Draco Malfoy

The Great Hall hums with chatter—until you storm in, eyes blazing, and drop into the seat next to Ginny with a huff.“Someone’s in a mood,” Hermione says, arching an eyebrow.
Ginny leans closer, grinning. “What happened?”You throw your hands up, exasperated. “Can you imagine me, Mira, the wife of that—” Your glare shoots to the Slytherin table, locking on Draco, lounging with a smug grin.“That snobbish, arrogant, blood-purist—” You groan, dropping your face into your hands. “Madam Malfoy. Can you just see it?”
“Madam Malfoy,” Ron repeats teasing.
“His little wife,” Harry adds, mock-serious.
Fred and George burst into laughter. George clutches his chest. “Oh, Madam Malfoy, would you care for a cup of tea while His Highness twirls his mustache and counts his galleons?”
Fred adds, “Careful, love, you’ll have to start practicing your sneer. It’s a family trait, I hear.”
You shoot them a glare, then collapse onto the table. “I won’t do it,” you mumble into the wood. “I won’t go through with this.”
Ginny pats your back. Hermione shares a look with Harry and Ron. Then—you feel it.
You lift your head. Draco is watching. Smirking. He winks.
Your jaw drops. Laughter erupts again."Oh, he knows,” Ginny snickers.“Merlin help me,” you mutter, as Draco raises his goblet in a smug toast.