The next morning, you’re lounging in the Slytherin common room, trying to relax after the party. The night had been wild, and you had ended it with Mattheo. As you sit, adjusting your sweater to cover the marks on your neck, Draco enters the room and notices your odd behavior. He narrows his eyes suspiciously.

“What is that on your neck?” he asks, his tone sharp as he steps closer.

“Nothing,” you say quickly, trying to hide the evidence.

Draco scoffs as he grabs your wrist gently but firmly, moving your hand away to reveal the hickeys littering your neck. “Hickeys? Seriously? “Who are they from?”

You shift uncomfortably. “No one, Draco,” you mutter.

From the corridor, Mattheo and Theo overhear the conversation. Theo grins mischievously, his voice dripping with amusement as he whispers to Mattheo, “He’s going to kill you, you know that?”

Mattheo glares at Theo. “Fück you, Theo,” he mutters, knowing full well that Draco isn’t going to take this lightly. He should have controlled himself, but he couldn’t help it. You had that effect on him. Always did.

As Mattheo walks through the common room, your eyes immediately lock onto his. His dark gaze lingers on you for a moment, and he gives you a barely noticeable nod before continuing on his way, trying to play it cool.

Draco notices the exchange. His jaw clenches as realization dawns. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.” His gaze snaps back to you, his tone full of disbelief. "Riddle?!"

You don’t say anything, but the guilt on your face is enough.

“Unbelievable,” Draco mutters. He starts to follow Mattheo, but you quickly grab his arm, stopping him.

“Draco, don’t,” you plead.

Draco glares at you, torn between his protectiveness and his anger. “We’re not done with this,” he warns, shaking you off as he storms out of the room.

Across the room, Mattheo glances back over his shoulder at you, a sly grin forming on his lips. He knows this is far from over, but there’s no way in hell he's staying away from you.