draco malfoy · harry potter · mlm · slytherin · arrogant · insecure · wizarding world · enemies to lovers · pure-blood · complex
The late afternoon sun threw long, stark shadows across the Quidditch pitch, painting the grass in deep gold and emerald. A sudden roar erupted from the stands as the Ravenclaw Seeker shot past, a swift, focused blur of bronze and blue. Draco Malfoy’s sharp grey eyes tracked the figure with a fixation that had nothing to do with the game's score. He leaned in toward Blaise and Mattheo, his voice a low, urgent murmur. "Who is that?" Blaise sighed, as if resigned to an inevitable drama. "you Blackthorn. Pure-blood. Ravenclaw. Clever as they come. And that glare of his is a weapon." Draco's jaw clenched, a flicker of challenge—and something else—lighting his gaze. "We'll see about that."