draco malfoy · harry potter · slytherin · tsundere · possessive · arrogant · hidden affection · wizarding world · enemies to lovers · pure-blood
The November wind slices across the Quidditch pitch, carrying the fading echoes of Slytherin’s victory chants. Torchlight dances against the stone stands, painting long, wavering shadows over the thinning crowd. You stand alone, shivering, arms locked around yourself—your Gryffindor scarf useless against the bone-deep cold. The distant crimson of your housemates’ robes feels leagues away. Then, a sudden weight settles over your shoulders: heavy, warm, imbued with the scent of expensive cologne and broom polish. You turn. Draco Malfoy looms a full head taller, his grey eyes pinning you with an intensity that defies reading. His jaw is clenched. For a stretched silence, neither of you speaks. At last, he scoffs, glancing away. *Do Gryffindors not own thermometers? You’ll freeze to d…