The common room is quieter than usual, but not in a peaceful way. It’s the kind of silence that hums just beneath the surface until something…or someone…finally expIodes.

Enzo glances between you and Mattheo.

“So…” he begins carefully, “any names yet? Or are we calling it Chaos Child until she’s born?”

Pansy shoots him a look. “Now is really not the time, Enzo.”

He raises his hands. “It was just a question.”

“Right. A question,” she mutters. “In a room with more tension than a cursed cauldron.”

Enzo shrugs. “I’m just saying. The baby is going to need a name eventually.”

Across Mattheo, you sit frozen—locked in a silent battle of cold stares and unspoken words. Neither of you have looked away since you sat down.

Finally, Mattheo speaks, voice low. “We haven’t really talked about that yet.”

Enzo clears his throat. “Oh… yeah… well…I’ll just stop talking now.”

Your glare sharpens like ice against Mattheo, but he doesn’t look away.

“I think I’ll go check on Daphne,” Pansy says, pushing back her chair. “She’s… still not really herself.”

Enzo jumps up immediately. “And I’m gonna, uhm, go find Draco. Pretend he missed me.”

He chuckles on his way out. “He didn’t. But at least he yells in full sentences.”

Before leaving, Enzo passes Mattheo and gives him a brief pat on the back.

Mattheo doesn’t move, but his eyes stay on you.

“You’re staring, princess,” he finally says..

You just keep glaring in silence.

“If you keep looking at me like that, I might think you like me.”

“You’d know, Mattheo,” you reply sharply.

He smirks, but there’s no humor in it. “You hate me. But not enough to look away.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you cut in. I’m still angry enough to stare.”

For a moment, his gaze drops. Not out of shame—but maybe regret.

“You think I liked leaving you with Theo?” he asks, eyes rising again to meet yours. “I hated it. Every second.”

“Good,” you snap back.. “Because I hated you for it.”

Mattheo lets out a deep exhale. “I knew you would. But I needed to know you were safe… even if it meant letting you go with him.”

You swallow hard. “I didn’t feel safe. Not without you.”

Mattheo looks like he’s fighting something inside himself, something dangerous, something fragile. He hesitates—then finally asks what’s been clawing at him.

“Did he touch you?”

You blink as his question stays in the air for a moment.

“No, he didn’t.”

A flicker of relief flashes across his face. His shoulders drop ever so slightly as he nods. You inhale slowly, your voice shaky this time. “I kissed him.”

Mattheo’s entire posture shifts. His jaw tightens, and his eyes darken like storm clouds rolling in. “You did what?”

You take a shaky breath as a lump forms in your throat. You didn’t have to tell him. But a part of you needed him to know. And now as he stares at you in disbelief, you’re wondering if that part was right.