The morning sun spilled through the narrow Slytherin dorm windows, casting thin gold across the green-and-silver stone walls. Lennon stretched under the blanket, tucked close to Mattheo, their legs entangled in quiet comfort. The peaceful haze of sleep was still on her when the door creaked. Lorenzo and Theodore tiptoed in, clearly trying not to wake them, but Mattheo stirred and pulled Lennon gently closer.

They had already gotten dressed by the time the rest of the boys returned from the showers, and after a few sleepy murmurs and exchanged looks, Mattheo offered a smirk to Lorenzo that said everything without needing a word.

When they stepped out into the Slytherin common room, hand in hand, Pansy was already waiting, arms folded across her chest like she'd been rehearsing her fury all night.

"Oh, look who finally decided to show their faces," she sneered. "Have fun skipping classes and dinner yesterday?"

Lennon raised an eyebrow, amused, her fingers tightening around Mattheo's. "We had sex again, Pansy. Want to watch next time?"

A few gasps echoed around the common room. Even Draco let out a short, stunned laugh.

Pansy's jaw dropped, face flushing a furious red.

Lennon leaned in just a touch closer. "Or I can slap you again if you'd prefer. Just say the word."

Before Pansy could gather herself enough to respond, Mattheo slipped an arm around Lennon's waist and guided her toward the exit with a proud, knowing grin.

"Let's get breakfast, baby," he said softly.

It was the first time he'd called her that.

Lennon blinked, warmth blooming in her chest. A smile tugged at her lips as she tilted her head to look at him. "Say that again."

He smirked down at her. "Baby."

She bit back a grin and bumped her shoulder into his, heart thudding a little faster.

They slipped into the Great Hall just as the morning buzz reached full swing. Most of the Gryffindor table was already full. Harry, Hermione, Ron, Dean, Seamus, Luna, Ginny—all mid-conversation and halfway through their toast and porridge.

"Lennon!" Hermione called as soon as she noticed them approaching.

They made their way to the Gryffindor table—Mattheo slipping in beside her without hesitation, despite being in Slytherin—and took their seats across from the group. Katie, Oliver, Angelina, Lorenzo, and Theodore followed, plates already in their hands.

Hermione leaned forward, scrutinizing Lennon's neck. "Where have you been? You missed all of yesterday. You and Mattheo both!"

Mattheo didn't even blink. He grinned, reaching for a slice of toast.

"We were busy."

Dean choked on his pumpkin juice. Seamus let out a loud laugh and nearly dropped his fork.

"Bloody hell, you could at least pretend to be subtle," Ron muttered, trying not to smile.

Hermione rolled her eyes, clearly choosing not to respond.

Oliver chuckled. "You both promise not to vanish again though? McGonagall asked us to send an owl if you were missing for another class."

"We promise," Lennon said sweetly, buttering her toast.

Mattheo leaned back against the bench and watched her with amusement, eyes sparkling like he was replaying everything they had done the day before.

The rest of breakfast passed in laughter and teasing. Even Luna added, "It's good you're back. The energy was weird yesterday."

After breakfast, they all headed off to their respective classes. Lennon and Mattheo shared most of their seventh-year classes with the others—Katie, Angelina, Lorenzo, Theodore, and Oliver. Meanwhile, the fifth years—Hermione, Harry, Ron, Luna, Seamus, and Dean—were deep in O.W.L. preparation mode.

By the afternoon, they were all drained. A long session in Defense Against the Dark Arts had left everyone irritable, and McGonagall's Transfiguration assignment didn't help.

"We need to study," Hermione said as they walked out into the courtyard. "O.W.L.s are only weeks away."

Lennon flopped onto the grass beside Katie and let out a sigh. "Newts too. I think my brain is bleeding."

Mattheo dropped beside her and stretched out lazily, using his cloak as a blanket under him. "Let it bleed, baby."

She snorted, nudging him with her foot. "You just like calling me that."

"I do," he said unapologetically, propping himself up on an elbow and watching her as if there was nowhere else he'd rather be.

Books opened. Scrolls unrolled. The courtyard was flooded with sunlight, and the friend group sprawled across the grass like a mismatched tapestry. Gryffindors and Slytherins, Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs—brought together not by house colors, but by laughter and shared exams.

Hermione quizzed Harry and Ron, Luna drifted between reviewing charms and drawing floating diagrams in the air. Theodore and Lorenzo threw parchment at each other between potion notes, and Katie read aloud questions from their Magical Theory book while Angelina answered between bites of apple.

Mattheo and Lennon sat shoulder to shoulder, sharing the same book, his hand brushing hers every time he turned the page.

"Stop that," she whispered.

"Stop what?"

"Touching my fingers on purpose."

"I'm not," he grinned. "I'm just helping you study."

"Liar."

He dipped his head to her ear. "You love it."

Lennon rolled her eyes, but she didn't move away.

The hours slipped by with warm sun and cool wind, and by the time the bells chimed for dinner, everyone looked like they'd fought through a battle made of textbooks.

They packed up and dragged themselves toward the Great Hall.

"Same seats?" Lorenzo asked, adjusting his bag over his shoulder.

"Of course," Oliver said, grinning. "Gryffindor table's our table now."

They slid into their usual places, barely able to keep their eyes open as plates filled with roasted chicken, vegetables, bread, and steaming bowls of stew appeared before them.

Mattheo watched Lennon as she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, and his hand drifted over to hers again, fingers brushing just enough for her to look up.

"Thanks for dragging me back to class today," she murmured.

He smirked. "Had to show the castle you're still alive."

"You sure you weren't just jealous of all the attention I'd get if I vanished?"

"Obviously." He leaned closer. "You're mine, remember?"

Her cheeks flushed, but she didn't look away. "I know."

After dinner, they all walked together through the castle halls, voices low and filled with talk of exams, ridiculous professors, and who might end up crying first during the tests. The candles along the corridor flickered as they passed, casting them in golden shadows.

They reached the split in the hallway—one way toward the Gryffindor tower, the other back toward the dungeons.

Lennon and Mattheo stopped.

"I'll walk you up," he said softly.

"You don't have to," she replied, but he was already moving.

They climbed the stairs together in silence until they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady. The hallway was empty, the hour growing late.

Lennon turned to him, stepping into his space. "Today was good."

"Better with you," he said.

She smiled, and his hand rose to gently touch her jaw. He tilted her chin up, eyes full of something far quieter than lust or teasing—something steady and real.

"I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Always."

She kissed him, slow and sure, her fingers curling against his collar. When they parted, he whispered, "Goodnight, baby."

Lennon laughed softly. "Goodnight, Riddle."

And with a last glance, she slipped inside the common room.

Mattheo stood there for a moment longer, watching the closed portrait door. Then he turned and disappeared into the shadows of the corridor, the taste of her still lingering on his lips.