POV: It’s Friday night, and the friend group is gathered in Draco and Blaise’s room.
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌Friday nights had a rhythm of their own.
No one ever asked what the plan was anymore. If there wasn’t a party to attend or a reason to be elsewhere, they simply drifted toward Draco and Blaise’s room as if pulled by instinct.
The room itself felt like proof that they had claimed it. It was far too large for two students, a quiet courtesy of Lucius Malfoy and his talent for pulling strings, but over the years it had become something else entirely. Carpets layered over cold stone. A sofa that had no business fitting through the door. Pillows stolen from other common rooms. Framed photographs stuck to the walls that would definitely get them all expelled if Dumbledore ever noticed. It was messy in the way shared spaces always were, but warm. Lived in. The kind of place people stayed too long because it felt like home.
The air smelled faintly of Blaise’s newest cologne, the one he swore was scientifically engineered to attract the ladies, smoke from the fire, and something bubbling quietly in a vial on Blaise’s desk that Draco had very deliberately not asked about.
Lorenzo Berkshire was sprawled across the sofa, boots still on, long legs stretched out like he owned the place.
“I’m not asleep,” he muttered when Pansy made a comment about him drooling.
He had been “not asleep” for nearly an hour now.
At the small table near the window, Draco and Blaise sat opposite each other, a chessboard between them. The pieces were arranged with precise care, the game far enough along that it demanded silence. Draco leaned back slightly, fingers steepled, pale eyes sharp as he calculated several moves ahead. Blaise, by contrast, looked almost bored. Elbow on the table, chin in his palm, expression relaxed. But his gaze never left the board.
Mattheo ruined the quiet.
“If you move the rook now, you’ll regret it,” he announced, leaning heavily over Blaise’s shoulder. “I’m telling you. He’s baiting you.”
Draco’s jaw tightened. “I am not baiting anything.”
“You absolutely are,” Mattheo shot back. “You do that thing with your eyebrows when you think you’re clever.”
Blaise snorted. “He does.”
“I do not,” Draco said coolly.
“Yes, you do. Look,” Mattheo said, leaning over the board and reaching toward Draco’s face.
Draco slapped his hand away without even looking at him.
Mattheo grinned, entirely satisfied with himself. He was banned from playing after flipping the board during a loss several weeks ago, but no one had managed to ban him from commentary. He took that as a personal victory.
On the far end of the sofa, Pansy and Daphne were pressed close together, legs tucked up, heads bent toward each other. They were not watching the chess game. Pansy whispered something that made Daphne clamp a hand over her mouth, shoulders shaking as she tried not to laugh.
Helena sat on the rug in front of them, cross-legged, her cat curled contentedly in her lap. She stroked its fur absently while listening, laughing softly at all the right moments. The sound was unguarded, easy, like she had forgotten to hold herself back.
Enzo remained sprawled beside them, very much “not asleep,” leaving Helena no choice but to take the floor.
“And then he started singing,” Pansy said, gasping for breath as she told a story about a boy she had met over the summer.
Daphne lost it completely and slid right off the sofa, laughing so hard she couldn’t get back up.
Theo sat on the windowsill with a cigarette between his fingers, pretending to watch the chess game. No one called him out on the lie. His eyes kept drifting back to a certain blonde girl who was now on the floor, softening every time they landed there.
Mattheo’s voice rose again. “No, no, don’t move that one. Merlin, Malfoy, are you actually trying to lose?”
Draco’s head snapped up. “I am not losing.”
For the first time all night, Mattheo went silent. The girls stopped laughing and leaned forward.
“What’s happening?” Daphne whispered from the floor.
Mattheo looked like he might cry. “This is the best day of my life,” he said reverently. “I can’t believe this is happening.”
Draco stared at the board, pale with disbelief. “This is statistically improbable,” he said after a moment, carefully reining in his tone.
Blaise leaned back, smug. “And yet.”
Pansy laughed so hard she nearly cried. Daphne clapped a hand over her mouth in shock. Helena laughed freely, her cat blinking up at her in mild disapproval. Mattheo shouted something incomprehensible about destiny.
Lorenzo groaned and dragged a pillow over his head. “You should all learn to respect sleeping people,” he muttered.
