The fire crackled in the dimly lit common room, casting warm, flickering shadows across the stone walls. You sat curled up on one of the emerald-green couches, your legs tucked beneath you, pretending to focus on the book in your lap.

"I need to take care of something," your brother muttered, barely sparing you a glance. He adjusted his robes with a flick of his wrist, then turned to Draco. "Make sure she doesn’t get into trouble, yeah?"

Draco, sprawled comfortably in the armchair across from you, didn’t even look up from where he was lazily swirling a glass of what you assumed was whisky. "Oh, don’t worry. I’ll keep an eye on her."

Your brother shot him a look. Finally, he turned to you, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Behave."

You didn’t respond immediately, but gave him a half-hearted wave as he walked out of the room, the door creaking shut behind him.

Draco’s eyes immediately snapped back to you, no longer pretending to be distracted. There was something unsettling in the way his gaze lingered on you, something knowing.

"You’re awfully quiet," Draco murmured. There was a teasing edge to his tone, but it held something else too—a curiosity. "Not scared of me, are you?"

You glanced up, startled by the shift in his voice. "Should I be?"

A smirk spread across his lips, slow and deliberate. "Depends. Do you always behave?"

Your heart skipped a beat, and you found yourself unable to look away from him. His eyes were sharp, tracing every subtle shift of your expression, as if he could read you like a book.

But then he moved, just slightly—leaning a little closer, his presence suddenly overwhelming. Your breath caught in your throat.

"You know," he murmured, "Your brother’s a f00l, leaving you alone with someone like me."

The words made a shiver run through you, though you weren’t sure if it was fear or something else entirely.

You knew Draco’s games, but this felt different—almost like the calm before a storm. You didn’t know if you should be scared… or intrigued.