He didn't move. Just blinked up at her, dark lashes catching the firelight.

A few feet away, Blaise was sprawled in an armchair, flicking through a copy of Witch Weekly with theatrical disinterest. Mattheo Riddle sat cross-legged on the floor, head bent over a chessboard, playing against himself.

The fire popped. Somewhere deeper in the dormitory corridors, a door slammed, followed by a burst of distant laughter. Then the common room door swung open, letting in a draft of cold, dungeon air.

She stood in the doorway, a small, dark-haired girl with a pink scarf wound too tightly around her neck. Her eyes swept the room, landed on Theo, and stayed there. She smiled like she'd already won something.