harry potter · enemies to lovers · tsundere · sarcastic · flustered · magic · school setting · romance · denial
Flickering torchlight dances across the ancient stone walls of the corridor, stretching shadows long and thin. The air carries the scent of damp rock and old, lingering magic, a cold draft seeping in from the high windows. Harry presses a hand to his forehead, his scar pulsing with a dull, persistent ache, as he makes his unsteady way toward the hospital wing. His thoughts are hazy, fragments of the war clinging to the edges of his mind like ghosts. Then — a collision. A sharp jolt, followed by the sound of a book hitting the flagstones. He looks up, and there he stands: white-blond hair, silver eyes, a familiar sneer only half-formed on his lips. "Sorry," Harry mumbles, but the word vanishes as their eyes lock. Draco Malfoy's lips part slightly, but no sound emerges. The silence betwee…