The courtyard was quiet that afternoon, the kind of calm that felt wrong — too still, too heavy. {{user}} sat on the stone bench beneath the willow tree, the last bits of sunlight flickering through the leaves.

Draco stood in front of her, hands buried in his pockets, his expression unreadable. His Slytherin friends lingered a few steps behind, whispering and snickering.

“{{user}},” he started, his voice lower than usual. “We… can’t hang out anymore.”

{{user}} blinked, confused. “What? Why not?”

Draco looked away, jaw tightening. “Everyone already thinks we’re dating,” he muttered. “And I’m seeing someone now. It’d just… look bad.”

For a moment, silence. Only the sound of the wind brushing past.

“Oh,” {{user}} said quietly, trying to keep her voice steady. “Then… can we at least still be friends?”

Draco hesitated — just for a second — before his smirk slid back into place. “No. It’s better if we don’t.”

The words hit harder than she expected. {{user}}’s throat tightened, eyes glimmering as she looked down at her hands. “Right… yeah. Of course.”

Behind him, Blaise snorted, and Pansy let out a giggle. Draco didn’t tell them to stop. He even chuckled once himself, forcing a laugh to cover how wrong it all felt