Wickedly Yours, The Secret Keeper

The fire crackled, casting flickering shadows against the walls of the common area. Bottles of firewhiskey and butterbeer sat in the center of their makeshift circle, along with a deck of hastily enchanted cards that shuffled themselves lazily in the air.

Theodore Nott reached forward, plucking the first card from the air, his fingers moving with an easy confidence. He flipped it over, glancing at the question before reading aloud.

“Have you ever cheated on someone?”

A few people groaned at the predictability, but Nott just chuckled, shaking his head as he leaned back on his hands.

“No. Never,” he said, completely unbothered by the question. “I’d be devoted to my partner. Can’t stand the idea of that kind of betrayal.”

A pause.

Hermione’s gaze flicked to Ginny at the exact moment Ginny glanced at her.

They shared a look—brief, but meaningful.

Ginny’s lips pressed into a thin line before she masked it with a smirk, tossing back another sip of her drink. Hermione, meanwhile, shifted slightly, dragging her nails over the rough embroidery of the pillow beneath her.

She turned her attention back to the deck, watching as it shuffled again and a glowing card hovered in front of Pansy Parkinson.

“What’s your biggest fear?”

The laughter died down slightly.

The group settled, eyes flickering toward her.

Parkinson, ever the expert at controlling a room, rolled her shoulders back.

Then she lifted her chin, and said, simply, “Not being enough.”

Silence.

Not the heavy, suffocating kind.

Just the kind that stretched.

The kind that made the moment matter.

Nott tilted his head slightly, watching her carefully.

Ginny’s smile softened.

Zabini, sitting beside Parkinson, tapped a slow rhythm against his glass but said nothing.

Malfoy—who knew her better than anyone—glanced over, his expression unreadable.

Parkinson, ever poised, ever deflective, simply shrugged, like she hadn’t just dropped something significant into the middle of their game.

“Well,” she drawled, picking up her drink. “That was fun.”

Nott exhaled, leaning back. “Damn, Pans. That was almost too honest.”

Parkinson smirked, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Maybe I’m just drunk.”

The group chuckled—low, quiet.

But no one made fun.

No one pushed.

And Parkinson—never one to let the air settle too long—tipped her drink back and moved on.

“Alright,” she exhaled, waving a hand. “Next card.”

The enchanted deck shuffled again, sending a glowing card floating toward Harry. He caught it mid-air, flipping it over with a quick glance before sighing.

“What’s the oddest rumor you’ve heard about yourself?”

Seamus immediately grinned. “Oh, this is gonna be good.”

Harry ran a hand over his face, already exasperated. “That I was gay.”

A beat.

Then, half the room burst out laughing.

Ginny outright cackled, Seamus clapped a hand over his mouth, and even Malfoy let out an amused huff.

Harry just sighed.

Seamus was the first to recover. “Wait—wait, are you?”

Harry shot him a flat look. “No, Seamus. I’m definitely not.”

Parkinson smirked, tilting her head. “Well, that’s disappointing.”

Harry groaned, tossing his card into the pile. “Seriously?”

“Oh, don’t get all huffy about it, Potter,” Parkinson drawled. “You do have the whole brooding, unattainable, tragic hero thing going for you. People make assumptions.”

Harry muttered something under his breath, grabbing his drink and pointedly ignoring them all.

“You should’ve let the rumors fly,” Zabini smirked. “Could’ve added some mystique to your image.”

Harry rolled his eyes but didn’t bother arguing.

Across the circle, Ginny was still trying to suppress a laugh.

“Oh, shut up,” Harry grumbled, elbowing her.

She just grinned, leaning against him. “You love me.”

“Unfortunately.”

The deck shuffled again, its cards gliding through the air before one hovered toward Hermione.

She caught it between her fingers, her stomach twisting in anticipation. She flipped it over, her eyes scanning the text.

Then she groaned.

“Exchange an item of clothing with a person. And a random person gets to choose.”

“Oh, this is going to be fun,” Zabini smirked.

Hermione barely had time to brace before a second card floated toward Ginny, glowing as it landed in her palm.

Ginny’s grin widened.

“Oh, I love this power.”

Hermione already knew.

“Ginny—” she started.

“Hermione,” Ginny announced, voice sweet as sugar. “Switch shirts with Malfoy.”

The room collectively leaned forward.

A slow, amused smirk curved over Malfoy’s lips.

“Oh, Ginerva, you are evil.”

Hermione exhaled sharply, forcing herself to remain calm. “Fine. Give it over, Malfoy.”

Malfoy raised a brow but didn’t argue. With a casual air that absolutely didn’t belong in a moment like this, he grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head in one smooth motion.

The firelight flickered against his pale skin, throwing warm shadows over the sharp lines of his collarbones, the cut of his abdomen.

Hermione looked anywhere but at that.

He tossed the shirt at her with a smirk, completely unbothered by the fact that half the room was watching him, bare-chested and smug.

Then, he held out a hand expectantly.

Hermione scowled.

But a dare was a dare.

With a sharp exhale, she grabbed the oversized shirt off the floor and stood up.

“I’m not changing in front of you lot,” she muttered, already moving toward the nearest door.

Nott sighed dramatically, leaning back on his hands. “Ugh, boring.”

Parkinson smirked. “Dignified, but boring.”

Hermione shot them both a look before stepping into the hallway and shutting the door behind her.

The muffled sounds of their laughter followed her as she quickly peeled off her sweater, shivering slightly in the cool air. She had half a second to register the fact that she was standing there in just her bra, then hurriedly yanked Malfoy’s shirt over her head.

The fabric was too big, drowning her instantly. The sleeves hung past her hands, the hem brushing against her thighs. Worse, it smelled like him—clean, sharp, a mix of something subtly warm.

Hermione swallowed hard before shaking it off and stepping back inside.

The moment she reappeared, the group perked up.

Ginny smirked. “Took your time.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, moving back to her seat.

Malfoy, still seated lazily in the circle, lifted his brows. “My turn.”

He extended a hand expectantly.

Hermione huffed, then tossed her sweater at him without ceremony.

He caught it easily, inspecting it with mild distaste before draping it over his shoulders instead of putting it on properly.

Hermione scowled. “That is not how sweaters work, Malfoy.”

Draco just smirked. “It is now.”

Hermione cleared her throat, crossed her arms, unintentionally pulling more of the fabric around her.

Draco’s gaze flickered downward, and something—something—passed through his expression before he masked it.

Hermione felt it.

The air between them thickened.

It must be the alcohol, Hermione rationalized.

Ginny, still grinning like the troublemaker she was, elbowed Nott. “Admit it. You’re so glad I picked them.”

Nott just hummed. “Oh, definitely.”

“Alright,” Hermione said quickly, voice just slightly higher than usual. “Next card.”

The deck shuffled again, but Hermione barely processed it.

Because across from her, Draco Malfoy was still watching her.

And the way his lips curled at the edges, just faintly—just enough—made it very clear.

He was enjoying this far too much.

The glowing card drifting toward Blaise Zabini. He caught it effortlessly, flipping it over with an air of boredom before reading aloud.

“What’s one thing you only do when you’re alone?”

A hum of interest rippled through the group.

Zabini tilted his head, considering for a moment before smirking.

“Brood.” He exhaled dramatically, placing a hand over his chest as if he were some tragic Shakespearean figure. “Unlike Malfoy, who does it twenty-four-seven.”

The group howled.

Malfoy, who had been lazily adjusting Hermione’s sweater on his shoulders, glared. “I do not brood.”

“Mate, you absolutely do,” Nott snickered, taking a sip of his drink.

Ginny smirked. “Yeah, I’d say brooding is about eighty percent of your personality.”

Draco scoffed, rolling his eyes. “I’m pensive.”

“Oh, is that what we’re calling it now?” Seamus smirked.

“Brood all you want, Draco,” Zabini said smoothly, leaning back against the couch. “I prefer to keep my mystique intact.”

“Your mystique,” Hermione repeated, unimpressed.

Zabini smirked. “Exactly.”

Daphne Greengrass huffed. “You’re all ridiculous.”

Another shuffle of the deck, and this time a card floated toward her. She caught it with delicate fingers, skimming the words.

A soft laugh slipped from her lips.

“Do you have a hidden talent?”

The group leaned in expectantly.

Greengrass tapped her chin in thought. Then, with a small, amused smile, she reached for a spoon sitting near the snack tray.

She held it up.

Balanced it perfectly on the tip of her nose.

The unimpressed silence was broken by Seamus choking on his drink.

“That’s your hidden talent?” Ginny asked, blinking.

Daphne lifted her chin, still balancing the spoon. “It’s difficult.”

Seamus wheezed. “I was expecting something cool, like—like dueling tricks, or secret animagus forms. But this?”

Daphne smirked and crossed her arms, the spoon still perfectly in place. “Can you do it?”

Seamus opened his mouth, hesitated—then groaned. “Okay, fine, it’s impressive.”

Daphne grinned.

“Not quite the thrilling reveal I was hoping for,” Parkinson drawled, inspecting her nails. “But points for elegance, I suppose.”

Daphne flicked the spoon off her nose, catching it with a graceful flourish.

“Thank you, Parkinson. Your approval means so much to me.”

“Sarcasm doesn’t suit you, dear,” Parkinson replied, sipping her drink.

Daphne just smirked.

The deck shuffled again, its cards drifting lazily through the air before one settled in front of Seamus.

He caught it with an eager grin, already prepared to cause chaos.

Then he read the card.

“Do you have any fetishes?”

The room exploded.

“Oh, Merlin—” Hermione groaned, covering her face.

“YES,” Nott cackled, leaning forward. “I love this game.”

Ginny clapped her hands together. “Go on, Finnigan. Spill.”

