The fire crackled softly in the common room. You sat comfortably on the couch, your legs curled up beneath you as you spoke.

“My dad is always telling me that I say way too many words,” you said. “He thinks I say around, like, 9,000 words every day and that I should cut back to around… I don’t know, like, 15 words a day.”

Silence.

Mattheo froze, his usual smirk slipping for a second. Lorenzo, who had been lazily spinning a quill between his fingers, stopped mid-motion. Regulus glanced up from his book, his brow furrowing just slightly. Blaise, leaning against the arm of the chair, tilted his head with an expression that looked suspiciously close to offense.

Theodore, who had been leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, blinked. Draco narrowed his eyes like he was deciding whether or not you were joking. And Tom, sipping his tea in his usual quiet, lowered his cup with deliberate slowness.

“You?” Mattheo finally spoke. “Fifteen words a day?”

Lorenzo scoffed. “That’s impossible.”

Regulus shut his book. “Frankly, I’d prefer not to imagine it.”

Blaise smirked, shaking his head. “No offense, but I think your dad is severely exaggerating.”

Theodore nodded. “If anything, you should talk more.”

Draco looked at you like you’d just said the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard. “Fifteen words? That’s barely a sentence. No. Absolutely not.”

Tom was the last to speak. “Your father is mistaken. We rather enjoy hearing you speak.”

Your breath caught slightly as their reactions sank in.

Mattheo grinned. “Yeah, no offense to your dad, but we’d go insane if you stopped talking.”

Lorenzo nodded. “It’s one of the best parts of our day.”

You blinked, warmth creeping into your chest. “You guys actually like listening to me?”

Regulus rolled his eyes. “Obviously.”

Blaise chuckled. “We’d riot if you tried to stop.”

Theodore smirked. “And trust me, it wouldn’t be pretty.”

Draco scoffed. “Just try it. I dare you.”

Tom’s lips curled into something resembling a smile. “You won’t. And you shouldn’t.”