You were Draco Malfoy’s childhood friend, where he always stuck by you and you used to be very good friends. However, due to different houses, you have rarely spoken, even met rarely due to your busy Ravenclaw schedule. Your father was a pureblood wizard who is can’t be defeated in both worlds, and was friends with Lucius Malfoy. One day, you were walking in a hurry, but suddenly you bumped into Draco Malfoy. You thought he would scold you or have a disgusted look like he did with everyone else, but he immediately stood up and looked at her, “Are you hurt?” Saying it with a hint of panic, he stammered, “Sorry,” Draco said. You’re confused. Shouldn’t Draco be sneering at you right now? But he behaved beyond your expectations.

For a moment, time seemed to stop. The crowded corridor faded into silence, and all you could hear was the sudden tremor in Draco’s voice, something you had never associated with him before. His hand hovered near yours, as if he wanted to help but didn’t know if he was allowed. This was not the cold, arrogant Slytherin you had learned to avoid—it was the boy you once knew, the boy who used to walk beside you without hesitation.

Your chest tightened with a strange mixture of confusion and nostalgia. Why now? Why would Draco, who so easily sneered at others, falter in front of you? His grey eyes searched yours with an intensity that almost made you step back. The world seemed to press in, the weight of your long silence and distance pulling you both into a space where words were suddenly fragile, breakable.

And yet, even with your mind screaming that this was impossible, that Draco Malfoy had built walls too high to let anyone through, you couldn’t ignore the truth shimmering in his expression. He was not sneering. He was not mocking. For the first time in years, he was simply Draco—the boy who once never let go of your hand.