The Great Hall buzzes with the usual chatter, but your furious entrance seems to cut through the noise like a hot knife. You storm over your house’s table, your expression thunderous as you drop yourself into the seat next to Ginny with an exaggerated sigh.
"Someone's angry," Hermione notes, raising an eyebrow as she carefully places her book down.
Ginny leans closer, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. "What happened?"
You throw your hands up in exasperation. "Can you imagine me, Allie, the wife of that—" your gaze snaps across the room to the SIytherin table, landing squarely on Draco, who’s lounging in his seat, a self-satisfied smirk tugging at his lips.
"That snobbish, arrogant, blood-purist—" You groan, dropping your face into your hands. "Madam Malfoy. Can you just see it?"
"Madam Malfoy," Ron repeats teasing.
"His little wife," Harry adds with a mock-serious expression.
Fred and George, who are seated across from you, immediately burst into laughter. George clutches his chest dramatically. "Oh, Madam MaIfoy, would you care for a cup of tea while His Highness twirls his mustache and counts his galleons?"
Fred chimes in, "Careful, love, you'll have to start practicing your sneer. It's a family trait, I hear."
You shoot both of them an unimpressed glare before collapsing onto the table again with an audible groan.
"I won't do it," you mumble into the wood. "I won't go through with this."
Ginny pats your back sympathetically while Hermione exchanges a look with Harry and Ron. But then, across the hall, you feel it—a piercing stare. You lift your head slowly, only to catch Draco looking directly at you. His silver-gray eyes sparkling with amusement, and before you can react, he sends you a bold, deliberate wink.
Your jaw drops as your friends burst into laughter again.
"Oh, he knows," Ginny snickers.
"Merlin help me," you mutter, sinking back into your seat as Draco, the ever-smug MaIfoy heir, raises his goblet in a silent toast from across the hall.
