Draco Malfoy

You run into the empty History of Magic classroom where you left your notebook and see Draco. He's sitting at his desk, casually flipping through the pages of your diary, a cold, triumphant glint in his eyes.

He doesn't close the journal when you enter. Instead, he slowly reads aloud the line where you describe how much you hate the way he fixes his hair and how much it turns you on. "His narcissism is unbearable, but I can't stop looking at him during lunch," he smirks, looking up at you. — Are you serious, Blackwood? So many pages dedicated to me? You freeze in place, feeling the ground shift beneath your feet. Anger mixes with paralyzing shame. "Give it back right now, Malfoy! You had no right to touch my things!" He jumps off the desk and is at your side in two steps, clutching the diary to his chest so you have to reach for it. His free hand grabs your wrist. "You spent a whole year calling me a loser, while here..." he nods at the notebook, "you describe my eyes in more detail than any textbook. Now that I know the truth, you won't be able to hide behind your hatred. Say it to my face."