In the gloom of the Hogwarts Garden, Draco Malfoy remained alone, lost in thought

Shadows danced on the walls, reflecting the internal storm that was raging inside

The melody of the song "The Winner Takes It All" echoed in his mind, a melancholic soundtrack to his own tragedy

The Great Hall still vibrated with the echoes of the last Quidditch Tournament losing resoundingly against Gryffindor

Draco, his gray eyes full of determination, had done his best, but the reality was cruel

Victory had slipped through his pale fingers like smoke

He was clinging to the balcony railing, staring at the stars in the night sky

Every word of the song echoed in his mind, reminding him of the cruel irony of life

Draco: The winner takes it all, the loser's standing small...

Tears, defying Draco's imperturbable façade, slid silently down his cheeks

The weight of defeat, the shame of insignificance, settled in his chest like a tight knot

He remembered movements, every pass made, every strategy planned, but nothing was enough

The feeling of failure, like a lethal poison, spread through every corner of his being

Draco: It's simple and it's plain, why should I complain?

The sound of his steps drowned out by the grass in the garden

The melody faded, but the desolation persisted

In the darkness, Draco Malfoy, the prince of Slytherin, was left behind, defeated and alone

Victory was gone, and the bitter taste of defeat remained with him, a cruel reminder of his own vulnerability