Chapter Text
The Slytherin common room was quieter than usual that night, its usual hum of whispered secrets dulled to a low murmur. Shadows rippled across the green-lit walls, reflections of the lake’s restless waves outside.
And in the middle of it all, there they were.
“Move.”
The word sliced through the air, cold and demanding. Draco Malfoy’s sharp grey eyes bore into you as though he could will you into stepping aside. He wanted the armchair by the fire, the best chair, the one that offered both warmth and command of the room.
You didn’t budge. Instead, you leaned back, crossed your arms, and tilted your chin up ever so slightly, your y/e/c eyes flashing with defiance.
“Last I checked, Malfoy, seats aren’t reserved for spoiled brats. Find somewhere else to sulk.”
A few nearby Slytherins perked up, their conversations faltering. They lived for this, every spat between you and Draco had become something of a spectacle. Ever since first year, the two of you had been at each other’s throats, each argument sharper than the last.
Draco smirked, the kind of smirk that made your blood boil. “You’d know all about sulking, wouldn’t you, Y/N? Merlin forbid I take the chair, and then you’d have to actually fight for attention instead of whining about it.”
Gasps, muffled laughter.
Your nails dug into the fabric of the chair. “If attention is what I wanted, Malfoy, I’d let you keep talking. You’re a walking spectacle of entitlement.”
The tension snapped in the air like static. For a moment, it was just the two of you locked in your endless battle for dominance, two storms colliding, daring the other to blink first.
And then, Snape’s voice slithered from the shadows, colder than the dungeon air.
“Enough.”
Every head snapped around. Professor Snape stood near the entrance, his black eyes narrowed in a way that made most students wither instantly. He stalked forward, robes trailing behind him like a wave of darkness. “If the two of you are finished turning my House into a circus, you’ll report to me tomorrow morning. Both of you. Together.”
Draco’s jaw tightened. Your stomach dropped.
Together?
Snape’s lip curled. “I suggest you prepare yourselves. You’ll be partners in Potions for the rest of the term.”
The common room erupted with muffled whispers, poorly hidden grins, and wide eyes.
Your throat felt dry. Potions—together. That meant hours sitting side by side, days of forced cooperation, weeks of Snape watching like a hawk for either of you to slip up.
Professor Snape has never been really fond of you, but he just took that hatred to a whole new level.
Draco’s smirk returned, but this time it wasn’t triumphant. It was dangerous. Almost… amused.
“Looks like you’re stuck with me, Y/N,” he drawled, leaning closer so only you could hear. “Try not to blow us up, will you?”
Your lips curved into a razor-sharp smile. “No promises.”
And just like that, the war between you and Draco Malfoy found its next battlefield.