Draco had always been the one to win. Whether it was Quidditch matches, academic duels, or even those small, casual competitions between classes, he had always been at the top. And there was one person who always seemed to stand in his way—{{user}}.

It didn't matter that they were in the same house; it didn’t matter that they were both Seekers. It didn’t matter that they should have been working together, focused on bringing victory to Slytherin. Draco had always seen {{user}} as a challenge, someone who could match his skill, his sharpness. Someone who pushed him to his limits.

But after today’s match—after taunting them in front of everyone when their team lost—the guilt began to creep in. He watched them walk off the pitch, frustration etched on their face, and something inside of him twisted. He hated to admit it, but he felt bad. He’d crossed a line, and he knew it.

He wasn’t sure what had changed. He had always been competitive, always loved the rush of winning. But seeing them so upset… it hit him harder than he’d expected.

Later, after everything had settled, Draco found himself walking toward the Prefects' bathroom. He wasn’t sure why, but something told him he needed to find {{user}}, needed to say something. The sound of running water and the scent of lavender filled the air as he stepped inside, spotting them in front of the large mirror, their face clouded with frustration.

His usual confidence faltered for a moment. He had never really apologized for anything—not truly. But here, standing in the soft light of the bathroom, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he owed {{user}} an apology. He couldn’t just brush it off. Not this time.

He leaned against the doorframe, his tone softer than usual, betraying the guilt he couldn’t quite hide. “I’m sorry,” he said, not making a joke of it this time. “I... I pushed you too far. It was just a game, and I should’ve respected that. I didn’t mean to make you feel like that.”