HP: She married Malfoy after becoming an exchange student.

Lady Hooch's whistle and verdict were like a spell breaking the shackles, completely igniting the oppressive silence.

Pansy let out a piercing scream first, followed by a cheering roar from the entire Slytherin stands. Crabbe and Goyle were so excited they almost fainted, while Daphne, sitting next to them, could only helplessly cover her face.

The Slytherin players swarmed around Draco, surrounding him and celebrating excitedly.

"Well done, Malfoy!"

"We won! We beat Potter!"

Marcus, as the team captain, was all smiles, constantly saying how right he was to recruit Draco into the team.

Draco was surrounded by a crowd in the center, his pale face finally regaining color, and his gray eyes shone with an unprecedented, pure joy. He held the Golden Snitch aloft, receiving everyone's attention and cheers, before being tossed into the air by his teammates.

Lucius Malfoy remained standing high above, his expression arrogant and cold, a barely suppressed smirk playing on his lips. His gaze lingered for a moment on his son, who was being held aloft by the crowd, before shifting to the figure standing silently not far away—Elijas Reinhardt. Their eyes met briefly in mid-air. Lucius subtly, almost imperceptibly, nodded his chin downwards.

~

-

On the edge of the boisterous, celebratory crowd in Slytherin, Evan Flint stood quietly, as if isolated behind a transparent membrane, his face ashen.

As Evan watched Elias raise his hand and casually wipe the speck of dust from Malfoy's cheek with his fingertips, he felt his own cheeks burning, as if he had been slapped through the air.

On what grounds?

Why should I?!

The word screamed in his heart. Images of Elias rejecting him flashed before his eyes, and he felt like a ridiculous clown—all his "innocence," "dependence," and "clumsy cuteness" seemed to be automatically translated into "trouble, stay away" in Elias's eyes.

Draco Malfoy!!! That idiot with a terrible temper and a face—besides his family background and looks—what did he get in return? Not just indulgence and protection, but even this… intimate, possessive touch! Elias actually used that precious family artifact to defend him in front of the whole school, and now…

A surge of intense resentment, humiliation, and a kind of venomous bitterness at being utterly outdone welled up in Evan's heart.

Is Elias blind? Evan Flint, in what way is he inferior to Draco Malfoy? He knows better how to elicit pity, how to feign weakness to gain protection, and how much effort he put into understanding Elias's preferences! And what can Draco do? Besides enjoying everything he was born with, besides causing trouble for Elias, what else can he do?!

Just as Evan was staring at the two men, his eyes almost overflowing with malice, a warm hand suddenly touched his arm.

"Evan?" Miles Blaitch leaned closer, his voice drowning out the cheers around him, his face showing genuine concern. He had been watching Evan closely and hadn't missed the fleeting, twisted look on his face that was anything but "pure admiration."

"What's wrong with you? Your hands are so cold... Are you feeling unwell? Or... were you scared by what just happened?" He tried to find a reason for Evan's unusually pale face and his suddenly cold fingertips, and his gaze followed Evan's gaze, landing on the two figures that were attracting attention.

Miles wasn't stupid; he vaguely sensed Evan's unusual interest in the German senior, but he preferred to believe that Evan was simply acting as usual, easily frightened by the dangers others faced and captivated by the charisma of the strong. He liked this side of Evan—kind, good, and in need of protection.

Evan was jolted back to reality by Miles's voice. He blinked rapidly, and when he looked up at Miles again, his eyes were already tinged with a familiar, pitiful red, and his long eyelashes trembled wetly.

"N-nothing, Miles." His voice was soft and still trembling. "I just... I just feel scared." Evan then turned his gaze to Draco, who was surrounded by people, his eyes filled with "sincere" worry. "Malfoy was really too risky just now. What if... what if Reinhardt's protection had been even a little bit slower? The consequences... I feel terrible just thinking about it."

As the boy spoke, he even bit his lip slightly, as if he couldn't bear the terrifying image he was imagining.

Miles was easily swayed, and patted his back with concern: "Don't think about it, Evie, everything's alright, isn't it? You're just too kind. Malfoy treated you so badly before, and you still worry about him."

Kindness? Evan scoffed inwardly. He never needed the label of kindness; he craved exclusive attention and indulgence, the adoration of everyone. Since the direct path was coldly blocked by Elias, and Draco, whom he looked down upon, could so easily occupy that position…

A chilling thought quietly took root amidst the deafening cheers.

Perhaps he should try a different approach. Instead of clumsily mimicking "innocence" to attract Elias, he should let that obstructive "obstacle" expose its own weakness. If Draco Malfoy were no longer so "special," if he frequently embarrassed himself, made mistakes, and found himself in awkward situations, revealing his inner shallowness and incompetence, would Elias, and the rest of Slytherin, still look at him with such adoration? Would they still protect him so unconditionally?

Having made up his mind, Evan raised his head again, his face now displaying that gentle, slightly shy smile, as if the momentary gloom had been merely an illusion created by the light and shadow. He gently tugged at Miles' sleeve, his voice soft and sweet: "Let's go back, it's too noisy here."

"Okay," Miles replied immediately, escorting him toward the castle and separating him from the crowd.

Evan turned back one last time, glancing at the center of the crowd. Draco was holding the Golden Snitch aloft, full of pride, while Elias stood not too far away, his gaze calmly following. The scene was still jarring, but now what surged within him was no longer simple anger, but rather a twisted sense of pleasure.

A good show can start with a little trouble. Draco Malfoy, I'm looking forward to your performance...