Seamus, completely unbothered, just shrugged. “Bondage.”

A second of stunned silence.

Then absolute mayhem.

Seamus took a casual sip of his drink, looking utterly unfazed while the rest of the room lost it.

“Oh, of course it is,” Zabini said, tipping his head back in laughter.

Draco scoffed, lifting an unimpressed brow. “That was disgustingly predictable, Finnigan.”

“Oi,” Seamus grinned. “Some of us own our truths, Malfoy.”

Nott wheezed. “The confidence—I respect it.”

Hermione shook her head. “You really could’ve skipped that one.”

Seamus grinned, throwing an arm around her shoulders. “Ah, but then where’s the fun in that, Granger?”

Hermione shoved him off with an exasperated laugh.

“Honestly,” Parkinson sighed, sipping her drink. “You lot are worse than I thought.”

“Oh, please,” Ginny smirked. “Like you wouldn’t have answered.”

Parkinson just gave a mysterious little smirk, taking another sip instead.

“Alright, next!” Nott called, still laughing as the deck shuffled again.

The next card floated toward Ginny. She plucked it from the air, her grin widening instantly.

“Oh, this one’s good,” she said mischievously. “What’s your craziest party story?”

Hermione immediately stiffened.

Oh no.

She shot Ginny a warning look, but Ginny ignored her entirely, turning to the group with barely contained glee.

“Oh, definitely last summer with Hermione,” she announced.

Hermione buried her face in her hands.

The reaction was instant.

“WAIT,” Nott barked. “You and Granger?”

“Tell everything,” Parkinson said, suddenly far more interested.

Draco lifted a brow, clearly intrigued.

Hermione groaned. “Ginny—”

“No, no, no,” Zabini interrupted, smirking. “Let the girl talk.”

Ginny grinned, clearly relishing the attention. “Alright, so—picture this. Muggle clubs. Shots. Dancing on bars.”

Hermione let out a pained noise.

The entire group erupted.

“NO WAY,” Seamus wheezed. “Granger, you got on a bar?”

Parkinson’s smirk was positively gleeful. “Well, well, well.”

Nott clutched his chest dramatically. “Our Granger?”

Ginny cackled. “Oh, you should’ve seen her.”

“You owe us details, Weasley,” Zabini said, looking far too entertained.

Ginny took a sip of her drink, sighing dramatically. “Alright, so here’s what happened—”

Hermione lunged forward, grabbing Ginny’s arm. “You swore secrecy.”

Ginny grinned at her, completely unrepentant. “I lied.”

Malfoy, who had been watching all of this with growing amusement, smirked. “I need to hear this.”

Hermione groaned again, sinking deeper into her oversized borrowed shirt.

“I hate all of you,” she muttered.

Ginny beamed, leaning forward as if she were about to tell the greatest story in history. “Alright, so picture this—we’re in this ridiculously posh Muggle club, yeah? One of those fancy rooftop bars where the drinks cost an arm and a leg, and the music is loud enough to shake the bloody floor.”

Ginny clapped her hands together. “So we’re there, drinks are flowing, and Hermione—our beloved, studious, rule-abiding Hermione—decides she likes the music.”

The group leaned in.

“I—” Hermione started, but Ginny talked over her.

“And not just any kind of ‘I like this music’—no, no, no. She gets this look in her eyes.”

“What kind of look?” Zabini asked, smirking.

“A dangerous one,” Ginny confirmed.

Hermione groaned into her hands.

“Next thing I know,” Ginny continued gleefully, “she’s up on the bloody bar.”

The room erupted.

“GRANGER!” Nott practically shouted.

“No way,” Seamus gasped, eyes wide.

“Absolutely not,” Parkinson said, grinning.

Malfoy let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Unbelievable.”

Hermione peeked out from behind her fingers. “I wasn’t alone!” she protested weakly.

“Oh, don’t you try to drag me into this,” Ginny said, pointing at her. “This was your moment, and I was just there for moral support.”

Hermione huffed. “I—maybe—possibly—hypothetically—got up on the bar and danced. But in my defense—”

“Oh, no, no,” Nott grinned. “There is no defense for that, Granger.”

“There is!” Hermione insisted. “It was—well, there were shots involved—”

“How many?” Zabini asked, eyes gleaming.

Hermione hesitated.

Ginny smirked. “Enough.”

The group howled.

Parkinson, who had been silent in stunned amusement, finally shook her head. “Granger, I never would have guessed. You, dancing in a club, on a bar? It’s giving me whiplash.”

Malfoy, still watching Hermione with far too much interest, smirked. “What I’d give for a Pensieve memory of that.”

“Oh, shut up,” Hermione muttered, tugging at Malfoy’s oversized shirt as if it could somehow swallow her whole.

“I have to ask, though,” Nott said, leaning forward. “How good was she?”

Hermione sputtered. “I—that’s not the point!”

Ginny, however, was delighted. “Oh, she was brilliant.”

Nott gasped dramatically. “A natural?”

“A damn good one,” Ginny confirmed. “One bloke even tried to tip her.”

Hermione wanted to die. “I didn’t take it!”

“You should’ve,” Seamus said seriously.

Zabini nodded. “Missed opportunity, truly.”

Malfoy was still smirking.

Still watching her like he was re-evaluating everything he knew about her.

Hermione pointed at Ginny. “We agreed never to speak of this.”

Ginny just shrugged, looking far too pleased with herself. “What can I say? The world needed to know.”

Hermione groaned, dragging her hands down her face.

The deck shuffled again, its enchanted cards flicking through the air before one settled in front of Draco Malfoy.

He caught it lazily, flipping it over with an air of absolute boredom. Then, as his gaze skimmed the text, one of his brows lifted slightly in intrigue.

“Say something dirty to someone.”

A few people whooped, others leaned in.

“Oh, this is going to be fun,” Zabini smirked, taking a sip of his drink.

But before Malfoy could even open his mouth, another card shot out of the deck—glowing faintly as it landed directly in front of Nott.

“Oh, plot twist,” Ginny grinned.

Nott arched a brow, plucking the card from the air. His smirk grew as he read it aloud.

“And a random person gets to choose who he has to say it to.”

Malfoy scoffed, tossing his card onto the pile. “Of course.”

Nott hummed, glancing around the circle, tapping a thoughtful finger against his chin. “Let’s see… who should it be?”

Hermione already knew.

And yet, when Nott’s smirk sharpened and his eyes locked onto her, she still felt something twist in her stomach.

“Oh, it has to be Granger,” Nott declared, leaning back on his hands.

Laughter and knowing murmurs rippled through the group.

Hermione exhaled sharply through her nose. “Shocking.”

Across from her, Malfoy smirked—slow and self-satisfied.

“You look thrilled, Granger.”

She gave him a dry look. “Beyond words.”

Malfoy exhaled, stretching his arms behind his head like this was just another day for him. Then, as if considering his options, he let his gaze drag over her—deliberate, slow enough that it made her want to fidget.

She didn’t.

She held his stare, even as the firelight cast flickering shadows across his sharp features, even as his smirk curled just a little deeper—like he knew he was getting under her skin.

And then—

He leaned in.

Not dramatically. Not for show. Just casually, as if this was a conversation that belonged only to them.

His breath ghosted against her ear, and when he spoke, his voice was low, deep, quiet enough that no one else could hear.

"That new little uniform of yours, Granger… I wonder—" he paused, just long enough to let the heat of anticipation curl between them.

"Did you alter it so everyone would look at you… or just me?"

The breath caught in Hermione’s throat.

Because the worst part?

The part that made her fingers twitch against the hem of Malfoy’s oversized shirt—the part that made her pulse pound in her ears—

Was that she did do it for him. 

Her body betrayed her before her brain could keep up.

A reaction, tiny but there—her shoulders tensing, the smallest hitch in her breathing.

And Malfoy—damn him—noticed.

His lips curled slightly at the edges, smug and insufferable, before he pulled back, lazy and unbothered.

The group was watching, waiting.

Ginny leaned forward, eyes sparkling. “Well? What’d he say?”

Hermione inhaled sharply—then forced herself to exhale, slow and controlled.

She leveled Malfoy with a cool, unimpressed look.

Then, with perfect, practiced ease, she shrugged and drawled,

“Oh, nothing interesting. Just another desperate attempt to convince himself I care what he thinks.”

The group exploded.

“Oh damn,” Seamus cackled, doubling over. “That’s brutal.”

Nott whistled. “And effective.”

Parkinson smirked. “I almost feel bad for you, Malfoy.”

Zabini, still watching closely, chuckled. “Almost.”

And yet—

When Hermione flicked her gaze back to Malfoy—

He was still smirking.

Still watching her.

And in his eyes, sharp and knowing—

She saw it.

The unspoken words. The unreadable challenge.

The night was deepening, the alcohol had settled in, and the game had officially crossed into dangerous territory as the deck shuffled itself again, preparing for the next round. 

The next glowing card floated toward Nott, who caught it smoothly between two fingers, tilting his head as he read the text aloud.

“Reveal where you think everyone in the group will be in ten years.”

A low murmur of interest spread through the group.

“Oooh,” Ginny grinned. “That’s a good one.”

Nott just smirked, shifting slightly as he considered the group in front of him. Then, one by one, he listed his predictions with the same casual confidence he did everything else.

“Hermione—Auror.”

Hermione blinked. “Really?”

Nott shrugged. “You’d be good at it. You’re thorough, sharp, and would probably work yourself into the grave making sure the Ministry actually did its job.”

She frowned slightly, her lips pressing together, but she didn’t disagree.

“Ginny—captain of one of the Quidditch league teams.”

Ginny smirked. “Damn right.”

“Seamus—working at George’s shop in Diagon Alley.”

Seamus laughed. “Oh, hell yes. That’s the dream.”

