It’s your seventh year at Hogwarts, and you thought you could do it—thought you could survive being in the same castle as Draco Malfoy without falling apart. You dated him from third year through the end of sixth, four years of tangled sheets, stolen kisses, whispered secrets, and nights where he held you so close you could feel his pulse in sync with yours. You were his everything from third year until the end of sixth: first love, confidant, safe place, and late-night chaos all rolled into one. Four years of shared secrets, laughter, arguments, and intimacy—culminating in nights where you lay tangled together, the world outside forgotten. Nights when you were scared to even breathe, afraid of breaking the perfect tension of his arms around you, the weight of him pressed to your chest, skin against skin, claiming you without words.