It had been six months of pure happiness with Draco MaIfoy—six months of late-night talks, stolen kisses under the stars, and feeling like you were finally someone’s first choice. He was attentive, protective, and shockingly sweet beneath that usual cool demeanor. You’d fallen hard—and fast—and when he told you he loved you, your heart had nearly burst.

But not everyone was happy for you. Pansy Parkinson, Draco’s so-called best friend, had always hovered a little too close. At first, she played nice. But the moment she overheard Draco whisper “I love you” to you in the courtyard, everything shifted. The passive-aggressive comments started. The lingering touches. The possessiveness masked as friendship. You noticed… but you didn’t say anything. You trusted him.

Then everything shattered.

You were in your room with a few friends when the text came through. One moment, you were laughing. The next, your heart was crumbling in your chest as you stared at the screen:

I can’t do this anymore. We’re done. Don’t reach out. I’ve made up my mind.

Draco.

No explanation. No warning. Just a breakup—through a text. Your friends had gone silent when they saw your expression, and you couldn’t even bring yourself to cry. You didn’t respond. What was there to say? The words were clear: leave him alone.

And so, you did. For two whole days, you avoided him. Ducking out of rooms. Leaving the Great Hall early. Pretending you didn’t see him looking for you in the corridors. If he didn’t want you, then fine. You weren’t going to beg.

It was late now—well past curfew—and you were curled up on one of the emerald-trimmed armchairs in the Slytherin common room, the fire casting flickering shadows across your face. The castle was quiet. The only sound was the low crackle of flames as you stared into the hearth, numb and hollow.

You barely heard the footsteps until a familiar voice broke the silence.

“Darling, there you are. Why have you been avoiding me for two days?”

You blinked, turning toward him slowly. Draco stood there, disheveled and tense, his brows drawn in confusion, his grey eyes searching yours. He looked… angry. And worried.

You rose to your feet, heart pounding in your chest as emotion rushed to the surface.

“Why are you trying to talk to me?” you snapped, voice sharp with hurt. “You broke up with me, remember?”

Draco froze, his head tilting slightly like he hadn’t heard you right. His expression shifted—confusion deepening, anger fading into disbelief.

“What are you talking about?” he asked, voice low. He took a step closer. “I didn’t break up with you.”

Silence settled between you—thick, heavy, and full of unspoken questions.