Nott smirked. “Figured as much. You’d get paid to cause chaos. Perfect fit.”

Then he turned to Malfoy.

And without hesitation, he said, “Malfoy—Auror.”

The group stilled.

And Hermione, who had been casually listening up until this point, felt her eyebrows shoot up.

“What?” she blurted.

Malfoy, ever the picture of ease, didn’t even react. He just tilted his head slightly, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. “Why do you sound so offended, Granger?”

“I—” Hermione struggled, shaking her head. “I’m just—you? An Auror?”

Nott smirked, clearly enjoying her reaction. “Why not? He’s got the combat training. The instincts. The paranoia—”

“I’m not paranoid,” Malfoy muttered.

Nott ignored him. “And, if we’re being honest, he could use the image rehab.”

Malfoy shot him a look, but Nott just grinned.

Hermione, however, was still processing.

She had never considered the possibility of Malfoy joining the Auror program.

It wasn’t that he wasn’t capable—because, despite everything, she knew he was. But the idea of him choosing that path? Of deliberately working for the Ministry, for a cause that wasn’t self-serving?

It didn’t add up.

And yet—

Something about the way Malfoy sat there, perfectly relaxed but not denying it—

Made her wonder.

Ginny nudged Hermione slightly, eyebrow raised.

Hermione quickly schooled her expression, turning her attention back to Nott as he continued.

“Parkinson—owning a fashion shop.”

Parkinson hummed, inspecting her nails. “Obviously.”

“Greengrass—something worldly in the Ministry.”

Daphne inclined her head. “I’ll take it.”

“Zabini—in finance at Gringotts.”

Zabini gave an approving nod. “I do enjoy money.”

Finally, Nott turned to the last person in the circle.

“Harry—Auror.”

Harry just exhaled, shaking his head. “Yeah. Unfortunately, I probably won’t have a choice.”

The group chuckled.

Nott set his card down with a smirk. “There. Future predictions done. Now, let’s move on before Granger explodes from Malfoy’s career path revelation.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “I am not exploding.”

But she was still thinking about it.

The deck shuffled again.

This time, a glowing card hovered in front of Parkinson, who caught it with one hand, skimming it quickly.

Then, very slowly, she blinked.

And then—her lips curled into a smirk.

“Oh, brilliant,” she purred. “Do your best sexy crawl.”

The group roared.

Seamus howled.

Ginny cackled.

Zabini, ever the supportive best friend, whistled.

Draco let out a long, suffering sigh and covered his face with one hand.

“No,” he muttered. “Absolutely not.”

“Oh, yes,” Parkinson grinned, cracking her knuckles as she gracefully rose to her feet.

“Oh, this is happening,” Nott confirmed, leaning forward with excitement.

Zabini smirked, swirling the firewhiskey in his glass. “Give us your best, Pans.”

Parkinson took her time.

She stalked around the circle, chin high, smirk perfectly in place. Then, with an obscene amount of confidence, she sank to her knees—

And proceeded to do the most unnecessarily dramatic, over-the-top sexy crawl any of them had ever seen.

Theatrics. Arched back. A deliberate hair flip. A slow, painfully exaggerated movement across the rug.

Draco groaned and stared at the ceiling. “I hate this game.”

Parkinson, smirking like the absolute menace she was, made a beeline straight for him.

“Oh, no,” Draco muttered.

“Oh, yes,” Parkinson countered.

With a final, deliberate flourish, she ended her crawl directly in front of him, propping her chin on one hand.

“Enjoying the view, darling?” she purred.

The group lost it.

“I CAN’T BREATHE,” Seamus wheezed.

Ginny fell over, kicking her legs.

Nott was wiping tears from his eyes. “Malfoy, you look pained.”

Draco was pained.

He dragged a hand over his face, exhaling sharply.

Parkinson, thrilled with herself, casually sat back down as if nothing had happened.

Zabini lifted his glass in approval. “Stunning performance.”

Parkinson smirked. “I know.”

Draco sighed and took the strongest sip of his drink yet.

Hermione laughed with the rest of them—of course she did. But for some reason, something about the way Parkinson had chosen Malfoy, about the way he had expected it, made her skin feel a little too warm.

Not enough to mean anything.

Not enough for anyone to notice.

But still.

She shook it off, tucking her legs beneath her and lifting her chin. “Alright, next card.”

The deck shuffled again, glowing faintly as the next card hovered toward Harry.

He caught it, flipping it over with a lazy flick of his wrist before reading aloud.

“Who are you most jealous of?”

The group hummed in interest.

“Oh, good one,” Ginny grinned.

Nott whistled. “Well, this should be interesting.”

Harry let out a slow breath, rolling his shoulders before answering. “Ironically? Ron.”

A beat of silence.

Then Seamus blinked. “Wait—seriously?”

Harry shrugged. “Yeah. I mean… think about it. Ron’s got a huge family. He’s never alone. He never has to worry about being some kind of—” He gestured vaguely. “—symbol. There’s no pressure on him the way there is on me.”

A few people exchanged glances, processing the weight of that.

“You don’t have to be a symbol, Potter,” Parkinson said, voice unreadable.

Harry let out a short laugh. “Yeah? Try convincing the rest of the wizarding world of that.”

The group fell quiet for a moment, the flickering firelight casting long shadows.

Hermione, watching him carefully, felt something tighten in her chest. She had never heard him say that before—not in so many words.

He wasn’t jealous of money, power, or status.

He was jealous of normalcy.

Ginny nudged him gently, offering a small smirk. “You know, if you really want, I can start treating you like a deadbeat middle child.”

Harry huffed, shaking his head with a grin. “I think I’m good, thanks.”

The tension broke, laughter rippling through the group.

“Alright, next,” Nott said, swiping his hand in the air.

The deck shuffled again, and the next card floated toward Hermione.

She caught it and skimmed the text. Her eyebrows lifted slightly.

Then she sighed, shaking her head. “Oh, brilliant.”

“Give a personalized insult to everyone in the room.”

The group howled.

“Oh, yes,” Zabini grinned, leaning forward. “Rip us apart, Granger.”

Parkinson smirked. “Careful, darling. You might enjoy this a little too much.”

Hermione exhaled, rolling out her shoulders before flicking her gaze across the circle. Then, one by one, she went down the line, her voice even, sharp, and entirely unbothered.

“Nott—” she turned to Nott first, brow slightly raised. “You care way too much about what other people think.”

Nott blinked, looking genuinely offended. “Uh, rude?”

“Ginny—” Hermione smirked. “You act brave, but deep down, you’re kind of a pussy.”

Ginny gasped. “Excuse you! I am not—”

“I have seen you hesitate over a spider, Weasley.”

Ginny scowled. “That was a one-time thing—”

Nott snickered. “Was it?”

Ginny huffed.

Hermione ignored her, turning to Seamus.

“Seamus—you deflect way too much with humor.”

Seamus grinned, tipping his bottle at her. “Yeah, well. I’d rather laugh than cry.”

“That’s literally my point.”

Seamus just winked.

Then—Hermione’s gaze flickered toward Malfoy.

For a fraction of a second, she hesitated.

Then—smoothly, easily—

“Malfoy—” her voice was cool. Calculated. “You occlude.”

Malfoy’s smirk barely flickered. “Not much of an insult, Granger.”

“Oh?” Hermione tilted her head. “Hiding behind a carefully curated mask every second of the day? Not actually letting anyone in? That’s not exhausting?”

Malfoy’s silver eyes flashed—just for a moment.

Then he exhaled, expression unreadable.

“Try harder next time,” he murmured.

But Hermione saw it—the subtle twitch in his fingers, the way his shoulders tensed just slightly.

She had hit something.

She just wasn’t sure what.

Not yet.

Moving on, Hermione shifted toward Parkinson.

“Parkinson—” her voice softened, just slightly. “You don’t feel good enough. So you make sure no one has the chance to prove your fear right.”

The group quieted.

Parkinson blinked, her smirk twitching. “Wow, Granger,” she drawled, swirling her drink. “That was practically poetic.”

Hermione gave her a knowing look. “I was asked to insult you, not lie to you.”

A pause.

Then Parkinson huffed, shaking her head. “Bloody hell, I need another drink.”

The tension in the room shifted.

Parkinson didn’t deny it.

Hermione just turned to Greengrass.

“Greengrass—you’re too nice.”

Daphne gave a small, amused smile. “And this is a bad thing?”

Hermione exhaled. “It will be if people take advantage of it.”

Daphne hummed. “Noted.”

Then, she turned to Zabini.

“Zabini—you’re manipulative.”

Zabini laughed. “And?”

Hermione narrowed her eyes. “And one day, it’s going to catch up to you.”

Zabini tilted his glass at her. “Fair enough.”

Finally—Hermione’s gaze landed on Harry.

Her voice didn’t change. Didn’t soften.

“Harry—get your head out of your ass.”

The group erupted.

Ginny died. “Oh my God—”

Seamus wheezed. “YES—”

Nott grinned. “Bloody hell, Granger—”

Harry, meanwhile, had his head in his hands, groaning.

“You are so annoying,” he muttered.

Hermione just smirked. “You asked for it.”

The group was still dying when Hermione finally leaned back, taking a sip of her drink.

The deck shuffled again, glowing faintly as the next card hovered toward Zabini.

He caught it midair, lazily flipping it over with a smirk before reading it aloud.

“Act out your favorite sexual position (fully clothed).”

The room exploded.

“OH MY GOD,” Seamus howled.

Nott fell back, kicking his legs. “This is the best game ever.”

Ginny was cackling. “Zabini, if you don’t commit to this, I’ll be so disappointed.”

Zabini sighed dramatically, setting his drink down as he rose to his feet. “Well,” he exhaled, rolling his neck. “Might as well put on a show.”

