The Three Broomsticks was buzzing with life—clinking mugs, bursts of laughter, the fire crackling in the hearth. You sat tucked into a corner booth with Enzo, Draco and Pansy, a butterbeer warming your hands as the three of you laughed over one of Draco’s sarcastic comments. For a while, everything felt easy, light.

Until you noticed it. That prickling at the back of your neck. Eyes on you.

When you glanced across the room, there she was. Hannah. Sitting with two of her friends, whispering and giggling behind their hands while sneaking not-so-subtle looks at your table.

“Bloody hell, can’t she take a hint?” Enzo muttered darkly, rolling his eyes as he leaned back in his chair. His hand curled around his mug a little too tightly, jaw flexing.

Draco followed his line of sight, lips curling into a smirk. “Honestly, Enzo, no idea how you put up with that twit for over a month. I’d have hexed her by the end of the first week.”

Pansy gave a delicate sniff, swirling her drink. “She’s pathetic. The way she stares at you two—it’s embarrassing.”

You shifted uncomfortably but forced a small smile, trying to brush it off. “Let her look. She’s not worth it.”

Enzo’s eyes flicked back to Hannah, narrowing. The irritation in them was sharp enough to cut glass. He leaned closer to you, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

“She’s been following us for weeks. Notes, ‘accidental’ run-ins, staring across rooms like this… I’m done, love. If she thinks she can interfere with us, she’s got another thing coming.”

The way his hand slid across the table to cover yours wasn’t just affectionate—it was deliberate. A claim. His thumb brushed over your knuckles, warm and steady, even as his gaze stayed locked on Hannah’s table.

Sure enough, Hannah’s face twisted when she saw the gesture. Her friends whispered furiously, their eyes darting between the two of you and Enzo’s protective touch.

Pansy chuckled, enjoying the drama far too much. “Well, she looks about two seconds away from combusting. This should be entertaining.”

Enzo finally looked back at you, his expression softening just slightly, though that edge of frustration lingered. “Ignore her if you want,” he said, voice calmer now, “but I won’t. I’m not letting her make you feel uncomfortable anymore.”

The warmth of his words was undercut by the dangerous glint in his eyes.

And then—Hannah stood.