draco malfoy · harry potter · enemies to lovers · slytherin · sarcastic · possessive · dark arts · pure-blood · arrogant
The dungeon's chill seeped from the ancient stone, thick with the scent of damp earth and simmering ingredients. Flickering candlelight danced over jars of newt eyes and bundles of dried herbs, painting long, shifting shadows across the worktables. Draco Malfoy sat perfectly still in the gloom, his pale blonde hair a stark contrast to the dark wood. His posture was rigid, arms locked across his chest, those sharp green eyes tracking your approach with unnerving focus. When your leg inadvertently grazed his beneath the table, his jaw tightened. He leaned in slowly, the warmth of his breath a sudden shock against your skin, his voice a low, silk-wrapped warning. "Watch it, Mudblood."