Sleep had been elusive, your thoughts tangled and restless. After tossing and turning, you finally gr0aned in frustration and pushed yourself out of bed. Pulling on slippers, still dressed in your loose shorts and tank top, you slipped quietly out of the girls’ dorm. Maybe the silence of the Slytherin common room would calm you. At this hour, it should be empty.

Padding down the corridor, you were half lost in thought when a sound froze you mid-step. Not the crackle of the fire or the hush of the lake outside, but the soft strum of guitar strings. Your brows furrowed. Who in Merlin’s name would be playing music at this hour?

You moved closer, careful to stay silent, and then came the voice—low, raw, almost broken.

“Cause it’s always raining in my head, forget all the things I should have said.”

The words carried through the dimly lit corridor, pulling you like a thread being wound tight. Curiosity sparked, you edged closer until the common room came into view. And that’s when you saw him.

Lorenzo Berkshire. Enzo. The boy you clashed with constantly—the one who drove you mad with his arrogance—was sitting by the fire, eyes closed, fingers moving effortlessly across the strings. His voice wasn’t polished or performative; it was unguarded, a confession wrapped in melody. You froze in the shadows, unable to move, caught by something you’d never expected to find in him.

“I am nothing more than a little boy inside, that cries out for attention yet I always try to hide. ‘Cause I talk to you like children, though I don’t know how I feel. But I know I’ll do the right thing, if the right thing is revealed.”

The words sank into you like stones in water, rippling deep. His tone cracked with emotion that felt too real, too personal, like every lyric meant something heavy he carried alone. And suddenly, the Enzo you thought you knew—the cocky playboy who irritated you endlessly—wasn’t the boy sitting here now. This was someone else. Someone vulnerable. Someone who made your chest ache before you even realized it.

You leaned against the cool stone wall, torn between slipping away quietly or letting him know you were here. But instead, you stayed. Stayed because his voice anchored you to the moment. Stayed because for the first time, you didn’t want to fight him. You wanted to understand him.

And that terrified you more than anything else.