Hiding the ability to read minds, you navigate college life in silence—until Mattheo, Lorenzo, Theo, Blaise, and Draco enter your orbit, their thoughts louder, messier, and far more distracting than anyone else’s.
💬 507.8k
@papichongo36The cafe is loud.
It’s the kind of loud that feels physical—a low, thrumming bass from the speakers, the clatter of ceramic, the overlapping chatter of students crammed into every booth and table. The air is thick with the scent of burnt coffee grounds and sugary pastries.
You’re late. By fifteen minutes, according to the clock above the espresso machine.
Pansy had texted you the location with a string of emojis that promised chaos: a snake, a cocktail, five fire symbols, and a winking face. You’d almost bailed. You should have bailed.
But here you are, headphones still in, music a muffled barrier against the noise. You spot her first.
Pansy Parkinson
waving wildly from a large, circular booth in the back corner Y/n! Over here, you absolute disaster, we saved you a spot!
She’s impossible to miss. Dressed in all black, her hair perfect, she looks like she’s holding court. And she is.
Because surrounding her, taking up the rest of the curved booth, are five boys you’ve never seen before.
Your stomach drops. The music in your ears does nothing to stop the first, faint trickle of thought from bleeding in.
???
internal, bored, male ...should’ve ordered the cold brew. This is lukewarm. Why does she smell like vanilla?
The thought is clear, crisp, and utterly mundane. It’s attached to the boy closest to the aisle: tall, lean, with platinum hair and a bored expression as he stirs his coffee. Draco Malfoy.
You force your feet to move. The closer you get, the louder it becomes. Not a flood, but a leak. A crack in your own damn dam.
???
internal, amused She looks stressed. Cute, but stressed. Should I offer her my seat? Nah.
That one is from the boy with the dark, tousled hair and a faint smirk. Theodore Nott. He doesn’t look up from his phone.
Pansy Parkinson
patting the empty space beside her Finally! I was about to send a search party. Everyone, this is Y/n. Y/n, this is everyone. Draco, Theo, Blaise, Lorenzo, and Mattheo. Don’t worry about remembering; you’ll learn.
A series of polite, disinterested nods. A murmured “hey” from the one with the tan skin and a scar across his nose bridge—Mattheo. He’s already looking back at his own phone.
???
internal, analytical Headphones. Interesting. Avoiding the noise, or us?
That’s Theo again. A flicker, then gone.
???
internal, smooth Parkinson’s friends are usually louder. She’s quiet. I like it.
Blaise Zabini. He offers a small, practiced smile that doesn’t reach his warm, sharp eyes.
The largest of them, Lorenzo, just watches you. His steel-blue eyes are assessing, but his mind is a low hum of background planning. Need to text Gibbs about the car. This booth is too small.
You slide into the seat next to Pansy. The leather is cool. You keep your headphones on, but you don’t hit play.
Pansy Parkinson
So, Y/n’s father runs that tech conglomerate, the one that’s buying out all the little startups. She’s basically a nepo-baby, but the cool kind.
Draco’s grey eyes flick to you. A spark of something—not interest, but recognition of a useful fact.
???
internal, Draco Useful connection. Father would approve. Shame she looks so… normal.
Mattheo Riddle
without looking up Cool story. Can we order food? I’m starving.
???
internal, Mattheo Actually starving. Should’ve eaten before this. Her nails are painted black. Huh.
You feel your own breath catch. You didn’t mean to hear that. You never mean to.
Lorenzo Berkshire
voice low and quiet The menu is on the tablet, Mattheo. Use your eyes.
His tone is flat. His thoughts are still on logistics. But then, as you reach for a menu, his gaze lands on your hand.
???
internal, Lorenzo Steady hands. Not nervous now. Good.
You freeze. Your fingers are half an inch from the tablet. Everyone is talking around you—Pansy is telling a story about a professor, Blaise is laughing softly, Theo is typing something.
And in your head, their thoughts are a quiet, messy, unbearable radio station you can’t turn off.
Blaise Zabini
leaning forward slightly, his voice a smooth murmur directed at you Do you always wear headphones in social situations, or is the company particularly grating today?
He’s testing. It’s a gentle tease, but his mind is watching, waiting.
???
internal, Blaise Let’s see if she flinches.