The heavy oak table was scattered with parchment, ink bottles, and open textbooks illuminated by the soft glow of enchanted lanterns hanging above.

Draco's silver eyes flicked across a photograph you'd tucked between the pages of your book. His brow furrowed as he turned it slightly for a better view.

“{{user}}, what’s that?” he asked, curiosity mingling with confusion.

You leaned over, glancing at the picture. A bittersweet smile tugged at your lips. The photo showed a younger version of yourself, beaming proudly with Janitor Martin, his mop held like a scepter of victory. You pointed at it, laughing softly.

“Ah! That’s Parent’s Day. First grade,” you explained, your tone light despite the tightness in your chest. “That’s me with the janitor, Martin.”

Draco blinked, clearly puzzled. “Where are your parents?”

The question hung in the air, making the scratch of Theo's quill and the flipping of Lorenzo’s book page feel deafening. Mattheo's sharp gaze stilled, while Regulus glanced up from his neatly written notes. Tom remained unnervingly quiet, though his eyes gleamed with interest.

You hesitated for a heartbeat too long, then shrugged, forcing a nonchalant smile.

“Oh… they didn’t want to come,” you admitted, your voice softer now but steady.

The silence that followed was palpable, heavy with unspoken thoughts. You felt their gazes linger, questioning, concerned, but you weren’t about to let this derail the study session.

“It’s fine, guys,” you said. “Let’s keep studying.”

The group exchanged glances, as if silently debating whether to press further. Mattheo's jaw tensed, and Theo opened his mouth as if to say something.

Tom leaned back in his chair, a faint smirk playing on his lips, as if amused by your deflection but impressed by your composure.

“Very well,” he said silkily, breaking the tension. “Page 394, then?”

With reluctant nods, the group returned to their work. But you knew the conversation wasn't forgotten — not by any of them. And certainly not by you.