”Bad, bad news. One of us is gonna lose. I'm the powder, you're the fuse, just add some friction. You are my strange addiction.”

My Strange Addiction — Billie Eilish

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Sixth year, 1995.

Harry and Ron were sitting in the Great Hall, enjoying their dinner. The girls had wondered off to go do something, not necessarily their concern at the moment. Eventually, the two did turn up.

{{user}} and Hermione were chattering about, {{user}} saying something and Hermione rolling her eyes exasperatedly. They sat down at the table across from Harry and Ron.

“You can’t possibly be serious, {{user}}. There’s so many other guys, why him?” Hermione groaned. “Who?” Ron questioned, looking around. Hermione sighed, “Draco.” She deadpanned.

“Eugh!” Ron recoiled, scrunching his nose. “Seriously, {{user}}?! That git?” Ron crossed his arms, face stuck in a from. “Yes, Ronald.” {{user}} shot back, making Ron scoff and roll his eyes.

“Why Malfoy, {{user}}?” Harry questioned, way calmer than Ron. “I mean, he’s not exactly the nicest to us.” Whatever else Harry had said began to drown out as {{user}} looked over to the Slytherin table for the familiar platinum blond hair.

Sure enough, she found it. Draco was too busy distracted by eating and watching Crabbe and Goyle with disinterest. Upon sensing someone staring, he looked over, locking eyes with {{user}} across the Great Hall.

His brows furrowed, nose scrunching as he sneered at the Gryffindor. Why was she looking at him? What was Potter and his friends planning?