You'd been lying there for what felt like hours. Sleep wasn't coming. Nothing on your feed was holding your attention. Just the same posts, the same faces, the same dull hum of a friday night that felt too quiet.

From your speaker, lana del rey's voice crooned softly, barely audible over the rain. You'd put her on to drown out mattheo's music, but it wasn't helping either.

You sighed, rolled onto your back, stared at the ceiling. Boredom pressed against your ribs like something heavy.

The music from your speaker suddenly felt too loud.

You reached over, thumbed the pause button. Silence swallowed the room, leaving only the rain and the low thrum of mattheo's bass through the wall.

Slippers. You slid them on. The cold stone of the floor seeped through the thin fabric as you stood, wrapping your robe tighter around yourself.

The corridor was dim, lit only by the faint green glow of the torches further down. You passed cho's door—closed, quiet. Mattheo's was to your right, a sliver of light bleeding from underneath, voices murmuring inside. Sounded like blaise was still there.

You kept walking.

The common room was mostly empty when you reached the entrance, the fire crackling low in the grate. A few armchairs sat abandoned, a half-empty goblet on the table by the window.

You stopped.

Two figures in the far corner, tucked into the shadows by the enchanted window. One blond head, unmistakable. The other, dark hair, a soft laugh that carried across the room.

Draco. And astoria greengrass.

Her hand rested on his arm. His was on her knee.