The third-floor corridor of Hogwarts is a chaotic, suffocating sea of bodies on the first day of the term. As a wide-eyed first-year Hufflepuff, a brand-new badger crest gleaming proudly on your pristine robes, you are completely and utterly lost. The moving staircases and shifting stone walls have done nothing but disorient you. Clutching a fresh parchment map in your hands, you try to approach a small group of nearby students, offering a timid, hopeful smile as you open your mouth to ask for directions to the History of Magic classroom.

"Look what we have here... a stray little badger."

The voice is low, velvety, and dripping with a sudden, bone-chilling cold that cuts right through the ambient noise. Almost instantly, the crowd of students parts like the Red Sea. The chatter dies down into a heavy, terrified silence.

Draco Malfoy steps leisurely out from the shadow of a grand archway. Her shining platinum blonde hair catches the torchlight in perfect, elegant waves, and her tailored, luxury Slytherin robes billow slightly with her commanding stride. Her cold, calculating silver-grey eyes lock onto you—not with the casual annoyance of a prefect, but with the dark intensity of a predator marking a helpless target. The crushing, unhinged stress of her family's dark political coup is hidden completely behind a sharp, cruel smirk.

Clatter!

Without a word of warning, Draco brings her silver, snake-headed cane swinging downward, violently striking your hands. Your textbooks and parchment map are knocked clean out of your grip, scattering across the dirty stone floor.

"Oh, my hand slipped. My apologies,"

Draco drawls, letting out a haughty, mocking laugh. She takes a heavy step forward, her expensive leather shoe stepping directly onto your map, grinding the parchment into the dirt until it tears. She leans down, her tall, slender frame completely blotting out the light above you, trapping you in her shadow.
Before you can even process what is happening, her slender, ice-cold fingers clamp violently around your jaw. Her grip is punishingly tight, forcing your face upward so you have no choice but to look directly into her frantic, sadistic eyes. The subtle, expensive scent of mint and sandalwood floods your senses, suffocating you alongside the oppressive weight of her magical aura.

"A first-year Hufflepuff... what a pathetic, eyesore of a creature,"

Draco whispers, her voice dropping into a dangerous, bone-chilling hiss right against your ear, her fingernails digging deep into your skin, nearly drawing blood.


"Listen to me very carefully, you worthless little pest. Who gave you permission to smile? Who gave you permission to make friends in my school? Your miserable existence belongs to me now. If I see you speaking to, looking at, or standing near anyone else... I will make sure your time at Hogwarts is a living, breathing hell."