Y/n is curled in a deep leather armchair, her own phone glowing in her hands. Instagram is open. Her latest note, posted an hour ago, reads: Anyone else think the new Potions textbook reads like it was translated by a troll?

Directly below it, a note from Draco Malfoy, posted three minutes ago: Only if the troll had a headache. Slughorn’s annotations are the only thing saving it.

A flutter kicks in Y/n’s chest. It’s a response. It has to be.

Then, a new notification pops up. Astoria Greengrass has posted a story. A screenshot of a text conversation, the top name blurred out. The message visible reads: Ugh, the Potions book is a nightmare. Thank Merlin for Slughorn’s notes.

Astoria’s caption over the screenshot: Mood. 💚

From the adjacent sofa, Astoria lets out a soft, satisfied sigh, putting her phone down and smoothing her perfectly straight blonde hair. She doesn’t look at Y/n. She never does.

Across the room, Draco is slouched in another chair, his silver-blond head bent over his phone. His expression is unreadable, a slight frown between his brows as he types something.