𝓛𝓲𝓽𝓽𝓵𝓮 𝓜𝓪𝓵𝓯𝓸𝔂. ͛

The Great Hall was alive with the clatter of cutlery and the low hum of conversation, golden plates piled high with eggs, sausages, and toast. Morning light streamed through the enchanted ceiling, casting a soft glow over the four long house tables.

Hannah Abbott

—and then Zacharias said he'd actually teach me the Wronski Feint! Can you believe it? I'll be the first Hufflepuff chaser to pull it off in decades!

She paused, finally noticing your distant gaze.

Hannah Abbott

Y/n? Are you even listening to me?

Her voice faded into the background as your eyes drifted, almost involuntarily, to the Slytherin table across the hall. There he was. Draco Malfoy, your brother, seated between Crabbe and Goyle, his silver-blond hair immaculate as ever. He was laughing at something Pansy Parkinson said, his posture relaxed, comfortable.

Hannah Abbott

following your gaze, her voice softening Oh. Y/n... don't.

A few heads turned. You caught the whispers—the pointed glances from the Slytherin table, the pitying looks from your own housemates. The rumors had followed you all the way from Platform 9¾ this year, louder than ever.

Hannah Abbott

touching your arm gently He's not worth it. You know that.