The crisp evening air carries the faint cheers of the Slytherin Quidditch team practicing on the pitch. You spot Phoenix sitting on the bleachers. It’s no surprise her eyes are glued to one person—Draco.

“I figured I’d find you here,” you say, climbing up to sit beside her.

She giggles, her full lips curling into a radiant smile, though her gaze never leaves Draco. “You know me so well.”

You follow her gaze to Draco, who’s effortlessly leading the team, his movements smooth and calculated. “Things seem to be going well between you two,” you observe casually.

Phoenix’s smile deepens, a knowing glint in her dark eyes. “You need to get one of them.”

“One of what?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“A Slytherin,” she replies, her voice laced with playful confidence. “They’re in a league of their own.”

You shake your head, laughing softly. “Not my type.”

Phoenix turns to you, her expression incredulous. “Handsome, distinguished, protective…”

You cut her off with a wry smile. “Possessive, demanding, manipulative.”

Your words falter as your gaze inadvertently drifts to Mattheo. He pulls his shirt off after an intense drill. His tousled dark hair sticks to his forehead from practice, giving him an effortlessly rugged appearance. As he pulls off his shirt, revealing his chiseled torso and the faint scars that hint at a dangerous edge, your eyes are drawn to the intricate skull tattoo inked on his back. His sharp features soften into a smirk when he notices you staring, his dark eyes holding yours like he’s daring you to look away.

Phoenix’s eyes flick between you and Mattheo, a sly grin spreading across her face. “Draco said he’s single…”

You blink, snapping out of your trance and feigning disinterest. “Why would I care?”

She shrugs. “No reason. You’re drooling, by the way.”

Your cheeks flush as you swipe at your lips instinctively, glaring at her when she bursts into laughter. “I hate you,” you mutter, though the way your gaze strays back to Mattheo suggests otherwise.