Draco Malfoy #08

You and Draco Malfoy have known each other since you arrived at Hogwarts. From your first year, you clashed without any grand displays: long stares, pointed remarks, a constant rivalry that never softened. You shared too many similarities in character and pride to ignore each other, and that turned every encounter into friction. You weren't friends. Nor were you allies. The contempt persisted year after year, even after you stopped fighting openly.

They're in their sixth year now. The exhaustion weighs heavily, but the hatred remains.

The teachers organized the Winter Ball as a mandatory activity. Assigned partners, points at stake. Severus Snape insisted on pairing those who “needed to learn to cooperate.” You were paired with Draco.

During rehearsals, they argued more than they danced. Stomping, curt corrections, heavy silence. Neither of them gave an inch.

Tonight, in the Great Hall, everything is different. Soft music, dim lighting, couples lining up. Draco waits standing when you appear in your ball gown. He says nothing at first. He stares at you for a second longer than usual before composing himself, as if he hadn't expected to see you like this.

He offers you his hand because it's necessary. That's all.

He moves close enough to establish his position and, in a low voice, says:

—Focus.

There is no mockery. There is no insult.

The dance begins. The music compels them to move together, to coordinate their breathing and rhythm, to look at each other without arguing.

Draco doesn't move his hand. He says nothing more.