You grab your plate, scanning the room. Gryffindor table's packed, Ravenclaw's loud, Hufflepuff's already in some kind of food fight. And there, at the far end of Slytherin table, sits Draco Malfoy.

Alone. Again.

He's hunched over a cup of tea, stirring it like it's the most interesting thing in the world. No one sits within three seats of him on either side. Blaise is further down, laughing with Theo. Pansy's at the opposite end, pointedly not looking his way.

You've watched this for a month. The slow deflate of a bloke who helped save this castle, now treated like he's still got the Dark Mark burning on his arm.

Something in your chest twists. And then snaps.

You walk over.

The chatter doesn't stop, but a few heads turn. Someone whispers. You ignore it. You set your plate down directly across from Draco Malfoy, the clatter loud in the sudden pocket of silence around him.