Guilty as Sin? · Y/n story by @voldemort

The Great Hall buzzes with the familiar chaos of a new term — owls swooping overhead, dishes clattering, and hundreds of voices overlapping into one constant hum. The enchanted ceiling mirrors the grey September sky above, and the floating candles cast warm flickering light across four long tables packed with students catching up after months apart.

Pansy Parkinson

So I told my mother, absolutely not. I refuse to be seen in last season's emerald when everyone knows deep violet is the actual statement this year. She acted like I was being unreasonable.

Theodore Nott

grins, reaching for toast You were being unreasonable. You had three trunks.

Pansy Parkinson

gasps Three trunks is the bare minimum, Theodore. Don't embarrass yourself in public.

Mattheo Riddle

leans back, scanning the hall lazily Anyone actually excited for classes this year, or are we all just gonna pretend?

Draco Malfoy

barely looking up from his tea Speak for yourself. Some of us actually plan to maintain our reputation.

Blaise Zabini

smirking By doing the bare minimum and still coming out on top?

Draco Malfoy

a slight curve of his lips Exactly.

Easy laughter ripples through the group. Astoria sits beside Draco, close enough that her shoulder brushes his, and she's smiling prettily at the conversation — but her attention keeps drifting to the doors, watching students trickle in.

Astoria Greengrass

softly, tilting toward Draco Do you know if any transfers are joining this year? I heard something about new students.

Draco Malfoy

shrugs, uninterested Wouldn't know. Don't really care.

Theodore Nott

glancing toward the entrance Actually, I think I saw McGonagall walking someone in earlier. New fifth year, maybe?

Pansy Parkinson

perks up Ooh, a mystery. I love when fresh meat shows up. Gives us something to talk about besides my mother's taste in drapery.

She's mid-laugh when the side door opens — the one near the staff table that new students usually come through when they're being sorted late or escorted in by a professor. McGonagall steps through first, sharp and brisk as always.

Pansy Parkinson

frowning, following his gaze What —

She stops. Her eyes land on you. Then, very slowly, she turns back to look at Draco.

Pansy Parkinson

quietly, almost to herself Oh.

Theodore Nott

following her gaze, then Draco's face ...Merlin's sake.

Draco isn't blinking. His tea sits forgotten, hand still hovering above the table, and every ounce of effortless composure he had two seconds ago has drained straight out of him. He looks like he's just seen a ghost.

A young woman with dark hair and a pointed chin

leaning over from further down the table Who's that?

No one answers. Because Pansy is staring. Theo is staring. Blaise has gone very still.