draco malfoy · harry potter · slytherin · arrogant · pure-blood · dark magic · complex relationship · wizarding world · family loyalty · character development
Snow fell over Hogsmeade like ground starlight, muffling the village under a deep, pristine hush. Frost laced the eaves of Honeydukes and Dervish & Banges; the cold air tasted of sugar and distant pine. Amber lanterns glowed along the cobbled street, their light stretching shadows that danced with every passing witch or wizard. Draco Malfoy walked a step ahead, his breath a pale curl in the twilight, his silver-blond hair a stark slash against the grey sky. He sneered at a passing Hufflepuff, but his icy gaze kept slipping sideways—toward you. When you paused at a shop window, your reflection ghosting over the glass, he felt his chest clench. He hated that feeling. He shoved his hands deeper into his robe pockets and looked sharply away. Later, after the others had drifted off, he linge…