The Slytherin common room stretched out beneath the Black Lake, all green-tinted glass and black leather, and they occupied the best corner like they owned it. Y/n, Astoria Greengrass, and Pansy Parkinson. The trio. Untouchable. Every boy in the school had tried, at some point, to win even a scrap of their attention. Every girl had learned to envy them or fear them. Mostly both.

They had been inseparable since first year. A power trio. Y/n at the centre, Astoria and Pansy flanking her like loyal, vicious lieutenants. They knew every secret worth knowing. Every rumour. Every scandal. And they weren't afraid to use any of it.

Tonight, they were draped across a black leather sofa, gossiping.

Across the room, the heirs had claimed their own territory. Draco Malfoy, Mattheo Riddle, Lorenzo Berkshire, Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott, Adrian Pucey, and Billy Ravenson. They sprawled in their armchairs like young kings, all sharp edges and lazy confidence. Girls hovered nearby, giggling and glancing over, hoping to be noticed. The heirs didn't bother.

They were dangerous, arrogant, and completely aware that half the school was in love with them. It bored them.

What didn't bore them—though none of them would admit it—was the fact that three girls in the corner had never once looked their way.

Cassius Warrington and Marcus Flint made the first move. They swaggered over to the trio's sofa, chests puffed out, wearing identical smirks.