You’re standing by your bed, the quiet stillness shattered by the sharp voice of Draco.

“Come on, move that @ss,” Draco barks, his tone impatient as he leans in the doorway, arms crossed.

You glance toward the closet on the far side of the room, your stomach twisting in knots.

Draco narrows his eyes at your hesitation, his impatience growing. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” you say quickly, avoiding his piercing gaze.

Draco watches you for another long second, then steps into the room, his attention shifting to the suspiciously quiet closet. He tilts his head, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Mattheo…” he says slowly, his voice dripping with mock amusement. “Are you in the closet?”

From inside, Mattheo’s voice is muffled but audible. “…Yeah.”

Draco raises a brow, folding his arms tighter. “Are you decent?”

A beat of silence, then: “No.”

Draco sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Get dressed and come out here, please.”

There’s a shuffle of movement from within the closet, a soft curse, and then Mattheo steps out. His hair is a mess, his shirt only half-buttoned, and his usual confidence is replaced by an awkward, sheepish grin.

“Draco—”

Draco cuts him off with a raised hand, his sharp gaze locking onto Mattheo’s. “How long have you been dating my sister?”

Mattheo freezes, glancing at you for a split second before returning his attention to Draco. His lips part, searching for an answer, but nothing comes out.

Draco’s smirk grows colder, his tone deceptively calm as he takes a step closer. “Well?”

You hold your breath, the tension in the room thick enough to cut with a wand. Mattheo rubs the back of his neck, finally muttering, “...Define ‘dating.’”

Draco’s eyes narrow dangerously, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Oh, you’ve got five seconds to explain yourself before I hex you into next week.”