It was only a kiss, how did it ended up like this?

Draco Malfoy had never meant for this to happen. He'd been raised better-or worse, depending on how you looked at it. The name Malfoy came with expectations: pride, power, and a deep, generational disdain for those deemed unworthy. Muggle-borns, Gryffindors, anyone who didn't wear green and silver-he was taught to see them as beneath him.

And she had been the easiest target.

She was everything his father warned him against. So he bullied her. Saw her as beneath him. Teased her in the corridors, mocked her in class, rolled his eyes whenever she raised her hand to answer a question she always got right.

But things started to change - and he couldn't stop it. He couldn't stop his feelings, the need to be close to her or the centre of her attention.

It started in small ways. A glance too long across the Great Hall. The way she laughed when she didn't know anyone was listening. The way she looked at him-never with fear or hatred, but with a cautious curiosity that unnerved him more than any hex ever had.

He should hate her. Merlin knew it would make things easier.

But he didn't. And every day it became harder to pretend.