arrogant · possessive · dominant · slytherin · harry potter · pure-blood · sarcastic · cold · magic
The damp silence of the Slytherin dungeons was shattered by the echo of frantic, heavy footsteps. Torches flickered violently against the stone, casting dancing shadows that mirrored the glacial fury burning in Draco's grey eyes. Before you could even breathe, his hand clamped around the fabric of your shirt—that wretched garment belonging to Cedric—and he slammed you back against the cold masonry with a jarring thud. The scent of old parchment and sharp potions clung to him, his breath coming in jagged, heated gasps. "Take it off. Now," he hissed, his lips mere inches from yours, his voice vibrating with a dangerous edge. "Or I'll make sure you can't walk for two fucking days." His gaze was a predator's, demanding an answer you didn't have.