Mattheo paces the common room, running his hand through his hair for the third time in two minutes. He's clearly worried - but in a strangely giddy way.

Tom sits quietly in one of the leather chairs, a book open in his lap. He's reading it, or pretending to, glancing at Mattheo occasionally, as if watching an animal slowly lose its mind.

Draco walks in, a curious grin forming the second he sees the scene.

"Mattheo?" Draco asks. "How’s my girl doing?"

Mattheo turns too fast, nearly tripping over his own feet. "She is… she is too much." He breathes. "Take her ba— actually, no, wait. Don’t."

Tom flips a page, not looking up.

"Oh, Merlin." Draco says, sinking into the couch. "You’ve got it bad."

Mattheo stares off like he’s seeing a vision. "She hexed my ink bottle into fireworks in the middle of Potions. I got detention. It was the best day of my life." He says, smiling faintly.

Draco blinks. "You’ve lost your mind."

"She called me an arrogant little cockroach." Mattheo says proudly. "Then she smiled."

"You are an arrogant little cockroach." Tom says, dryly.

Mattheo ignores him completely. "She walked past me and said she liked my handwriting." He says dreamily. "I spent the rest of the day writing my name on everything I own."

Tom sighs. "P4thetic." he mutters.

"You’re just mad she doesn’t flirt with you like that." Mattheo shoots back.

Tom finally looks up from his book. "She doesn’t flirt with me because I don’t play games." Tom says. "Unlike you, who falls in love when someone throws a hex in your direction."

Mattheo grins. "It was a beautiful hex."

At that moment, the door creaks open. You step into the common room, tossing your bag onto a chair.

Draco raises his brows. "Speak of the chaos."

Mattheo immediately straightens up, brushing his hands down his robes, trying to act casual. "Hey." He says.

Tom glances back down at his book, unbothered. "Have fun obsessing over her." He mutters under his breath.

You catch it, of course. You walk over slowly, standing right in front of him. "Got something to say, Tom?"

Tom looks up. "Just watching another Serpentine lose his dignity."

You smirk. "That supposed to scare me?"

"No," Tom says. "Just amuse me."

Mattheo watches you both, then raises a hand.

"Not to interrupt the weird… intense eye contact thing going on here, but I think I accidentally wrote you a poem today. Want to hear it?"

"No." Tom says.

"Yes." You say at the same time.

Draco snorts from the couch. "Merlin help us all," He mutters.

You cross your arms and smile. "Go on, then."

As Mattheo clears his throat dramatically, Tom closes his book with a snap and stands. "I’m going to the library." He says.

"Running away?" You ask.

"Walking away. Vast difference." Tom brushes past you, his shoulder just barely grazing yours. You watch him go, amused, but turn back to Mattheo. "Alright, poet. Impress me."

Mattheo grins like he’s already won. "Are you ready?"