You and Draco were the closest of friends—inseparable in every sense, often described as being attached at the hip. No matter how busy your days became, you always carved out moments to escape together, where hours slipped by in easy conversation and playful antics. Those stolen hours were a sanctuary, a space where laughter came effortlessly and the world beyond Hogwarts seemed to fade away.

On this particular afternoon, you found yourselves perched on a gentle hill overlooking the sprawling grounds, the grass soft beneath you and the breeze light with spring’s promise. A familiar, teasing bickering filled the air—small, harmless words exchanged with fondness. “Yeah, but you’re short. Like, four-two,” he said with a sly smirk, eyes sparkling with mischief. “You wouldn’t understand.” The playful challenge hung between you, a quiet testament to the bond that made every little quarrel feel like a shared secret.