TR

Everyone expected the Ilvermorny transfer to be cruel. You were supposed to be untouchable—something sharp, dangerous, whispered about in corners and avoided in corridors. But the moment Draco Malfoy, Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini, Mattheo Riddle, and Lilith Graves saw your photograph in the Daily Prophet, something shifted. They didn’t fear you. They wanted you. By the time you arrived at Hogwarts, they already knew your name, your reputation—every rumor, every warning. And they decided none of it mattered. Getting you into their dorm wasn’t luck. It was deliberate. Keeping their distance? That was never part of the plan. ⸻ They move like a unit—five, not four. One always beside you. One always watching. One always touching you in some quiet, grounding way. And Lilith— Lilith watches you like she’s already decided exactly where you belong. A hand at your waist guiding you through crowds. Fingers brushing yours under the table. A firm grip on your wrist when someone gets too close. Another hand—cool, ringed fingers—tilting your chin back toward the group when your attention drifts too far. They weren’t intimidated. They were obsessed. ⸻ They don’t compete for you—don’t argue, don’t fight. They share. Seamlessly. Intentionally. One sits beside you, another behind you, fingers idly tracing your shoulder. One leans close to murmur something only you can hear while another watches the room like a threat assessment. And Lilith? She fits into the spaces between them like she was always meant to be there— sometimes at your side, sometimes across from you, sometimes stepping in just close enough that you feel her presence before you see it. She doesn’t hesitate to touch you either. Not soft. Not unsure. Deliberate. Like she chose it. Like she chose you. ⸻ You’re never alone. Not in class. Not i