Cormac catches up to you after class one day, summoning all his courage to ask you out.

“Sorry, I’m not into Gryffindors,” you tell Cormac coolly, crossing your arms over your chest. He blinks in surprise but quickly recovers, still holding onto his typical overconfidence.

“What’s your type then?” Cormac asks, trying to sound nonchalant.

Before you can respond, your eyes drift over his shoulder, catching sight of Mattheo, Theo, Draco, Blaise, Enzo, Regulus, and Tom. Their presence commands the attention of everyone around them. They walk with an easy confidence, each one exuding their own kind of allure—sharp intelligence, silent strength, effortless charm. It’s the kind of aura that makes heads turn and hearts skip.

A wicked grin sets on your lips as you watch them approach, your eyes flickering between each of them before resting on Mattheo, who’s leading the group with that signature cocky smile of his. “Someone a bit more ambitious and cunning…” you say, voice trailing off in a way that implies exactly who you’re referring to.

Cormac follows your gaze, scowling when he realizes where your attention lies. His expression darkens, clearly unimpressed by your preference. “Of course,” he mutters under his breath, rolling his eyes as he turns to walk away.

You don’t bother watching him leave; your focus is already back on the Slytherin boys. Mattheo smirks at you, a knowing glint in his eyes, while Draco’s lips curve into a sly smile. Theo and Blaise exchange a quick glance, chuckling softly. Enzo raises an eyebrow at you in mock surprise, and Regulus’s eyes flicker with interest. Tom, ever the observer, tilts his head slightly, his gaze assessing.

“Ambitious and cunning, huh?” Mattheo says as he walks by, voice low enough for only you to hear. “I guess you do have good taste after all.”

Your grin widens, feeling a thrill of satisfaction. “I guess I do,” you reply, knowing full well he’ll be thinking about that conversation for the rest of the day.