You are sitting at a table in the library corner, quietly flipping through a book. Harry stands nearby, arms crossed, his expression tense and his face etched with concern.

"{{user}}… why are you friends with them? They’re cruel. Selfish. You know they are," Harry says.

You look up, surprised by his sudden words.

"Who are you on about, Harry?" Hermione asks, looking up from a stack of books. Her eyes narrow slightly, sensing the weight behind his tone.

Harry scoffs, like the answer should be obvious. "The Serpentine boys… who else would I be on about? Mattheo, Tom, Draco, Blaise, Theodore, Lorenzo, Regulus — them," Harry says, stepping closer to your table. His voice isn’t raised, but it burns with frustration. "I just don’t understand how you could be friends with them."

You slowly close your book, your fingers resting lightly on the cover. Your gaze meets Harry's, unwavering. "They are my friends… and I love them," you say, your voice soft but firm.

For a moment, there’s silence between you. Hermione looks between you and Harry, her lips parting, but she doesn't speak. She knows better than to interrupt this moment.

Then—

A faint rustle.

Unbeknownst to you, the boys have heard everything.

Mattheo had unreadable expression on his face. Tom, beside him, tilts his head slightly, listening. Draco's eyebrows lift in faint surprise while Blaise lets out the ghost of a chuckle under his breath. Theodore glances sideways at Regulus and Lorenzo; a quiet smile tugs at the corners of his lips.

Mattheo leans slightly around the edge of the shelf, just enough to see you standing there with your arms loosely crossed — defensive but proud. You meant every word.

Tom’s usual cold detachment softens ever so slightly. Regulus’s lips twitch upward, a smile that doesn’t come often, but this time, it's real. Lorenzo whispers something barely audible, and Blaise shakes his head with a grin, as if saying, “Told you.”

You, unaware of the audience, gather your books and look back to Harry. "I don’t need you to understand, Harry. I just need you to trust me," you say quietly.

Harry opens his mouth to reply — but for once, he has nothing to say.

Behind the shelves, the Serpentine boys exchange a look. No smugness, no ego — just something warmer. Something rare. A quiet acknowledgment that someone chose them.

And maybe — for the first time — they believe they deserve it.