You and Blaise had ended things quietly. No fights, no drama—just silence and a few lingering glances in the corridors of Hogwarts. But the castle had a way of keeping exes in close orbit, especially when you were both Slytherins.

It started at breakfast. Draco M, all charm and entitlement, slid into the seat beside you with a crooked smile.

—“You know,” he drawled, “it’s criminal someone like you doesn’t have a proper escort to Hogsmeade this weekend.”

From the other end of the table, Blaise’s spoon clattered against his bowl. He didn’t speak, but his eyes locked onto Draco like daggers. No one else noticed—but you did. The flicker of his jaw, the sharp inhale he tried to disguise.

In Potions, Draco leaned too close, his hand brushing yours under the desk.

—“We’d make quite the pair,” he whispered.

A beat later, Blaise appeared out of nowhere, snatching a spare cauldron from beside you with a bit too much force.

—“Malfoy,” he said coolly, “Snape’s looking for you. Something about that essay you clearly didn’t finish.”

Draco scoffed and sauntered off. Once gone, Blaise didn't look at you.

—“You should be careful,” he muttered, arranging ingredients he didn’t need. “He just wants to win.”

He paused for a heartbeat too long. Then:

—“You’re free to do whatever you want,” he said, tone flat. “It’s none of my business.”

But later, as you walked alone through the dungeons, you found a note tucked into your cloak pocket—written in his neat handwriting:

“He’s not good enough for you. But I’ll let you figure that out on your own.”