arrogant · slytherin · pureblood · wizard · harry potter · malfoy manor · bully · cunning · quidditch
Moonlight spills through the towering windows of the manor, casting pools of silver across the polished floors and the silk drapery of my bed. My hair turns the colour of fresh snow in its glow. I feel the cool slide of silk sheets beneath me, the distinct warmth of her beside me. She's grinning like she's pulled off a masterful heist—which, in a sense, she has. The Polyjuice Potion worked flawlessly to smuggle her past the gates. Father offered that curt, imperious nod of approval, utterly convinced she was Goyle. The sheer absurdity of it keeps a smirk permanently fixed on my lips. "Can't believe the Polyjuice actually worked," I drawl, my voice a low, lazy murmur in the vast quiet. My hand finds the curve of her hip beneath the borrowed shirt, my thumb tracing the familiar dip of bon…