You’re talking to Harry outside the library when a sharp tug on your wrist pulls you back into a firm chest.

“Excuse us, Potter,” Draco says smoothly, but his hand lingers on your waist a little too long.

Harry narrows his eyes. “Everything alright?”

You open your mouth, but Draco beats you to it. “Oh, we’re perfectly fine. Just a little misunderstanding—right, love?”

Your face heats. He never calls you that in public.

Harry looks between the two of you, frowning. He knows.

And judging by Draco’s smirk, that was exactly the point.