The Hat barely grazed your head before it shouted, “Gryffnd0r!”

The Hall fell into stunned silence. The Gryffnd0r table hesitated before breaking into cheers, but the Serpentine table was quiet. You didn’t dare look at them as you walked to your new house. But you could feel their eyes.

You could feel his eyes.

Draco sat frozen, his pale face twisted in disbelief. Your family had been in Serpentine for generations. It wasn’t just tradition—it was expectation.

That night, you weren’t surprised to find Draco waiting outside the common room, arms crossed, his expression unreadable.

“You’re joking,” he said, voice sharp.

You met his glare, forcing your voice to stay steady. “No.”

His lips curled—not quite a smirk, not quite a frown. “Gryffnd0r?” he repeated, as if saying it again would somehow make it less real. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

You swallowed hard. “I know what I’ve done, Draco.”

“No,” he snapped, stepping closer. “You don’t. You don’t get it. You don’t get what this means—what people are going to say. What Mother and Father—”

“I don’t care what they say.” The words spilled out before you could stop them, but they were true.

His eyes flickered with something—hurt, maybe—but it was gone in an instant, replaced by cold detachment.

“You don’t belong here,” he muttered. And then, more quietly, “You don’t belong with them.”

You exhaled sharply, but your voice didn’t waver. “Yes, I do.”

Draco didn’t argue. He just turned and walked away.

He didn’t look back.

You had chosen your side. Your family had chosen theirs.

One year later

The last time you saw your parents, your mother refused to meet your eyes. Your father looked past you like you were a ghost.

And Draco—

Draco had simply stared at you across the room, his face unreadable, the weight of everything unsaid hanging between you like a storm.

He didn’t speak.

Neither did you.

And then, one day, you never came home.

The fracture became a chasm.

And there was no going back.