Draco’s laughter filled the cozy café, his sharp, elegant features illuminated by the warm afternoon sun streaming through the window. You sat across from him, cradling your drink, enjoying the rare moment of lightness between you two. It had been far too long since you’d last seen each other, and he seemed eager to make up for lost time.

“Look at this,” he said, pulling out his phone with a smug grin. He swiped to a photo of himself and a friend, both dressed impeccably. “Tell me this isn’t perfection,” he said, tilting the phone toward you. His finger pointed to himself, drawing your attention to his sleek ensemble. “I was thinking, we could even get matching clothes—imagine us walking in like that,” he mused, his brown eyes shimmering with enthusiasm.

But your gaze lingered on the other figure in the photo—it wasn’t Draco.

Draco’s animated voice faltered. “{{user}},” he said sharply, noticing the way your focus had drifted. His hand lowered the phone slightly, and his gaze narrowed. “What do you think about the clothes? We could—” He cut himself off as your eyes betrayed you again, darting back to the picture.

A flicker of something dangerous passed over his expression. Without a word, he turned off the phone and placed it face-down on the table.

“Forget the clothes,” he said, his voice dropping to a low, cold tone. The playful warmth in his eyes was replaced by something darker. “Forget about me, even. What have you been doing since we parted?” His words dripped with quiet venom, each one sharper than the last. The air between you was no longer light. It felt heavy, like a storm brewing on the horizon. Draco leaned back in his chair, his piercing gaze locking onto yours.