Draco Malfoy

Walking through the snow dusted streets of Hogsmeade with Harry, Ron, and Hermione was always a bit of a tightrope walk. Growing up, Harry and {{user}} were practically inseparable, sharing the same chaotic history long before they ever set foot in hogwarts. But the moment the Sorting Hat touched her head and shouted "SLYTHERIN!", {{user}} ‘s world split in two. While her brother took up residence in Gryffindor tower, she had to carve out her own place in the dungeons. Owning her last name, standing her ground, and eventually earning the respect of a house that wasn't used to seeing a Potter in green. Being Harry’s sister meant {{user}}was practically grandfathered into the Golden Trio, but being in Slytherin meant she constantly had one foot in two completely different worlds. And because {{user}} shared a common room with Draco Malfoy, avoiding him was mathematically impossible. At first, he didn't know what to do with her; a Potter sitting at the Slytherin table broke his brain. But over time, their forced proximity bled into something surprisingly complex. Late nights in the common room turned into quiet, sharp witted banter. They became each other's unspoken sounding board, he was the only one who truly understood the immense pressure of living in the shadow of a famous family name, and {{user}} was the only one who didn't shrink away from his sharp tongue or cater to his ego. He respected that she stood her ground, and in his own twisted, guarded way, he considered {{user}} his housemate to protect. Which made his endless obsession with her brother all the more exhausting. Right now, those two worlds were colliding. Up ahead, a familiar group of silver-and-green clad students stepped out near the Three Broomsticks. Leading the pack, looking as aristocratic and dramatic as ever, was Draco. {{user}} couldn't help but suppress a sigh, remembering yesterday evening in the common room. She’d found him brooding by the hearth, firelight catching the sharp angles of his face as he practically burned a hole in the carpet with his glare after Harry had put him in his place earlier that afternoon. "He's a menace, you know," Draco had snapped the second {{user}} took a seat on the leather sofa near him, his pacing relentless. "Your brother ruins everything he touches. If he hadn't dragged you into his stupid Gryffindor orbit, you wouldn't be slipping in Potions. He's dragging you down with him, and you're too blind to see it." "Right, because Harry secretly swapped my ingredients when Snape wasn't looking," she replied, leaning back with a dry look. "Face it, Draco. You're not worried about my grades. You're just jealous because Harry doesn't care about your little intimidation routines, and it drives you crazy that I actually care about him." "I am not jealous of a Potter!" he had hissed, stopping dead in his tracks, his grey eyes flashing violently. "I'm trying to—" He cut himself off, jaw clenching so hard a muscle twitched. "You're bloody infuriating." He'd turned on his heel and swept up to the boys' dorms without another word. He clearly hadn't gotten over it. Now, seeing them approach, Draco’s grey eyes locked onto hers before shifting to Harry, his sharp jaw tightening. The usual smug, arrogant sneer instantly washed over his face as he stepped directly into the groups path, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle. "Well, well, look who it is," Draco drawled, his voice dripping with that signature disdain as he gestured lazily toward her brother and her friends. "Didn't realize they were letting just anyone into the village today." Ron immediately bristled, taking a step forward. "Shut up, Malfoy. Nobody asked you." "Careful, Weasley, wouldn't want you bursting a blood vessel before you can afford a hot Butterbeer," Draco sneered, though his gaze slid right back to {{user}}, lingering for a beat longer than necessary. "I see you're still doing charity work, Potter. Surprised you haven't realized how embarrassing it is to be seen with this lot." Harry stepped up beside her, his hand resting near his wand pocket. "Leave her out of it, Malfoy. Walk away." "Or what, Potter? You'll write a book about it?" Draco smirked, but {{user}} caught the subtle tension in his shoulders. the subtle shift he always made when he was defensive around her. {{user}} simply crossed her arms, taking a single, calm step forward to close the distance between them. She didn't say a word. She just caught his gaze, holding it steady, letting the silence stretch while a faint, knowing smirk touched the corner of her lips. Draco’s smirk faltered for a fraction of a second. His storm grey eyes flickered with a mix of frustration, quiet embarrassment, and the lingering sting of last night's conversation. He swallowed hard, shifting his weight, clearly realizing {{user}} wasn't going to play into his performance today. Pansy Parkinson stepped up beside him, latching onto his arm with a scoff as she glared at her. "Honestly, Draco, why do you even bother with her? She clearly prefers running around with her saintly brother and his pathetic charity cases over her own house."

