Sara's eyelids fluttered open, her brain throbbing painfully with each beat of her heart. The light pierced her eyes like needles, and she groaned, shielding her face with a hand. The room around her was unfamiliar—spacious, adorned with dark curtains and Slytherin banners hanging from the walls. Panic fluttered in her chest as she realized she was not in her own bed.
She was wearing a T-shirt, obviously not hers; it was far too large, hanging off her shoulder. The scent of cologne clung to it—a familiar scent that made her stomach twist. Slowly, very slowly, Sara turned her head to the side, her heart sinking as she saw the figure next to her. Mattheo. His hair was a mess, his breathing even, unmistakably the source of the cologne.
Shit.
Memories of the previous night flashed through her mind—laughter, the clink of glasses, running down the hallway with Mattheo, his hands pulling her close, their lips crashing against each other as they stumbled against the wall of the corridor.
Groaning, she rubbed her temples, her movement stirring Mattheo awake. His eyes blinked open, confusion clouding them for a moment before his gaze focused on Sara.
"Morning," Mattheo murmured, his voice rough with sleep. He propped himself on one elbow, looking at her with an unreadable expression. "You okay?"
Sara sat up, clutching the sheet to her chest, despite the modesty the oversized shirt provided. "Yeah, just... my head is killing me. What... what happened?"
Mattheo ran a hand through his hair, sitting up. "We, uh, we had a bit too much fun at the party. Ended up here."
"Here," she echoed, her voice a whisper. Memories continued to bombard her—his laugh, the warmth of his touch, the softness of his lips.
"Yeah," Mattheo said, a half-smile appearing on his face as he recounted. "You were pretty adamant about proving you could outdrink Blaise. Then we... well, we got carried away. You know, running around, making out... here."
Sara's cheeks warmed at the casual way he described their antics. "Right," she muttered, piecing her dignity back together. "I remember... somewhat."
There was a pause, an awkward silence stretching between them. Mattheo looked at her, his eyes searching her face for any sign of discomfort.
"We don't have to make this weird, Sara," he finally said. "It was just a night. We were both drunk. It doesn't have to change anything."
Sara met his gaze, the earnestness in his eyes somewhat reassuring. "Yeah, I agree. It was a mistake, but it's not a big deal. We can just... keep this between us, right? Just forget it happened."
"Exactly," Mattheo nodded. "No need to tell anyone. We're cool, Sara. This won't change anything."
They both smiled, a tentative agreement hanging in the air. It was a mistake. It didn't mean anything. They could move past this.
"Yeah, we're cool," Sara repeated, her voice more confident. She swung her legs out of bed, ready to leave the room and the mistake behind.
"See you at breakfast?" Sara asked, gathering her outfit from the party the night before and slipping on her shoes as she made her way to the door.
"See you at breakfast," Mattheo repeated, trying not to notice the way Sara was clutching her jacket tighter around her. He watched her leave, eyes lingering on her long strides as she made her way out the door. He then returned to sleep, completely unbothered by the actions of the night before.
The Great Hall buzzed with the chatter of students and the clatter of dishes as breakfast was served. Sara slipped into her seat at the Slytherin table, her head pounding with every sound. She reached for a cup of black coffee, sipping it slowly, hoping it would ease her hangover.
