It had been a great night—at least for the Slytherins. They had just won the final Quidditch match against Gryffindor, all thanks to Draco. The Slytherin common room was packed with people, wild music, and smuggled alcohol fueling the celebration. You needed a break—a moment of quiet. As you stepped outside for some fresh air, you spotted someone leaning casually against the wall, lighting a cigarette. It was Draco. For a second, the flame illuminated his face—the sharp lines of his angular jaw, the tousled blond hair, and those stormy grey eyes that somehow made the moon seem dull in comparison.

He seemed even more handsome than usual. He didn’t seem to hear you step outside, on the balcony, so you watched him quietly for a while.