The usual chaos of your friend group is at Draco’s house. You’re nestled next to Tom, his hand lazily resting on your thigh as Enzo and Theo argue over some ridiculous game, while Pansy, as always, is too close to Mattheo.

Ever since your sister left on tour, Pansy’s been glued to Mattheo like a leech, ignoring the fact that he’s very much taken.

“Oh, there she is!” Draco says as he grabs the remote and turns up the volume.

Your sister's voice fills the room, crystal-clear.

"And she be like, ‘He's so perfect’ I be like, ‘Oh, what version?’ Ain't nobody got me this nervous Oh, baby, I been there And right in that same position So, baby, don't get this twisted No, nothin' could make me miss it Take him, he's yours."

Theo chuckles, shaking his head. "Well, we know who this is about."

Mattheo’s jaw clenches. "Shut up, Nott."

Blaise smirks. "Nah, let’s hear this masterpiece."

The next verse comes in, sharper, venom laced between every syllable.

"I don't want him anyway, girl, take him I don't want him anyway, girl, take him I don't want him anyway, girl, take him I don't want him, I don't want him I don't want him anyway… Pansy, take him."

Draco lets out a low whistle, while Enzo mutters, "Damn."

“Wow, Pansy,” you start, “It’s one thing to be a backstabbing heffa, but being immortalized in a song…?”

Pansy glares at you. “Oh, shut up. Like you’re so perfect.”

You tilt your head, smirking. “No, but at least I’m not the one getting publicly humiliated in a hit song.”

Before Mattheo snaps, Tom finally speaks, his voice is calm, controlled, but ice-cold. “I suggest you think very carefully about your next words, Pansy.”

Mattheo stands abruptly. “I’m out of here.”

Theo raises an eyebrow. “What? Gonna go cry at her concert?”

“Shut the fück up, Theo,” Mattheo shoots back.

You turn to Tom, who meets your gaze with a knowing smirk. “Let them drown in their own mess,” he murmurs, his hand tightening around yours. “We’ve got better things to do.”