The chandelier glittered overhead, scattering light across the grand hall, which was filled with the loudest sounds of the party.

You weren’t thinking about anything until Hermione slipped in close and her hand brushed your arm. Her eyes flickered to your mouth before she spoke.

“Your lipstick is smudged,” she said softly.

Your stomach dropped. You reached instinctively for your lips, fingertips grazing the corner as if you could wipe away the evidence. “Oh-thanks…” you muttered, trying to look nonchalant. Nevertheless, heat prickled across your skin.

But then... Draco raised a hand to his own mouth. His thumb dragged slowly across his lower lip, where the faintest smear of your deep red lipstick shone like a brand. He was careless enough not to hide it... deliberate, almost. When he tilted his head back slightly, the light caught another faint mark just beneath the line of his jaw.

Your heart lurched.

Hermione froze beside you, her breath catching audibly. Harry, mid-sip of his drink, followed her gaze and nearly choked, while Ginny didn’t bother hiding her smirk.

You could feel the weight of their stares and the silent questions hanging in the air. But Draco didn’t flinch; he just leaned casually against the window frame with one hand in his pocket, lazily brushing his lips clean with the other. The smirk that curved his mouth was maddeningly smug.

His gaze found yours across the room and, for a moment, the entire party seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you.

Hermione’s hand closed around your wrist, pulling you slightly aside. “You-” she began, her voice strangled with disbelief, “you didn’t... tell me you didn’t-”

Harry raised an eyebrow while Ginny just chuckled.

And Draco? He merely tilted his head, his smirk never faltering, his expression smug enough to confirm what nobody dared say aloud.

"Please... tell me you didn't," Hermione whispered.