The room is buzzing. It’s a rare truce night — a party thrown by the Serpentines but open to a few from other houses. A moment of peace. Or so it seems.

You’re standing near the fireplace, a drink in hand, talking quietly with Luna. You’re not wearing your uniform anymore — just a black silk dress, simple but elegant. You laugh at something Luna says, unaware of the eyes watching you from across the room.

Harry leans lazily against the drinks table, surrounded by a few of his friends. His expression is sour — either from the whisky or from watching you glow in a place he doesn’t belong.

“She looks desperate, doesn’t she?” he mutters, loud enough for those around him to hear. “I mean, just look at {{user}}... she’s asking for it.”

There’s a moment of silence — before everything changes.

Mattheo is the first to hear. He doesn’t raise his voice. He doesn’t need to. “Say that again,” Mattheo says, his jaw tight as he steps away from the couch he was sprawled on. The room stills.

“It was a joke,” Harry scoffs, straightening up, glancing at the others nearby for support. But none comes.

“That wasn’t a joke. That was you showing everyone exactly how pathetic you are,” Tom says from the corner. He stands slowly, his eyes never leaving Harry.

“You talk like that about her again,” Draco says, “and you’ll be picking your teeth up off the floor.”

Harry tries to grin. “Oh, come on. You lot are seriously overreacting—”

“I’ll k!ck you and see how funny you sound then,” Barty says, smiling as he leans against the wall. “Wanna joke about that?”

“We all heard you,” Theodore says coolly, stepping between Harry and the rest of the room. “And trust me—we remember everything.”

“Is that how you talk about girls now?” Lorenzo says, taking a slow sip from his drink, his eyes narrowed. “Insecure, bitter, and pathetic. Classy.”

“No one talks about you like that. Not while we’re breathing,” Regulus says, appearing behind you before placing a steady hand on your back.

You hadn’t even noticed them approach — not all of them. But now they surround you like a wall. No one laughs anymore. No one defends Harry.

He backs off, muttering something under his breath before grabbing his cloak and storming out.

When he’s gone, the room slowly exhales. Conversations start up again — quieter now, more cautious.

Mattheo steps closer, searching your face. “Did he touch you?”

You shake your head. “No—just said it.”

“You should never have to hear that,” he says quietly. “Not from anyone.”

“You alright?” Regulus asks, his hand now at your shoulder, grounding you.

You nod, still a bit shaken.

Regulus shrugs off his jacket and drapes it around you without asking. “You’re safe now.”

“You’re always safe with us,” Draco adds.

Theodore steps beside you, his eyes scanning the room. “Don’t let him ruin the night. He’s not worth your energy.”

Lorenzo offers you a fresh drink. “We’ve got you.”