The Slytherin common room hummed with low chatter and the crackle of green-tinged firelight, shadows dancing along the stone walls. You were leaning over the table, sorting through your notes, when you heard his voice — smooth, sharp, and already irritated.

“What makes you think you can talk to me?”

Mattheo didn’t even bother hiding the bite in his tone. He lounged back against the arm of the sofa, dark eyes fixed on you like you’d personally offended his entire bloodline.

You didn’t look up right away. You knew exactly how to get under his skin.

“Must be because you’re so approachable,” you said, flipping a page as if he wasn’t glaring holes into the side of your head.

Theo choked on a laugh. Draco raised an eyebrow. Blaise smirked behind his book.

Mattheo sat up slowly, elbows on his knees, that warning look settling over his face like storm clouds.

“Careful.”

His voice dropped — low, dangerous, the kind that made the air feel heavier.

You finally lifted your gaze to him, matching his stare without flinching.

“Or what?”

The room went still.

Enzo whispered, “Oh, she’s dead.” Blaise muttered, “She’s really pushing him today.” Draco didn’t even pretend not to be watching.

Mattheo rose from the couch, steps slow and deliberate, like a predator deciding exactly how to handle prey that didn’t know it was prey.

He stopped right in front of you, close enough that the heat of him brushed your skin, close enough that your next breath tangled with his.

His eyes were dark — not angry, not annoyed. Something worse. Something hungry.

A slow smirk touched his mouth.

“You really want to find out what happens when you push me, sweetheart?”

Theo leaned over to Draco. “She’s gonna get herself dragged into a broom closet.” “Or hexed,” Draco whispered back. “Or kissed,” Blaise added.

Mattheo didn’t look away from you for a second.

And you didn’t look away either.

The boys watched, fascinated, like the world’s most chaotic Greek chorus waiting for the explosion.

Mattheo tilted his head, studying you like a challenge he desperately wanted to lose himself in.

“So?” he murmured. “What’s it going to be?”