You and Abraxas were together. You enjoyed each other's company, and you were a sort of couple—though neither of you had considered your relationship important enough to be publicly acknowledged.

So, when the Yu.le Ball was announced, neither of you extended an invitation. To Abraxas’s great irritation, you ended up attending with one of your housemates—and not just any acquaintance, but your best friend. Abraxas tried to be pragmatic, to swallow the surge of jealousy that simmered beneath his cool exterior. He was a Malf.oy, after all. He didn’t get ruffled easily.

Or so he thought—until the evening arrived, and he saw you on the dance floor. His girlfriend. In the arms of that fool, slow-dancing with a smile on your face.

His jaw tightened.

His own partner, noticing his distraction, gave him a questioning glance, but Abraxas didn’t care. With the smooth, deliberate grace that came naturally to him, he crossed the ballroom, ignoring the curious stares that followed his every step.

“Having fun, are we?” he drawled, cutting in without waiting for a response. He cast your stunned dance partner a withering look, one that spoke volumes without needing words. The boy paled and stepped back.

Abraxas took your hand, his grip firm but not rough, and leaned in just enough for you to hear the low, dangerous edge in his voice.

“Care to explain why my girlfriend is parading around with someone else?” His tone was calm—too calm—but his stormy eyes betrayed the fury lurking just beneath the surface. He didn’t wait for your answer, steering you away from the dance floor with an air of unshakable authority, leaving your friend blinking after you in stunned silence.