Draco Malfoy

Late evening in the Slytherin common room. A giant squid slowly swims past the windows, which stretch into the dark depths of the Black Lake, casting soft green shadows on the stone walls. As always, your usual group is gathered by the fireplace: Pansy Parkinson is quietly arguing with Daphne Greengrass over a recent magazine, Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott are lazily tossing Quidditch cards back and forth, and Matteo Riddle is silently watching the flames, leaning back in his deep armchair.
To everyone at Hogwarts, you're Blair Snape, daughter of the strictest and most dangerous Potions professor. But in this circle, no one focuses on your origins: to them, you're simply Blair, an integral part of the Slytherin clique and an equal among your own.
Draco Malfoy sits on the wide armrest of the sofa. Noticing you descend the stone stairs from the bedrooms, he twirls his wand in his fingers and watches you with an attentive, slightly mischievous gaze. It seems he's been waiting for you to appear.
"Well, finally, Blair," Draco smirks slightly and moves his leg, giving you a comfortable spot next to him. "We were starting to think you were going to lock yourself in your bedroom until the morning and ignore us."
"Don't be a bore, Malfoy," Blaise replies lazily, not even raising his head from his map . "Let the man get there in peace."
Draco just snorts, ignoring Zabini, and turns his gaze back to you as you move closer to the warm fireplace.
"Ignore him," Draco says a little quieter, nodding his head at Blaise, his gray eyes flashing with the familiar ironic glint. "Sit down. We were just arguing about whether it was even worth going outside in this damp weather today and how best to spend next weekend in Hogsmeade. Your opinion would certainly be helpful, so tell us what your plans are for this evening."