ᏕᎮᏗᏒᏦᏕ

𝖴𝗇𝗏𝖾𝗂𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖲𝖾𝖼𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗌

Rhea sat at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall the next morning, absentmindedly pushing her food around on her plate. The low hum of conversation buzzed around her, but she felt detached from it all. The more time she spent at Hogwarts, the more she realized how different her experience was from everyone else's. While most of the other fifth-years had spent years mastering their spells and navigating the social dynamics of their houses, she felt like she was constantly playing catch-up.

Across the hall, she caught sight of Harry, Hermione, and Ron at the Gryffindor table. They seemed at ease with one another, laughing and talking about something that, no doubt, had nothing to do with the endless pile of homework. Rhea envied that sense of normalcy, that sense of belonging.

But she wasn't like them. She was in Slytherin, and the house's reputation followed her wherever she went.

As if on cue, Draco Malfoy entered the Great Hall, his presence commanding attention as always. He exchanged a few words with Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini before his eyes casually swept the room. When his gaze briefly met Rhea's, his lips curled into a small, unreadable smirk.

Rhea looked away, feeling a rush of heat rise to her cheeks. She still couldn't shake the strange tension that had developed between them. It wasn't overtly hostile, but it wasn't friendly either. It was something else entirely—something complicated.

Later that day, Rhea found herself once again in Potions class, this time without Draco as her partner. She was paired with Theodore Nott, who, thankfully, was quiet and didn't seem interested in making her life more difficult. As they worked through the day's assignment, her mind kept drifting back to Draco's words from their last encounter.

"You're not like the other Slytherins."

What did he mean by that? Did he see her as an outsider, too? Or was it just another way for him to assert his superiority?

The potion in her cauldron bubbled softly, the ingredients simmering to the correct consistency. As she stirred, she became aware of Draco watching her from across the room. His gaze was sharp, calculating, as if he were trying to unravel some mystery about her. She tried to ignore it, focusing on the task at hand, but his presence made it difficult.

When class ended, Rhea hurriedly packed up her things, eager to leave before Draco could approach her again. But as she stepped out into the hallway, she heard footsteps behind her.

"Selwyn."

She stopped, her heart skipping a beat as she turned to see Draco walking toward her, his expression unreadable.

"What is it, Malfoy?" she asked, her tone more defensive than she intended.

Draco stopped a few feet away from her, his grey eyes fixed on hers. For a moment, neither of them spoke, and the tension between them seemed to thicken.

"I've been thinking," he said slowly, his voice low and deliberate. "You don't belong here."

Rhea's stomach twisted. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Draco continued, his gaze never leaving hers, "you're not like the rest of us. You don't fit in with Slytherin, and you don't fit in with the others, either. It's obvious."

Rhea's chest tightened. She had always felt out of place, but hearing it from Draco stung in a way she hadn't expected. She wanted to lash out, to tell him he didn't know anything about her, but something in his tone stopped her. It wasn't mocking or cruel. It was... almost matter-of-fact.

"And why do you care?" she asked, her voice quieter now.

Draco shrugged, his expression still guarded. "I don't. But if you're going to survive here, you need to be aware of where you stand."

Rhea's eyes narrowed. "And where do I stand, exactly?"

A flicker of something—was it uncertainty?—passed through Draco's eyes before he spoke again. "You're on your own, Selwyn. If you don't figure that out soon, you'll be eaten alive."

The words hung in the air between them, heavy with unspoken meaning. Rhea didn't know what to say. Part of her wanted to argue, to tell Draco he was wrong, but deep down, she knew there was some truth to what he was saying. She was on her own in many ways. But that didn't mean she was going to let him, or anyone else, dictate how her time at Hogwarts would go.

"I can handle myself," she said firmly, meeting his gaze with more confidence than she felt.

Draco studied her for a moment, his expression inscrutable, before he gave a slight nod. "We'll see."

Without another word, he turned and walked away, leaving Rhea standing alone in the corridor, her thoughts swirling.

Over the next few days, Rhea threw herself into her studies with renewed determination. If she was going to make it at Hogwarts, she needed to improve, and fast. She spent long hours in the library, poring over textbooks and practicing spells until her wand felt like an extension of her arm. But despite her efforts, magic still didn't come as naturally to her as it did to others.

One evening, after another grueling study session, Rhea found herself back in the Slytherin common room. The fire crackled softly, and most of the other students were either studying or chatting in small groups. Rhea sat alone, her head buried in a book on advanced Charms, trying to memorize the proper wand movements for a particularly tricky spell.

"Still at it, I see."

Rhea looked up to see Draco standing in front of her, his usual smirk absent. Instead, he looked almost... curious.

"I don't have much of a choice," she said, closing the book and rubbing her tired eyes. "I'm still behind."

Draco tilted his head slightly, his eyes scanning her face as if he were trying to understand something. "Why are you trying so hard?"

Rhea frowned. "What do you mean?"

"You're not like the rest of us," Draco said, repeating the words he had spoken to her before. "Most people in your position would've given up by now. But you're still here, still fighting. Why?"

Rhea hesitated. She wasn't sure how to answer that question. It wasn't just about proving herself to the other Slytherins, or even to Draco. It was something deeper than that—something personal.

"I have to," she finally said, her voice quiet. "I didn't come here just to fail."

Draco's gaze softened slightly, and for the first time, Rhea saw a hint of something other than arrogance in his eyes. It was fleeting, but it was there—a flicker of understanding.

"Fair enough," he said, his voice low.

For a moment, they just looked at each other, the firelight casting long shadows across the room. The tension between them felt different now—not as sharp, not as antagonistic. There was something else there, something neither of them seemed quite ready to acknowledge.

Finally, Draco broke the silence. "If you want to survive here, Selwyn, you might need more than just hard work."

Rhea raised an eyebrow. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying," Draco said, his voice quiet but steady, "maybe you don't have to be on your own."

Rhea's heart skipped a beat, unsure of what he was offering or what he meant by it. But before she could respond, Draco turned and walked away, leaving her with more questions than answers.

As the fire crackled in the hearth, Rhea stared after him, her mind racing. Draco Malfoy was an enigma—a puzzle she couldn't quite figure out. But one thing was becoming increasingly clear: he was no longer just a distant, arrogant figure. He was something more than that now, something complicated.

And Rhea wasn't sure whether to be intrigued or wary.