The Slytherin common room was dimly lit, the soft green glow of the underwater windows casting long shadows over the sleek furniture. You had just returned from your last class of the day, tired but not quite ready to settle in for the evening. The warmth of the hearth in the center of the room called to you, but something else caught your attention—a faint sound from above, unusual and out of place in the otherwise silent common room.

You frowned, tilting your head as you listened. It was a guitar, electric by the sound of it, the chords reverberating softly through the stone walls from the boys’ dormitory upstairs.

You turned to the group of boys lounging by the fire. “Who’s playing the electric guitar upstairs?”

Draco, rolled his eyes, barely looking up from his book. “Just Mattheo.”

Your frown deepened. Mattheo?

Curiosity getting the better of you, you made your way up the stone steps toward the dormitories. The music grew louder as you neared the slightly ajar door of Mattheo’s room. With your heart skipping a beat, you gently pushed the door open a bit more, careful not to make a sound.

Inside, the sight stopped you in your tracks. Mattheo sat on the edge of his bed, his dark curls falling over his forehead as his fingers moved effortlessly over the strings of the guitar. His touch was confident yet delicate, each note resonating through the room. The music was raw, intense, his brows furrowed in concentration, completely unaware of your presence.

Your eyes were drawn to his hands, the way they gripped the neck of the guitar, strong and sure. Each strum and pluck seemed to pull at something inside you, a quiet intensity that made your breath hitch. Something about the way his fingers danced across the strings sent a strange flutter through your chest.

For a moment, you were entranced—until his dark eyes suddenly lifted and locked onto yours, the music faltering as he realized you were standing there.