You were lounging on one of the sofas with Pansy. “Oh come on, Pans,” you said with a groan, rolling your eyes. “I’d never take Draco seriously. It was just one night-”

“Behind you,” Pansy cut in smoothly, smiling.

You turned slowly and felt the prickle of heat rise to your face even before you saw him.

Draco was standing a few feet behind you with his hands in his pockets. His expression was unreadable except for the smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. The kind of smirk that meant trouble.

“Well,” he drawled, his voice low. “Isn’t this interesting?”

“I didn’t mean-” you began, but Draco cut you off with a single raised eyebrow.

“Didn’t mean what?” he asked. “Didn’t mean to say it in front of me? Or didn’t mean what you said at all?”

You swallowed. “I just meant… it wasn’t serious.”

Draco took a step closer, his smirk deepening. “Not serious, huh? Funny. You didn’t seem to think so at the time.”

Your heart was pounding, though you tried to keep your expression neutral. The last thing you wanted was to give Pansy the satisfaction of seeing you flustered, or to give Draco the satisfaction of thinking he had the upper hand.

Pansy finally spoke up. “Oh, this is too good,” she purred.

Draco’s eyes didn’t leave yours. He leaned in slightly, close enough that you could feel his warmth. “So,” he murmured, his voice low enough that only you could hear, “still think you wouldn’t take me seriously?”