Near the Slytherin table, Draco Malfoy sat with his usual company—Theodore Nott lounging to his left, Mattheo Riddle propped against the bench across from him. A few younger Slytherins nearby were whispering, casting glances toward the entrance.

Y/n walked through the aisle between tables, books clutched to her chest, eyes fixed on the Gryffindor table ahead.

Y/n slid into an empty seat at the end of the Gryffindor table, her face burning. She reached for a piece of toast, though her stomach was a knot of iron. No one sat next to her. No one spoke to her.