The group cheered as he sauntered over to the nearest couch, inspecting it like a professional selecting the finest ingredients.

Draco groaned. “I hate this game.”

“Oh, shut up, Malfoy,” Parkinson snickered. “Let him have his moment.”

Zabini did, in fact, have his moment.

With obscene precision, he placed his hands on the back of the couch—shoulders loose, back straight—

And then, with absolute confidence, he doggy fucked the couch.

The group collapsed.

Seamus fell off his pillow. “I CAN’T—”

Ginny wheeled backward, crying with laughter. “Zabini, WHAT THE FUCK—”

Nott was gone, clutching his chest. “MOTHER OF MERLIN.”

Even Harry was covering his face, shaking with silent laughter.

Parkinson, still seated regally, nodded approvingly. “Elegant form.”

Hermione gasped for breath, wiping at her eyes. “I hate that you took that so seriously.”

Zabini finally stopped, brushing himself off like he hadn’t just violently humped a couch in front of his peers.

He turned, lifted his chin, and smirked.

“Well,” he said smoothly, rolling his shoulders, “it’s not my fault you all have dirty minds.”

The room erupted again.

Draco, still looking mildly pained, took a long sip of firewhiskey.

Nott, barely recovering, wiped a tear from his eye. “Zabini, I will never forget this moment.”

Zabini winked. “You’re welcome.”

“Alright, alright,” Hermione laughed, still catching her breath. “Next.”

The deck shuffled again, and this time, a card drifted toward Greengrass.

She caught it carefully, skimming the text.

Then—very slowly—she frowned.

“What is it?” Ginny asked, tilting her head.

Daphne exhaled, then read aloud, “What’s the worst thing you’ve ever said to somebody?”

The group hummed.

“Ooooh,” Nott leaned in, grinning. “Didn’t peg you for a mean streak, Greengrass.”

Daphne sighed, her fingers toying with the corner of the card. “Well,” she mused, “it’s not really mean, but…”

She hesitated.

Then, finally, she sighed. “I once told a friend that her outfit made her look like an upside-down broomstick.”

A pause.

Then—Ginny snorted. “Daphne—”

“That’s not even that bad,” Parkinson said, unimpressed.

Daphne frowned. “She cried.”

“Oh,” Nott winced.

Seamus bit his lip. “That is kinda brutal.”

Hermione, lips twitching, exhaled. “Did you apologize?”

Daphne nodded solemnly. “Profusely.”

The group chuckled, the moment significantly calmer than whatever the hell had just happened with Zabini.

“Alright,” Zabini sighed, still looking far too pleased with himself. “Greengrass, I appreciate your soft little heart, but I think we need something more chaotic next.”

The deck shuffled, glowing faintly as the next card hovered toward Seamus.

He caught it midair, flipping it over with a grin.

“Eat something of the group’s choice without using your hands.”

The room hummed in consideration.

“Oh, this will be fun,” Nott grinned.

Seamus leaned back on his hands, smirking. “Alright, what’s it gonna be? Something reasonable, I hope?”

Ginny cackled. “Absolutely not.”

The group started throwing out suggestions—bits of leftover food, ridiculous options that would make him look the most foolish—but before anyone could settle on something, Hermione stood abruptly.

“One second,” she said, before darting out of the room.

The group blinked.

“What the hell is she doing?” Zabini asked.

Malfoy, who had been nursing his drink, said nothing. But his gaze flickered toward the stairs, watching the direction she had disappeared.

Moments later, she returned—holding a single green leaf.

The group stared.

Seamus let out a bark of laughter. “You want me to eat a leaf?”

Hermione smirked, tossing it onto the floor in front of him. “Go on, Finnigan. Eat up.”

The room roared.

“Oh my God,” Ginny wheezed. “She’s telling you to chill.”

Nott collapsed against Zabini. “Granger, that’s diabolical.”

Even Parkinson snickered, shaking her head.

Seamus, still dying, took a moment to compose himself before nodding seriously. “Alright, alright, you win. That’s brilliant.”

Then, with as much exaggerated effort as possible, he leaned forward, putting his hands behind his back.

And slowly, with all the grace of a starved cow, he nibbled at the leaf.

The group dissolved.

“I CAN’T—” Ginny fell back, kicking her legs.

Nott was crying.

Parkinson just sighed. “Why do I associate with you idiots?”

Hermione, still grinning, crossed her arms smugly.

But while the rest of the group was busy laughing their asses off, she barely noticed when Malfoy’s gaze flickered toward her hand.

Toward the spot where the leaf was.

A glint of something flashed in his eyes—barely there.

A flicker of recognition.

Then—regret.

Because he knew.

He knew exactly where she had gotten that leaf.

And he knew exactly how stupid it had been to give it to her in the first place.

But before Hermione could read too much into it, the group pulled her back in.

Nott wiped at his eyes, still grinning. “Alright, I love this game. Let’s keep it moving.”

The deck shuffled again.

This time, the card hovered toward Ginny.

She caught it with quick fingers, then read aloud—

“Seductively eat a banana while locking eyes with the person of someone else’s choosing.”

The room howled.

Ginny groaned. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

Seamus was dying. “OH, THIS IS PERFECT—”

But before anyone else could interject, another card shot across the circle—glowing faintly as it landed in front of Nott.

Ginny froze.

“Oh, no,” she muttered.

Nott arched a devilish brow, plucking the card from the air. He skimmed it, then smirked, dragging his gaze directly to Ginny.

“Oh, Weasley,” he purred.

Ginny’s stomach dropped.

“No—Nott—”

“I choose me.”

The group exploded.

“YES,” Zabini cheered.

Seamus screamed. “This is the best timeline.”

Ginny groaned, dragging her hands down her face. “You’re such a menace.”

Nott smirked, leaning back on his hands. “Don’t be shy, Gin.”

Ginny inhaled sharply, then turned to Hermione. “I blame you for this.”

Hermione, who had been wheezing since Nott made his choice, simply shrugged. “Not my fault the deck loves chaos.”

Ginny sighed. “Fine. Give me the bloody banana.”

Someone—probably Seamus—threw it at her. She caught it one-handed, scowling at it like it had personally offended her.

Then—very slowly—she peeled it.

The group went silent, watching her every move.

Ginny exhaled.

Then she looked Nott dead in the eye.

And with the slowest, most exaggerated movement possible, she sank her teeth into the banana.

The room lost it.

Seamus fell over again. “SWEET MOTHER OF MERLIN—”

Zabini was howling.

Parkinson looked mildly disgusted. “That was painful to watch.”

Even Draco was actually laughing, shaking his head.

Meanwhile, Nott?

Nott sat there—completely unfazed—and simply winked.

“Well, damn, Weasley,” he murmured, voice low and very entertained. “Didn’t know you had it in you.”

Ginny threw the rest of the banana at him.

The group howled again, watching as Nott effortlessly caught it before tossing it back at her.

“Next card,” Ginny grumbled, shaking her head.

But even as the game continued, she still caught Nott’s smirk from across the circle.

The deck shuffled again, its glowing cards flicking through the air before one hovered directly in front of Malfoy.

He caught it lazily, flipping it over with one hand. His silver eyes flicked across the text, his expression unreadable.

“Do you think that people are inherently good or inherently evil?”

The group hushed, the usual murmurs of amusement dying down slightly.

Ginny lifted a brow. “Oof. That’s a question.”

Nott hummed. “Well, this should be interesting.”

Malfoy’s smirk didn’t come this time. Instead, he rolled his shoulders back, exhaling slowly, his gaze flicking toward the fire.

Then, after a beat, he said, “Neither.”

The answer was so immediate, so certain, that it made Hermione blink.

He leaned forward, setting his drink down before stretching his arms across his knees. “People aren’t born one way or the other,” he continued, his voice level, deliberate. “They make choices. And sometimes they make the wrong ones.”

The fire crackled, throwing flickering shadows across his face.

“And what about the ones who make too many wrong ones?” Zabini asked, tone unreadable.

Malfoy’s gaze flicked to him, unreadable.

“They either learn,” he said simply, “or they don’t.”

A slow exhale passed through the group.

Nott tilted his head. “And if they don’t?”

Malfoy didn’t answer immediately.

Then—softer—quieter—

“Then they’ll lose everything.”

A strange heaviness settled over the room.

Hermione, watching Malfoy closely, felt something deep in her chest shift.

Because she knew.

She knew he wasn’t speaking hypothetically.

He wasn’t thinking about random people.

He was thinking about his father. About his family. About himself.

And for the first time that night—maybe for the first time since this ridiculous game started—

She saw something real in his expression.

Something he wasn’t hiding behind smirks or sharp-edged quips.

He had made choices.

And he had made the wrong ones.

And this—this moment, this answer, this weight in his voice—was the closest he had ever come to admitting it.

The group let the silence stretch, let it linger.

Then, finally—Ginny cleared her throat, forcing a grin.

“Well, damn, Malfoy,” she said, trying to lighten the mood. “You could’ve just said ‘it depends’ and spared us the existential crisis.”

A few chuckles echoed around the circle.

Malfoy exhaled, picking up his drink again. “Yeah, well.” He swirled the liquid absentmindedly. “What’s the fun in that?”

Nott let out a slow breath. “Alright,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Next card before we all start contemplating our own morality.”

The deck shuffled again, glowing faintly as the next card hovered toward Nott.

He caught it midair, barely sparing it a glance before reading aloud,

“Do a seductive dance for the group.”

The group roared.

“OH, YES,” Ginny cheered.

Seamus clapped his hands together. “This is what I live for.”

Nott sighed dramatically, rolling his shoulders like he was about to perform a great sacrifice. “Alright, alright,” he muttered, dragging himself to his feet.

