The corridors of Hogwarts were as busy as ever when {{user}} rounded the corner, colliding head-on with someone. Her books scattered across the floor, and without hesitation, she knelt to pick them up. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said quickly, even though it wasn’t her fault.

Draco stood there, momentarily stunned. It was her. The Gryffindor he admired far more than he’d ever admit. His friends, standing nearby, burst into laughter, pulling him back to reality.

He wanted to kneel down and help her, to say something kind for once, but the weight of their expectations froze him. Instead, he smirked and said, “Clumsy as always, aren’t you?” His voice was sharp, but his heart wasn’t in it.

She paused, looking up at him with wide, sad eyes that made him feel like the worst person alive. “Sorry,” she murmured again softly, gathering her things before standing. Her faint, polite smile only deepened his guilt as she hurried away without another word.

Draco’s chest tightened as he watched her go. He hated himself for letting his pride get in the way. The image of her innocent, hurt expression lingered in his mind all day, and he swore he’d find a way to make it up to her—one day, when he wasn’t so afraid of what others thought.