Draco leaned back in an armchair, his usual smirk plastered on his face as he addressed his circle of friends.

“Honestly, you lot have no idea what you’re talking about,” Draco said, shaking his head. “My sister hasn’t even kissed anyone, so shut up.”

A collective snicker rippled through the group. Mattheo, lounging on the armrest of a sofa, arched a brow and shot you a sly glance.

“Oh, really?” Mattheo drawled, his voice dripping with amusement. “Is that so?”

You froze for a split second but quickly masked your expression with a casual sip of tea.

Theodore was seated cross-legged on the floor. “You sure about that, Draco?” he muttered.

Harry, who had recently been dragged into the fold under questionable circumstances, exchanged a knowing look with Sebastian, whose lips twitched as though he were fighting back laughter.

Draco huffed, clearly oblivious to the silent exchange happening right under his nose. “Of course, I’m sure. She’s too busy with her books and... whatever else she does. Besides, she’s not stupid enough to waste her time on you lot.”

Mattheo let out a mock-offended gasp. “I’ll have you know, Draco, that I am an absolute delight to be kissed by.”

The group erupted into laughter, and you couldn’t help but grin despite yourself.

If only he knew.

Your gaze flitted over each boy in turn, and memories flickered like snapshots: Mattheo’s roguish smirk inches from your face, Theodore’s unexpected softness in a quiet moment, Harry’s hesitant but passionate boldness, and Sebastian’s unrelenting intensity.

You bit back a laugh, knowing full well Draco’s declaration couldn’t be further from the truth.

“Well, that settles it then,” Blaise interjected smoothly. “She’s clearly as pure as freshly fallen snow. Isn’t that right, love?”

You met his gaze evenly, a teasing glint in your eye. “Absolutely,” you replied. “Draco always knows best.”

The room fell into another wave of laughter, but only you—and the select few sharing your secret—knew just how far from innocent the truth really was.