Parkinson smirked. “Come on, Nott, make it good.”

Nott ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “You all better appreciate this.”

“Oh, we will,” Zabini smirked.

The group shuffled back slightly, making space as Nott rolled his neck—

Then dropped to his knees.

And grinded on the floor like his life depended on it.

The room lost it.

Seamus collapsed. “I CAN’T—”

Ginny screamed with laughter.

Zabini whistled.

Parkinson, shaking her head, sighed, “I hate all of you.”

Nott, fully committed, ran a hand through his hair, tossing the most ridiculous smirk over his shoulder before flipping onto his back and rolling his hips.

Malfoy had his face in his hands. “I refuse to be a part of this.”

Hermione, trying to breathe, choked out, “I—I did not need to see that—”

Nott finally rolled back up, bowing as if he had just performed at the bloody Royal Opera House.

“Thank you, thank you,” he said smoothly, collapsing back into his seat.

Seamus wiped tears from his eyes. “That was beautiful.”

Ginny grinned. “I’d give it a solid nine out of ten.”

Nott placed a hand over his chest. “I aim to please.”

Draco groaned into his drink. “I hate everyone in this room.”

Nott smirked. “Love you too, Malfoy.”

Parkinson, who had been watching the whole thing with mild amusement, reached for the next card.

When she flipped it over, her expression soured instantly.

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake.” She groaned, leaning her head back against the couch. “Say what you love most about everyone in the room.”

The group snickered.

“Oh, that’s perfect,” Seamus grinned.

Harry crossed his arms. “Yeah, this should be really interesting.”

Parkinson shot them both a glare before shaking the card in her hand. “Who chooses this rubbish?” she complained.

“The deck, obviously,” Zabini said smoothly, swirling the firewhiskey in his glass. “No escaping it, Parkinson. Better get to it.”

Parkinson scowled, then sighed dramatically. “Fine. But don’t expect much.”

She started with Nott, rolling her eyes before begrudgingly admitting, “Nott—hair.”

Nott smirked, running a lazy hand through his sleek brown locks. “Knew you were jealous.”

“Please,” she scoffed.

The next name came more easily. “Weasley—attitude.”

Ginny arched a brow, taking a sip of her drink. “Huh. Didn’t know you liked being insulted on a daily basis.”

Parkinson smirked. “I don’t, but I respect the dedication.”

Ginny snorted.

Next, she turned to Seamus, her lips twitching in something almost like amusement. “Finnegan—says what’s on his mind.”

Seamus grinned, waggling his eyebrows. “Oi, that sounds dangerously close to a compliment.”

“Don’t get used to it, Finnigan,” she muttered.

Then, she turned to Malfoy.

And paused.

The smirk on Malfoy’s face widened slightly, as if expecting something.

Parkinson just stared at him, unimpressed.

“Nothing.”

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on.”

“Nope. Not happening,” Parkinson said breezily.

Hermione almost snickered.

Parkinson continued. “Granger—the love around her.”

Hermione blinked. “Wait, what?”

Parkinson sighed, as if exhausted by the effort of explaining herself. “You know. That whole warmth thing you do. It’s annoying.”

Hermione frowned. “That… doesn’t sound like something you love about me.”

“I don’t love it. I just had to pick something,” Parkinson huffed, waving her hand. “Your presence makes people feel safe. Congratulations. It’s infuriating.”

Hermione didn’t know what to do with that information.

Nott hummed. “A reluctant admission of admiration. How touching.”

“Shut up, Nott.”

Parkinson quickly moved on. “Daphne—niceness.”

Daphne gave a small, graceful nod, unbothered by the brevity of the answer.

“Zabini—bravery.”

Zabini arched a brow. “Really?”

Parkinson shrugged. “You risk so much drinking with idiots. That’s bravery.”

Laughter rippled through the group, but Hermione noticed the slight quirk of Zabini’s lips. He seemed almost pleased by that answer.

Then, finally, Parkinson reached the last name on her list.

She hesitated.

Then glanced at Harry.

Her lips pursed, her expression flickering with something unreadable before she sighed.

“Oh yeah, saving the wizarding world, I guess.”

Harry lifted his drink in mock gratitude. “Touching.”

Parkinson huffed and tossed her card into the pile. “There. Done. I’d like a new card now, one that doesn’t make me sound like I care.”

“Too late,” Seamus grinned. “We all heard it.”

Parkinson groaned, sinking further into the couch.

The deck shuffled again, flickering softly before a card hovered toward Harry.

He caught it midair, flipping it over with a sigh before reading aloud,

“What’s a secret you’ve never told anyone?”

The group stilled.

It was an unfair question.

Because Harry wasn’t the kind of person who talked about this kind of thing.

Ginny straightened slightly beside him, her teasing expression softening.

Nott whistled low. “Damn. No pressure or anything.”

Harry let out a slow breath, rolling his glass between his hands, watching the firelight refract against the liquid.

Then—finally—he spoke.

“I’m scared to let people in.”

The words were simple.

But the weight behind them was not.

No one interrupted.

No one made a joke.

Harry exhaled, shaking his head slightly before continuing, “Because everyone I let in… dies.”

A heavy silence.

Not awkward.

Not unbearable.

Just there.

Hermione felt something deep in her chest twist.

Because she knew.

She knew how much that weighed on him.

Sirius. Dumbledore. Fred. Remus. Tonks.

His parents.

And even though it wasn’t true—even though it wasn’t his fault—

Harry believed it.

And that was enough to haunt him.

Ginny, sitting close, leaned against him slightly—not enough to smother, but enough to be there.

Nott exhaled. “That’s…” He trailed off, nodding slowly. “Yeah. That’s a lot, mate.”

Harry shrugged. “Yeah, well.” He forced a half-smile. “That’s the game, isn’t it?”

No one laughed.

But the moment passed—slowly, naturally—because that’s what Harry would want.

Hermione reached for the deck, breaking the silence, and the cards shuffled once more.

Another glowing card drifted toward her.

She caught it carefully, skimming the text.

Then—without meaning to—her fingers tightened around it.

“What’s your biggest insecurity?”

A pause.

Hermione inhaled, forcing herself to keep her expression neutral.

She could lie.

She could brush it off, give them something surface-level, something that wouldn’t matter.

But after Harry—

After that—

She found she couldn’t.

So, instead, she exhaled, set her glass down, and said, simply,

“I don’t know who I am without the war.”

A ripple of silence passed through the group.

Hermione didn’t fidget. Didn’t let her voice waver.

She had spent so much time fighting.

So much time being The Brightest Witch of Her Age, the one who always had the answers, the one who carried the weight, who planned ahead, who solved every problem thrown at them.

And now—

Now, she didn’t know who she was outside of that.

If she even was someone outside of that.

Ginny was watching her carefully.

Harry’s jaw tensed.

Malfoy—sitting across from her, silver eyes sharp and unreadable—hadn’t moved.

Nott ran a hand through his hair, exhaling. “Shit, Granger.”

Seamus muttered, “We should’ve just stuck to dares.”

The group huffed out quiet, tired laughs.

Hermione allowed a small smile, shaking her head. “It’s fine.”

And in a way, it was.

Because she had just said it out loud.

And that was something.

Ginny clapped her hands together, forcing a grin. “Alright, well, now that we’ve all taken a trip to our emotional graves, let’s move on before someone starts crying.”

The group chuckled—soft, but real.

Nott exhaled. “Agreed. Next card.”

The deck shuffled, glowing faintly before a card drifted toward Zabini.

He caught it smoothly, flipping it over with an amused smirk.

Then, after reading the words, his smirk widened.

“Who’s your least favorite person in this room?”

The group erupted.

“OHHHHH,” Seamus whooped. “YES—DRAMA.”

Nott grinned. “Oh, this is about to be good.”

Hermione exhaled, shaking her head. “Zabini, don’t be cruel.”

“I would never,” Zabini said smoothly.

Malfoy, who had been sipping his firewhiskey with vague disinterest, barely spared him a glance. “Get on with it, Zabini.”

Zabini smirked.

“Oh, no problem,” he said lightly.

Then he turned toward the group, his voice clear, confident, sharp.

“Draco.”

The room erupted again.

Nott fell over laughing. “OH, Zabini—”

Seamus was losing his mind. “MALFOY, YOU LOOK SO OFFENDED—”

Draco blinked, his expression flickering between mild betrayal and pure exasperation.

“Excuse me?”

Zabini grinned, shrugging. “It’s true.”

Draco scowled. “I am literally your best friend.”

“And yet,” Zabini sighed, stretching his arms over his head, “you’re still my least favorite person in this room.”

Nott wiped at his eyes, gasping for breath. “This is my favorite moment of the night.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “You’re insufferable.”

Zabini smirked. “And you, my dear, are a menace to society.”

Hermione, still biting back a laugh, shook her head. “Alright, let’s move on before Malfoy challenges Zabini to a duel.”

The deck shuffled again, glowing softly before a card drifted toward Daphne Greengrass.

She caught it effortlessly, reading the text with mild curiosity before exhaling.

“Close your eyes, sit on someone’s lap, and guess who it is.”

The group exploded.

“OH, THIS IS PERFECT,” Seamus whooped.

Ginny clapped her hands together, already grinning. “Oh, we are choosing someone good.”

Daphne, ever composed, merely sighed, setting her drink down. “Fine. But no funny business.”

“Oh, absolutely no funny business,” Nott said smoothly, which was obviously a lie.

Daphne shot him a warning look, but before she could protest further, Nott waved a hand. “Come on, Daph, eyes shut, ears covered.”

With a put-upon sigh, Daphne turned around, placing her hands firmly over her ears, then shut her eyes.

The moment she did, the group erupted into chaos.

