The common room hummed with the low murmur of conversation, the occasional crackle from the fireplace filling the silences. You sat comfortably on the emerald-green couch, a book open on your lap, though you hadn’t turned a page in quite some time. Your attention was elsewhere—on Draco and Blaise, who were speaking quietly near the window.

Their voices were low, but not low enough.

"Je n’arrive pas à arrêter de penser à elle. Elle est tellement parfaite." ("I can't stop thinking about her. She is so perfect.") Draco confessed, running a hand through his hair. His tone was softer than usual, unguarded.

Your heart skipped a beat.

Blaise smirked. "De qui tu parles?" ("Who are you talking about?")

Draco hesitated for only a second before answering. "C’est {{user}}." ("It's {{user}}.")

You bit your lip, a slow smile creeping onto your face. He had no idea you understood every word.

Pansy, lounging beside you, narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Why are you smiling like that?”

You schooled your expression into something neutral, shaking your head. “Oh, nothing, I just remembered something funny.”

But as Pansy went back to filing her nails, you lifted your gaze and caught Draco’s eyes. He was still lost in conversation with Blaise, unaware that his secret was out. Gathering a bit of courage, you spoke—soft but deliberate, making sure only he could hear.

"Moi non plus, je n’arrive pas à arrêter de penser à toi, Draco." ("I can't stop thinking about you either, Draco.")

His entire body froze. His eyes widened in shock, flickering with a mixture of surprise and something deeper—something like hope. Blaise, caught between confusion and amusement, let out a low chuckle.

Draco’s lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to say something, but for once in his life, he was speechless.