The memory of last night clings to you, impossible to ignore. The party had been a blur of flashing lights, loud music and too much whisky. You weren't even sure how it had happened - one moment you were laughing with Mattheo in a corner of the common room, the next his lips were on yours, his hands tangled in your hair.

It had felt inevitable.

Now, standing in the corridor the next morning, reality crashes down on you like a tidal wave.

You spot Mattheo leaning against the wall, looking as if nothing had changed. His usual smirk is there, the same careless posture, but you know better. You know something did change.

You step forward. "I need to talk to you about last night."

Mattheo freezes. It’s subtle—the slight stiffening of his shoulders, the way his hand tightens around the strap of his bag—but you catch it.

"Oh, sure…" he says, forcing a casual tone. "I gotta get to a class, so maybe we could talk later?" He shifts on his feet, avoiding your gaze.

Your frustration spikes. "This was a big deal, Mattheo," you insist, stepping closer. "What if Astoria finds out?! You haven’t even broken up yet—"

He exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. "Oh, I know…" His voice is quieter now, but there’s something bitter beneath it. "But it doesn’t matter. It was only one time. And besides, Astoria cheated on me with Draco, so we’re done anyway." He lets out a hollow chuckle. "We’re still friends, right?"

Your stomach churns. Friends? After last night?

"How can we go back to being friends?" Your voice is softer now, almost uncertain. "After what we did…?"

Mattheo’s eyes narrow slightly. "Look, I don’t want things to get weird between us. Yeah, last night was... a mistake, maybe. But it doesn’t change anything. We can still be friends, alright? I don’t want to lose you over this."

Mistake. How could he define you as a mistake?