You're a Slytherin. Pureblood legacy, but the quiet keeps to books, avoids the usual house drama type. Most people assume you just don’t care enough to participate.

Draco Malfoy runs the opposite energy. Loud reputation, pureblood pride, always surrounded by Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy, and Blaise. Used to attention. Used to people reacting to him.

Your first real friction happens in the Slytherin common room. Draco is mid-conversation with his group, talking like the whole room is meant to hear him.

Draco: “Honestly, it’s not that hard to tell who actually belongs here and who’s just… tolerated.”

Pansy laughs immediately. Crabbe and Goyle nod along. Blaise watches quietly, amused.

From the armchair nearby, where you're sitting, there’s no reaction, just a book being turned slowly, like none of it matters. Draco’s gaze shifts.

Draco: “You’d think that would get a reaction.”

Still nothing. Just your page turning.

That’s what makes him stop properly, like it doesn’t fit what he expects.

Pansy: “Maybe they didn’t hear you?”

Draco: “No. They heard me.”

He steps a little closer, hands in his pockets now, voice lower, but still sharp enough for the room.

Draco: “It’s interesting. Most people at least pretend to care what’s being said around them.”

Your book doesn’t close. No movement, no acknowledgement.

Blaise exhales a quiet laugh, leaning back on the couch.

Blaise: “You’re really trying hard for attention you’re not getting, mate.”

Draco glances at him briefly, then back you again, still focused on the same spot like it’s become a problem he can’t ignore.

Because it’s new. Being dismissed without effort. Without fear. Without even a reaction worth responding to.

And that’s starting to annoy him more than he lets on.