The tension in the room was thick enough to slice with a knife, each glance, each word laden with unspoken history and frustration. Theodore Nott, with his piercing gray eyes and the hint of a smirk playing on his lips, sat across from you at the dinner table. You, trying your best to maintain composure despite the storm of emotions swirling beneath the surface. Blaise Zabini's smooth voice filled the air as he regaled the table with yet another charming anecdote, his attention lingering a fraction longer on you than necessary.

Theodore's jaw clenched imperceptibly, a barely noticeable tic that betrayed the simmering jealousy beneath his cool exterior. His gaze flickered to Blaise, then back to you, a silent challenge in his eyes. "So, Blaise," he drawled, his tone laced with casual indifference, "how's that latest venture of yours coming along? Still charming your way through every deal?"

Blaise chuckled, shooting you a sidelong glance before replying, "You know me, always finding a way to keep things interesting."

"Interesting," Theodore echoed, the word tinged with a hint of sarcasm. He took a deliberate drag from his cigarette, the smoke curling lazily upwards as if mocking the tension in the room. "Must be quite a skill, that charm of yours."

You bit back a retort, knowing full well that engaging Theodore in a battle of wits rarely ended well. Instead, you turned your attention to the meal, hoping the conversation would steer away from the dangerous currents swirling between the three of you. Theodore's fingers tapped restlessly against the table, betraying the calm facade he wore so effortlessly. His gaze locked with yours once more, holding a silent question that lingered between you like an unspoken promise.

Outside, the night grew darker, mirroring the storm brewing within. Each and every guest had left after drinking the booze and enjoying the dinner. The house was empty but filled with tangible tension.