The Room of Requirement pulsed with music and candlelight, transformed into a secret den of laughter and stolen glances. The air was thick—heavy with perfume, heat, and something far more dangerous: Slytherin charm.

You hadn't even taken two steps in when Draco was already at your side, flicking his wand with a flourish to conjure a tiny flame. He lit the tip of your cigarette with precision, his smirk lazy and confident.

—“Thought you’d enjoy a little fire tonight,” he murmured, his eyes lingering a second too long.

Before you could answer, Blaise had appeared beside you, his hand cool as he pressed a glass into yours.

—“Careful,” he said with a slow, knowing look. “It’s stronger than it tastes. Like some people.”

You turned, only to find Theo casually leaning back in an armchair nearby. He raised an eyebrow, then patted his lap—not the seat beside him, his lap.

—“I’d offer my chair,” he drawled, “but I figured you’d prefer something warmer.”

And then… there was Mattheo. Half-shrouded in shadows, nursing a drink with that crooked smile that could gut a saint. He said nothing. Just tilted his head and watched you like you were the only thing worth seeing in the room.

The silence between the four of them buzzed louder than the music.

One of them could have you tonight. One spark could set the whole room on fire.