PLEASE VOTE AND COMMENT

The Room of Requirement had transformed into a fully equipped training room—stone walls lined with enchanted punching bags, weights stacked neatly in a corner, and a large mat in the center for sparring. The air was thick with exertion, a faint metallic scent of sweat lingering as Y/N worked through her routine.

Her fists, wrapped in black bandages, struck the heavy bag in precise, devastating blows. Jab. Cross. Hook. Uppercut. Each impact echoed through the room, the bag swinging violently under the force of her attacks. The chains suspending it groaned, struggling to hold on.

She didn't stop.

Not even when she heard the door creak open.

Not even when the sound of multiple sets of feet hesitated just inside the threshold.

Not even when Theo muttered a breathless, "No bloody way."

She ignored them.

Like always.

Her focus remained unshaken as she launched into a spinning kick, her foot slamming into the bag so hard that it nearly detached from its chains.

A sharp inhale. A muffled curse.

A stunned silence.

And then—

"Did she just dent that?"

"The bag is enchanted," Blaise whispered, sounding faintly horrified.

Draco crossed his arms, his usual cool demeanor faltering. "How the hell did we not know about this?"

Y/N didn't respond.

She stepped away from the bag, her breathing steady despite the brutal workout. Without hesitation, she reached for the pull-up bar, gripping it firmly before hoisting herself up with effortless control.

Still, she didn't acknowledge them.

Still, she ignored them.

Mattheo, who had been silent up until now, took a slow step forward, his dark eyes locked onto her like she was a puzzle he had yet to solve. "Love?" His voice was quiet but sharp.

She didn't answer.

Didn't flinch.

Didn't even look at him.

Theo groaned. "Merlin's sake, she's actually ignoring us."

"Yeah," Draco muttered. "I don't think we exist to her right now."

Blaise let out a low whistle, shaking his head. "That's honestly worse."

She dropped back down, immediately moving to the nearest set of dumbbells and starting into squats. Her muscles tensed, her form perfect, her expression unreadable.

Mattheo exhaled through his nose, watching her carefully.

"How long?" he finally asked, his voice lower now, more serious.

Nothing.

She moved through her reps, still perfectly in rhythm.

Mattheo's jaw ticked. "How long have you been training like this?"

Silence.

A sharp exhale.

Blaise, still staring at the bag she had nearly destroyed earlier, exhaled through his nose. "I don't think I've ever felt less like a man."

Theo groaned. "Same. And it's making me deeply uncomfortable."

Draco let out a breathy laugh. "We should leave before she decides we're her next warm-up."

Enzo nodded, rubbing his jaw. "Yeah. Before she kills one of us by accident."

Mattheo, however, had other plans.

With a sharp inhale, he stepped forward, grabbing her wrist just as she reached for another set of weights.

For the first time, Y/N stilled.

Her head tilted slightly, her dark eyes meeting his with eerie calm, like she had only just registered his presence.

Mattheo scowled. "Enough."

And then, without another word, he yanked her forward, crashing his lips onto hers.

The force of it stole the breath from both of them. His hands gripped her waist, pulling her close, pressing himself firmly against her. He kissed her like he was trying to pull her back from wherever the hell she had gone.

For a moment, she didn't react.

Then, finally—she kissed him back.

Her grip on his shirt tightened, her body relaxing into his, her lips moving with his in a way that made his head spin. He could still taste the salt of her sweat, feel the way her body was wound tight with tension.

And then, just as abruptly as he had grabbed her, she pulled back.

Her dark eyes locked onto his, assessing.

A long silence stretched between them.

Then, finally, she spoke.

"...What?" Her voice was hoarse from exertion.

Mattheo let out a breathless laugh, his forehead resting against hers. "Oh, now you acknowledge me?"

Behind them, the boys were still staring, utterly speechless.

Theo, wide-eyed, leaned over to Blaise and muttered, "Did he just—"

Blaise, still in shock, nodded. "Yeah. And it worked."

Draco groaned. "I hate them."

Enzo just shook his head. "That was either the dumbest or the smartest thing he's ever done."

Mattheo ignored them all, his grip on her tightening slightly. "How long have you been doing this?"

This time, she answered.

"Two years."

Silence.

Blaise blinked. "Two years?"

Y/N nodded, stepping away from Mattheo to grab a water bottle. "Right before me and Matty got together." She took a sip, then wiped her mouth. "I knew girls would flirt with him, and I wanted to be able to defend him."

Another silence.

Draco made a choking sound. "You—you what?"

Blaise let out a sharp, disbelieving laugh. "Hold on. Hold on. You started training like a bloody assassin—because of flirty girls?"

Y/N shrugged. "And to stay in shape."

Theo covered his mouth with his hand, trying so hard not to laugh. "No, no, no. That's actually insane. You—" He exhaled, shaking his head. "You were out here training like a mercenary just in case some girl tried to hit on Mattheo?"

Y/N rolled her shoulders. "Worked, didn't it?"

Mattheo was staring at her like she had just told him the secrets of the universe. His lips parted, then closed. Then parted again.

Then—

"That," he finally breathed, "is the hottest thing I've ever heard."

Theo groaned. "Of course you'd say that."

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose. "This is ridiculous."

Enzo just let out a slow, impressed whistle. "Well. That explains... a lot."

Blaise was still shaking his head, staring at the destroyed punching bag. "Mate. That bag didn't even flirt with Mattheo."

Y/N smirked, cracking her knuckles. "Good thing. It wouldn't have survived if it did."

The boys all collectively decided to never make her angry.