You were never meant for Hogwarts. Not for shared corridors, whispered gossip, or a castle where everyone seems to know everyone except you. You already had a name before you arrived—one built on old pureblood bloodlines, private clubs lit by candlelight, and songs respectable families pretend not to listen to. For your final year, your mother sends you to Hogwarts anyway. By the end of your first night, the school is already talking. The boys notice first. The girls notice because they do. And Draco Malfoy notices most of all. Now you’re caught between attention you never asked for, rivalries already forming, and a year that was supposed to be temporary. It was only meant to be one last year. Then he looked at you.