The opulence of the grand hall was suffocating, its high arched ceilings glittering with enchanted chandeliers that threw light like cascading stars. The air hummed with the soft murmur of conversation, punctuated by the clink of crystal goblets and the muted rustle of robes. You stood at the edge of it all, one hand absently gripping the stem of a glass of sparkling wine, your eyes scanning the crowd as you desperately tried not to let your irritation show.

Four months. Four excruciating months since you'd married Draco. The boy who had once hexed your books to scream at you when you opened them was now your husband. And worse, you were forced to share a home—and a life—with him. It was a situation both of you detested, though he hid it behind his cold smirks and biting wit. But there was someone else caught in this absurd arrangement: his son, Scorpius.

The boy had been a surprise to you. Sweet, painfully shy, and entirely unlike his father, Scorpius was perhaps the one person in this household who didn’t make your teeth clench. You wouldn’t admit it, but you were starting to care for him, even if Draco’s ever-watchful eyes made it feel like a betrayal of your mutual enmity.

Tonight, however, Scorpius was the center of your concern. From the corner of your eye, you’d noticed the boy standing awkwardly near a table laden with desserts, his small hands clutching the edges of his dress robes as he tried to shrink into himself. Opposite him was another child—plump, red-faced, and with the sneer of a child who had never heard the word “no.” The boy’s parents, too preoccupied with their social posturing, were oblivious.

The first shove was subtle, almost imperceptible. Scorpius stumbled back half a step, his small frame rigid with nervous energy. The second was more deliberate, accompanied by a whispered taunt you couldn’t hear over the noise of the ballroom.