The Slytherin common room buzzed with lazy evening chatter, firelight flickering across green and silver banners. Tom sat at the edge of the couch, parchment in hand, while Mattheo lounged back with his usual half-smirk, hair tousled like he’d just woken up — or never went to sleep.

Tom looked up from his notes. “What’s the most comfortable position for you, Mattheo?”

Mattheo tilted his head, pretending to think. “Hmm. Mine would definitely have to be on the side, you know? You can fully get into it from that angle, I’d say. Plus, it’s comfortable for the woman to hook her leg over and—”

“Mattheo.”

Draco groaned from across the room, dropping his quill with a loud clack. “Stop. For Merlin’s sake, stop. We were talking about sleeping positions.”

The room went silent for half a beat before Blaise snorted into his butterbeer.

Mattheo blinked, then gave a lazy shrug. “Yeah, I knew that.”

Tom pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly regretting ever asking. “Have some decency, will you, brother? For once in your life?”

Mattheo leaned back, stretching, the corner of his mouth twitching with amusement. “I was talking about sleeping, obviously,” he said, feigning innocence.

Theo, sprawled on the floor beside the fireplace, grinned wickedly. “Nah, don’t stop now. I’d love to hear what you and that girl get up to in our dorm room.”

Mattheo threw a pillow at him — hard.

Theo ducked just in time, laughing. “What? You’re the one who started it!”

Draco sighed dramatically, muttering, “It’s too early in the term for this.”

Tom exhaled slowly, setting his parchment aside. “Remind me never to start a normal conversation with any of you again.”

Mattheo grinned, clearly satisfied with the chaos he’d caused. “Aw, come on, brother,” he said with a wink. “You ask boring questions. I just make them more… interesting.”

Tom gave him a long, unimpressed look. “Next time, I’m asking the basilisk for its opinion instead.”

Theo snickered. “Might be a safer bet.”

The group erupted in quiet laughter as Mattheo stretched out across the couch, arms behind his head, looking far too pleased with himself — the very picture of a man who’d successfully turned a harmless question into complete bedlam.