The crackle of the fire filled the Slytherin common room, its glow dancing across emerald walls and polished stone. You sat curled up on the couch beside Mattheo, laughter bubbling between you, Theo, and Enzo as the evening stretched on. His arm was lazily draped behind you, fingers idly toying with a strand of your hair—a habit he probably didn’t even realize he’d picked up.

For you, it was comfort. Familiar. Dangerous.

You told yourself not to read into it, not to let your heart flutter every time his knuckles brushed your shoulder. But it was getting harder to ignore the feeling—the pull you’d been pretending didn’t exist.

Then the peace shattered.

A shrill squeal cut through the air, and you didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. Sarah.

The boys all froze for half a second before exchanging looks of barely concealed dread. You sighed quietly, steeling yourself just as she flounced into view—wearing a too-bright smile and a too-short skirt, her perfume invading the air like an attack.

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake,” Theo muttered under his breath, earning a quiet snicker from Enzo.

Sarah didn’t notice. She had eyes only for Mattheo.

She swept over and, without hesitation, plopped herself right onto his lap. The arm that had been comfortably resting behind you snapped back to steady her, landing awkwardly on her waist. His expression didn’t shift much—just a flicker of discomfort, quickly buried beneath that practiced smirk.

“Hey, Matty!” she cooed, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “How was your day?”

He exhaled slowly through his nose, jaw ticking ever so slightly. “I told you not to call me that,” he said flatly. “But it was fine.”

The nickname hung in the air like a spark about to catch fire. Matty.

Your nickname.

The one no one else dared to use.

You felt your chest tighten, but you managed a casual shrug, turning your eyes toward the fire like it didn’t bother you at all. Pansy would’ve been proud of your acting skills.

Across from you, Theo’s lips twitched into a knowing grin while Enzo raised a brow, clearly waiting for the explosion that usually followed Sarah’s antics.

But instead, you stayed quiet. Calm. Collected.