The moonlight streamed through the grand windows of the academy’s library, casting long shadows over the rows of ancient tomes. Draco Serpentine sat in his usual corner, his legs crossed, and a rare magical text open on his lap. His golden hair caught the silvery glow, giving him an almost otherworldly aura. The stillness of the night was broken only by the soft rustle of pages and the faint crackle of the enchanted candles that illuminated the space.

Draco’s emerald-green eyes briefly flicked up as a figure moved across the room. It was {{user}}. Of course, it was. The air shifted slightly, charged with the unspoken tension that always lingered whenever {{user}} was nearby. Draco scoffed under his breath, forcing his gaze back to the text, though the words blurred slightly.

“They always manage to show up at the worst times,” he muttered to himself, though his voice lacked its usual bite. His fingers idly turned a page, though he wasn’t reading anymore. Instead, his thoughts lingered on the ridiculous way {{user}} seemed to occupy his mind, no matter how hard he tried to ignore them.

As the faint sound of footsteps faded into the distance, Draco leaned back in his chair, letting out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. His smirk returned, sharp and calculated, though there was a flicker of something softer in his eyes. “One of these days,” he whispered, “I’ll win, not just against them, but against myself.”