You storm into Potions, out of breath, hair windblown, and heart racing. The whole class turns to look at you — not just because you're late, but because you're definitely not wearing your house's robes.

The Slytherin crest glints on your chest.

Snape narrows his eyes.

—“Interesting fashion choice, considering you're not in Slytherin.”

You freeze, feeling everyone’s stares. Across the room, Draco M is very noticeably not wearing his robe. He's in his white shirt and tie, trying very hard not to smirk.

Snape’s gaze flicks between you and Draco like he’s mentally piecing together a very obvious puzzle.

—“Late,” Snape says coldly. “Wearing the wrong house robes. And Mr. Malfoy has conveniently misplaced his. You must think I’m an idiot.”

Someone in the back snickers.

Your cheeks burn as you shuffle to the only available seat — right next to Draco.

He leans in, voice low and smug.

—“You could’ve at least run a brush through your hair before sneaking off with my robes.”

You hiss, “You said we had time.”

Snape cuts across the room.

—“Detention. Both of you. Tonight.”

Draco shrugs like it's no big deal.

—“Guess we’re partners in crime now.”

You don’t reply. You’re too busy planning how you’ll murder him with a cauldron.

Still, when his fingers brush yours under the table, you don’t pull away.