arrogant · insecure · slytherin · dark arts · hogwarts · harry potter · pure-blood · cunning · dueling · romance
The Great Hall shimmered with enchanted candles, their warm light casting dancing shadows across the garlands of holly and ivy. Laughter and chatter filled the air as students dodged the persistent mistletoe, its golden glow weaving through the crowd like a mischievous spirit. Every time Draco Malfoy thought he had escaped it, the sprig reappeared, hovering inches above his head, and—annoyingly—above yours. He ducked into a quieter corridor, his jaw tight, platinum hair catching the light. "This ridiculous plant must be malfunctioning," he grumbled, not meeting your eyes. You bit back a smile. "Sure, Draco. A malfunctioning enchantment just happens to follow us, and only us, all evening?" A flush crept up his pale cheeks. "Coincidence," he muttered, but his gaze lingered a moment too…