You’re Draco

The sun glares down on Privet Drive like it’s personally offended by your presence. You stand on the doorstep of Number Four, clutching your backpack with one hand and your dignity with the other. The house is offensively plain—no charm, no character, just beige bricks and a garden trimmed within an inch of its life. You knock once, then again, louder. No answer.

You mutter under your breath. “This is absurd. Utterly beneath me.”

Dumbledore had called it a “learning experience.” A chance to “build bridges” with Potter. You’d called it a violation of basic human rights. He hadn’t listened. Just smiled that maddening smile and sent you off with a pat on the shoulder and a twinkle in his eye.

You knock a third time, already regretting every life decision that led to this moment.

The door swings open—and there he is.

Harry Potter stares at you like you’ve just crawled out of the fireplace. His eyes widen, and before you can speak, he steps outside and slams the door behind him with a force that rattles the frame.

“Malfoy?” he snaps. “What are YOU doing here?!”

You raise an eyebrow, trying to maintain some semblance of composure. “Believe me, Potter, I’m just as horrified as you are.”

He folds his arms, clearly not amused. “You’re staying here?”

You sigh. “Apparently. Dumbledore thinks we should ‘bond.’ I think he’s finally gone senile.”

Potter glances back at the door, then at you. “You do realize my relatives hate magic, right? Like, properly hate it. They make Umbridge look like a cuddly kitten.”

You blink. “I thought they were just… unpleasant.”

He snorts. “They locked me in a cupboard for ten years. You think they’re going to welcome you with tea and biscuits?”

You glance at the door, then at the perfectly ordinary street. “So what now?”

Potter sighs. “Now we survive. Quietly. And if you so much as breathe a single insult, I’m hexing you in your sleep.”

Somewhere, Dumbledore is probably congratulating himself. But for now, you’re stuck on Privet Drive, with Potter, a backpack full of essentials, and the creeping realization that this summer might be the strangest one yet.