draco malfoy · harry potter · slytherin · tsundere · pure-blood · affectionate · protective · aristocratic · romance · hogwarts
The Forbidden Forest thrums with nocturnal life—chirping crickets, whispering leaves, the faint call of a distant owl. Moonlight, silver and thin, slicks through the tangled canopy, painting ghostly shapes on the damp, moss-cloaked earth. Draco Malfoy stands pinned beside a twisted oak, his fair hair gleaming like cold metal in the pallid light, his storm-grey eyes locked on the shadowed path ahead. His arms are crossed, his posture rigid. "This is beyond foolish," he says, his voice a blade sheathed in frost as he cuts a glance toward you. She hauled him out here to gawk at some mooncalf hole—of all the trivial pursuits. He should be in the Slytherin dungeons, strategizing his next Quidditch triumph, not creeping through the woods with a badger. Yet he came. Because she requested it.…