Daphne Greengrass pushed open the heavy stone door, Y/n at her side, both fresh from the library. The warmth of the fire hit them immediately, along with the low murmur of conversation.

By the fireplace, sprawled across the dark leather sofas and armchairs, were the usual suspects. Lorenzo Berkshire was lounging with one arm draped over the back of the sofa, laughing at something Blaise Zabini had just said. Draco Malfoy sat in a high-backed chair, looking vaguely bored as he examined his nails. Mattheo Riddle was on the floor, leaning against the sofa leg, a cigarette tucked behind his ear.

And Theodore Nott was in the armchair closest to the fire, a book open on his lap. He wasn't reading it. His sleepy blue eyes were fixed on the door.

Without a word, he cupped her face gently and kissed her. It wasn't a peck. It was slow, deliberate, and unmistakably intimate.