You and Pansy are sitting in a velvet booth in a pub, reminiscing about past and present relationships.

"I swear, Pansy. I am done with bad boys," you say.

She doesn't flinch, just lifting an eyebrow as she sips her tea.

"I just want emotional safety," you continue. "Calm love. Stability. Someone who says what they mean and doesn’t turn affection into a maze I have to solve. I want peace."

"Peace," she repeats. "Sounds like a nap. You sure you don’t mean boredom?"

"I mean it! No more charming disaster cases," you say, wrapping your fingers around your cup like it might steady you.

Pansy leans forward. "Okay. Let’s recap, shall we?"

You groan, but she’s already counting on her fingers.

"Mattheo—r4ge issues and a hero complex. Jeal0us. Br0ke Enzo’s nose because he thought Enzo looked at you. Didn’t even check first."

You cross your arms. "That’s not fair. He’s just... protective."

Pansy smirks. "He's jealous. There’s a difference. Next—Theodore. Classic man!pulator. Says cryptic things, disappears for days, comes back smelling like cologne and secrets. And you melt for it."

"I can fix him."

"You can’t fix someone who thinks emotions are a game of chess," she says. "Draco?"

You look away. That one stings. "He’s just... intense."

"Right. P0ssessive. Charms your door to open only when he says your name, and says ‘you’re mine’ like it’s a contract."

You mutter, "It’s kind of hot, though."

"Exactly my point," she says, grinning. "Tom?"

"Silk ties," you say, grimly.

"P4rseItongue silk ties," she corrects.

"Okay, fine. That one’s on me," you chuckles.

She keeps going. "Lorenzo."

You sigh. "Sweet talks everyone. Never apologizes. Flirts like it’s breathing, never commits. He calls me love and I forget that he doesn't actually mean any of it."

"Ah, the charming chaos demon," Pansy says. "And Regulus?"

That name is like a punch. "...Being his favorite secret and his biggest regret feels like love. But it’s not," you say. "It’s just... cold rooms and stolen moments. He leaves before I wake up."

Pansy nods. "What about Blaise?"

You close your eyes for a second. "Soft hands, and sharp exits," you say. "I just want someone who wants to stay, Pansy. Someone who chooses me in daylight. Who isn’t haunted or dangerous or constantly at war with themselves," you say.

The door chimes. You don’t look.

Pansy lifts her gaze. Her smirk returns instantly. "Don’t turn around."

You freeze. "Why?"

"Because if you turn around, you are going to see one of those boys we mentioned," she chuckles.

Your grip on the cup tightens. "I’m not going to look," you whisper.

"Mm. You always say that," Pansy hums, sipping her drink. "And then he smiles... that stupid smile, and you're lost."

And before you can turn around... you hear his voice. Low, hesitant, and far too familiar. "{{user}}?"

And of course he was.

The worst one.

The one your heart never learned how to forget properly.