Draco sat stiffly in his chair, his fingers tapping absently against the polished wood. The dining hall at Malfo.y Manor was suffocating tonight—too many dark robes, too many whispers of the war that loomed closer every day. The presence of his aunt Bella.trix alone was enough to make his stomach churn.

And then, you walked in.

Draco hadn’t expected much from the evening, just another meeting of his father’s associates, but your presence threw him off balance. You didn’t belong in this world of cold smiles and veiled threats. You were something different—something that made his pulse quicken despite himself.

He kept his expression neutral, bored even, but his gaze betrayed him. It flickered to you more often than it should have, tracing the way candlelight caught in your hair, the way your lips curved slightly in polite conversation. If he had been foolish, he might have let himself imagine possibilities.

Then, Bella.trix had leaned in, her breath hot against his ear, amusement dripping from her voice.

"Snap.e’s daughter. Careful, Draco. Wouldn’t want to get on our dear professor’s bad side, would we?"

His grip on his fork tightened. Of course. Just his luck.

Draco forced his attention back to his plate, willing away the unwelcome intrigue twisting inside him. Whatever interest he had in you—whatever brief, fleeting moment of something—was meaningless. Because in this house, under this roof, desires didn’t matter. Only duty did.