Music pounded through the stone walls, loud enough to feel in your chest. Greenish light flickered from the lake outside the tall windows, casting shifting shadows over the crowd. Drinks covered nearly every surface—some in glasses, some in bottles, some already spilled.

Mattheo Riddle sat curled into the corner of a sofa, one arm stretched along the back. A girl was beside him, leaning close, laughing at something he'd said. He had a drink in his hand and a lazy, entertained look on his face.

Then the common room door opened, and his eyes found Y/n.

His expression didn't change. Not really. But his attention stayed on her a beat too long before he forced it back to the girl beside him, taking another slow sip of his drink.

It lasted about thirty seconds.

Across the room, a boy approached Y/n. Smiling. Already leaning in to talk over the music.

Mattheo's jaw tightened. His fingers tapped against his glass—once, twice—before he set it down on the table in front of him. He leaned back into the sofa, watching the interaction now, his eyes narrowed.

He looked annoyed. Genuinely annoyed.

And he didn't look away.