The common room buzzed faintly with the chatter of students. You stood by the corner table, talking animatedly with Theodore. Or trying to, anyway.

"Merlin, you're so annoying," Theo muttered, though there was no bite in his tone—just that usual mix of exasperation and dry humor that only he seemed to master.

"What are you talking about?" you shot back.

Theo shook his head, running a hand through his hair. "Seriously? I just can't figure you out!" His voice held a strange frustration this time, something deeper beneath the surface that you couldn’t quite place.

Before you could press him further, Theo turned on his heel, retreating toward the staircase.

"Theo, wait!" you called after him, but he didn’t stop.

From the armchair nearby, Mattheo let out a low scoff. You turned to see him lounging lazily, his dark eyes sparkling with amusement—and something else you couldn’t quite name.

"Why do you let him treat you like that?" Mattheo asked, straightening up slightly as he studied your face.

"I… I don’t know," you admitted quietly.

Mattheo stood, his usual carefree demeanor shifting into something more serious as he crossed the room toward you. His gaze held yours, steady and intent.

"I could treat you so much better," he said, his voice low but resolute. "I’ve known you forever—figuring you out."

Your heart skipped at the intensity in his words. "What do you mean?"

Mattheo stepped closer, his roguish grin softening into something genuine. "I could love you with my eyes closed, kiss you with a blindfold, figure you out." He paused, his hand brushing lightly against yours. "I might hold you with my hands tied, show you I’m the right guy to figure you out."

For a moment, you couldn’t breathe, the weight of his words sinking in. Finally, you managed a small, tentative smile, the corners of your lips lifting almost on their own.

Mattheo’s grin widened, his teasing nature flickering back into his expression. "There’s that smile," he murmured.