The Slytherin common room hummed with low laughter and the crackle of the fire as the boys lounged lazily in their usual corner. Mattheo, Draco, Lorenzo, Theodore, and Blaise were deep in one of their idle, late-night conversations—this time, about girls.

Theodore leaned back in his chair, eyes scanning the room before settling on you. A slow, knowing smirk tugged at his lips as he lifted his chin in your direction. “What about her?” he asked casually.

Draco barely spared you a glance before scoffing, shaking his head. “No chance,” he said coolly. “She’s far too good for any of this.”

Lorenzo let out a sharp laugh, leaning forward with mischief dancing in his eyes. “I bet she’s still a virgin.”

A ripple of chuckles spread through the group, Blaise smirking faintly as Theodore huffed in amusement. But one of them didn’t join in.

Mattheo.

He remained silent for a moment, his gaze fixed, dark and unreadable. Then, slowly, a smirk curved his lips—one that didn’t quite match the lightness of the others.

“She’s not,” he said quietly.

And just like that, the laughter faltered.