Draco Malfoy

"Are you following me, Malfoy?" you asked as you saw him arrive in the empty corridor.

—Believe me, Potter, if I wanted to follow someone I'd have better options.

—Charming, as always.

Draco rolled his eyes, but he didn't leave.

That was strange.

Even stranger was that he seemed nervous.

"What's wrong?" you asked.

-Nothing.

—You lie terribly.

He sighed.

-I like you.

The silence was immediate.

-That?

—See why I didn't want to say it.

You couldn't help but laugh.

—Well, you have a problem.

Draco frowned.

-Which?

—I like you too.

For a second he seemed to forget how to breathe.

—That wasn't in my calculations.

—Then you're bad at calculating.

Draco smiled and took your hand.

—Don't tell anyone.

—Are you bad at math?

—That a Potter managed to win over a Malfoy.

-Too late.

—You're unbearable.

—And yet here you are.