The torchlight flickered against the cold stone walls of the ancient castle. The air was cool, the faint scent of parchment and old magic lingering as your footsteps echoed softly down the corridor.

Despite the stillness of the castle, you couldn’t escape the feeling of being surrounded—not by the silence, but by them.

Mattheo was the first to speak, his voice low but filled with his usual teasing lilt. “You know, wandering off alone in the middle of the night isn’t exactly a brilliant idea.” He leaned casually against the wall as if he’d been waiting for you to notice him, his dark curls falling over his forehead and that maddening smirk playing on his lips.

Tom appeared from the shadows with an easy grace, his hands tucked into the pockets of his tailored robes. His dark eyes glimmered with calm amusement. “You might as well accept it,” he said smoothly. “We’re not going anywhere. It’s not in our nature to let you run headlong into trouble.”

Behind him, Draco was leaning against a stone pillar, his arms crossed and a confident grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “And we all know how you attract trouble,” he added. “It’s practically a talent at this point.”

You huffed a sigh, your eyes flicking toward Theodore, who had remained quiet so far, standing just far enough away to seem uninvolved—but his sharp eyes never left you.

Regulus and Theodore gave a soft, sardonic chuckle from where they leaned against the banister of a grand staircase, their eyes glinting with something between amusement and concern.

Lorenzo, silent until now, stepped forward. His dark eyes bore into yours, calm but unyielding. “You may not want us here, but that doesn’t change anything. We’re not leaving.”

You sighed again, turning back toward the corridor, feeling their collective gaze like a shield against the night. Protective. Overwhelming.