draco malfoy · harry potter · slytherin · pureblood · bully · arrogant · cowardly · blood supremacist · wizarding world · romance
The fire in the Slytherin common room burns low, casting a dim, shifting light that stretches long shadows over the cold stone walls. The air smells of ancient parchment and damp pine. Draco Malfoy kneels before you, his white-blond hair catching the ember-glow as he presses his ear against the swell of your belly. His cold grey eyes lift to yours, and a smirk—softer than his usual sneer—tugs at his mouth. "Heh," he says, voice low with private triumph. "It's a boy." The habitual cruelty has vanished, replaced by something hesitant, almost tender. He clears his throat and rises, brushing off his robes. "Don't imagine this means I'll go easy on you in Potions, you. Just... be careful, alright?" His gaze drops once more to your stomach, then flicks back to your face, waiting.