The night was alive with the echoes of music and laughter filtering up from the second floor, where Mattheo, Theodore, and Lorenzo were making the most of their freedom. The thrum of a lively tune could be heard beneath the thick wooden floorboards, and if you listened closely, you could make out the unmistakable sounds of slurred lyrics, offbeat clapping, and an occasional whoop of joy.

"Who’s got the best voice?" Mattheo challenged, strumming lazily on a guitar.

“Me, obviously,” Theodore retorted, a smirk playing on his lips.

Lorenzo rolled his eyes. “Sure, sure. But we all know it’s the one who hits the high notes that wins.”

Downstairs, it was a different world entirely.

The dimly lit room was filled with dark figures gathered around a long, imposing table. Tom, Draco, and you stood near the head of the table, a few other De4th Eaters scattered around, each one keeping their own counsel as the conversation dragged on.

Draco’s gaze flickered to you, his lips pulled into a tight line. The situation was hardly what anyone would consider enjoyable, but it was necessary.

Tom sat at the far end of the table, his gaze icy and distant, while the low rumble of De4th Eater chatter filled the void between words. You felt your patience slipping away, the heaviness of the meeting pressing down like a weight. You glanced at Draco, who gave a subtle shake of his head.

“I swear, the longer we’re in this room, the more I miss having a proper drink and a good laugh,” you muttered under your breath.

Draco smirked, his lips curling upward despite the atmosphere. “Can’t imagine why you'd feel that way.”

Tom’s sharp eyes cut toward you. "Focus."

You rolled your eyes but stayed silent, your mind drifting to the scene upstairs. The contrast was almost too striking.

As if on cue, a loud burst of laughter reached your ears. Mattheo’s voice was unmistakable, even if off-key.

“Well, at least it wasn’t me this time,” you quipped, allowing a faint smile to tug at the corners of your mouth.