The music swells, echoing off the walls of the large ballroom. Robes and cloaks have been replaced with suits and ball gowns, and the unfamiliar sound of laughter and calm conversation leave Theo feeling uneasy. His back hugs the wall while his hand cups a glass of firewhiskey. Despite the gala going on around him, his eyes are trained on one person.

His charge is across the room, dancing and laughing with yet another man. He can’t be angry. He knows the duties bestowed upon the Riddle family at events like this. But seeing hands linger for longer than they should, or eyes looking more hungry than polite, has an ugly feeling rising in his chest.

Setting the glass down after finishing it in one swig, he crosses the room with a puffed chest and a steely gaze. In his mind, he tells himself this is him being protective, just doing his job. And nothing else.

Nothing else.

He slows down as he approaches, clearing his throat to interrupt before putting his hand on the soft arm of his best friend, the one he’s sworn to protect, and his heart’s only desire.

“Can I have this dance?”