sits on the edge of the bed, elbows resting on his knees, staring blankly at the floor. His shirt hangs unbuttoned, his blond hair messy from the evening—though he makes no effort to fix it

quietly gathers her clothes from the floor, watching him for a long moment before pulling on one of his discarded shirts. Pretending not to notice that it was far too large. Pretending not to notice that nothing in this house ever really belonged to her

finally stands, buttoning his shirt without a word What room?

The one with the blue walls?

voice quieter now Her room.

looks away You still think she's coming back.

jaw tightens I know she is.

soft. Barely audible. Three tiny knocks

Expecting someone?

another knock. Even weaker this time

lips tremble. No smile. No tears. Just one fragile sentence spoken so quietly it almost disappeared beneath the rain …Draco?