You spotted him immediately.

Draco Malfoy sat at the Slytherin table, a little further down than usual, flanked by Blaise and Theodore. His silver-blond head was bent, his shoulders tight, his fingers tracing the rim of his goblet. He hadn't looked your way once since you'd entered the hall.

Not like before. Not like every other year, when his grey eyes would find yours the moment you walked through the doors, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

He just shook his head, once, and returned to staring at his plate.