The Great Hall was stunning, all silver and ice, but a knot had been sitting in your stomach for a week. It was stupid, really.

You were at the Yule Ball with your date, a Durmstrang guy who was probably the envy of every girl here. He was tall, charming, and looked amazing in his deep red dress robes.

And he was trying. He really was.

"You are very beautiful," he'd said, his accent thick as he spun you. He’d complimented your dress, brought you punch, and hadn't stepped on your feet once.

"I must see my friends for one moment," he said, kissing your hand like a perfect gentleman.

You smiled and nodded, using his absence to finally sit down at an empty table and catch your breath. Your feet were aching. You were trying to have fun. You really were.

The chair next to you scraped loudly on the floor, and you didn't even need to look. The familiar, expensive scent of his cologne—that sharp, green apple one—hit you first.

"Enjoying the international relations, are we?"

Draco slid into the seat, his silver-grey eyes scanning the crowd, deliberately not looking at you. He was wearing all-black dress robes that made him look unfairly sharp.

"He's very nice, Draco. Unlike some people," you replied, smoothing your dress.

"Nice?" he scoffed, finally turning to you.

"He looks like he shaves twice a day. Bit old for you, isn't he? Looks like a creep, honestly, the way he's been pawing at you."

Your stomach tightened. "He's seventeen, and he hasn't been 'pawing' at me. He's been a gentleman."

"Right. A gentleman," Draco sneered, picking a piece of lint off his sleeve.

"Well, I suppose it’s a good thing someone was interested enough to ask you. Saved you the embarrassment of showing up with Longbottom. Or worse, alone."

That was it.

The knot in your stomach turned to ice. You could feel the prickle of tears, but you'd be damned if you'd let him see. The fact that he, your best friend, could think so little of you... that he'd think you were some last-ditch effort...

You stood up abruptly. "You're disgusting."

"What?" he asked, his cocky expression faltering for a second.

"You heard me." You turned and walked away, not even caring where you were going, just away. You pushed through the doors of the Great Hall, into the cooler, quieter hallway.

Of course, he followed you. His long-legged stride caught up easily.

"What's your problem? I was just joking!" he called out.

You spun around at the base of the grand staircase. "You've ruined everything tonight!"

He actually paused, his hands shoved in his pockets. "What are you talking about? He's the one who's ruining it. He's not right for you. He's... he's a gorilla in a uniform!"

"He's not the one who's been making me miserable all week!" you shouted, your voice echoing in the stone hall. "You are! You just lurked around and made stupid comments!"

"I was... I'm looking out for you! He's not a good match!" Draco shot back, his face flushing.

He took a step closer, the tension between you thick enough to cut. "You looked so happy when he asked you... I just..."

"Oh, 'not a match'?" you cut him off, your voice cracking with a bitter laugh. "You want to know the solution to that, Draco?"

You stepped right up to him, jabbing a finger into his chest.

"Maybe you should've packed up the courage and asked me before someone else did! Not as the last resort!"

The words hung in the air. His silver eyes were wide, the arrogance completely gone, replaced with a raw, stunned realization. He finally understood. He stared at you, his mouth slightly open. All his insecurities, his assumption that you'd preferred the older, famous Durmstrang guy... it was all wrong.

The silence in the cold hallway was heavy. He just watched you, the full weight of your words- and his mistake-finally hitting him.

He'd let his pride and his jealousy run the show, all because he was too much of a coward to claim the one person he'd wanted as his own since forever.