Detention is unusually quiet.

Too quiet.

Seven boys sit scattered around the classroom, parchment half-filled, quills scratching with varying levels of irritation. The candles flicker overhead, shadows dancing across scowls and bored expressions.

Mattheo is leaned back in his chair, boots hooked around the legs, spinning his wand between his fingers like he’s daring the universe to say something. Draco looks personally offended by the dust on the desk. Blaise hasn’t even bothered pretending to write. Theo is staring into space like he’s planning at least three crimes. Enzo hums under his breath, already halfway to insanity. Regulus writes neatly, jaw tight, counting the minutes.

Tom doesn’t look up at all.

Then the door creaks open.

You step inside like you own the place.

Seven heads snap up in unison.

Mattheo’s lips curl immediately. Oh Merlin, it’s you.

Draco groans and drops his quill. You’ve got to be joking.

You smile sweetly and stroll in, hands clasped behind your back, eyes sparkling with mischief. Professor McGonagall just told me to drop something off. She said I should be quick.

Tom’s eyes narrow. That tone. He knows that tone.

You glance at their parchments, humming thoughtfully. Detention, huh? For seven perfectly innocent Slytherins? Tragic.

Theo snorts. If you’re here to be helpful, leave.

Instead, you lean over Mattheo’s shoulder and read aloud. Write an essay on why rules are important to maintain order at Hogwarts.

You burst out laughing.

Mattheo glares up at you, offended. Don’t.

You pat his head anyway.

Blaise raises a brow. You are enjoying this far too much.

You slide onto an empty desk, swinging your legs. So… who do we think snapped first? My money’s on Mattheo or Draco.

Draco points his quill at you. Touch anything and I swear—

You flick your wand casually and his parchment flips upside down, ink smearing slightly.

Enzo laughs so hard he nearly falls off his chair.

Regulus pinches the bridge of his nose. You’re going to get us extra detention.

You hop off the desk and wander behind Theo, leaning down to whisper. You know, if you stare at the wall any harder it might start confessing its secrets.

Theo smirks without looking at you. If I end up in Azkaban, this is your fault.

You finally stop behind Tom.

The room stills.

You lean closer, voice soft and teasing. You’re awfully quiet, Riddle. Missing me?

Tom slowly looks up at you, eyes sharp, unreadable, dangerous in that calm way of his. You’re playing a very stupid game.

You grin. Maybe. But you’re all still in detention… and I’m not.

Mattheo laughs, loud and delighted. Oh I love her.

Tom holds your gaze for a long moment, then looks back down at his parchment, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips.

Leave before I decide you belong here with us.

You back toward the door, blowing them a kiss. Behave, boys.

The door shuts behind you.

Seven Slytherins stare at it.

Then Mattheo breaks the silence.

Worth it.

And for the first time in detention, they’re all smiling.