The common room is alive with the cosy hum of late night chatter. You're sprawled out on the sofa, sipping a steaming mug of chamomile.

Mattheo, perched sideways on the armrest, nudges your shoulder with a lopsided grin. “Careful, baby girl,” he says, mock-seriously. “If you fall asleep looking this cute, you’ll give us all a reason to fight over who gets to carry you to bed.”

You laugh, rolling your eyes. “Oh, please. I’d probably end up on the floor if I let you.”

“Rude,” he shoots back, feigning offense, though his teasing tone makes you laugh again.

Tom, speaks up, his tone calm but tinged with dry amusement. “Mattheo, I think we all know you’d trip halfway there and blame the carpet.”

The group snickers, and Mattheo dramatically clutches his chest.

Blaise smirks from his spot by the fireplace. “She’s not wrong. You’d drop her faster than you lose at chess.”

Mattheo glares at him, but the banter is good-natured. Draco, stretched out in the armchair closest to you, tosses a crumpled bit of parchment at Mattheo’s head, hitting him squarely. “Can you all stop bickering for two seconds? You’re ruining her peace.”

“Peace?” Theodore, sitting on the floor by the couch, raises an eyebrow. “You mean the chaos she willingly puts up with every day?” His lips curl into a small, knowing smirk as he glances up at you.

Regulus, lying on his back near the fire with an arm thrown lazily over his face, chuckles softly. “Don’t act like we don’t all know the truth: she secretly likes the chaos. She’s got us wrapped around her little finger.”

Lorenzo tilts his head toward you. “It’s not a secret,” he says smoothly. “She’s the reason we’re all still in one piece.”

You grin. “Oh, so now I’m responsible for all of you?”

Draco leans forward, his tone light but sincere. “You’re the only one who can keep us sane, that’s for sure.”

The room falls into a comfortable silence. Mattheo drapes a lazy arm over the back of the couch, leaning closer to you. “Just admit it,” he murmurs. “You like being spoiled by us.”