The common room is quiet, bathed in the green glow of light filtering through the lake. The crackle of the fireplace echoes softly, and the air is tinged with a faint chill. A few students murmur in the corners, but most have retreated to their dorms for the night.

You’re sitting near the hearth, your legs curled under you, flipping through a book when you sense someone watching you. Looking up, you find Mattheo lounging against the arm of a nearby chair, his signature smirk playing on his lips. His dark curls are disheveled, and there’s a playful glint in his eyes.

“Can you speak P/rseltongue?” he asks abruptly, tilting his head as though genuinely curious.

You blink, momentarily caught off guard. “Why?”

Mattheo's smirk deepens, and his gaze drops to his lap briefly before flicking back to you. “Because my snake wants to talk with you,” he says smoothly, his voice dripping with amusement.

He's talking about 'that' snake. Is he? You think.

You arch a brow, closing your book with deliberate slowness. “Did you… just flirt with me?”

His smirk transforms into a full-blown grin, and he leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “Have been for the past year,” he says with maddening nonchalance. “But thanks for noticing.”

Heat rushes to your face, and you narrow your eyes at him. “You’re insufferable.”

“True,” he concedes, leaning back in his chair with the air of someone entirely too pleased with himself. “But admit it—you find it endearing.”

Your response dies on your tongue, because you’re not sure whether to laugh, roll your eyes, or throw a pillow at him. Instead, you settle for a sharp shake of your head and turn back to your book, though you can’t quite suppress the smile tugging at your lips.

From his seat, Mattheo watches you with an unabashed grin, clearly satisfied.