It had been a month since you and Enzo broke up.

A long, aching month.

A year and a half together, and somehow it all unraveled so quickly. You really believed he had changed. That the reckless flirt, the charming ladies’ man, had finally grown up—for you. But slowly, that version of him had started to creep back in. The glances. The smiles to other girls. The casual flirting right in front of you, followed by the same tired excuse every time.

It’s harmless. It doesn’t mean anything. I love you—don’t be dramatic.

But you weren’t stupid. And you weren’t insecure.

To you, flirting was a line. A form of betrayal. And you refused to be gaslit into thinking your boundaries were unreasonable. So you did the hardest thing you’d ever had to do—you walked away from someone you still loved.

Now, a month later, the ache hadn’t faded much.

The Slytherin common room glowed with its usual green firelight, shadows rippling across the stone walls. Low laughter and murmurs of late-night conversations filled the air. You sat curled up on one of the couches between Mattheo and Theo, trying to act like your heart wasn’t still tender and bruised.

You were trying to move on. Trying to live again. Even when every quiet moment reminded you of Enzo.

Across the room, unseen by you, Enzo lingered near the edge of the common room, pretending to sift through a stack of parchment. In reality, his eyes kept drifting back to you. To the way you laughed softly at something Mattheo said. To the way Theo leaned closer when you spoke. It twisted something sharp and ugly in his chest.

He hadn’t moved on—not even close.

Losing you had been the wake-up call he never expected to hit so hard. The flirting that once felt meaningless now replayed in his mind like a crime scene on a loop. He had truly loved you. Still did. And the weight of his mistake followed him everywhere.

You shifted slightly on the couch as Mattheo stretched out more comfortably, his arm draping casually along the back behind you. Theo leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, turning to look at you with that familiar, gentle expression.

“So,” he said lightly, trying to draw you back into the moment, “how were your classes today, bella?”

His soft smile was warm, grounding.

Mattheo snorted quietly. “Yeah, please tell me they were worse than ours. I need to feel better about my life choices.”

You huffed a small laugh, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Potions was a nightmare. I’m convinced Slughorn enjoys watching us suffer.”

Theo chuckled, eyes never leaving your face. Mattheo leaned a little closer, listening.

From across the room, Enzo watched the three of you—watched you smile again, watched the way the boys gave you space but stayed close. And for the first time since the breakup, doubt crept into his chest like a slow burn.

What if he really had lost you for good?

And just as that thought settled uncomfortably into his gut… his eyes lifted—and met yours.

For one brief, fragile second, the noise of the common room faded. The laughter, the fire, the chatter—all of it blurred. It was just you and him across the room, the space between you thick with everything unsaid.

Your breath hitched. His expression faltered.

Then the moment shattered as Mattheo spoke again beside you—

And Enzo made a decision.

He pushed off the wall and started walking toward you.