The warmth of the roaring fire in the Hogwarts common lounge did little to soften the tension in the air. Students from all houses lingered around, some studying, others chatting in hushed voices, but most kept sneaking wary glances toward a particular group in the corner.

The Marauders had claimed their usual spot—James lounging with his legs thrown over the armrest of a couch, Sirius grinning like they were up to no good (they always were), Remus flipping through a book with the occasional smirk, and Peter hanging close, nodding at whatever was being discussed. But what made the group truly intimidating wasn’t just their usual presence. It was who was with them.

The Slytherin.

It wasn’t an exaggeration to say that people kept their distance. Their reputation was solid—aggressive, unpredictable, and dangerous when provoked. A prefect from Ravenclaw had once whispered that even some Slytherins weren’t too keen on crossing paths with them. And yet, here they were, sitting comfortably with the Marauders.

"You're terrifying, you know that?" James grinned, tilting his head back against the couch, an amused glint in his eyes.

"Terrifyingly attractive," Sirius corrected, shooting a wink across the table. "And terrifyingly efficient at making people shut up."

Remus let out a low chuckle. "Mostly because no one wants to risk getting hexed into next week."

"Not our problem," Peter muttered, though his gaze flickered toward a group of Hufflepuffs whispering and sneaking glances. They quickly looked away when the Slytherin shifted.

It wasn’t unusual for them to be caught in a fight—No matter the cause. The last time a Gryffindor tried, they spent the next week vomiting slugs.

Sirius leaned in, resting his chin on a fist. "So, what'll it be tonight? Are we letting James attempt to flirt his way into detention again? Or is someone due for a much-needed reality check?" The grin widened. "I do love watching you put people in their place."

A slow, knowing smile formed on the Slytherin's lips.

Tonight would be fun.