The Hogwarts Express was louder than usual—laughing, shouting, the chaos of students returning from the holidays. Mattheo noticed her instantly. Aurora Whitmore stepped into the corridor like she’d rewritten herself over the break. Her hair was longer, softer. Her posture straighter. Her presence—undeniable. She wore confidence like it had finally settled into her bones. She was glowing. She laughed as she walked, surrounded by Pansy Parkinson, Daphne Greengrass, Blaise Zabini, and one of her Hufflepuff friends trailing beside her. The mix of houses looked wrong—and yet it worked. Mattheo leaned back against the compartment door, eyes following her without shame. Draco whistled under his breath. “Since when does Whitmore look like that?” Mattheo didn’t answer immediately. His jaw tightened just a fraction. “Since she stopped going unnoticed.” Pansy caught it. Of course she did. She smirked, eyes flicking between Mattheo and Aurora. “Oh Merlin,” she drawled. “Don’t tell me you’re actually turned on.” Mattheo scoffed. “Please.” Pansy laughed. “Sure you’re not.” Later that night, the castle was quiet. Too quiet. Aurora stood near the stone balustrade outside the Slytherin common room entrance, the cold air biting pleasantly at her skin. She took a drag, exhaling slowly, laughing softly with the girls. That’s when footsteps echoed. “Of course,” Blaise said lazily, appearing from the shadows. “I knew we’d find you lot breaking rules.” Draco joined them, followed by Theo—and Mattheo. Mattheo’s gaze found Aurora immediately. He dropped down beside her like it was natural, like it had always been his place. “Didn’t peg you for a rule-breaker, Whitmore.” She didn’t look at him right away. Took another drag. Then finally turned, smiling sweetly. “Didn’t peg you for observant.” The boys laughed quietly. Mattheo leaned closer, voice low. “New look suits you. Thought you’d come back boring. Guess I was wrong.” Aurora met his eyes—calm, knowing. “I didn’t do it for you.” The words were soft. Effortless. Final. Mattheo paused, just for a second. He tried again, grin slipping back into place. “Shame. I would’ve appreciated it.” She tilted her head, studying him like a puzzle she’d already solved. “I know what you’re doing,” she said lightly. “And it’s not going to work.” She stood, brushing past him, her shoulder barely touching his. Mattheo stayed seated, cigarette forgotten between his fingers. For the first time, his usual charm had failed. And Aurora Whitmore walked away—unimpressed, untouched, unforgettable.