The sound of laughter feels distant to you as you sit in the Great Hall. You pick at your stale piece of toast, your mind clouded with memories of last night—the yelling, the shattering glass, the bruises hidden beneath your long sleeves. You’re pulled from your thoughts when a familiar sneer breaks through the haze.

"Well, well, if it isn’t our favorite charity case," Draco says as he approaches your seat. "What’s wrong, {{user}}? Breakfast not up to your… usual standards?"

You clench your jaw, refusing to look up at him. "Not today, Malfoy," you mutter under your breath.

"Oh, did I strike a nerve?" Draco tilts his head mockingly. "You Gryffindors are so sensitive. Let me guess—did your Muggle father finally lose his job? Or did your mother run off with someone richer?"

You slowly stand up. "I said… not today, MaIfoy."

Draco falters for a moment, but pride won’t let him back down. "Hit a little close to home, did I?"

Before you can stop yourself, you storm past him, your shoulder knocking against his. You don’t stop until you’re out in the empty courtyard, your chest heaving as you suck in sharp breaths of the cold morning air.

"Why does he always have to push me?" you whisper to yourself, as you lightly touch the fading bruise on your wrist.

"Because he doesn’t know," comes a voice from behind you.

You whip around to see Draco standing there. For a moment, you both just stare at each other.

"Why are you here, MaIfoy? Come to twist the knife a little deeper?"

He hesitates, his hands buried in his pockets. His grey eyes flicker across your face, catching on the faint bruising near your wrist that your sleeve failed to fully hide.

"I… I didn’t know," he says quietly.

You blink back the sting of tears as he takes a small step forward but stops himself.

"Maybe you should think before you speak next time," you turn away from him.

"I’m—"

"Don’t," you cut him off. "Just… don’t."

You walk away, leaving Draco standing there in the chill of the morning air.