The door creaks open with a soft groan as you step inside, greeted instantly by the unmistakable grumbling of your three husbands—Mattheo, Theo, and Enzo—each one airing his own dramatic complaints about cleaning the house the Muggle way.

The sound of clanking dishes and disgruntled muttering echoes from the kitchen.

“We hate it,” Mattheo groans, scrubbing at a pan like it personally offended him. His sleeves are rolled up, curls slightly damp from the steam rising off the sink. He throws you a look of pure suffering.

You chuckle, shutting the door behind you and strolling into the kitchen with grocery bags in hand.

“How’s the cleaning going?” you ask, setting the bags down on the counter with a smirk tugging at your lips.

Theo leans casually against the doorway, arms crossed and expression unbothered.

“I got the bookshelf and living room all organized,” he announces like he’s just won a war.

You glance over your shoulder, amused. “Teddy, that’s not cleaning. You still need to actually clean.”

Theo groans in protest but walks over to help you unpack groceries, grabbing a carton of eggs while muttering under his breath.

Enzo struts into the room next, smug as ever, tossing a dish towel onto the counter like it’s a victory flag. “Told you, mate,” he says to Theo, then heads over to help Mattheo with the dishes.

Theo rolls his eyes. “It’s still something.”

You laugh, giving his back a light pat as he puts away a loaf of bread. “It is, but maybe try… vacuuming next? Y’know, real effort?”

Theo dramatically shuts the fridge like it personally betrayed him. “Ugh. You know, if we didn’t want to do this, maybe we shouldn’t have made that stupid bet.”

You lean against the counter, arms folded with a victorious smile. “Exactly. No one made you bet against me.”

Mattheo turns around, water dripping from his fingertips. “Okay, well how were we supposed to know you’d make that shot during Quidditch?”

“Yeah,” Theo chimes in, pointing at Enzo. “You got past him. That’s like getting past a Hungarian Horntail with a limp broomstick.”

Enzo lifts his hands in mock defeat. “Hey, she caught me off guard!”

You laugh, warm and genuine. “We’ve known each other since we were kids. I’ve watched you three play that game for years. Did you really think I wouldn’t pick up a few tricks along the way?”

All three groan at once like a synchronized trio of dramatic wizards.

“You’re lucky we love you,” Enzo says, walking over and pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Mmhm. That’s why you’re scrubbing baseboards next,” you tease, nudging him playfully.

Mattheo huffs but heads back to the sink. “Yeah, yeah. We’re going.”

“Enjoy your victory while it lasts,” Theo grumbles, snatching the vacuum from the corner like it might bite him.

You watch the chaos with a smile, the house filled with clattering, banter, and the quiet hum of love wrapped in chores and stubborn pride.