Detention is unusually loud.

Not because anyone’s talking—but because six Slytherin boys are very obviously pretending not to stare at you.

You sit on the edge of Theo’s desk, swinging your legs slightly, boots tapping together as you flip through a book you’re absolutely not reading. You’re the only girl in the room. Always have been. Somehow that makes everything worse.

Mattheo’s chair scrapes back a fraction too loudly.

Draco glances at him. Subtle.

Mattheo shoots him a look. Shut up.

You glance up. What?

Nothing, Blaise says quickly, too quickly. Just…thinking.

About detention? you ask.

Theo snorts. Yeah. Definitely detention.

Tom, seated near the window with his arms crossed, watches the whole thing like a chessboard. Calm. Observant. Dangerous. His eyes flick from Mattheo to Draco to you, then back again.

You’re distracting them, he says flatly.

You blink. By existing?

Yes.

You grin. Sounds like a personal problem.

Barty laughs. Oh it is.

You hop off the desk and wander between them, peering over shoulders. Half-written lines. Scribbled curses. One parchment with nothing but your name written in the margin.

You pause.

…Is that—

Draco yanks the parchment away. It’s nothing.

Mattheo groans. Draco, for Merlin’s sake.

You look between them, confused. You guys are acting weird.

Theo exhales through his nose. We know.

Blaise straightens his cuffs. It’s just…you’re our only girl.

And? you say.

Mattheo looks at you, jaw tight. And that makes things complicated.

Tom’s voice is quiet but precise. You don’t flirt like the others. You don’t chase. You don’t beg for attention.

You frown. I thought that was a good thing.

It is, Barty says immediately.

Too good, Theo adds.

Mattheo meets your eyes. You make it hard to remember we’re supposed to be your friends.

The air shifts.

You swallow. That’s…a lot.

Draco rubs the back of his neck. Look, we’re not saying anything needs to happen.

Blaise nods. We just—

Care, Mattheo finishes.

Too much, Theo mutters.

Tom finally stands, stepping closer, his presence grounding and terrifying all at once. You’re ours in the sense that you’re…important. Untouchable.

He pauses.

And if anyone else forgets that—

Mattheo’s smile is sharp. We remind them.

You stare at all of them. So let me get this straight.

Six heads tilt toward you.

You’re saying you all like me.

Silence.

Then Barty shrugs. When you say it like that, it sounds bad.

You laugh softly, shaking your head. You’re impossible.

Mattheo’s eyes soften. But we’re loyal.

Theo smirks. Painfully so.

Tom looks at you again, expression unreadable but intent. You don’t have to choose. You don’t owe anyone anything.

Then he adds, quieter—

Just don’t forget we’re here.

Footsteps echo outside.

Snape’s voice snaps. Detention is not a social club.

You quickly return to your seat, lips pressed together to hide your smile.

As Snape stalks in, Mattheo leans toward you just enough to whisper—

Still worth it.

You don’t answer.

But you don’t move away either.