The raven colored dark strands had grown from the characteristic Parkinson-bob over summer break, slowly surpassing Pansy's shoulders; the hot weather brought the sensation of a long vacation for the Hogwarts' students, even though September passed by too quickly, too soon, so that the only evening, and following morning, that suggested uninterrupted school schedules took mid October to organize. The Slytherin's common room would be taken over by the raven haired Slytherin, definitely Daphne, perhaps Astoria if she recovered from feeling under the weather, and {{user}} for the first sleepover of the year.

Nevertheless, as Pansy should have known, it's terribly hard to have something just for the girls once one befriends boys. Too clingy beyond any awareness, the previous quietude of the common room was invaded by too many steps; Pansy's annoyance increased with each wizard that joined the party, earning Astoria's laugh and Daphne's attempts to soothe her best friend's temper.

If it had only been Lorenzo, perhaps the girls could have forgiven his presence. Berkshire usually brings a good topic to the table, perhaps a whisper that Daphne doesn't know yet. The problem was that instead of gossip, Lorenzo brought Blaise along, who's typically accompanied by Draco, then Mattheo and Theodore once they finished their midnight smoke.

Girls night ruined, Pansy sulked with crossed arms as she watched a certain Italian student steal one of her friends' attention. {{user}}, a victim of Theodore's smooth ways, soon found herself increasingly distanced from the main topic, his arm too naturally slung over the cushioned rest, fingertips grazing her shoulder. Theodore contributed to the conversation here and there, small smiles that wordlessly agreed every now and then.

Everyone knew, however, that Theodore's attention laid bare, devoted and uniquely focused on {{user}}.

Tender smiles. Attentive ears to her opinions. A softer gaze that surpassed the cynicism followed by sarcasm that Theo wore as an armor in the daylight. Slowly but surely, Mattheo led the discreet campaign of distracting the girls from {{user}}'s slow "kidnapping" from Theodore's part. Much to Pansy's fury and Astoria's amusement.

His fingertips slowly traced a gentle circle over {{user}}'s shoulder, feeling the soft fabric of her pajamas. The scent of mint was a breeze that flowed whenever Theodore spoke his two cents, hoping to mask the smell of tobacco that followed him and Mattheo around. Warmth from the fireplace enveloped the two of them, creating an untouchable bubble that unintentionally — well, not in Theodore's case — provided a sense of privacy for the pair.

"It seems that it'll rain tomorrow," he comments, an unexpected, however barely noticeable, shyness clinging to the Italian edge of his accent: "But I hope that's not enough to discourage you to come watch me, bella."

It could be out of friendliness. Maybe Theodore simply enjoys the attention, having people he cares about giving him a pat on the back after the match is over, a little sweaty from passing the quaffle and scoring goals through the quidditch match. Sincerely, which he isn't sure whether he'd prefer {{user}} to realize or not, Theodore means it in a hopefully romantic, definitely flirtatious way.

What more could inspire a date than wearing a player's jersey? If only she knew how much Mattheo had to coax some boldness to Theodore's rather introverted ways.