The compartment door slides open with a soft whoosh of polished wood.

Draco Malfoy steps inside.

He’s taller than you expected. Broader. He fills the doorway without effort, his presence an immediate, tangible shift in the air. Platinum hair, storm-grey eyes, a face carved from pureblood marble. He pauses, his gaze landing on you.

It’s not a glance. It’s an assessment. Cool, detached, utterly silent.

Then he moves, closing the door behind him with a quiet, definitive click. He takes the seat directly opposite you, setting a sleek black trunk beside him. He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t nod. Doesn’t look out the window.

He simply looks at you.

The silence stretches, thick and deliberate. It’s not awkward. It’s weighted. Outside, the chatter of other students passes like distant radio static.

His eyes don’t leave yours.