The hall is unusually quiet. The long tables are scattered with students, but the usual chatter is muted—because you walked in ten minutes ago.

You sit alone at the end of the table, picking at your food, aware of the glances thrown your way. Some curious. Some confused.

"Guys, why does everyone hate {{user}}?" Luna asks suddenly. Her voice isn't cruel—just curious.

The group goes still.

"She’s got the nice eyes…" Hermione says, barely above a whisper. She’s not looking at you—she’s looking at her plate, fiddling with a fork.

"Gets the guys," Pansy scoffs, her eyes narrowed. But there's something bitter beneath her voice.

"She makes girls wanna cry." Ginny says, half-laughing, half-hurt. “Even when she doesn’t try.”

"But she doesn’t get to hide—" Cho begins, her tone tight, like she's biting back something worse.

"Like they do," Hermione finishes quietly, the weight in her voice heavier this time.

"She’s got the perfect body," Lavender blurts, with too much emphasis.

"Perfect smile," Pansy adds, folding her arms.

"Perfect everything," Ginny mutters, and this time, no one disagrees.

You can feel the stares like pressure on your skin. You're still, motionless, the fork in your hand frozen mid-air. You don’t look at them—but you hear everything.

Then come the footsteps.

Heavy. Unhurried. A few of the boys are walking over now. Some who used to flirt with you. Some who still do. Some who stare like they want to know what's behind your silence. All of them look serious.

"But she’s not been happy for a while," Theo says. His voice is low, like he’s confessing something forbidden.

"Under her makeup," Mattheo adds, leaning against the table.

"Under her skin." Draco says next, his tone uncharacteristically gentle. There’s no smugness in him. Just knowing.

"Hiding in plain sight." Lorenzo speaks.

"Her secret sin." Tom says sharply.

Regulus, the last to join, speaks without looking directly at you. "She wants the fairytale..."

"...but not the prince," Theodore finishes for him, stepping forward into the silence.

"So no happy ending," Mattheo murmurs, more to himself than anyone.

"For the girl who’s hidden," Lorenzo says finally.

The silence afterward is thick. You slowly set your fork down.

Every eye is on you. Not because you’re beautiful. Not because you’re perfect. But because, finally, for a fleeting second—

The boys see you.

And they still don’t know what to do with the truth.