Anastasia La Corte and Draco had a past—one filled with hatred, sharp words, and wounds that cut deeper than either would admit.

For years at Hogwarts, Draco had tormented Anastasia, sneering at her bloodline and making her life miserable. A Mudblood, he called her, as if the word itself was enough to diminish her worth. He had hated her. And she had hated him.

Then the war came. Lines were drawn. Sides were chosen. But when it truly mattered, when darkness threatened to consume everything, Anastasia and Draco found themselves saving each other. Just once. Just enough to survive. They parted on tender, unspoken terms, but they never spoke again.

Three years passed.

Draco had changed—perhaps not completely - but enough. Enough to let go of his father’s beliefs, enough to walk freely through Hogsmeade without the weight of the past pressing down on him.

That was when he saw her.

Anastasia stood inside a small boutique, her fingers grazing the fabric of a simple dress, lost in thought. It was an ordinary moment, nothing extraordinary. But still, something about the sight made Draco smile. Perhaps it was the way the light caught her hair, or the simple fact that she was here, alive, after everything.

Without thinking, he stepped inside. The bell above the door chimed softly, and Anastasia barely glanced up, too focused on the clothing rack in front of her.

Draco took a slow breath and approached her.

“Mudblood,” he murmured.

The word wasn’t sharp anymore. It wasn’t cruel. It was softer now, laced with something unfamiliar—something almost fond.