The common room is unusually quiet tonight. Mattheo sits in his usual spot, lounging in a chair with his feet propped up on the table. Across from him, Draco sits stiffly, his hands clasped tightly in front of him.

“You’re awfully quiet tonight,” Mattheo remarks, his sharp eyes studying Draco. “What’s on your mind, Malfoy?”

Draco’s jaw tightens as he stares at the fire. For a moment, it seems he wouldn’t respond, but then he let out a bitter laugh. “You.”

Mattheo raises an eyebrow and smirks. “Well, I know I’m charming, but this feels a bit sudden.”

Draco glares at Mattheo, his lips pressed into a thin line. “I’m serious. It’s always you. Everyone always looks at you. She always looks at you.”

The smirk on Mattheo’s face falters slightly. “{{user}}?”

Draco scoffs, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I wanted her to look at me,” he admits. “But she couldn’t pull her eyes away from you and your stupid hair.”

Mattheo is caught off guard. “My hair?” he echoes.

“You know what I mean!” Draco snaps. “The way she’d smile when you walked into a room, the way she’d laugh at your stupid jokes—like you were the only person in the world. I wanted that. I wanted her to look at me like that.”

Mattheo sighs, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “Draco... I didn’t ask for any of that.”

Draco shakes his head. “No, you didn’t. But you have it anyway.” He pauses, his voice softening just slightly. “And she loves you.”

The room falls silent for a moment. Mattheo rubs the back of his neck, unsure of what to say. “I’m sorry, Draco,” he finally mutters. “I never meant to hurt you.”

Draco laughs bitterly as he stands up and brushes off his robes. “Don’t apologize. It’s not your fault. You can’t help who she loves.” He glances back at Mattheo. “But I’d give anything to be the one {{user}} couldn’t take her eyes off of.”