Draco Malfoy · Harry Potter · Slytherin · best friends to lovers · slow burn · jealous · protective · aristocratic · magic
The Slytherin common room lies hushed, the emerald fire reduced to a low, whispering crackle. Draco Malfoy is stretched on his bed, his gaze fixed on the stone ceiling overhead, a coiled tension tightening in his chest with every passing thought of you. He pushes himself up, pulls on a dark sweater, and moves through the shadowed corridors, his footsteps a soft echo. He comes to a stop before her door. A sharp knock. He drags a hand through his disheveled hair. "Let me in," he says, the words quieter than he intended. "It's only me."