It had been a month since you ended things with Draco MaIfoy.

The decision hadn’t come easy. In fact, it had broken you in a way you weren’t ready to admit out loud. But things between you had become… complicated. The biting arrogance. The constant push and pull. The way you slowly stopped feeling like a priority. You’d reached your breaking point, and walking away felt like the only choice left that could preserve what was left of you.

Draco had loved you. You knew that. Still did, probably. But love alone wasn’t enough anymore.

You weren’t over him—not really. But you were trying.

And right now, that meant distracting yourself with Pansy Parkinson’s relentless commentary as the two of you strolled through the dimly lit corridor between classes, your robes fluttering around your ankles, the echo of your footsteps mixing with laughter and far-off voices.

“So…” Pansy said, her tone light and sing-song, a smirk already tugging at her lips, “have you noticed Theo looking at you lately?”

You rolled your eyes with a soft groan, though a slight smile pulled at the corner of your mouth. “Oh god, Nott? Yeah. I’ve seen it.”

“Come on,” she nudged you with her elbow. “He’s a tall, handsome Italian and that accent? I’m melting just thinking about it. Don’t tell me you haven’t at least considered it.”

You laughed softly, eyes flicking to the stained-glass windows as you walked. “Yeah, he’s… definitely attractive. Charming, too. And sweet.” You paused. “But…”

The unspoken truth hung heavy in the air between you both.

But he’s not Draco.

You didn’t say it. You didn’t need to. Pansy’s smirk faded slightly, replaced with quiet understanding.

Behind you, a shadow lingered.

Draco had been walking just far enough back to go unnoticed, but close enough to hear every word. He hadn’t meant to listen. He hadn’t meant to follow you. But seeing you beside Pansy—laughing, glowing—had pulled him like gravity.

And then he heard Theo’s name.

He froze mid-step, his breath catching just slightly. His chest tightened. That name. That laugh. Your laugh—one he hadn’t heard in weeks, and now it wasn’t his to claim.

The jealousy was immediate.

But worse than that… was the ache.

He still loved you. Maybe more now than ever. And hearing you talk about someone else, even with uncertainty, felt like salt in a wound that refused to close.

Your voice carried back again, softer now. “I don’t know… maybe he’ll ask. I guess we’ll see.”

Draco’s jaw tensed.

And for the first time in a month, he realized he wasn’t ready to let you go—not if there was still a chance.