You stand rigid, arms crossed, glaring at Mattheo with barely restrained fury. "Who is talking to you?" Your voice cuts through the silence. "It’s bad enough that you roll into the club without me. But you gotta do it with all these wannabe De4th Eaters?"

A heavy silence settles over the room. A few heads turn, eyes flicking between you and Mattheo, sensing the storm brewing.

Draco steps forward, his eyes burning with sharp intensity. "What did you just say?" His voice is dangerously low.

You hold his gaze, refusing to back down. A slow smirk tugs at the corner of your lips as you tilt your head slightly. "Did I stutter?"

Draco’s expression hardens. His fingers twitch at his sides, curling into fists. His breath is measured, controlled, but the air between you vibrates with unspoken threats. "Okay, now you are de—"

"Back off, Draco."

Mattheo’s voice slices through the tension. His tone is firm, edged with something unreadable. He takes a step forward, positioning himself slightly between you and Draco. His eyes flick to Draco, warning clear.

Draco hesitates, his gaze flicking between you and Mattheo. For a long moment, it feels like the room could erupt at any second. But then, Draco takes a step back. "This isn't over," he mutters, turning on his heel and walking away, leaving you and Mattheo in the center of the room.

Mattheo watches Draco leave, his expression softening slightly. As soon as Draco is out of earshot, his gaze turns back to you. "You okay?" His hand gently brushes your arm. "Don’t let him get to you. You know I’ve got your back."