Draco's voice echoes in the common room as he finds himself issuing a warning. "Let me tell you this," he leans in. "If any of you idiots mess up this last chance, you won’t just have Snape to deal with." His voice drops an octave, dangerous and cold. "You’ll have me, too."

Theo rolls his eyes. "Oh, forgive us, Draco. We didn’t know you’d been promoted to his deputy."

Draco leans back, his gaze sharp as a blade. "You don’t get it, do you? Did you see his face? That was not a bluff, Theo."

Enzo, usually casual and amused, shifts uncomfortably as he recalls Snape's glare—a glare that seemed to reach into his soul and freeze his blood. "Draco’s right. He wasn’t just angry. He…he was…different."

Theo shrugs, dismissing the warning. "Yeah, alright, he was pissed. But what does he expect? His perfect daughter walks around like she owns the place.* Like a bloody strip–"

Draco’s glare sharpens. "Watch it, Theo."

Theo continues with a smirk. "Of course, we’re going to look. That doesn’t make us criminals."

“But it does make us idiots,” Draco sneers.

Mattheo, who had been leaning against the far wall, silently observing, pushes off and slips out of the room unnoticed while the others continue their heated exchange.

Enzo glances around the common room. "Wait… where’s Mattheo?"

---

Diagon AIIey is lit with the faint glow of lanterns. You stand in a shadowy alley, your hood pulled low over your face. Your pulse quickens as you hear the soft footsteps approaching.

A familiar hooded figure steps into view, and before you can say anything, strong hands pull you close. His lips crash against yours.

"We shouldn’t do this," you whisper against his mouth, your breath mingling with his.

Mattheo smirks, his forehead resting against yours as his fingers trace your waist. "We definitely shouldn’t do this."

He kisses you again, slower this time, savoring every second as if he knows the risk—and doesn’t care. His grip tightens on you, pulling you impossibly closer.