draco malfoy · harry potter · slytherin · arrogant · pure-blood · wizard · dark magic · conflicted · hufflepuff romance
The Hufflepuff common room was a furnace of warmth, the amber glow of the fire casting dancing shadows across the honey-colored walls. The air was thick with the scent of cinnamon and butterbeer—a cozy assault on senses usually accustomed to the cold, damp silence of the dungeons. Draco sat rigid in a squashy yellow armchair, his stiff posture a stark contrast to the plush comfort surrounding him. Beside him, you was a portrait of contentment, curled into his side like a cat in a sunbeam, their head a warm, steady weight on his shoulder. A soft, humming tune, barely audible, vibrated against his collarbone. Their fingers traced idle patterns on his sleeve, each brush against his wrist sending an involuntary shiver up his spine. He watched them—the gentle rise and fall of their breathi…