The Slytherin common room was buzzing with weekend energy.

The air was warm with the hum of conversation, firelight flickering across the green-tinted windows as students filled every available seat and space. Some were curled up in corners, others gathered in groups around tables, the occasional burst of laughter echoing off the stone walls. It was completely packed.

Your eyes scanned the crowd—and then landed on them.

Mattheo lounged on the main couch, one arm thrown over the backrest, legs stretched comfortably in front of him. His curls were tousled like he’d run his hands through them too many times, and his ever-present smirk tugged lazily at the corner of his mouth.

Around him were the rest of the boys—Draco and Blaise sitting close by, deep in some half-serious conversation, Lorenzo laughing at something Regulus had just muttered. Theodore lounged on the opposite side of the couch, completely at ease, head tilted back, eyes half-lidded with amusement. Tom leaned against the edge of the sofa, calm and unreadable as always.

And nestled beside Mattheo, curled up like she belonged there, was Pansy.

She was laughing at something—too loud for it to be natural and had angled her body toward him. Her hand rested on the back of the couch just behind his neck, her fingers barely brushing his collar. You’d seen it before: the way she looked at him, the too-sweet smiles, the constant hovering. She always acted like she was right on the edge of being his.

She noticed you before Mattheo did. Her gaze flicked up, her lips curving into a slow, smug little smile. She didn’t say anything yet—but the message was clear. She was right beside him. You weren’t.

Then Mattheo looked up.

“There you are, princess,” he said, voice warm and low, grin tugging wider as his gaze swept over you like he’d been waiting

As you took a few steps closer, Pansy shifted—barely. A subtle press of her thigh toward his, her shoulder leaning a little deeper into his space.

Her eyes flicked to you.

“It’s full,” she said sweetly, the barest smirk tugging at her mouth. “You’ll have to find somewhere else to sit.”

Mattheo turned his head slowly, finally acknowledging her. He gave her a once-over, then hummed, low in his throat.

“That’s funny,” he said, tilting his head slightly as if considering her words.

Then he looked down, patted his thigh once, deliberately.

“Because I see an empty seat right here.”

His gaze slid back to you, sharper now, and the smirk tugging at his lips deepened.

“Come here,” he said. “Saved you a seat.”

Pansy blinked, her lips parting slightly. The easy confidence drained from her face for just a moment—just long enough for you to catch it.

You didn’t need a second invitation.

You walked forward, slipping effortlessly into Mattheo’s lap. His arms came around you immediately, possessive and easy, like this was how it was always meant to be. He adjusted you slightly, pulling you closer, and leaned in so his lips brushed your ear.

“Much better,” he murmured, voice just for you. “Knew you’d come claim what’s yours.”

Pansy had gone quiet. She turned back toward the group, but her smile didn’t return. Not really.

Theodore snorted into his drink, unable to hide his amusement. A couple of the boys glanced at each other, faint smirks tugging at the corners of their mouths.

Mattheo leaned back, satisfied, one hand tracing slow, lazy circles along your side.

Whatever game Pansy thought she had been playing—she wasn’t winning.