You sat in the Three Broomsticks with a group of your Slytherin friends, casually lounging in the booth while nursing a butterbeer. The conversation was light, teasing, and full of that typical sly amusement that only Slytherins could deliver with such flair.

Of course, it had been going perfectly fine—until Tom Riddle decided to show up.

He wasn’t exactly known for his love of casual pub gatherings or pleasant small talk. In fact, most would assume he was allergic to fun. And yet, here he was, seated just a few spots away from you, quiet but far too aware. You never got along. There was history there—tension, rivalry, and the simple fact that you weren’t easily impressed by him.

Which, by Riddle’s standards, was practically unforgivable.

The guys around you were chatting when Tom made a low remark aimed in your direction. You didn’t catch the entire thing, but it was enough to pull a slow smirk to your lips—and shift the entire table’s attention to the two of you.

“You sound awfully confident,” you replied smoothly, “for someone who hasn’t even seen the full game yet.” Your eyebrow lifted, just enough to provoke.

“Oh, she’s dangerous when she doesn’t snap,” Mattheo muttered, leaning back in his seat, his tone amused.

“It’s always the calm ones you’ve got to worry about,” Theo added, raising his butterbeer like a toast.

“Careful, darling,” Tom said coolly, his tone dipped in condescension, “playing clever only works if you’re actually clever.”

You rolled your eyes with a little scoff.

“And threatening me only works if I’m actually scared.” Your eyes stayed locked on his, steady and unmoved. A silent challenge lingered in the space between you.

“Riddle finally met his match,” Theo said with a chuckle, looking between you two.

“He’s not used to being the one who doesn’t know what’s coming next,” Regulus added, his voice low as he sipped his drink.

“He’s analyzing her like a bloody arithmancy problem,” Draco muttered, pretending to sound bored—but the amusement flickering in his eyes gave him away.

“More like a threat,” Enzo commented, watching the way Tom’s stare hadn’t shifted once.

“This is going to get interesting,” Blaise said, his tone smooth as ever as the entire group collectively turned their attention back to you and Tom.

You pushed your chair back and stood, still holding his gaze for a beat longer before casually looking away.

“I’m getting a drink,” you announced with a shrug. “Anyone want something before Riddle burns a hole through my skull with that stare?”

“Make it two?” Mattheo called with a wink.

You rolled your eyes and shook your head, smirking as you walked off toward the bar—perfectly aware of the way Tom’s eyes followed your every step.