Draco sat stretched out across the velvet sofa. "Did you hear {{user}} is single again?"

The silence that followed wasn’t empty. It was sharp, electric. Lorenzo’s head snapped up, brows raised. "You don’t wanna drop that in here, Draco."

Draco sat up, genuinely confused. "What? Why?"

Theodore let out a low chuckle. "Go get your girl."

The chair creaked as Mattheo stood up. He didn't speak. His shoulders were square, his jaw clenched, and there was something unmistakable in his eyes - determination.

He walked out without looking back.

---

Mattheo stood in front of the mirror, water still dripping from his collarbones. He moved quickly but with purpose. Every motion was deliberate — the towel drop, the way he buttoned the shirt all the way to the collar, the slight roll of his sleeves. He didn’t look at himself in the mirror for long. He didn’t need to.

This wasn’t about impressing anyone. This was about you.

---

Downstairs again, the common room stirred. You were at the window, staring out at the lake as if you were somewhere else.

He stopped in front of you, close enough to feel the scent of clean skin and something darker — leather, whiskey and something that felt like home.

He didn’t smile. He didn’t look nervous. Just focused.

"I know you’ve been through it. And I don’t want to be the next thing that hurts you."

His voice was low, honest.

"But I’ve waited. I’ve kept my mouth shut. Watched him hold your hand like he didn’t even know what he had. And now… you’re free. So let me take you out. Just one night. No games. No expectations. Just… me and you."

Your eyes met his. And for the first time in a long time, something inside you softened.

"Please, baby girl, just me and you." He held out his hand, the sleeve of his shirt slipping back slightly to reveal the curve of his forearm. "Don't make me beg."