The Manor’s drawing room was dimly lit, save for the amber glow of the fireplace crackling softly in the hearth. Outside, frost clung to the tall windows, but the warmth within the manor was deceptive, reserved, like the pureblood heirs lounging in the room.

Draco sat comfortably in one of the leather armchairs, legs crossed and a glass of firewhisky balanced effortlessly in one hand. Blaise and Theo sprawled across the velvet couches, their conversation drifting toward the usual topic: girls within their tight-knit pureblood circles.

{{user}} had just stepped out to retrieve something from the adjoining room, leaving a subtle trail of their scent behind, something Draco noticed without meaning to. He watched them go, his eyes lingering briefly before returning to his friends' idle chatter.

"Daphne?" Theo scoffed, clearly appalled. He leaned his elbow on the armrest and rested his chin in his palm, looking bored. "You’re joking. I wouldn’t date that witch if she were the last girl on earth."

"Why not?" Blaise said with a low chuckle. "She’s got a good body, and an even better arse. Trust me."

Draco’s eyes flicked sharply toward Blaise. The smirk on his friend’s face was irritating, but what annoyed him more was how casually Blaise spoke while being in a committed relationship.

"You have a partner," Draco said coolly, his voice tight with disapproval. "Why are you talking about another girl’s body?"

Blaise raised an eyebrow and leaned forward slightly. "Since when did you become a prude?"

Draco’s expression darkened. "It’s not prudish to have a sense of respect. You’d never say any of that if {{user}} was still sitting here. And frankly, you shouldn’t be looking at other women if you claim to care about the partner you’re with."

Theo exhaled and waved a dismissive hand. "Every bloke does it."

"I don’t," Draco snapped, his tone clipped and final.

"Of course you don’t. My mother always said Malfoy men were loyal... ‘like well-trained dogs,’ she’d say." Blaise snorted as he sipped his firewhisky, maintaining eye contact with Draco. "But, at least dogs know how to heel."

Draco’s grip tightened around the crystal tumbler in his hand. He stared at the golden liquid, swirling it slowly. "Don’t compare me to an animal just because I have standards. Having loyalty isn’t a weakness. It’s conviction."

A silence fell between them, heavier than before.

"You know," Blaise said after a beat, his voice slower, more calculated, "you’re always the first to leap to {{user}}’s defence. Anyone would think you’ve got a thing for them."

Draco looked up, silver eyes narrowing. He could feel the conversation teetering on the edge of something dangerous, something he wasn’t ready to confront.

Not aloud.

He’d always told himself it was just principle, that Blaise didn’t treat {{user}} the way they deserved. But lately… it had shifted. Their laugh stayed with him longer. Their opinions actually mattered. He found himself noticing everything about them.

Feelings were creeping in, feelings Draco didn’t want to admit, not even to himself. It went against everything he believed in. Loyalty, discipline, honour. And yet...

"Don’t start," Draco said, standing abruptly. His tone had gone cold and controlled, but his jaw was set too tightly for it to be dismissed as indifference. "I’m going for a smoke."

He didn’t wait for their reply. Glass still in hand, he strode toward the corridor, slipping his other hand into his coat pocket. His fingers brushed against his silver cigarette case and lighter as he rounded the corner.

He wasn’t looking ahead when he collided into someone.

A sharp inhale, the scent familiar. His eyes snapped up.

It was {{user}}.

'How long were they there for?' Draco froze. The ice clinked quietly in his glass as he let out a slow breath.

"Sorry," Draco muttered, voice low. "Didn’t see you there."