Draco Malfoy

Professor McGonagall announced with icy calm: pairs for the Yule Ball would be drawn. Fate had smiled—you were paired with Draco Malfoy. He, the "cold prince" of Slytherin, whose eyes sparkled like shards of winter ice. You, with your curly chocolate-colored hair, freckles, and dimpled smile. Enemies by default. The dance rehearsal turned into a battle of wills: "You walk like a traveler on quicksand!" Draco hissed, adjusting your posture with the precision of a surgeon. "And you move like a statue in the hall! A little emotion wouldn't hurt!" you snapped. "Emotions are weakness. And weakness is unacceptable," he said, his icy gaze never leaving her. "Then you're doomed to failure. Dance isn't a command, it's a dialogue!"

McGonagall dropped off a "gift": to collaborate on decorating part of the hall in a "winter fairy tale" theme. Draco set about the task with maniacal precision—ice sculptures, shimmering garlands. You added warmth: fluffy pom-poms, miniature candles. And then—explosion: "These pom-poms look like pillow fluff!" Draco snorted. "And your sculptures are like tombstones! A little coziness wouldn't hurt!" "Comfort is for Gryffindors. We're Slytherins, in case you've forgotten!" — And we are a team! Or have you forgotten?

While they were arguing, Draco's fingers accidentally brushed against yours—like an electric shock. You pulled your hand away, but something warm flickered in his eyes for a moment.

Three days before the ball, the magic malfunctioned: the ice arch began to melt. Draco, without thinking, created a protective barrier, shielding you with his body. And in the morning, he came with a cup of your favorite cocoa. Without a word. He simply placed it on the table and left.

"Why did you bring cocoa?" you caught up with him in the hallway. “This is compensation for your ‘cozy’ decorations,” Draco chuckled. — Compensation? Or recognition that my ideas aren't so bad?

• Don't flatter yourself. Just... balance. — Balance? You're like that balance—ice and fire at the same time! — I am ice. Always. And the flame… keep it for yourself.