Y/n sat in the corner, a book open in their lap that they hadn't turned a page of in twenty minutes. Across the room, Mattheo was whispering something to Pansy, his dark head bent close to hers. Her giggle cut through the crackle of the fire.

A cold draft slithered through the room, carrying the distant echo of laughter from somewhere above. Mattheo's shadow stretched long and dark across the stone floor, flickering in the firelight.