𝔗𝔥𝔢 ℭ𝔬𝔩𝔩𝔢𝔠𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫

-𝔻𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕠 𝕄𝕒𝕝𝕗𝕠𝕪 𝕀𝕀-

Draco Malfoy sat beneath the sprawling oak in the Clocktower Courtyard, the cool shade casting dappled patterns on the stone bench he shared with Blaise Zabini. The afternoon sun bathed the courtyard in a warm, golden glow, but Draco's attention was fixated on a single point: Adhara Potter. She was tucked away in an alcove, seemingly absorbed in a book, her raven hair cascading over her shoulders and framing her mismatched eyes, one blue and one green.

Blaise followed Draco's gaze and smirked, his dark eyes glinting with amusement. "There you go again, mate," he drawled, his tone teasing. "You're staring at her like she's the latest model of Nimbus."

Draco tore his eyes away from Adhara and shot Blaise a glare, though he couldn't completely mask the flush creeping up his neck. "I'm not staring, Zabini," he retorted, his voice edged with defensiveness. "I'm keeping an eye on her. She's up to something, I know it."

Blaise chuckled, leaning back against the tree trunk. "Sure, Draco. You're just doing your duty as a Slytherin, right? Nothing to do with the fact that you find her the most interesting person in this castle."

Draco scowled, but the remark hit too close to a truth he wasn't ready to acknowledge. His feelings for Adhara were complicated, a tangled mess of disdain, envy, and something else he couldn't quite put a name to. She was everything he was supposed to hate: a Gryffindor, a half-blood, the girl who had somehow survived the Dark Lord's curse. Yet, there was something about her that drew him in, something he couldn't ignore no matter how hard he tried.

As if sensing his thoughts, Adhara looked up from her book, her eyes meeting his across the courtyard. For a moment, the world seemed to narrow to just the two of them. Her expression was unreadable, the usual mask of stoic indifference firmly in place, but there was a flicker of something in her gaze—curiosity, perhaps, or recognition.

Draco felt a jolt of irritation, both at himself for being caught staring and at her for having the nerve to look so unbothered. He turned back to Blaise, forcing a smirk. "I'm just keeping an eye on the enemy, Zabini. Nothing more."

Blaise raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced, but he let it go. "If you say so, Draco. Just don't let your obsession get the better of you."

Draco ignored the jibe, but his mind was already drifting back to Adhara. He remembered the countless times he had tried to provoke her, to break through that infuriatingly calm exterior. She rarely rose to his bait, meeting his taunts with a cool detachment that only fueled his frustration. Yet, there were moments—brief, fleeting moments—when he thought he saw something more, a spark of fire behind those mismatched eyes.

He couldn't deny that she intrigued him, that there was a part of him that wanted to understand her, to know what lay beneath the surface. But such thoughts were dangerous, forbidden even. Adhara Potter was the enemy, the embodiment of everything his family and his house stood against. Allowing himself to feel anything other than hatred for her was a betrayal of everything he had been taught.

"Draco," Blaise's voice cut through his reverie, "you're doing it again."

Draco blinked, realizing he had been staring at Adhara once more. He scowled, annoyed at himself for his lack of control. "Shut up, Zabini," he muttered, though without much heat.

Blaise just laughed, a low, knowing sound. "Whatever you say, Draco. Just remember, the line between love and hate is a thin one."

Draco didn't dignify that with a response, but Blaise's words lingered in his mind as he watched Adhara return to her book. The line between love and hate, indeed. Perhaps Blaise was right—perhaps his obsession with Adhara Potter was more than just hatred. But acknowledging that would mean confronting feelings he wasn't ready to face.

For now, he would continue to play his part, the dutiful Slytherin, the nemesis of Adhara Potter. But deep down, he couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more between them, something that neither of them fully understood. And as he sat in the courtyard, pretending to ignore her, he wondered if he would ever find the courage to explore what that something might be.