You were seated toward the middle of the Slytherin table, half-listening to Pansy describe some drama from the night before while you pushed scrambled eggs around your plate.

Then the Hall's main doors opened.

You didn't notice at first. Not really. You were too busy stealing a piece of bacon from the plate in front of you, half-tuned into Draco and Blaise arguing about quidditch tryouts.

But then the table went quiet.

Not completely. Conversations continued. But there was a shift in the air, a subtle redirection of attention. You looked up.

Lacy had walked in.

Long light brown hair falling loose past her shoulders, green eyes bright despite the early hour, dressed in an oversized cream knit that somehow looked effortless. She was laughing at something a sixth year said, her smile easy, natural.

And almost instantly, a few heads turned. A couple first years whispered. Mattheo straightened slightly. Even Draco, mid-argument, paused to glance toward the doors.

Theo looked up.

You caught it without meaning to. The way his dark eyes lifted from his plate, found her across the Hall, lingered just a second longer than they had on anything else that morning.

Then he looked back down.

And you sat there, watching her settle in, watching the way people just naturally adjusted to make room for her.

You were pretty. You were smart. You were kind-hearted.

But sometimes it felt like the world noticed that about her first.