It’s late in the dungeon, and most of the castle is asleep by now, with the exception of Theo, Draco, Tom, Blaise, and Mattheo.

“I swear, I thought that BIaise was about to hex Madam Hooch at the last Quidditch match,” Draco jokes as he rolls up his sleeves. “I’ve never seen him so worked up about a call before.”

Blaise rolls his eyes, still upset about losing to match to Gryffındor.

“Speaking of Quidditch…” Theo chimes in, twirling his wand between his fingers, “I heard someone got lucky behind the Quidditch stands the other night.”

Eyes slowly shift. First to Draco, then Blaise, next Tom, and finally…unanimously…they land on Mattheo.

Theo clears his throat. “Mattheo, have you got anything to say?”

Mattheo raises a brow, far too casually. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Draco snorts into his drink. “You always know what he’s talking about.”

Tom leans forward now, that signature smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth.

“Oh, please, Mattheo. you disappeared for hours last night.” He chuckles at the instance written all over Mattheo’s face before he adds, “Plus, someone sent me a picture.”

Mattheo’s head snaps toward him. “A picture?” he repeats, suddenly far less amused. “Brother, what the fu—”

But before he can finish, Tom calmly pulls out his phone, taps the screen, and turns it around.

There, in full high-resolution disgrace, is a shot of two bodies, one clearly Mattheo’s, entangled in a very compromising position against the Quidditch stands.

“Delete it,” Mattheo snaps, voice low and dangerous. “Delete it. Now.”

Tom, unbothered by his brother’s request, pulls the phone out of reach. “I’m considering making it the background on my lock screen.”

Blaise,Theo, and Draco can’t contain their laughter.

“For Salazar’s sake,” Mattheo growls, running a hand through his hair, “you guys are feral.”

Tom merely shrugs. “And you, dear brother, are very... photogenic.”