It was late, and most of the students had either gone to bed or retreated to quiet corners to study.

Tom stood near the fire, one hand pressed against the stone, staring into the flames. His eyes were unfocused, not so much watching the fire as trying to tame something brewing inside him.

Meanwhile, Theodore lay sprawled on the armrest of a sofa while Mattheo sat on the opposite end with his legs up.

"Didn’t you say you could handle her, Tom?" Theodore says, sitting up with a grin.

"I said I could," Tom mutters, not turning around. "And I do."

"You do?" Mattheo asks, amused, arching a brow. "Because you look like the victim of a really nasty curse, brother."

Tom stiffens but doesn’t look at them. "I have got it under control," he says, slower this time, as if he needs to say it aloud to convince himself.

Theodore chuckles, his eyes flicking towards the dormitory staircase. "You keep saying that..." he begins, then trails off.

The door to the girls’ dormitory swings open and you step into the room.

Your jumper — his jumper — is hanging off one shoulder, clearly pulled on in a hurry. It rides dangerously high on your thighs, leaving your legs bare. Your hair is slightly wild, your lips are parted and your eyes are fixed firmly on Tom.

Theodore's brows lift slowly. He leans forward, watching Tom as though he were a cat watching a mouse that had wandered too close to the trap.

"Your control has bare legs and she is staring at you..." Theodore says.

Tom doesn’t move. He doesn't breathe. It's as if your presence has sucked all the oxygen out of the room. Slowly, very slowly, he turns his head to look at you.

You don't look away. Nor do you smile. You just stare at him as if you know what you're doing.

Mattheo sits up straighter. "She’s not just staring, bro..." he says, his voice low. "That’s the ‘I’m ovulating and you’re not making it out of this alive’ look."

Tom's lips part slightly. He tries to think of something clever, something cold, something to reassert control.

Nothing comes.

"I am doomed," Tom says quietly.

You start walking across the common room.

Theodore grins, utterly entertained.

"Should we... leave?" Mattheo asks, gesturing between the two of you.

"No," Theodore says. "I want to watch him crash and burn."

"You're both insufferable," Tom mutters, still frozen.

You stop right in front of him, tilt your head and trail your eyes slowly over him. "Hi, Tom," you say, your voice soft.

His throat bobs as he swallows. His hands curl into fists at his sides as though he's trying to summon every ounce of restraint he has left.

"...I'm so doomed," he whispers.

Behind you, Theodore and Mattheo simultaneously burst out laughing.