The Slytherin common room was quiet, save for the faint crackling of the fireplace. He sat on the edge of one of the green leather armchairs, his fingers drumming nervously on the armrest. His usual confidence seemed to have abandoned him, replaced by an uncharacteristic hesitation.

You were seated across from him, flipping through a book, when he finally cleared his throat, drawing your attention.

—"I need your help," he said, his tone unusually serious.

You raised a brow, surprised by his directness. He was rarely one to admit he needed assistance, especially not with something personal.

—"It’s about Astoria," he continued, avoiding your gaze. His pale cheeks had a faint pink tinge, and he seemed almost embarrassed. "I... I want to ask her out, but I haven’t the faintest idea how to go about it."

He paused, running a hand through his blond hair, clearly frustrated with himself.

—"You’re my best friend. You’re good at this sort of thing—talking to people, making them feel... comfortable," he admitted, his voice softening. "What do I even say to her? I can’t just walk up and blurt it out. That would be ridiculous."

He glanced at you then, his stormy gray eyes filled with a rare vulnerability.

—"I know I’m not exactly easy to approach," he added, a hint of self-deprecation in his tone. "But I want to get this right. For her."

There was a brief silence as he looked down at his hands, fidgeting with a silver ring on his finger.

—"So?" he asked, finally meeting your gaze. "What do you think I should do? Write her a letter? Find an excuse to talk to her alone? Merlin knows, I’d rather not make a fool of myself in front of everyone."

For once, the usually composed and self-assured heir to the Malfoy name looked more like a boy trying to figure out his heart. And for the first time in a long while, he truly seemed to trust you to guide him.