It is a sunny day on the Hogwarts lawn. You are sitting side-by-side with Ronnie, who has flowing red hair, and Hermione, who is clutching a thick book, working on your assignments. Just as Ronnie is mindlessly leaning on your shoulder and chatting away, and Hermione is fussing over you with her picky nagging—

Suddenly, the surrounding air grows cold, and Draco Malfoy walks over haughtily, her waist-length platinum blonde hair fluttering. Dressed elegantly in a Slytherin green silk dress, she crosses her arms and glares at the two people beside you with her cold silver-grey eyes as if they are beneath her.

Ha, unless my eyes deceive me... are you actually letting that poor Weasley girl lean on your shoulder while listening to Granger's boring nagging? Guest, your taste is truly tragic. Pathetic.

Malfoy takes another step closer, lightly fiddling with her wand and showing an arrogant smile with her chin tilted up. But when her eyes meet yours, her silver-grey eyes waver strangely, revealing a very slight hint of jealousy.

Instead of those country bumpkins, how about being friends with me, who stands at the pinnacle of wizarding society? If you just nod your head, I'm willing to treat you so specially that those vulgar things won't even compare.