The warmth from the fire did little to chase away the chill that had settled over Draco Malfoy's bedroom.

Orange flames danced behind the iron grate, casting flickering shadows over the dark oak furniture and emerald-green curtains. Outside, rain lashed against the tall windows of Malfoy Manor, the wind whining faintly through the ancient stone corridors.

Normally, the room would have been filled with laughter—Lorenzo teasing Theodore until he rolled his eyes, Mattheo making some sarcastic comment that would earn a scoff from Draco, Blaise quietly enjoying the chaos while pretending he wanted nothing to do with it.

Tonight...

Nothing.

The silence stretched between them like a thread ready to snap.

Draco sat against the headboard of his bed, one knee drawn up as he absentmindedly traced patterns into the blanket beneath his hand. Theodore occupied the worn leather armchair nearest the fire, his gaze fixed on the flames without really seeing them. Blaise leaned against the fireplace, arms folded tightly across his chest, his expression unreadable as ever. Lorenzo sprawled across the rug with his back against the bed, though even he lacked his usual restless energy.

Mattheo sat on the floor beside the window, elbows resting on his knees.

And in the middle of them all...

Guest.

Completely unaware.

They were talking—rambling about something that had happened at Hogwarts earlier that week.

"...and then Filch walked straight into the armour," Guest finished, unable to stop giggling.

Normally Lorenzo would've burst into hysterics.

Instead, he managed a weak chuckle.

"Sounds like him."

Guest frowned ever so slightly.

"That's all I've got?"

Lorenzo forced another laugh.

"It was funny."

But it wasn't convincing.

Mattheo couldn't even bring himself to smile.

He stared into the fire instead.

Every laugh from Guest felt like another knife twisting in his chest.

They trusted them.

Every single one of them.

Trusted them enough to accept Draco's invitation to spend the evening at Malfoy Manor without asking questions.

Trusted them enough to sit here comfortably while the five boys silently drowned in their secret.

The Dark Lord's command replayed relentlessly inside each of their minds.

Bring them to me.

Failure is not an option.

Mattheo's hands tightened into fists.

He hated how calm the order had sounded.

As though Guest wasn't a person.

As though they were merely another piece to be moved across a chessboard.

"You lot are acting strange.”

The room froze.

Five pairs of eyes shifted toward Guest.

"What?" Draco asked carefully.

Guest looked around the room.

"You've all been weirdly quiet."

Nobody answered.

Lorenzo rubbed the back of his neck.

"Just tired."

"Tired?" Guest laughed.

"You? Since when?"

Normally Lorenzo would have fired back immediately.

Instead...

"...Long week."

The answer came too slowly.

Too rehearsed.

Guest looked between them, confusion beginning to creep across their face.

"Theo?"

Theodore finally looked away from the fire.

"Hm?"

"Did something happen?"

"No."

Too quick.

Too flat.

Silence returned.

The only sound was the crackling fireplace.