The door to the Slytherin common room creaked open as you entered, your footsteps echoing on the stone floor.

Mattheo was lounging on the couch, a lopsided grin playing on his lips as he watched you. With a cigarette in hand, he appeared carefree, but his dark eyes gleamed with intensity as they met yours. —You're late, beautiful —he said in his characteristic teasing tone.

Theodore, sitting next to him, didn’t look up from his book, but a brow arched in response to Mattheo’s words. —Maybe some people have more important things to do than waste time here, Riddle.

Draco, who had been sorting through some papers near the window, let out a dramatic sigh. —Can you not start a fight for five minutes, Nott?

Blaise, always calm and observant, simply leaned against the wall, arms crossed. His eyes analyzed each interaction as if searching for entertainment. —Let’s admit it, it’s much more fun when they fight.

From the corner of the room, Tom Riddle observed the situation in silence, his piercing eyes fixed on you. His usual stoic demeanor remained unchanged, though there was a flicker of something unreadable in his gaze as you entered. —You’re late, but I suppose we can forgive you —he said coolly, not bothering to stand, but his sharp voice carried through the room.

Lorenzo, standing by the fireplace, looked up at the sound of Tom’s voice, the smirk on his face evident as he leaned against the mantel. —Forgive her? That sounds like something out of a romance novel, Tom —he teased, the sarcasm unmistakable.

Regulus, who had been quietly observing from his spot by the table, finally spoke. His voice was calm but commanding. —Stop messing around, Lorenzo. The last thing any of us need is your sarcasm to add fuel to their fire —he said with a subtle grin, his tone both amused and slightly critical.