You glare at Draco, heat rising in your chest. “I can’t stand you, ferret.”

Across the room, Mattheo lifts his head. “What’s going on over there?”

Theo doesn’t even look up. “Hell if I know.”

You take a step toward Draco, refusing to back down. “You seriously need to watch how you talk to me, Draco.”

He tilts his head, smirking like he was born to do it. “Darling, I was raised to command rooms, not tiptoe in them.”

“Oh, and you think that entitles you to speak to me however you want?”

Draco moves closer, lowering his voice, dangerous and smug. “No. What entitles me… is that I’ve gone slow enough to make you think. And the only thing deeper than how I’ve been in you… is my vault at Gringotts.” He leans in, eyes locked with yours. “So respectfully? I’ll talk however the hell I want.”

As Draco leaves the common room you spin toward Mattheo and Theo, who are both frozen, eyes wide.

“Not a word. Either of you.”

Instant silence. Mattheo’s mouth snaps shut. Theo stares at the wall like it’s suddenly fascinating.