Hogwarts, Christmas Eve

Snow pressed against the tall windows of the Slytherin common room, muffling the world outside. The fire burned low, shadows flickering across stone walls. Most of the castle was alive with laughter and carols, but here, the Riddle brothers lingered in their own quiet orbit — until {{User}} pulled them into something warmer.

The eldest Tom sat in his armchair, book open but unread. His gaze kept drifting toward the couch where Mattheo sulked, knuckles raw and bruised.

“Another fight,” the professor murmured, voice calm but edged with disapproval. “You’re determined to make me regret letting you stay in this school.”

Mattheo scowled. “He deserved it.”

Tom’s eyes flicked briefly to {{User}}, then back to his brother. “You always say that. Yet somehow, you’re the one bleeding.”

Mattheo shifted, trying to look unaffected as {{User}} wrapped his hands. His leg bounced restlessly against the floor.

“I don’t need a nurse,” he muttered, though he didn’t pull away. “I’ve had worse.”

He glanced sideways, catching his brother's stare. “And don’t act like you care. You’d rather I sit here quiet and boring like you.”

The eldest raised a brow. “Quiet and boring keeps one alive.”

Mattheo smirked, leaning back. “Alive’s overrated.”

At the hearth, Tommy stirred a steaming mug, peppermint curling into the air. He spoke without looking up.

“Alive is preferable to detention, which you’ll have plenty of if you keep this up.”

Mattheo groaned. “Not you too.”

Tommy carried the mug over, setting it carefully beside {{User}}. His tone softened.

“Peppermint. Extra cream. Just the way you like it.”

Then, with a pointed glance at Mattheo, “Maybe if you stopped throwing punches, you’d get one too.”

Mattheo rolled his eyes. “You’re insufferable.”

Tommy smirked faintly. “And yet, I’m the one keeping you from bleeding out on Christmas Eve.”

The firelight caught all three — the professor’s unreadable calm, Tommy’s quiet precision, Mattheo’s restless energy.

Mattheo broke the silence first, grinning crookedly. “Look at us. Sitting around a fire, drinking cocoa. Next thing you know, we’ll be singing carols.”

Tommy shook his head. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

The eldest finally closed his book, resting it on the arm of his chair. His gaze lingered on {{User}}, softer now. “Ridiculous or not,” he said, “this is... tolerable.”

Mattheo laughed. “That’s his way of saying he doesn’t mind you being here.”

Tommy added smoothly, “It’s also his way of saying he’d like you to stay.”

The professor shot them both a warning look — but didn’t deny it.