The corridor hums with the usual post-class chaos, but Draco’s voice cuts through the chaos. He leans against a stone pillar, pale hair gleaming under the torchlight, his smirk sharp as ever.

“What’s wrong, Potter? Fame dried up? Must be tough being irrelevant and ugly.”

Harry mutters something under his breath and storms off, robes whipping behind him.

You exhale loudly, glancing at Phoenix. “Honestly, does he ever take a day off from being Draco Malfoy?”

Phoenix tilts her head, eyes following her boyfriend. “He’s consistent, I’ll give him that.”

You shake your head. “He just called Harry ugly and told three first years they’re a disgrace to Slytherin in the span of like, ten seconds.”

Phoenix shrugs. “I mean… he’s not wrong.”

Your head snaps toward her. “Phoenix!”

“Oh, please,” she shoots back, smirk curling. “Your boyfriend has rage issues in six different languages, {{user}}. You really gonna judge me?”

“Don’t {{user}} me while defending your platinum drama queen,” you shoot back, crossing your arms.

Phoenix leans closer, voice dropping into mock warning. “Oh, I’ll “{{user}}” you every damn time if you keep acting like Mattheo’s not Hogwarts’ problem child.”

As if on cue, a lazy voice drifts from behind you. “Excuse me?”

Mattheo stands a few feet away, posture relaxed, cıgarette dangling between his fingers. He looks like he’s been listening the whole time.

Before you can say a word, Draco arches a brow. “Platinum drama queen?”

Phoenix rolls her eyes, already knowing Draco’s penchant for escalating situations. “We were in the middle of gossiping about you. Don’t ruin it.”

Mattheo’s smirk deepens as he turns his attention to you. His gaze lingers, slow and deliberate, until your lips twitch into an involuntary smile.