Nott immediately took charge. “Alright, who’s it gonna be?”

“We need someone bad at keeping a straight face,” Ginny grinned.

“We need Harry,” Seamus cackled.

Harry—who had been minding his own business, sipping his drink peacefully—froze.

“Wait—what?”

Nott grinned. “Oh, this is happening.”

Harry groaned, rubbing his temples. “I hate this game.”

Draco, smirking from his spot, lifted his drink. “Oh, I love this game.”

Ginny was already grabbing Harry’s arm, dragging him toward the center of the circle.

“Sit your ass down, Chosen One.”

With great reluctance, Harry allowed himself to be placed in the seat. His entire posture screamed this is the worst thing that has ever happened to me.

Nott turned back to Daphne. “Alright, princess, unplug your ears and get over here.”

Daphne exhaled and did as she was told, dropping her hands before turning around.

She faced the circle, standing poised as ever. “Am I good to go?”

“Yep,” Ginny beamed. “Come to your mystery chair.”

Someone—probably Nott—gently took Daphne’s hand and guided her toward her doomed target.

The moment she lowered herself down onto the lap provided—

The person beneath her tensed like a live wire.

A very specific kind of tension.

Like someone who had never expected to be in this position.

Like someone physically trying not to react.

Daphne smirked internally.

She tilted her head slightly, considering.

Then, with absolute confidence, she said,

“Oh, Potter.”

The group erupted.

Nott fell over laughing. “SHE KNEW IMMEDIATELY—”

Ginny collapsed, wheezing. “IT WAS THE TENSION—”

Seamus was crying. “POTTER, YOU ARE SO BAD AT THIS.”

Harry groaned, his entire face red. “I hate this game.”

Daphne, looking far too pleased with herself, stood up and dusted off her skirt.

“Well,” she said smoothly, giving Harry a very smug look, “that was fun.”

Harry scowled. “This is exactly why I don’t play these things.”

Ginny was wiping away tears. “Oh my God, that was perfect.”

Nott clapped Harry on the back, still grinning. “Hey, at least she knew you by your natural instinct to panic.”

Harry shot him a look.

Draco, who had been watching the entire thing with pure amusement, smirked. “Potter, that was painful to witness.”

“Shut up, Malfoy.”

Nott, still beaming, exhaled and stretched. “Alright, alright. What’s next?”

The deck shuffled again, glowing faintly before a card drifted toward Seamus.

He caught it midair, flipping it over with a smirk.

Then, after reading the text, his smirk widened.

“Pretend to be the person chosen by a random card for five minutes.”

The group buzzed with anticipation as another card drifted through the air.

It hovered for a moment before landing softly in Ginny’s hands.

She flipped it over, grinned, and looked up at Seamus with mischief blazing in her eyes.

“Oh, this is perfect.”

Seamus waggled his brows. “Alright, who’s the lucky inspiration?”

Ginny smirked. “Malfoy.”

The room erupted.

Nott howled. “OH, THANK MERLIN.”

Zabini leaned forward, smirking. “This is about to be painful.”

Malfoy groaned, rubbing his temples. “This is already painful.”

Seamus cracked his knuckles, stood up, and took a deep breath. Then, with absolute dramatics, he crossed his arms, lifted his chin slightly, and adopted a very slow, very deliberate drawl.

“Oh, I’m Draco Malfoy,” Seamus said, voice obnoxiously posh. “I brood all day because no one understands me.”

The group dissolved into laughter.

Malfoy shot him a look of pure disdain.

Seamus continued, dramatically running a hand through his hair. “Oh, look at me, my tragic pureblood problems, my impeccable bone structure, my mysterious silver eyes.”

Hermione snorted.

“Oh, but wait,” Seamus continued, throwing a hand to his forehead, “let me stare into the distance and sigh dramatically—”

He turned, gazing into the fire, exhaling so heavily it was ridiculous.

“Oh, life is so difficult when you’re Draco Malfoy,” Seamus went on. “No one gets me. No one understands my brooding pain—except maybe Zabini, but he’s too busy drinking expensive firewhiskey.”

Zabini raised his glass. “Damn right.”

Nott wheezed. “This is the best thing I’ve ever seen.”

Ginny clutched her stomach. “I can’t breathe.”

Seamus wasn’t done.

He turned dramatically to Parkinson. “Parkinson, tell me I’m pretty.”

Parkinson, without missing a beat, smirked. “Draco, darling, you’re gorgeous.”

Seamus swooned onto the couch.

“Oh, I know,” he said dramatically, tossing a hand over his forehead. “But let me continue to act like my life is so hard even though I have perfect hair and all my problems are self-inflicted.”

The group lost it.

Even Hermione was laughing, hiding her smile behind her hand.

Draco, who had been sitting there stone-faced, finally exhaled through his nose.

Then, dryly, he muttered, “You’re all insufferable.”

Seamus immediately snapped his head toward him.

“Oh, you’re all insufferable,” he mimicked perfectly, crossing his arms with the exact same amount of Malfoy-level judgment.

Nott fell off his chair.

Harry was red from laughter.

Ginny wiped away tears.

Draco sighed, rubbing his temples. “I hate this game.”

Seamus grinned, dropping back onto his cushion. “Five minutes well spent.”

Nott, still recovering, grabbed the deck. “Alright, next up before Malfoy actually murders someone.”

The cards shuffled again, and a new one floated toward Ginny.

She caught it midair, flipping it over.

Then winced.

“Drink a mystery drink made by someone in the room.”

The group ooohed.

Ginny groaned. “Oh, no.”

Nott perked up immediately. “Oh, yes.”

Ginny shot him a look. “I swear to Merlin, if you put something disgusting in there—”

Nott clutched his chest. “Gin, Gin, Gin—darling—have I ever steered you wrong?”

“Yes.”

“Constantly.”

“Every single day,” Zabini muttered.

Nott ignored them all.

Instead, he grinned, stood up, and made a show of sauntering toward the bar setup in the corner.

“Alright, Weasley,” he mused, cracking his knuckles. “I’m gonna be so nice to you.”

Ginny sighed dramatically, resting her chin in her hands. “That’s what scares me.”

The group watched with amusement as Nott went to work, selecting bottles, mixing liquids, adding splashes of things only he understood.

Draco arched a brow. “If you kill her, Nott, I’m not helping you cover it up.”

“Oh, she’ll be fine,” Nott said breezily.

Hermione, watching closely, squinted. “What exactly are you making?”

Nott smirked, deliberately not answering.

Finally, after a few precise shakes of a cocktail shaker, he turned with theatrical flourish and presented Ginny with a glass of something pinkish-red.

She narrowed her eyes at it.

“...What the hell is this?”

Nott grinned. “Strawberry Firewhiskey.”

The group hummed in interest.

“Oooh,” Hermione perked up. “That actually sounds… good?”

Ginny sniffed it suspiciously. “You didn’t spike this with something insane?”

Nott looked mock-offended. “I would never.”

She gave him a flat look.

Nott relented, smirking. “Alright, alright, it’s mostly strawberry syrup, firewhiskey, and a tiny splash of dragon fruit liqueur.”

Ginny considered it, then sighed. “Fine. If I die, you’re writing my obituary.”

Nott beamed. “Deal.”

The group watched in anticipation as Ginny lifted the glass—

Took a slow, thoughtful sip—

Then blinked.

Nott tilted his head. “Well?”

Ginny licked her lips. “...That’s actually really good.”

The group whooped.

Seamus threw his hands up. “Theodore Nott, bartender extraordinaire.”

Hermione nodded approvingly. “Alright, Nott, I’ll give you this one.”

Nott bowed dramatically. “Thank you, thank you, I’ll be here all night.”

Ginny sighed, shaking her head. “I hate when you do something right.”

Nott smirked. “Oh, don’t worry, Gin. It won’t happen again.”

The deck shuffled again.

The deck shuffled again, glowing faintly as a new card floated toward Malfoy.

He caught it midair, flicking it over with an expression of pure boredom.

Then he sighed, reading aloud,

“Say three honest things to the group.”

The group perked up instantly.

Nott grinned. “Oh, this should be good.”

Seamus smirked. “Alright, Malfoy, let’s hear it. Be vulnerable with us.”

Draco exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulders before leaning forward, his expression flat.

Then—

“Finnigan: Shut the fuck up.”

The group booed immediately.

Nott cackled. “Oh, that’s not an answer, mate.”

Draco lifted a brow. “Nott: Shut the fuck up.”

Seamus threw his arms up. “Oh, come on.”

Ginny shook her head. “You’re the worst at this.”

Draco sighed dramatically, shifting his attention.

“Granger: Shut the fuck up.”

The entire group groaned.

“No, no, no,” Ginny waved her arms. “You don’t get to bullshit your way out of this one, Malfoy.”

Nott pointed at him. “You have to answer properly, or we make you do something worse.”

Draco sighed, rubbing his temples. “This game is stupid.”

“Yeah, well,” Seamus grinned, “this game is also happening, so drink up and try again.”

Draco rolled his eyes, but without argument, he reached for the nearest bottle and poured himself a healthy shot of firewhiskey.

He knocked it back smoothly, exhaling as the burn settled.

Then—after a beat—he tried again.

“Finnigan: Shut the fuck up.”

Seamus snorted. “Alright, fair.”

Malfoy shifted slightly, his fingers toying with his glass before flicking his gaze toward Nott.

Then, quieter—“Nott: I’m glad you’re still by my side.”

The group stilled.

Not in a heavy way.

Just in a noteworthy way.

Nott—who had clearly not been expecting an actual answer—blinked once before tilting his head, a slow, easy grin forming.

“Well, well,” he murmured. “Was that genuine sentiment, Malfoy?”

Draco scoffed, looking away. “Shut up, Nott.”

