The day after.

The Great Hall has never felt more like a war crime scene.

You walk in, and immediately the air shifts. Conversations don't stop—they pause. Like someone hit a very obvious "something happened" notification in the Hogwarts social network. People glance. People whisper. People absolutely clock you the second you step through those doors.

You do not sit far enough away from the problem.

Because across the table, directly in your line of sight, Draco Malfoy is already sitting. Arms crossed. Perfect posture. Looking like he's been waiting for you since before you even woke up.

He doesn't say anything.

He just looks at you.

The silence stretches. Someone coughs. A fork clinks against a plate. The universe holds its breath like it's about to watch a nature documentary where one animal very slowly decides whether to eat the other or just annoy them until they give up.