No one could say how the Slytherins really felt, but over at the teachers' table, Snape sat in silence, eyes fixed on the steaming food in front of him, as if the outcome meant nothing to him.
Or maybe he'd known all along how it would turn out, which explained his calm demeanor.
In contrast, Professor McGonagall kept glancing his way. If you looked closely, you'd notice she didn't seem as pleased as expected. In fact, whenever she saw Snape sitting motionless like that, a rather uneasy expression crept onto her face.
Anyone unaware of the situation might've thought McGonagall had a secret crush on Snape...
The other professors, noticing the odd tension, chose to act like nothing was amiss. They simply smiled and watched the excited young witches and wizards below. Still, the whole scene carried a strange, unsettling air.
Luckily, no student was paying attention to the professors, because all eyes were now fixed on Gryffindor's dramatic comeback and Slytherin's abrupt fall from the top.
The two houses might have been in the same room, but the atmosphere between them couldn't have been more divided.
On Gryffindor's side, it felt like a festival. Every little lion crowded around Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, shouting and cheering like the whole school didn't already know they were the heroes of this upset.
Meanwhile, Slytherin sat in oppressive silence. A few young witches, still bitter and unwilling to accept the outcome, quietly wiped away tears. But even in their frustration, no one stood up or lashed out—they simply stared at the food in front of them, mirroring the posture of their head of house.
Still and submerged like serpents beneath the surface...
...
Harry Potter's confidence was starting to return.
Ron Weasley threw around bold, challenging glances.
Hermione Granger looked on with suspicion and concern, deep in thought.
And on the stage stood Dumbledore, his gaze veiled behind those familiar half-moon spectacles.
It was only a fraction of what Draco saw...
'I thought I didn't care. Looks like I was wrong.'
As Pansy slowly calmed down in his arms, Draco glanced at the still-rambunctious Gryffindor table. He had always believed the House Cup didn't matter much to him—but in this moment, he realized how wrong he'd been.
More precisely, it wasn't about the Cup itself—Draco just couldn't accept such an absurd outcome. Especially not when Pansy had cried this hard. It was the first time he'd ever seen her like this.
'All of us were used as stepping stones.'
From this result, Draco saw something the other young witches and wizards couldn't.
What looked like a fair conclusion was built on Harry Potter's fame—and the fact that Slytherin was already unpopular with the rest of the school.
To the other houses, as long as Slytherin didn't win the Cup, it didn't matter who did. Layer that with the unquestioned authority of the greatest wizard, and suddenly this strange bonus point system was considered "fair."
And protest?
Slytherin's collective silence was all the resistance they could muster. Dumbledore acted swiftly and decisively, leaving no room for anyone to object. That silence was the last sliver of pride the Slytherins had left.
But that kind of silence wasn't Draco's style...
With that thought, Draco withdrew his gaze from the others and picked up the book he'd set down earlier, waiting patiently for Pansy to let out the rest of her grief.
Just as Draco narrowed his eyes, lost in thought, a hoarse voice murmured from the girl in his arms.
"Draco, aren't you angry?"
It wasn't just about the House Cup—Pansy's emotional outburst came mostly from her sense of injustice on Draco's behalf.
Draco had earned Slytherin a ton of points in class thanks to his academic skills, and he'd led their Quidditch team to victory, securing Slytherin's spot at the top.
So, objectively speaking, at least half the credit for their win belonged to Draco. And in Pansy's eyes, he was the only one truly worthy of lifting that House Cup.
It was a beautiful thought.
But with just a few words from Dumbledore, that long-awaited happy ending was shattered.
And the proud little princess? She completely broke down on the spot...
...
"Done crying?"
"..."
Draco's teasing made Pansy sulkily pull away from his warm embrace. She turned her head and wiped at her slightly red eyes, clearly still annoyed.
"I mean it. Aren't you mad?"
Now that she'd let it all out, Pansy's angry yet slightly embarrassed glare made her seem like her usual, mischievous self again.
Draco, faced with a question so obvious it didn't deserve an answer, just gave a cold, amused smirk.
Angry?
Instead of answering, Draco asked something that felt totally out of place.
"Have you all eaten?"
"Eat what? We're stuffed from being furious!"
"..."
Even though Goyle and Crabbe's eyes were still glued to the food, they knew better than to cross Pansy in her current mood. They wisely kept their mouths shut and didn't push their luck.
"In that case, let's go back to the common room."
"Oh, then—wait, huh?!"
Watching Draco stand up slowly and with such resolve, Pansy blinked in disbelief, as if she'd just misheard him.
This was the end-of-term feast. The professors were still seated at the staff table, and Dumbledore himself was still standing on stage—and he, a first-year student, was saying he was going to leave?
From any angle, it was basically a slap in the face to the whole school. No student had ever dared to pull something like this.
But Draco did. And he made sure everyone saw it...
As he passed the rowdy Gryffindors, Hermione watched Draco's unusual behavior with growing concern and confusion.
Is he about to start a fight?
She saw Draco reach into his robes and pull out his ornate wand. At that, Hermione stood up, clearly worried.
He raised his arm.
Magic gathered.
A cold smile spread across his face.
"Alohomora!"
Boom!
The doors to the Great Hall blasted open under Draco's spell. In an instant, every student fell silent.
Draco wasn't some snake that slithered away quietly.
From the very beginning, he'd always been a dragon—fierce, proud, and unyielding.
...
[Upto 50 chapters ahead for now]
p@treon(.)com/BlurryDream