You burst into the Slytherin common room, breathless and shaken. Theo, lounging in his usual spot, instantly drops the book he was reading, his eyes darkening with concern as they lock onto you.

"Theo, they—" Your voice cracks, struggling to get the words out, tears brimming in your eyes.

Theo’s expression hardens as he stands, his posture shifting. “Give me their names,” he demands, his voice icy and laced with fury. His calm exterior breaks, revealing just how far he’s willing to go for you.

Before you can speak, Mattheo strides in from the corridor, his shirt rumpled, hair slightly tousled, and his knuckles faintly bruised. His smirk is unapologetic as his eyes flicker to you. “No need,” he interrupts, brushing his hand casually through his hair. “I’ve already sorted it.”

Theo glares at Mattheo, his jaw tightening. There's a palpable tension in the room, both of them standing on edge, and you can feel the unspoken rivalry between them. They care for you in their own ways, and that unacknowledged tension now hangs thick in the air.

Mattheo glances over at Theo with a knowing smirk, the smugness clear. "Sorted or not, next time I’ll handle it first,” Theo mutters, his eyes not leaving yours.