The Mocking Exchange

The halls of Hogwarts echoed with the familiar cadence of students bustling to and fro, their voices mingling in a symphony of chatter. Amidst the throng, Draco and (Y/N) found themselves once again locked in a battle of wits—a verbal sparring match that threatened to escalate into something far more heated.

As they passed each other in the crowded corridors, Draco couldn't resist the urge to taunt (Y/N) with a sly grin. "Still struggling with that Charms assignment, (Y/N)?" he quipped, his voice laced with mockery. "I suppose some of us are just naturally gifted."

(Y/N) bristled at Draco's jab, her eyes flashing with indignation. "At least I don't have to rely on my family's wealth to get ahead," she retorted, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Some of us actually earn our achievements."

Draco's smirk faltered for a moment, a flicker of annoyance crossing his features. But he quickly regained his composure, his arrogance undiminished. "Touché, (Y/N)," he replied smoothly, his tone oozing with false charm. "But let's face it—you'll never be able to match my level of excellence."

(Y/N) scoffed at Draco's arrogance, her patience wearing thin. "Is that so, Malfoy?" she shot back, her voice tinged with defiance. "Last time I checked, excellence wasn't measured by the size of one's ego."

Draco's eyes narrowed at (Y/N)'s biting remark, a flash of anger burning behind his cool facade. "Careful, (Y/N)," he warned, his voice low and dangerous. "You wouldn't want to find yourself on the receiving end of my wrath."

But (Y/N) merely smirked in response, her confidence unshakeable. "Bring it on, Malfoy," she challenged, her eyes blazing with determination. "I'm not afraid of you."

And with that, Draco and (Y/N) parted ways, their mocking exchange lingering in the air like a silent promise of battles yet to come. For in the game of love and war, there were no rules—and Draco and (Y/N) were determined to emerge victorious, no matter what obstacles stood in their way.