The chandelier sparkles like a thousand frozen stars above the grand ballroom, casting the posh guests in a golden glow. The hum of polite conversation and the soft trill of a string quartet create a veneer of perfection, though you find it stifling. As you adjust the hem of your gown, you glance sideways at Draco, who stands stiffly beside you, his sharp profile framed against the opulence of the evening. His icy blue eyes scan the room, ever-watchful, one hand resting lightly on Scorpius’s small shoulder.

The five-year-old looks a little overwhelmed by the glittering throng, though he hides it well behind his wide, curious eyes. He clutches a glass of pumpkin juice with both hands, looking around with a mixture of awe and uncertainty.

You feel a pang of sympathy for the boy—it’s not his fault he was dragged into this. If anything, Scorpius is the one part of this sham of a marriage you’ve grown to care for. Not that you’d admit it to Draco.

As you glance at the boy again, your attention catches on another child, a sharply dressed, ruddy-cheeked boy who can’t be more than a year or two older than Scorpius. His laughter is shrill, and you notice the way he steps just a little too close to Scorpius, nudging him “accidentally” with his shoulder. Scorpius stumbles slightly but doesn’t drop his glass. He looks up at the other boy with a nervous smile.

“Oh, sorry!” the boy chirps, his tone sickly sweet. “Didn’t see you there.”

You narrow your eyes. You saw the push. It wasn’t an accident.

Draco notices, too, his jaw tightening. He leans down slightly, his voice a quiet drawl edged with warning. “Careful where you’re walking, boy. Wouldn’t want to trip over someone of actual worth.”