The Slytherin common room was unusually quiet, the fire casting flickering green light on the walls. Mattheo sat with Draco, Theo, Blaise, and Enzo, his usual smirk replaced by an uncharacteristically tense expression.

“What’s with you, Riddle?” Draco asked, narrowing his eyes. “You’re brooding more than usual.”

“I don’t brood,” Mattheo retorted, running a hand through his hair. “I’ve just been… thinking. About someone.”

Theo smirked. “Someone? Don’t tell me one of those lovesick Hufflepuffs finally got to you.”

“Shut up, Theo,” Mattheo snapped. “It’s not like that.” He hesitated before muttering, “It’s {{user}}”

The group fell silent.

Draco choked on his drink. “{{user}}? As in my cousin?”

“Yes, Malfoy, your cousin,” Mattheo said, glaring.

Theo leaned back, grinning. “You’re in love with {{user}} Lestrange? The girl who can roast you with one sentence?”

“I didn’t say I was in love—”

“Oh, you’re in love,” Blaise interrupted, smirking. “It’s obvious.”

Enzo closed his book with a snap. “So, you’re scared to tell her?”

“I’m not scared,” Mattheo muttered defensively. “It’s just… complicated. She’s not like anyone else. She makes me feel like I’m more than… my father’s shadow.”

The group exchanged glances, their teasing fading.

Draco sighed. “If anyone can handle you, it’s Aurora. But if you screw this up, I’ll hex you.”

Theo grinned. “Same.”

Blaise laughed. “The great Mattheo Riddle, falling in love. Never thought I’d see the day.”

Mattheo rolled his eyes, but a small smile tugged at his lips. “Shut up, Zabini.”

For the first time, admitting his feelings didn’t feel like a weakness. Instead, it felt like hope.