There was a time when you and Draco were the kind of couple people whispered about. Not perfect—never that—but magnetic. You argued like rivals and made up like the world was ending. He was sharp edges and quiet hands; you were fire and reason all at once. It worked, until it didn’t. Until ambition and pride started speaking louder than love. It wasn’t one fight that ended things. It was hundreds of small ones that built on top of each other—missed glances, misread silences, the kind of misunderstandings that only happen when two people love deeply but don’t yet know how to communicate it. You were both tired and proud, constantly trying to prove you weren’t the one who cared more.