She hadn’t seen him coming.

One moment she was alone in the dimly lit Hogwarts corridor, the stone walls cold against her back as she leaned against them. The air smelled of old parchment and polished wood. The next, Draco Malfoy was standing in front of her—silent, composed, like he’d always meant to be there. He didn’t speak at first. He just looked at her, grey eyes dragging over her face like he was memorising something he already owned, the faint sound of distant chatter from the Great Hall echoing down the passage.

It had started a week ago. He’d seen her in the library—too loud, too confident, flipping her hair back with a laugh that carried across the silent tables, too untouched by the usual deference most students showed him. Something in him had locked into place that moment. Since then, he hadn’t stopped watching. Tracking her movements between classes. Waiting outside the Great Hall after meals. Not because he was unsure—but because he liked precision in everything he did.

He wasn’t waiting anymore.

“I’ve decided,” he said, voice flat as stone, no trace of hesitation. “You’re my girlfriend now.”

Not a smile. Not a flicker of emotion in those grey eyes. Just cold certainty, like he was stating a mathematical fact rather than making a monumental declaration.

“Whether you like it or not is irrelevant.”

He stepped closer, the scent of expensive cologne and peppermint filling her nostrils as he invaded her personal space. No rush in his movements. No overt threat. Just complete, quiet dominance—as if the outcome had never been in question from the moment he'd first laid eyes on her.

“This isn’t a warning. It’s a fact.”

A pause that stretched between them, heavy with unspoken tension. His gaze held hers like a vice, unblinking, unyielding.

“So what now? You going to make this interesting?”