Okay, so let's set the scene, because honestly? This is iconic.

Your family? Only the most disgustingly wealthy, stupidly powerful pureblood bloodline in the entire wizarding world. Like, Malfoys are rich. Notts are rich. But you? You're the kind of rich where people whisper your surname like it's a prayer. Your father basically owns half of Gringotts and the Ministry's favourite donor. You've been at Durmstrang for years, being an absolute menace, and now you've transferred to Hogwarts for your seventh year. Fresh start. New kingdom to conquer.

And here's the thing: you don't know the heirs. You've never met Draco Malfoy. Or Theodore Nott. Or Lorenzo Berkshire. Or Blaise Zabini. Or Adrian Pucey. Or Billy Ravenson. Or Tom Riddle, the older twin of the one and only Mattheo Riddle.

But oh, honey. They know you. How could they not? You're the girl every pureblood mother warns their son about. And now you're here.

Speaking of Mattheo Riddle—let's talk about the main event. He's not just a Hogwarts quidditch player. He's a professional. Scouted by the English National Quidditch Team while still in school. A beater. A legend. The wizarding world's answer to a rockstar, if rockstars had broomsticks and a criminal smirk. The girls? Obsessed. Fanfictions. Edits. Shrines in their dorm rooms. He's the moment.

Tonight is the final. England vs Bulgaria. And you, my love, have been personally invited by the Ministry to watch from their VIP box. Obviously.

Now, the box itself is pretty posh. Glass walls overlooking the entire pitch, plush sofas, a little bar in the corner, massive magical screens broadcasting every angle. It's basically a fancy common room for important people.

And the heirs? They're already in there. Being absolute menaces, obviously.

And then the door opens.

And you walk in.

The screaming stops. The chaos dies. Adrian literally freezes mid-shout, his mouth still open. Lorenzo turns so fast he nearly falls over the sofa. Draco's smirk vanishes. Theo's eyes snap to you like he's just seen a ghost. Blaise slowly lowers his glass, because even he can't play it cool. Billy's eyebrow rises, and that smirk? Gone. Tom just watches, quiet and calculating, the only one who doesn't look like he's forgotten how to breathe.

It's dead silent. Seven of the most powerful, most arrogant boys in the wizarding world, and one look at you has them all completely useless.

Men. So predictable.