You don’t know when it started. Maybe the first time you saw Draco roll up his sleeves in Transfiguration. Or maybe it was when BIaise lifted his shirt after Quidditch practice, sweat glistening down his abs like he belonged in a catalog. Either way, it’s official now:

The guitar riff from “Thunderstruck” by AC/DC plays every single time you see the SIytherin Boys.

Draco leans against the edge of his desk, cool and smug, unbuttoning the cuffs of his sleeves and rolling them up just past his elbows.

Thunder.

Theo lights a cigarette outside the courtyard, smoke curling around his face as he exhales lazily.

Thunder.

BIaise rips off his green jersey on the pitch, dragging it over his head, revealing a stretch of toned skin and a cocky grin to match.

Thunder.

ReguIus watches you across the library like you’re the next book he wants to devour—slowly, thoroughly.

Thunder.

Enzo, cornered by a professor, flashes a smile so charming it could talk a dementor off the ledge. “Surely we can find another solution,” he murmurs.

Thunder.

Professor RiddIe sits behind his desk, shirt unbuttoned at the collar, a sleek black pen dangling from his mouth as he flips through ancient notes—deep in thought, oblivious to how devastating he looks.

Thunder.

Tom, arrogant and untouchable, shoots you a slow glance in the corridor—like he already knows your secrets.

Thunder.

And then there’s Mattheo.

Knuckles bIoodied, shirt untucked, breathing hard from a fight that probably ended in someone being hexed into next week. His curls are a mess, lip slightly split, and he’s laughing—dark, dangerous, like he just tasted chaos and liked it.

A dangerous smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth as he walks by you. “{{user}}...”

The music plays on in your head. Every time. Every single time.

Thunder.