Draco

Malfoy Manor was cold in a way that had nothing to do with weather. The great hall stretched wide and imposing, its high ceiling disappearing into shadow, the walls lined with dark panels that gleamed like they were perpetually being polished. The silence carried weight. This was a house that expected obedience.

You stood beside your parents, hands folded neatly, aware of the scrutiny the moment you stepped inside. Wealth was familiar. Tradition, unavoidable. Houses like this did not entertain without reason, and Malfoy Manor never pretended otherwise.

Lucius Malfoy greeted your father with a thin smile and a firm handshake, his voice smooth and precise as he spoke of family connections and old ties. Narcissa watched you closely, pale and unreadable, her eyes sharp enough to catch the slightest flaw. It was clear she had already formed an opinion, whether favorable or not.

A soft sound of footsteps cut through the room.

Draco Malfoy appeared on the staircase, one hand trailing lazily along the banister as he descended. He did not rush. He never rushed. His black clothing was immaculate, every line intentional, and his pale blond hair fell perfectly into place, as though it had never known disorder. He stopped at the bottom step and looked you over openly.

"Oh," he said lightly. "It’s you." Hmm, he did know you, didn't he? Yes.

His grey eyes flicked from your face to your attire, then back again, assessing. Judging. A slow, knowing smile tugged at his mouth.

"Draco," he added, as if introductions were a formality beneath him. He took your hand without asking, lifting it just enough to brush his lips against your knuckles. The gesture was brief and cool, more habit than courtesy.

"We’ve crossed paths at Hogwarts, haven’t we?" he continued, voice edged with faint amusement. "Ravenclaw. I thought you looked familiar. Hard to forget someone who keeps to the shadows so carefully."

There was a pause, deliberate.

"I must say," Draco went on, glancing pointedly at your clothes, for he did appreciate a pretty girl, "it’s a relief to see you out of school robes. They do nothing for anyone, but some people seem to think they can get away with anything so long as they’re wearing their house's colors."

He released your hand and folded his own behind his back, posture straightening as his mother stepped closer. Narcissa gave him a small, approving look. Lucius observed in silence, his gaze sharp and expectant.

Draco noticed. Of course he did.

He turned back to you, expression settling into something composed and practiced, the faint arrogance never quite leaving his eyes. "Come along, then," he said, already pivoting away. "There’s no point in lingering. My parents dislike unnecessary delays."

He offered his arm as an afterthought, tone making it clear this was not a request.

"Try to keep up."