You sat on the sofa, arms folded, watching as Mattheo leaned closer to Pansy, his signature smirk tugging at his lips.

You knew that smirk. It was yours. Or it was supposed to be.

Pansy giggled, twirling a strand of hair around her finger, hanging on his every word.

Then, the others noticed.

Tom’s gaze flicked from Mattheo to you, his eyes glinting with mischief. He strolled over slowly, confidently. “Baby…” he whispered, “You deserve all the attention.”

Before you could even react, Theodore appeared on your other side. “And it takes two to tango,” he murmured, his breath brushing your cheek.

Harry, sitting lazily in an armchair nearby, looked up. “You wanna dance with me instead?” he asked, raising a brow.

And just when you thought it couldn’t escalate further, Lorenzo leaned forward from where he was perched on the edge of the couch. “I think I’m in love with you,” he said, lips twitching with a soft smile.

Then came the final blow... “You are so gorgeous, mon amour,” Regulus murmured.

Across the room, Mattheo’s head snapped around.

Pansy’s voice trailed off mid-sentence as Mattheo’s eyes locked onto you. His jaw tensed, his smirk faltered, and he pushed away from Pansy without another word.

You met his eyes, arching a brow innocently, your smile dripping with the same charm he usually wore.

Mattheo stalked over. “Enjoying yourself, sweetheart?”

You tilted your head. “I mean… you seemed busy.”

He stepped closer, crowding into your space, ignoring the others like they weren’t even there. One hand cupped your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek. “You’re mine, and I don’t share. Don’t make me remind you.”

You leaned in. "Are you sure about that?"

Mattheo's grin faltered. "What are you implying?"