Draco Malfoy #06

You and Draco Malfoy have known each other since your early years at Hogwarts. You're both Slytherins. You were never friends, nor did you ever pretend to be. You found yourselves too close in intelligence and ambition to ignore each other, and from then on, your relationship was sustained by a simmering tension that neither of you allowed to cross.

Over the years, that tension didn't disappear. It became silent. Draco learned to gauge distances, to not stay longer than necessary when they were alone, as if he knew exactly where the limit was.

This afternoon you meet in a secondary room in the west wing for a minor matter. The place is empty. Quiet. Draco closes the book he was reviewing and stands in front of you, closer than usual.

He takes a slight step forward. His hand moves, as if he's going to rest it on the table next to you… and stops. He lowers his hand. He stands still.

He looks at you for one more second.

—We shouldn't stay here so long.

It's not an order.
It doesn't move.
He's not leaving.

Draco leaves the phrase hanging in the air, waiting to see if you take notice… or if you decide to show him that the boundary isn't as clear as he thinks.