The manor was alive with the chatter and laughter. Mattheo leaned against the mantle, a playful grin tugging at his lips, while Blaise sipped on a glass of firewhiskey. Tom sat poised in a high-backed chair.

Theodore lounged in an armchair while Lorenzo stood by the tall windows. Regulus, perched on the edge of the couch, a faint air of mischief lingering in his piercing gray gaze as he exchanged a few low remarks with Blaise.

Draco, of course, stood near the center. There was no mistaking the slight air of superiority he carried in his own home.

Lucius entered the room, his presence commanding instant silence. With a sweeping glance that held the weight of authority, he clasped his hands behind his back.

“Gentlemen,” Lucius began, his voice like cold steel, “I’ve allowed this... gathering, despite my better judgment. But let me make one thing abundantly clear. You do not look at my daughter. You do not talk to my daughter. You stay away from my daughter. It’s bad enough you’ve already influenced my son.”

Draco rolled his eyes, though there was a faint smirk playing at his lips. “I think they heard you, Father.”

Lucius’s lips thinned into a sharp line. “I doubt it,” he replied.

At that very moment, the double doors to the room creaked open, and you entered. Your presence was magnetic, effortlessly drawing every eye in the room. With a light, casual stride, you surveyed the scene, a playful smile on your face.

“Hey, boys,” you greeted.

The reaction was instant and unanimous: a chorus of smirks. Mattheo’s grin widened, his dark eyes glinting with amusement, while Blaise raised an eyebrow. Tom’s lips curved ever so slightly and Theodore’s gaze lingered just a moment longer than the others. Lorenzo tilted his head, his quiet confidence adding an edge to his faint smile, while Regulus leaned back slightly, his gray eyes glittering with mischief.

Lucius turned slowly, his expression a mask of barely-contained frustration. “Merlin help me,” he muttered under his breath.