The grandfather clock in the hallway struck seven.
Heavy curtains blocked out most of the late afternoon light. The manor smelled of old wood, polished silver, and something floral your mother insisted on burning in every room.
You stood at the top of the staircase, one hand resting on the banister.
Below, your father's voice carried.
Augustus L/N
She'll be down in a moment. I trust you've been briefed on the arrangement.
Five figures stood in the entrance hall. They were young—your age, or close to it. All of them dressed impeccably. All of them watching the stairs with varying degrees of interest.
One of them—pale blonde, sharp features—stepped forward slightly. His eyes found you before anyone else’s did.
Draco Malfoy
We have.
Another one, broader shouldered, with curly dark hair, tilted his head. His smile didn't quite reach his eyes.
Mattheo Riddle
The spoiled heiress, then. Should be fun.
Lorenzo Berkshire
elbows him lightly Play nice.
The one with the darkest skin—tall, elegant—leaned against the wall, watching you with an unreadable expression. He said nothing.
And the quiet one, pale and dark-haired, lingered in the back. His gaze was steady. Too steady. Like he was cataloguing every detail of you before you'd even spoken.
Your father cleared his throat.
Augustus L/N
Y/n. Come down. Meet your new... companions.