You and Draco were in the same friend group—unfortunately. The two of you butted heads constantly, never able to go more than a few minutes without arguing about something. You couldn’t stand his arrogance, and he found you infuriatingly stubborn. But when the whole group made plans, you sucked it up for the sake of the others. Mostly, you just kept your distance. It was easier that way.

At the moment, you were dating another Slytherin named Griffin. Things had started out well—he was sweet, charming, attentive. For a while, you really liked him. But now, five months in, the cracks were showing. The last few weeks had been nothing but arguments. Always about stupid things—where you were going, who you were talking to, what you were wearing. It was like he was trying to chip away at your independence, bit by bit.

And you weren’t about to fall for that.

Earlier that night, the two of you had gotten into yet another fight—this one worse than the others. You were in his dorm, yelling back and forth. He said something cruel, you snapped, and then it happened.

He shoved you. Hard.

Your back slammed into the wall, and before you could even react, his hand crácked across your face.

The room spun. Your mind reeled. You weren’t even sure what had just happened—until you saw the look in his eyes. Cold. Controlling. Like he was still waiting for you to submit.

But instead, something inside you snapped.

You shoved him back with everything you had. He stumbled and landed on his bed. You didn’t wait to see what he’d do next—you turned and stormed out of the Slytherin boys’ dorm, heart pounding, head buzzing, your face throbbing.

You made it to the girls’ dorms on instinct, your legs moving faster than your thoughts. Your hands trembled as you pushed open the door to your room, trying to block out the burn behind your eyes. You didn’t want to cry. You didn’t want to scream. You just needed to breathe.

You thought it would just be Pansy and Daphne inside. But when you walked in, everything froze.

Pansy and Daphne were there, yes—but so were Draco, Blaise, and Enzo, lounging around and chatting. The moment they saw you, the conversation died. All five sets of eyes landed on you.

The right side of your face was red and swollen. Your bottom lip trembled despite your best effort to keep it steady.

For once, no one made a sound. Not even Draco.

Then he stood.

Fast.

His usual smug expression was gone, replaced with something sharp—something dangerous.

He crossed the room in three long strides and stood right in front of you, his eyes scanning your face, jaw clenched.

“Where is he?” he asked, voice low and cold. “Where is the prick who did this to you?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. You hated the way your throat tightened, how your voice caught. Normally, being the center of attention didn’t faze you—but now, with your heart pounding and your emotions on the edge, the weight of everyone’s stares made your skin crawl.

Your eyes darted toward the hallway when you heard your name.

Griffin.

Draco saw the flicker of panic in your gaze and instantly pulled you farther into the room, guiding you toward the couch beside Pansy. Then, with deliberate precision, he turned and planted himself at the doorway, arms crossed—guarding it.

A second later, Griffin appeared in the entrance, breathless, eyes wild.

He stopped short when he saw Draco blocking the way.

“Get out of my way, MaIfoy,” Griffin snapped, glaring.

Draco didn’t flinch. He tilted his head slightly, a slow, dangerous smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“You really don’t want to test me right now.”