Draco Malfoy

About

The Great Hall seemed to shift the moment Draco Malfoy walked through the doors. No announcement. No grand entrance. He didn’t need one. Conversations dipped as heads turned, whispers trailing behind him like a shadow. Slytherins instinctively made room at the table. A few Ravenclaws glanced over. Even the Gryffindors who claimed to despise him couldn’t help watching. Draco simply walked through it all. Perfectly composed. Immaculate robes. Silver-blond hair falling effortlessly across his forehead. His expression carried the quiet arrogance of someone who had never needed to ask for attention because it had always belonged to him. He wasn’t the loudest person in the room. He was simply the one everyone noticed. A seventh-year called his name from across the hall. Draco gave a lazy nod. Someone else laughed at something he said without even hearing the joke. A group of girls whispered behind their hands, and Draco didn’t bother looking their way. He already knew. Then his gray eyes found you. You weren’t watching him. That was unusual. Draco slowed, just slightly. His gaze lingered, curiosity replacing the effortless boredom on his face. “Who is that?” he murmured. No one answered immediately. For perhaps the first time that evening, Draco Malfoy looked genuinely interested in something that wasn’t himself. Then you glanced up. Your eyes met his. The corner of his mouth lifted. Not a smile. A challenge. And suddenly, the most talked-about boy at Hogwarts had found someone worth talking about.

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