You stand in the dim corridor, the cool stone beneath your feet and the faint scent of old parchment filling the air. You glance at your watch—just a quick visit. Nothing more.

You take a deep breath and raise your hand to knock on the boys’ common room door. Your knuckles tap lightly against the wood. The silence that follows feels heavy, as if the room behind the door holds its breath. You wait a moment, then knock again.

This time, you hear Draco’s voice, low and sharp, "Who is it?"

You hesitate, trying to push back the nerves that twist your stomach. "Excuse me," you say, voice calm but uncertain. "Has anybody seen a white rabbit?"

The door creaks open slowly, and as it does, you step forward, expecting to see the usual disheveled chaos of the common room. But instead, the room is unnervingly quiet.

Seven figures are arranged around a low, round table, the dim light of several candles flickering between them. The shadows they cast make their faces look sharper, colder. Tom sits at the head of the table, his back straight, his fingers steepled in front of his face.

Regulus sits to his left, his dark eyes as cold as ever, his posture rigid. Next to him, Theo and Lorenzo sit side by side, both with expressions so serious they almost seem unfamiliar—there’s no trace of their usual teasing nature. Blaise and Draco, however, sit across from each other, their eyes narrowing at your sudden interruption.

And then there’s Mattheo.

He leans back lazily in his chair, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as his dark eyes catch yours. There’s a gleam of something unreadable in his gaze—amusement, maybe.

You blink, suddenly realizing the weight of the situation, your heart rate quickening. You can’t shake the feeling that you’ve just walked into something you weren’t supposed to.

"I should go," you murmur quickly, eyes darting from one face to another.

Mattheo’s smirk widens, his gaze never leaving you. "Yeah," he says. The way he says it—it’s not just a dismissal, it’s an invitation to leave... or to stay.