Nott smirked. “You do like me.”

Draco ignored him.

Instead, he turned to Hermione.

She lifted a brow, waiting.

A beat of silence.

Then, smoothly—“Granger: You’re infuriating. Give me my shirt back.”

The group died.

Nott wheezed.

Ginny collapsed onto Seamus, crying with laughter.

Seamus kicked his legs out, choking out, “OH MY GOD—”

Zabini clapped his hands together. “I approve of this response.”

Hermione, still wearing his damn shirt, stared at him.

Then she sighed, shaking her head.

With a put-upon groan, she reached down, grabbed the hem, and yanked it over her head.

The moment she did, the room went silent.

Because Hermione, sitting in the middle of the circle, had just stripped off her only layer of upper clothing—

Leaving her in just her bra.

A beat of stunned silence.

Then Ginny shrieked, lunging forward and throwing a pillow at her. “HERMIONE, WHAT THE FUCK—”

Hermione yelped, grabbing the first thing she could—Malfoy’s sweater—and tugging it over her head before anyone could process it.

The room erupted.

Seamus collapsed.

Nott was done. “GRANGER, YOU COULD HAVE GONE TO CHANGE FIRST—”

Parkinson actually gasped, eyes wide. “That was ballsy.”

Malfoy, who had caught his shirt midair, stared at it blankly before dragging a hand down his face. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Granger.”

Hermione, her face flaming, pulled the oversized sweater tighter around her. “I panicked.”

Zabini, still cackling, gestured toward her new attire. “Guess you’ve just traded one Malfoy item for another.”

Malfoy rolled his eyes, slipping his shirt back on. “If I’d known giving you my sweater would result in that, I’d have kept my mouth shut.”

Nott wiped tears from his eyes. “Oh, this game is a gift.”

Ginny was still laughing. “Granger, you fully stripped in front of the whole room—”

“I WASN’T THINKING,” Hermione groaned, burying her face in her hands.

Malfoy, pulling his sleeves back into place, smirked. “I can tell.”

The group finally calmed down, everyone catching their breath as Nott clapped his hands together.

“Alright,” he grinned. “Next card before Granger actually combusts.”

The deck shuffled again, glowing softly as a card hovered in the air before landing smoothly in front of Nott.

He caught it with an easy smirk, flipping it over before reading aloud.

“Which sexual act are you best at?”

The group erupted.

Seamus nearly choked on his drink. “OH, BLOODY HELL—”

Ginny shrieked with laughter. “OH, THIS IS GOLD.”

Nott, unbothered, simply leaned back, draping an arm over the back of the couch. “Well, well, well,” he mused, smirking. “Lucky me.”

Parkinson arched a brow, inspecting her nails. “Careful, Nott. Whatever you say here will haunt you forever.”

Zabini, grinning, swirled his drink. “Or turn someone on.”

Malfoy groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I hate this game.”

Nott exhaled, stretching his legs out before lifting his gaze to the group, his smirk turning just a bit sharper.

Then, smoothly—without hesitation—he answered.

“Let’s just say,” he drawled, “I have a talent for making people lose their minds.”

The group erupted again.

Seamus fell back, laughing. “Oh, what a way to say it—”

Ginny wiped at her eyes. “Oh, you’re the worst.”

Parkinson hummed, unimpressed. “Nott, just say you’re good at eating out and be done with it.”

Nott shot her a grin. “Darling, a man never brags—he simply proves.”

The room whooped.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “You’re all insufferable.”

Nott just winked. “And yet, you love us.”

The laughter died down as the deck shuffled again.

A new card floated toward Parkinson, landing delicately in her hands.

She flipped it over, skimming the words.

Then—just for a fraction of a second—her smirk faltered.

“What’s your guilty pleasure?”

The group leaned in, intrigued by the rare flicker of hesitation.

Parkinson tilted her head, exhaling softly, before answering smoothly—

“I daydream. A lot.”

Hermione raised a brow. “About?”

Parkinson let out a quiet, almost self-deprecating chuckle. “Something ridiculous.”

Nott scoffed. “Pans, I’ve seen you do far more ridiculous things than daydream.”

The group chuckled, but Parkinson just shook her head, tapping her nails lightly against her glass before answering.

“I think about owning my own fashion line,” she admitted, voice light, but not careless. “My own boutique. Something mine.”

A beat of silence.

Not awkward.

Just there.

It wasn’t a wild confession—not like the others.

But it was honest.

More than most people would expect from her.

Malfoy, watching her carefully, arched a brow. “And why is that a guilty pleasure?”

Parkinson exhaled through her nose. Then, with a sharp little smirk, she said simply,

“Because I wasn’t born to do that.”

Nott’s expression dimmed just slightly.

Zabini frowned, watching her with quiet understanding.

Hermione, slowly realizing what she meant, felt something shift in her chest.

Parkinson sighed, swirling her drink. “I was raised to be a perfect pureblood wife. To be presentable. To be—” She gestured vaguely. “Pleasant. Well-mannered. A trophy.”

Her smirk was bitter now.

“So, yeah,” she murmured. “Daydreaming about something that’s mine, something I control? That’s not exactly encouraged.”

The group fell quiet for a moment.

Then—Ginny, ever the one to break tension, lifted her drink.

“Well, fuck that,” she said easily.

The group perked up, nodding in agreement.

Nott grinned, bumping Parkinson’s shoulder. “You’d be great at it.”

Zabini hummed. “You’d bankrupt us all.”

Parkinson smirked again, but this time, it was a little more real.

“Well,” she mused, taking a sip of her drink, “that is the goal.”

The group chuckled, the mood settling again.

Nott exhaled, shaking his head. “Alright, alright. Final round is getting too real—someone draw the next card before we start hugging each other.”

The deck shuffled again, its enchanted cards flickering before a new one hovered toward Harry.

He caught it midair, already looking apprehensive.

Then—after reading it—his stomach dropped.

“Kiss the person chosen by a random card.”

The group erupted.

Ginny howled. “YES—OH, THIS IS SO GOOD—”

Seamus was already wiping away tears of laughter. “Oh, this is the best final round.”

Harry groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “I hate this game.”

The deck shuffled again, a glowing card floating up before landing softly in front of Nott.

Nott, smirking like the devil himself, slowly picked it up.

Then—without even reading it yet—he grinned at Harry.

“Oh, Potter, I love this power.”

Harry sat up straighter. “Nott, I swear to Merlin—”

Nott finally glanced at the name.

Then, with obnoxious glee, he turned to Daphne.

“Greengrass, you’re up.”

Daphne blinked. “Oh.”

Harry froze.

The group lost it.

Seamus collapsed. “OH, THIS IS PERFECT—”

Ginny cackled. “THIS IS WHAT YOU DESERVE, HARRY.”

Daphne, ever composed, just sighed and tucked a loose curl behind her ear. “I suppose we should get this over with then.”

Harry looked at her.

She looked at him.

A beat of silence.

Then, very deliberately, Daphne tilted her head and smirked. “Or are you scared, Potter?”

The group hissed in delight.

Nott smirked. “Oh, he has to do it now.”

Harry exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “I hate all of you.”

“Just kiss her, Potter,” Malfoy drawled, looking bored. “It’s not that deep.”

Harry glared at him.

Then, sighing, he turned back to Daphne.

And before he could second-guess it, he leaned in and kissed her.

It was quick, clean—no theatrics.

But when he pulled away, Daphne simply smirked.

“Not bad, Potter,” she murmured. “Bit stiff, though.”

Harry groaned. “I’m leaving.”

Nott clapped his hands. “Oh, no, you’re not—you’ve got to stick around for Granger’s turn.”

The deck shuffled again, and a glowing card floated toward Hermione.

She caught it without hesitation, reading it smoothly.

Then, she blinked.

Her lips parted slightly in actual surprise.

“What’s your biggest turn-on?”

The group erupted again.

Seamus slammed his hands on the floor. “OH, THIS JUST KEEPS GETTING BETTER—”

Ginny was crying with laughter. “YES—GRANGER, LET’S GO—”

Hermione, still thrown, let out a slow breath, tapping her fingers against the card.

“Well,” she started, “if you had asked me two years ago, I would’ve said…” She pursed her lips. “Intelligence. You know, having an intellectual match. Someone I could have real conversations with.”

The group nodded, unsurprised.

“That tracks,” Ginny smirked.

Nott grinned. “Classic Granger.”

Hermione exhaled. “But now?” She paused, her voice softening. “Now, it’s… someone who can get me out of my own head.”

A slow hush fell over the group.

Because that?

That was interesting.

Ginny, ever the sharp one, immediately perked up. “Oh, that’s new.”

Seamus grinned. “So you’re saying…” He leaned forward, smirking. “You like someone who distracts you?”

Hermione shrugged, rolling her eyes. “I just mean—I overthink. A lot. I live in my own head. And I’ve realized that I’m only really…” She trailed off, searching for the right words.

Then—very slowly—her face shifted.

Because it hit her.

The only time she wasn’t drowning in her thoughts lately…

Was when she was at war with Malfoy.

No.

Nope.

She gestured vaguely to overcompensate for her thoughts. “You know, something that actually demands my attention. A challenge, something engaging—just anything to snap me out of it.”

Ginny nodded thoughtfully. “So… high-energy types? Spontaneous people?”

Hermione hesitated, then shook her head. “Not necessarily. It’s not about being loud or chaotic. It’s about…” She searched for the words. “Someone who makes me focus on something besides my own thoughts. Who makes me be present.”

Nott smirked. “So, a distraction.”

She sighed. “If you must phrase it that way.”

The group chuckled, but none of them pushed further.

It wasn’t a wild confession.

But it was real.

And far safer than what she almost let herself realize.

