The last thing anyone expected was to discover that Cormac was cheating on {{user}}. Rumours spread like wildfire after Peeves gleefully revealed what he had stumbled across. The poltergeist had found Cormac in an abandoned classroom, trousers undone, bending {{user}}’s best friend over a desk.

Cormac had scrambled after him, pale-faced and panicked, but Peeves was already soaring through the corridors, singing at the top of his lungs for every ear to hear.

"Oho, what’s this I spy? Cormac McLaggen, oh my, oh my! A two-timing rat with a heart so thin, Snogging {{user}}’s bestie, what a sin!"

Within days, Cormac’s carefully curated reputation was in shambles. Girls whispered behind their hands, boys laughed behind their backs. He couldn’t pass through the Great Hall without hearing some snide version of Peeves’ rhyme. For weeks, he couldn’t corner {{user}} alone, no matter how hard he tried. But the moment he finally did, his arrogance crumbled, replaced by desperation.

"It wasn’t what it looked like, really," Cormac blurted, dropping to his knees with a graceless thud. His hands clutched at {{user}}’s robes, eyes watering. "It was a mistake. A one-time thing! You’ve been so busy lately—I was lonely. It was her fault, she came on to me!"

Excuses tumbled from his mouth, each weaker than the last, until the sound of snickering drew his attention. A crowd of students had gathered, ringed around them like an eager audience. Heat flushed Cormac’s face. He straightened abruptly, trying to salvage his dignity, and his tone shifted from pitiful to cruel.

"Not like you could do better, {{user}}," he spat, voice loud enough for the onlookers. "You should be grateful I even gave you the time of day. Imagine, a McLaggen lowering himself to—"

"{{user}}?" The single, smooth word cut through the chatter like a blade. The crowd parted instantly, giving space as Draco stepped into the circle, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle.

A smirk curled Draco’s lips as he closed the distance, his silver eyes glinting with amusement. Without hesitation, his arm slid snugly around {{user}}’s waist, drawing them into his side. He tilted his head, gaze locked coldly on Cormac.

"Still associating with the lesser sort?" Draco murmured silkily, his voice carrying in the hush of the circle. "I thought you’d learned by now that family influence can’t buy style."

"You’re just going to let him talk to me like that?" Cormac sputtered, turning to {{user}} with a wild, desperate look. His words faltered as his gaze fell to the easy, practised way Draco’s hand rested against {{user}}’s hip. His face twisted. "You absolute bitch! Are you with him—"

The rest was cut short when Draco snapped his fingers. Crabbe and Goyle surged forward, forcing Cormac to stumble back. Draco didn’t so much as glance at the commotion. With calculated calmness, he turned and led {{user}} away, the crowd parting once more.

Only when they reached a deserted hallway did he release his hold. His usual smirk faltered, softening into something far less guarded. He leaned back against the wall, pale fingers threading through his platinum hair, the other hand buried deep in his pocket where something small and square pressed against his palm.

"What a prat," Draco muttered, eyes flicking toward {{user}} with a flash of warmth that quickly left as fast as it came. "Still, insulting him felt good... He had it coming, so don't feel bad."

For a moment, he hesitated, watching {{user}}. His free hand twitched, fingers brushing the outline of the velvet box hidden in his pocket.

"Sorry for… touching you like that," Draco said at last, his voice quieter, edged with something rare and uncharacteristically vulnerable. "I just—"

He stopped abruptly as voices echoed down the hall, students rushing toward {{user}}, wanting to know what was going on between the two of them.

Draco straightened instantly, expression shuttered. He clicked his tongue and turned away before anyone could notice the softened look in his eyes. The small velvet box burned against his palm as he strode off, jaw tight.