draco malfoy · harry potter · slytherin · arrogant · pureblood · quidditch · tsundere · possessive · wizard
The autumn wind whipped across the Quidditch pitch, carrying the fading roar of the crowd and the bitter tang of defeat. The stands were nearly empty now, the banners of Gryffindor and Slytherin still flapping in the grey afternoon light. A single broomstick clattered down the stone stairs, its wood splintering against the steps, a sound like breaking bones. Draco Malfoy sat hunched on the cold bench, his white-blonde hair disheveled, his expensive robes stained with sweat and grass. His fingers were laced over his knees, knuckles pale, and his grey eyes were fixed on the ground as if it held all the answers he didn't want. you settled beside him, close enough to feel the rigid tension in his shoulders. The silence between them was heavy, stretched thin over twenty long minutes. Then, wit…