The guys are relaxing in the common room as Mattheo is halfway into a story about hexing a HuffIepuff’s robes inside out when he pauses, eyes narrowing across the room.

“Hey,” he says. “What’s with the sour face, MaIfoy?”

Draco, perched in the corner armchair with a glass of firewhiskey, hasn’t said a word all evening. No smug comments. No veiled threats. No signature MaIfoy dramatics. Just quiet brooding and slow sipping.

Theo lets out a low chuckle, leaning back with his arms crossed behind his head. “His little girlfriend went on a shopping spree. Didn’t she, Dray?”

Draco lets out a long, exasperated sigh before raising the glass to his lips.

“Don’t remind me.” He pauses. “{{user}} was mad at me, so I told her to take my card and buy something.” He rolls eyes. “Not the whole damn store.”

Mattheo blinks, clearly skeptical. How much did she spend?”

Before Draco can answer, Tom, who had been silently flipping through a book nearby, turns a page and speaks up. “One million galleons.” He glances up. “In an hour, to be precise.”

Mattheo chokes. “A million? In an hour?” He laughs, shaking his head. “Damn. Don’t tell my girl that.”

Draco groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. “My father won’t be hearing about this.”

The room burst into laughter, except for Draco, who was already planning on hiding the next bank statement in the dungeons.