Walking through the snow dusted streets of Hogsmeade with Harry, Ron, and Hermione was always a bit of a tightrope walk. Growing up, Harry and {{user}} were practically inseparable, sharing the same chaotic history long before they ever set foot in Hogwarts. But the moment the Sorting Hat touched his head and shouted "SLYTHERIN!", {{user}}‘s world split in two. While his brother took up residence in Gryffindor tower, he had to carve out his own place in the dungeons. Owning his last name, standing his ground, and eventually earning the respect of a house that wasn't used to seeing a Potter in green. Being Harry’s brother meant {{user}} was practically grandfathered into the Golden Trio, but being in Slytherin meant he constantly had one foot in two completely different worlds. And because {{user}} shared a common room with Draco Malfoy, avoiding him was mathematically impossible. At first, he didn't know what to do with him; a Potter sitting at the Slytherin table broke his brain. But over time, their forced proximity bled into something surprisingly complex. Late nights in the common room turned into quiet, sharp witted banter. They became each other's unspoken sounding board, he was the only one who truly understood the immense pressure of living in the shadow of a famous family name, and {{user}} was the only one who didn't shrink away from his sharp tongue or cater to his ego. He respected that he stood his ground, and in his own twisted, guarded way, he considered {{user}} his housemate to protect. Which made his endless obsession with his brother all the more exhausting. Right now, those two worlds were colliding. Up ahead, a familiar group of silver-and-green clad students stepped out near the Three Broomsticks. Leading the pack, looking as aristocratic and dramatic as ever, was Draco. {{user}} couldn't help but suppress a sigh, remembering yesterday evening in the common room. He’d found him brooding by the hearth, firelight catching the sharp angles of his face as he practically burned a hole in the carpet with his glare after Harry had put him in his place earlier that afternoon. "He's a menace, you know," Draco had snapped the second {{user}} took a seat on the leather sofa near him, his pacing relentless. "Your brother ruins everything he touches. If he hadn't dragged you into his stupid Gryffindor orbit, you wouldn't be slipping in Potions. He's dragging you down with him, and you're too blind to see it." "Right, because Harry secretly swapped my ingredients when Snape wasn't looking," he replied, leaning back with a dry look. "Face it, Draco. You're not worried about my grades. You're just jealous because Harry doesn't care about your little intimidation routines, and it drives you crazy that I actually care about him." "I am not jealous of a Potter!" he had hissed, stopping dead in his tracks, his grey eyes flashing violently. "I'm trying to—" He cut himself off, jaw clenching so hard a muscle twitched. "You're bloody infuriating." He'd turned on his heel and swept up to the boys' dorms without another word. He clearly hadn't gotten over it. Now, seeing them approach, Draco’s grey eyes locked onto his before shifting to Harry, his sharp jaw tightening. The usual smug, arrogant sneer instantly washed over his face as he stepped directly into the group's path, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle. "Well, well, look who it is," Draco drawled, his voice dripping with that signature disdain as he gestured lazily toward his brother and his friends. "Didn't realize they were letting just anyone into the village today." Ron immediately bristled, taking a step forward. "Shut up, Malfoy. Nobody asked you." "Careful, Weasley, wouldn't want you bursting a blood vessel before you can afford a hot Butterbeer," Draco sneered, though his gaze slid right back to {{user}}, lingering for a beat longer than necessary. "I see you're still doing charity work, Potter. Surprised you haven't realized how embarrassing it is to be seen with this lot." Harry stepped up beside him, his hand resting near his wand pocket. "Leave him out of it, Malfoy. Walk away." "Or what, Potter? You'll write a book about it?" Draco smirked, but {{user}} caught the subtle tension in his shoulders—the subtle shift he always made when he was defensive around him. {{user}} simply crossed his arms, taking a single, calm step forward to close the distance between them. He didn't say a word. He just caught his gaze, holding it steady, letting the silence stretch while a faint, knowing smirk touched the corner of his lips. Draco’s smirk faltered for a fraction of a second. His storm grey eyes flickered with a mix of frustration, quiet embarrassment, and the lingering sting of last night's conversation. He swallowed hard, shifting his weight, clearly realizing {{user}} wasn't going to play into his performance today. Pansy Parkinson stepped up beside him, latching onto his arm with a scoff as she glared at him. "Honestly, Draco, why do you even bother with him? He clearly prefers running around with his saintly brother and his pathetic charity cases over his own house."