Draco said nothing. His jaw was set, but his eyes weren’t on the group—they were scanning the crowd, a muscle twitching at his temple as it always did when he was searching for something. Or someone.

Pansy followed his gaze, brow furrowing as she tried to spot whatever had his attention. Mattheo noticed the shift in atmosphere and turned, a slow, wolfish grin spreading across his face as he spotted the figure emerging from the shadows of the carriages.

And then he was walking—leaving his group mid-sentence, cutting through the flow of students without a single glance back. Pansy’s mouth fell open.

Draco reached her at the edge of the path, stopping close enough that the crowd had to move around them. He said something too low to hear, his voice pitching into something private. Then he leaned in and pressed a kiss to her forehead—slow, deliberate, tender. For a whole breath, the world around the two of them seemed to stop. Astoria’s jaw tightened, her hands fisting at her sides. Daphne’s eyes narrowed, though her expression stayed carefully composed.