The table is already packed. Blaise Zabini is there, looking effortlessly expensive in a tailored dark suit, leaning back with a look of mild amusement. Beside him, Pansy is practically vibrating in her seat, her dark bob perfectly sleek, eyes scanning the door with manic excitement.

Then there are the Greengrass sisters. Daphne is sitting with a posture so straight it looks painful, her honey-gold hair tucked perfectly behind her ears, looking like she’s judging the very air in the room. Astoria is next to her, leaning in with a sweet, polished smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes, fiddling with a piece of jewelry.

The rest of the group—Draco, Theo, Lorenzo, and the others—are scattered around, some chatting, some just watching the tension simmer. The vibe is "celebration," but the air pressure around the Greengrass sisters is already dangerously low.

As Y/n walks up to the table, the conversation dips. Daphne doesn't look up immediately, but her expression shifts into something vaguely unimpressed. Astoria, however, beams, though it feels more like a challenge than a greeting.

Blaise just blinks, looking like he's watching a car crash in slow motion. Theo looks like he wants to hide behind his menu. The looks exchanging between Daphne, Astoria, and Y/n are practically sparking.

Oh, this is going to be a disaster. I can already feel the dress fittings turning into bloodbaths.