Ginny clapped her hands together, grinning. “Alright, well, I love that for you. And I love that we’re learning things about each other.”

Seamus smirked. “Yeah, and I love that we’ve all been getting progressively drunker.”

The deck shuffled again, glowing softly as the next card hovered toward Zabini.

He caught it smoothly, flicking it over with a raised brow before reading aloud.

“What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?”

The group hummed in interest.

“Oh, this should be good,” Nott grinned.

Seamus leaned in, smirking. “Yeah, let’s hear it, Zabini. What dark secrets are you hiding?”

Zabini exhaled, swirling the amber liquid in his glass before answering smoothly, “Tried to break up Draco and Pansy.”

A stunned pause.

Then—

“WHAT?” Ginny practically screamed.

Nott wheeled around, looking delighted. “Wait, when? How? WHY?”

Malfoy slowly turned to stare at Zabini, his expression completely unreadable.

Parkinson, however, arched a bored brow. “Oh, please,” she drawled, sipping her drink. “We knew.”

Zabini smirked. “Of course you did.”

The group erupted into questions all at once.

Seamus gasped. “Hold on—were you, like, actively sabotaging them?”

Zabini exhaled dramatically. “I wouldn’t say sabotage. I’d say… strategic interference.”

Nott cackled. “Oh, that’s worse.”

Parkinson sighed, setting down her glass. “Honestly, Blaise, you were so obvious. You think I didn’t notice the suspiciously well-timed rumors? The sudden, oh-so-helpful comments about Malfoy needing space?”

Malfoy, still unreadable, tilted his head slightly. “You really thought you could break us up?”

Zabini shrugged. “I thought you were a terrible match.”

A collective oof went through the circle.

Parkinson smirked. “And?”

Zabini took a sip of his drink, exhaling. “And I was right.”

The group lost it.

Nott howled. “OH, SHIT—”

Seamus was crying. “HE DIDN’T EVEN HESITATE—”

Parkinson just hummed. “Well. Fair enough.”

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “You’re insufferable.”

Zabini smirked. “And yet, here we are.”

Ginny shook her head. “Alright, that was amazing, but I need the next card before we all start analyzing relationships again.”

The deck shuffled once more, and this time, a glowing card floated toward Greengrass.

She caught it delicately, her brows lifting slightly before reading aloud.

“What gives you the ick?”

The group ooh’d.

“Oh, excellent question,” Nott grinned. “Let’s hear it, Greengrass.”

Daphne tapped a finger against her chin, thoughtful.

Then—easily, smoothly—she answered.

“Mean-ness.”

A beat of silence.

Then Ginny nodded slowly. “Yeah, that tracks.”

Hermione arched a brow. “You mean, like, cruelty?”

Daphne exhaled, giving a small, elegant shrug. “Yes. But even casual mean-ness. You know, people who are just rude for the sake of being rude.”

Parkinson smirked. “I love that we’re playing this game together, then.”

Daphne shot her a pointed look. “You have the ability to be nice, Parkinson. You just choose not to be.”

The group snickered.

Seamus grinned. “Alright, but like… what level of mean-ness? Are we talking playful insults, or full psychopath behavior?”

Daphne tilted her head, considering. “I don’t mind banter. I like people who can hold their own.”

She glanced toward Nott. “You tease people all the time, but it’s never cruel.”

Nott smirked proudly. “Damn right.”

Daphne continued, her voice softer now. “But when people go out of their way to be cruel? When they enjoy putting others down?”

Her lips pressed together slightly.

“That’s when I lose respect for them.”

The group hummed, nodding along.

Ginny clapped her hands. “Alright, well, no psychos for Greengrass—got it.”

Seamus grinned. “Guess that means she’ll never date Malfoy.”

The group snickered.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “I was going to comment, but honestly? Fuck all of you.”

Nott grinned. “Love you too, mate.”

Daphne just smirked. “See? That wasn’t mean.”

Nott winked. “I am a delight.”

he deck shuffled again, glowing softly as the next card floated toward Seamus.

He caught it midair, flipping it over with a wide grin.

Then, after reading it, he cackled.

“If you could swap lives with someone in this room, who would it be?”

The group buzzed with anticipation.

“Oh, this is dangerous,” Nott grinned.

Ginny smirked. “Careful, Finnigan. You’re about to offend someone.”

Seamus snorted. “Please. As if I care.”

He leaned back, tapping his chin in exaggerated thought. “Hmm… let’s see. I could swap with Harry and finally get to be a tragic hero.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Hard pass.”

“I could swap with Malfoy and just brood all day.”

Malfoy exhaled slowly, unimpressed.

Nott grinned. “Tempting, but let’s be honest, Finnigan—you’re not dramatic enough for that life.”

Seamus grinned back. “True, true.”

He hummed, dragging out the suspense before finally smirking.

“You know what?” He gestured lazily. “I’d swap with one of the girls.”

The group perked up.

“Oh?” Ginny grinned. “And why’s that?”

Seamus shot them a devilish look. “Because, clearly, you lot have all the power in this group.”

Nott let out a loud laugh. “Oh, he’s right.”

Seamus continued, dramatically sweeping a hand toward them. “I mean, look at you! Granger’s been terrorizing Malfoy all week—”

Hermione snorted.

“—Parkinson has Zabini whipped—”

Parkinson smirked.

“—Daphne’s the only one none of us would dare piss off—”

Daphne took a very delicate sip of her drink.

“And Ginny? Oh, Ginny just rules with fear.”

Ginny grinned proudly. “Damn right.”

Seamus flung his arms out. “Why wouldn’t I want to be one of you? You get to be terrifying and effortlessly attractive. I want in.”

The group died laughing.

Nott clapped him on the back. “Finnigan, you are too much.”

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “Just take your next drink and move on, Weasley Lite.”

Seamus grinned as the deck shuffled again.

Another card hovered, glowing, before floating toward Ginny.

She caught it smoothly, flipping it over.

Then—her lips twitched.

“What’s your biggest turn-off?”

The group oohed.

“Oh, fantastic question,” Nott grinned. “Gin, spill.”

Ginny exhaled, stretching her legs out.

Then—without hesitation—she answered.

“Ironically? Being angry.”

A beat of silence.

Then—

Seamus lost it.

Nott howled.

“Oh, that’s rich,” Parkinson snorted.

Hermione, biting back a massive grin, arched a brow. “Ginny, you literally have anger issues.”

Ginny sighed dramatically, waving a hand. “I know! And that’s the problem!”

Seamus was dying. “So wait, wait—your own personality trait gives you the ick?”

Ginny groaned. “Yes! I know it’s insane but I hate it when people just get all—” She flailed her hands. “Shouty and irrational! It’s exhausting.”

Nott wiped fake tears from his eyes. “Oh, this is beautiful.”

Zabini smirked. “So, let me get this straight—you can be angry, but the moment someone else is angry—”

Ginny huffed. “Exactly!”

The group howled again.

Malfoy shook his head, amused. “You are a paradox, Weasley.”

Ginny shrugged. “Yeah, well, at least I can admit it.”

Nott, still laughing, clapped his hands. “Alright, last card before we all lose our minds completely.”

The deck shuffled one final time, its glow flickering before the last card floated through the air and landed in front of Malfoy.

The group quieted.

Maybe it was the weight of knowing this was the last round.

Maybe it was the knowledge that Malfoy had somehow dodged anything too personal all night.

Whatever the reason, everyone was watching as he picked it up, eyes flicking over the words.

Then his grip tightened slightly.

“What’s your biggest regret?”

A pause.

A long pause.

Because for the briefest, barest moment—

Malfoy’s gaze flickered toward her.

Just for a fraction of a second.

And in that second, something passed over his expression.

Something raw, something that nearly—nearly—made it past his carefully built walls.

But then—

Then, just as fast, he caught himself.

He inhaled sharply, tilting his chin up, forcing his expression blank again.

And instead, he said, voice carefully even, “Not being able to stop what happened to Astoria last year.”

The room shifted.

The fire crackled.

The weight of the words—despite how controlled they were—settled over the group.

Daphne, who had been leaning lazily against her cushion, stiffened.

It was subtle—a barely there tension in her shoulders, a flicker in her gaze.

But Hermione noticed.

And she wasn’t the only one.

Because Malfoy was looking at Hermione—

But Daphne was looking at Malfoy.

And suddenly, it was too much.

Too obviouslynot the answer he had wanted to give.

Too clearly not what had first flickered through his mind.

Hermione’s stomach twisted.

And before she could stop herself, she let out a quiet, disbelieving snort.

Malfoy’s gaze snapped to her.

His expression darkened instantly.

The tension in the air thickened.

Hermione didn’t even know why she’d done it.

Maybe it was because she knew him well enough—even now—to tell when he was lying.

Maybe it was because she could see the way he held himself back, how he curated his answer, how he caged himself in even when no one else had asked him to.

Or maybe—

Maybe it was because she was just so fucking tired of not understanding him.

Either way—

The damage was done.

Malfoy’s jaw ticked.

His entire posture shifted—sharp, irritated, closed-off.

Then, without another word, he stood up and stormed out.

The group barely had time to react before Hermione, acting purely on instinct, shoved her drink aside and pushed to her feet after him.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Nott muttered, throwing his head back.

Ginny sighed, sipping her drink. “Welp. Guess we know how the night is ending.”

Zabini huffed a quiet laugh. “Could’ve called that one.”

Seamus blinked. “Wait—are we just letting this happen?”

Daphne, still stiff beside him, inhaled slowly, but didn’t say anything.

Ginny shrugged. “Oh, it’s happening whether we like it or not.”

Nott snorted. “Well, this is about to be messy.”

And with that, the game officially ended.

But for Hermione and Draco—

The night was far from over.