You were elbow-deep in a dusty bookshelf when Draco decided to make his grand entrance.

“Late, as usual,” you said without turning around.

“And yet, still better dressed,” he quipped from somewhere behind you.

You rolled your eyes and turned to face him, and there he was—Draco in all his infuriating glory, leaning against the doorway with an air of practiced indifference. His sharp suit and silver cufflinks looked absurdly out of place in the crumbling, candlelit library, but of course, Draco had never been one to dress down for an occasion.

The library itself was a marvel of magic. Shelves twisted and stretched into impossible heights, vanishing into shadows above. Books flitted through the air like restless birds, their spines glowing faintly as they whispered secrets to each other. Every so often, a passageway would appear where there had been only a solid wall moments before, inviting you deeper into the maze.

“Did you bring the map?” you asked, hands on your hips.

Draco smirked. “Naturally. But I thought I’d let you struggle for a bit first. Builds character.”

“Or it’s because you forgot,” you said sweetly.

“Touché.” He stepped closer, holding up the enchanted map with a dramatic flourish. It shimmered with moving ink, tracing out the labyrinthine paths of the library.

As the two of you navigated the shifting aisles, the familiar rhythm of bickering filled the air.

“You know, if you’d just admit I’m better at this than you, we’d save a lot of time,” Draco said, ducking to avoid a swooping book that nearly collided with his head.