a snape and a Malfoy

THE TIPPING POINT

Draco's frustration had reached its boiling point. All year, he had watched Cera grow closer to the Golden Trio, especially Harry Potter. He couldn’t stand how easily she fit into their group, how she seemed to be drifting further and further from him. But this... this was the final straw.

He had heard rumors circulating the school that Harry had flown on a Hippogriff—Buckbeak—during one of Hagrid's classes. Flying on a creature like that? Showing off his skills? It infuriated Draco to no end. To make matters worse, Cera had been there, watching, and she had probably been impressed. He could just picture the smug look on Potter's face, soaking up the admiration, especially from Cera.

It was late in the evening, and Draco paced the Slytherin common room, his mind a whirlwind of anger and jealousy. He had spent all day fuming, and now he needed to confront her.

When Cera finally walked in, she immediately noticed the tension in the room. Draco was standing near the fireplace, his face set in a hard, determined scowl. She could tell something was wrong, and from the look in his eyes, she knew this wasn’t going to be a pleasant conversation.

“Draco,” she said cautiously, coming closer. “What’s going on?”

He turned toward her, his grey eyes flashing with frustration. “What’s going on? You really need to ask? How about the fact that Potter’s been showing off again—and you were right there, cheering him on?”

Cera blinked, surprised at the intensity in his voice. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb,” Draco snapped, stepping closer to her. “The Hippogriff! I heard all about it. Potter riding Buckbeak like some hero. You were with him, weren’t you?”

Cera’s eyes narrowed slightly, her patience beginning to wear thin. “Yes, I was there. It was a class, Draco. And Harry didn’t ask for the attention—he was just following Hagrid’s instructions.”

Draco let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Of course you’d defend him. You always do these days. It’s like you’ve completely forgotten who you are.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Cera asked, her voice steady but sharp.

“You’ve been spending all your time with Potter and his little Gryffindor friends,” Draco spat, his frustration boiling over. “You’re in Slytherin, Cera. But it’s like you don’t care anymore. You’d rather run around with them than remember who your real friends are.”

Cera’s expression hardened, her hands balling into fists. “I told you before, Draco—I can be friends with whoever I want. I’m not going to let you, or anyone else, dictate who I spend time with.”

Draco clenched his jaw, his anger reaching a dangerous edge. “You’re making a mistake, Cera. Potter’s not like us. He’s a Gryffindor—he’ll never understand what it means to—”

“To what?” Cera interrupted, her voice rising. “To be a pure-blood? To be a Malfoy? Is that what this is really about? You think you can control me because our families had some agreement?”

Draco’s face flushed, the truth of her words hitting him harder than he expected. “It’s not about control. It’s about loyalty.”

“No, it’s about you trying to make me choose,” Cera shot back. “And I won’t. I’m not yours to control, Draco. I never was.”

Draco glared at her, his pride stung. “Is that how you see it? After everything, you’d throw it all away for them? For Potter?”

Cera shook her head, her eyes flashing with frustration. “You still don’t get it, do you? This isn’t about Harry. It’s about you. You can’t keep using your last name, your family, to make people follow you. Not me. Not anyone.”

Draco took a step closer, his voice low and cold. “You’re a Snape. You think that makes you better than me? You think you’re above all this?”

Cera’s gaze hardened. “I don’t think I’m better than you, Draco. But I won’t let you use me to feed your jealousy. I’ve told you before, I’m my own person. I choose who I care about, and who I want to be around.”

He sneered at her, the tension between them palpable. “So that’s it, then? You’d rather be with Potter and his little band of misfits?”

Cera’s voice was firm, her gaze unwavering. “I’ll be friends with whoever I choose, Draco. And if you can’t accept that, then maybe we’ve reached the end of this.”

Draco’s chest tightened at her words. He wanted to yell, to make her see that she was wrong, but something inside him faltered. He could see the determination in her eyes—the resolve that she wasn’t going to let him manipulate her, no matter how much he wanted her to stay by his side.

For a moment, neither of them spoke, the weight of their unspoken emotions hanging in the air between them.

Finally, Draco turned away, his voice cold and distant. “Fine. Do what you want. But don’t expect me to stand by and watch while you throw yourself at Potter.”

Cera’s face softened with disappointment, though her voice remained strong. “This has nothing to do with Harry. It has everything to do with you not seeing me for who I really am. I’m not just some prize, Draco.”

With that, she turned and walked away, leaving Draco standing alone by the fire, the flames reflecting the storm of emotions raging inside him.

As she disappeared from sight, Draco felt a knot tighten in his chest. He knew he was losing her—losing the one person who had always seen through his facade, who had understood him in ways no one else could. But his pride, his anger, and the weight of his family’s name kept him rooted to the spot, unable to chase after her.

For the first time, Draco realized that he might have pushed Cera too far. And now, he wasn’t sure if he could ever get her back.