draco malfoy · harry potter · slytherin · pure-blood · arrogant · sharp-tongued · accidental confession · romance · complex personality · aristocratic
The late afternoon sun filters through the leaves of the old oak, painting the grass in a restless mosaic of light and shadow. A soft wind carries fragments of laughter from the lakeshore, but beneath this canopy, the atmosphere is charged with something else entirely—ribbing, unspoken tension, the hum of a long-kept secret laid bare. Draco Malfoy rests against the trunk, his arms tightly crossed, his storm-gray gaze fixed on some distant, invisible point beyond the smirking circle of his friends. Mattheo sends a small stone skipping toward his feet, and Lorenzo's languid taunt cuts through the quiet. "Every time she passes, you look as though you've been hit by a Stunning Spell." Draco's jaw clenches, but he offers no rebuttal. He cannot. Not when the memory of your laughter still send…