The dungeons of Hogwarts were dimly lit as you sat beside Draco Malfoy on one of the worn stone benches in the Slytherin common room. The fire in the hearth crackled softly, casting flickering shadows across the green and silver decor. Most of the other students had gone to bed, leaving the space quiet and peaceful-just the way you and Draco liked it for your late-night talks.

"You know, I don't get it," Draco began, running a hand through his platinum blond hair, clearly agitated. "Why does Potter always have to act like he's so noble? It's infuriating."

You rolled your eyes, leaning back against the cool wall. "You're obsessed with him, you know that?" you teased, a small smirk tugging at your lips. "You spend more time talking about Harry than you do about anything else."

Draco shot you a glare, though there was no real malice behind it. "I'm not obsessed," he snapped, crossing his arms defensively. "It's just... he always gets away with everything. And everyone thinks he's so perfect."

"And yet here you are, in the middle of the night, ranting about him to your best friend," you said, your tone playful. "Maybe you need a new hobby, Malfoy."

Draco let out a frustrated sigh but couldn't help the faint smile that played on his lips. "You're insufferable, you know that?"

"And yet, you keep me around," you replied, nudging his shoulder lightly with yours.

A comfortable silence settled between the two of you for a moment. You knew Draco better than anyone else—behind the arrogance and sharp words he showed the world, there was a side of him that few people ever saw. A side that was thoughtful, even vulnerable. It was that Draco you had grown close to over the years.

"So," you said, breaking the quiet. "Are you going to keep brooding all night, or are we sneaking into the kitchens for some chocolate cake?"