chuckled. “You’ve seen her, Tom. Don’t pretend you’re above the conversation.”

Tom didn’t respond, but his smirk didn’t waver.

And then, as if fate was playing along with their discussion, you appeared—ascending the stone steps to your dormitory, your presence immediately shifting the energy in the air.

You raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me, can I help you?”

Lorenzo simply shrugged. “No, thanks.”

Mattheo let out a low chuckle, elbowing Theodore. “Don’t put your number.”

Theodore, his smirk growing, scribbled something against the parchment pinned to the dormitory notice board. “I’m not putting my number,” he said smoothly, sparing you a glance before finishing his work. “I’m putting yours.”

You stepped closer, narrowing your eyes at the board—only to realize it wasn’t Theodore’s number he had written. It was Mattheo’s.

“That’s my room,” you said flatly, arms crossing as you turned back to them.

Mattheo blinked, glanced at the number, then at you, then at Theodore, before grinning. “Okay,” he nodded, nudging Theodore. “Put my number.”

Regulus let out an exasperated sigh, shaking his head. “You’re all ridiculous.”

You rolled your eyes. “Unbelievable,” you muttered, turning on your heel.

As you disappeared into your dorm, the boys remained behind, their laughter and murmurs of amusement lingering in the air. Theodore capped his quill, stepping back to admire his handiwork.

“She’ll be thinking about it,” he mused.

Mattheo smirked. “Good.”