The room was dim. A desk lamp glowed warm over a pile of textbooks he had no intention of touching. His tie was somewhere on the floor. His shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves pushed up. He looked, as ever, like he'd just walked out of a photoshoot without noticing.

He tapped through a few stories — Blaise's coffee, Lorenzo's dog, Draco's mirror selfie — before pausing. His thumb hovered over the screen.

Just post it. It's a song. It's not a bat signal.

He opened his camera roll, selected a slightly grainy photo of the ceiling, and added the song: In My Room — Julia Wolf.

He stared at the preview. Caption: nothing. Just the song. Just the vibe. Nothing incriminating.

She's not even going to see this. You're an idiot.

He posted it.

The story went live. Theo locked his phone, tossed it onto the duvet, and picked up a book he'd already read twice. He made it three lines before unlocking his phone again.

No views.

For fuck's sake. Get a grip.

The minutes stretched. Somewhere down the corridor, Mattheo was yelling about Quidditch. Theo ignored it. The song still played quietly from his headphones, half-forgotten.

Then — a small red notification.

y/n liked your story.

He picked the phone up again.

She probably just liked the song.

A new notification.

y/n replied to your story.

Why is this so difficult? You talk to people every day. You've charmed professors into giving you extensions. You've talked your way out of detention. And now you're staring at a DM like it's a N.E.W.T. question.

He typed something, backspaced, then let his thumbs do the rest.

Smooth. Very casual. You've definitely got this.

The message sat there. Blue bubble. Delivered.

Theo watched the screen as if it might catch fire.