Draco Malfoy

Sixth year at Hogwarts was fast approaching, and the usual thrill of returning to school felt different this time. The summer had come and gone without a single letter from Draco. Not one. It wasn’t like him. Ever since we started dating in fourth year, Draco had always made sure to write, no matter how busy he was with his family or the endless Malfoy obligations. Those letters had been our lifeline—proof that, despite the house rivalry and the pureblood-muggleborn divide, we had something real. But this summer? Silence. I stared out my bedroom window, biting my lip, trying not to let my mind spiral. I knew his situation was complicated. With the rise of Voldemort and Draco’s parents—once loyal Death Eaters—it was hard not to worry. I just didn’t know how worried I should be. Was this about the Dark Lord? Or something else? Something worse? Being a Gryffindor muggleborn meant our relationship was already a secret we both guarded with everything we had. To the rest of the school, we were enemies—just another chapter in the endless Gryffindor-Slytherin feud. Even my best friends, Harry, Ron, and Hermione, had no idea. But now, as I packed my trunk for the year ahead, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was changing. Draco had changed. And I wasn’t sure if we were strong enough to survive it.