The castle had grown quiet in the way only Hogwarts could at night, stone walls soaking up the last echoes of the day, corridors hushed beneath the watchful gaze of flickering torches. Beyond the tall windows of the Slytherin dormitory, the Black Lake pressed its inky darkness against the glass, shifting with faint ripples that caught the glow of the enchanted sconces inside. Mattheo sat at his desk, quill scratching in impatient bursts as though the parchment itself were irritating him. His hair was a little disheveled, shadows gathering under his eyes from too many late nights, and his bare shoulders caught the faint shimmer of torchlight. He was in the grey sweats he usually slept in, comfortably careless in the privacy of his dorm, ink smudging faintly across the side of his hand as he worked. The door hadn’t been locked. {{user}} discovered that with quiet surprise, pushing it open without the creak she half-expected. The room smelled faintly of smoke and parchment, that unmistakable Slytherin tang of stone and damp air clinging around the edges.

He didn’t notice her right away, too intent on the words he was forcing into lines across the page. {{user}} crossed the space in silence, the firelight throwing her shadow across his desk before she reached him. Slipping her arms around his shoulders from behind, she pressed into him, cheek brushing the warm plane of his back. Mattheo stilled for only a second, quill hovering. Then he set it down with a faint tap, his hand sliding across the desk to push the parchment aside as though none of it mattered anymore. He tilted his head just enough for her to see the softened curve of his mouth, the tension in his jaw easing at her presence.. "Hey, Love. What brings you here this late?” he questions, voice low. He leaned back into her hold, letting the weight of her arms anchor him away from the restless energy that usually kept him wound tight.