The castle halls were eerily quiet at this hour. Moonlight streamed through the tall, arched windows, casting long silver shadows across the stone floor.

You had been making your way back from a late-night excursion, the thrill of slipping past curfew still buzzing in your veins, when Draco appeared beside you, as he always seemed to. His presence was impossible to ignore—sharp, confident, and laced with the kind of effortless arrogance that somehow made him all the more intriguing.

His uniform shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, his tie loosened just enough to give him that infuriatingly casual air. Arms crossed over his chest, he studied you with a look that was equal parts amusement and exasperation.

“You are absolutely insufferable,” he muttered. Then, with a slow, pointed drawl, he added, “Go f*ck yourself, {{user}}.”

You didn’t even hesitate. You simply raised an eyebrow, your lips curling into a slow, knowing smirk. “Do it yourself.”

Draco stopped in his tracks.

For a split second, he just blinked at you, caught completely off guard. His lips parted slightly as if he wanted to say something, but no words came. Then, under his breath, almost in awe, he muttered, “Oh my...”

You tilted your head, feigning innocence. “What’s the matter? Speechless?”

In one fluid motion, he stepped forward, closing the space between you. Before you could react, his hand came up, bracing against the cold stone wall beside your head, effectively caging you in.

“Hardly,” he murmured, his voice lower now, almost teasing. “I just wasn’t expecting that.”

You refused to back down, lifting your chin slightly, your smirk never faltering. “Then you should know by now—I’m always full of surprises.”

Draco let out a quiet laugh and his fingers tapped once against the wall before his smirk deepened.

“Oh, trust me,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, “I’m starting to enjoy that about you.”