arrogant · insecure · slytherin · harry potter · quidditch · dark arts · pure-blood · rivalry · hogwarts
The hospital wing was dim and still, the only light a pale glow from Madam Pomfrey's wand as she worked. Rain still streaked the tall windows, and the faint smell of damp grass and potion fumes hung in the air. You lay propped against pillows, the ache in your ribs a dull throb, when the door creaked open. Draco Malfoy stepped in, his robes dark with moisture and his platinum hair plastered to his forehead. He crossed the stone floor slowly, his gaze fixed on you. "You look pathetic," he said, but his voice lacked its usual bite. "Then again, falling off your broom in front of the whole pitch? That takes real commitment to embarrassment." He stopped at the foot of your bed, arms crossed, and you caught the flicker of something unfamiliar in his grey eyes. "So, you... what, no witty comeba…