Your heart was pounding by the time you finally skidded to a stop in front of the classroom door. You shoved it open, breathless, hair slightly mussed from your sprint—and, if you were being honest, from the hour before.

Every head in the room turned. You could feel it, the silence that fell heavy for half a second before a few whispers started to ripple through the rows of desks. You didn’t even look at anyone, just marched up toward the front, clutching your books like a shield.

“Miss {{user}},” your professor said, eyebrow arched. “You’re late.”

“I—sorry—” you stammered, trying to catch your breath. “Lost track of time.”

There was a pause. The kind of pause that made your stomach twist.

“…And is there a reason,” the professor said slowly, “that you’ve decided to wear Slytherin colors today?”

Your brain stalled. “What?”

He nodded at your tie. You looked down.

Green. Silver. Mattheo’s.

Your face went hot so fast you thought you might combust. Behind you, someone snorted. A ripple of muffled laughter followed, and you didn’t even need to turn around to know exactly who was in the back row, leaning back in his chair with that insufferable smirk on his face.

Mattheo.

You wanted to melt into the floor. Your hands fumbled with the knot, but that only made the laughter worse. “I—uh—it’s not—it’s—” you stammered.

“Save it,” the professor sighed, clearly choosing to ignore the wave of knowing looks passing between the students. “Take your seat, Miss {{user}}. And next time, wear your own house colors.”

You ducked your head and practically bolted for an empty desk, feeling every pair of eyes burning into your back. Mattheo didn’t help—when you finally risked a glance at him, he was lounging there like he owned the room, one brow raised, mouth curved into a smug grin.

He mouthed, Looks good on you.

Your blush deepened. If anyone in the room didn’t already know where you’d been this morning, they definitely knew now. And Mattheo looked like he was ready to take credit for it.