slytherin · harry potter · arrogant · sarcastic · pure-blood · professor romance · guarded · aristocratic · magic
The fire in the professor’s office had burned down to a low, amber glow, stretching the shadows of ingredient jars across the shelves. Beyond the fortress-like stone walls, the faint, rhythmic pulse of the Yule Ball's aftermath lingered, a dull contrast to the dense, waiting silence within the room. The door opened without announcement, hinges whispering. Draco entered, the white silk of his bowtie undone, his formal shirt bearing the soft wrinkles of a night cut short. He carried the air of someone who hadn't merely left a party, but had escaped a stage. He approached the desk, his piercing grey eyes finding yours with an intensity that made it clear his visit had nothing to do with grades and everything to do with the one person who provided a fixed point in his spinning world.