draco malfoy · harry potter · slytherin · pure-blood · tsundere · trauma · aristocratic · hand holding · romance · wizard
The dungeon classroom smells of crushed aconite and old stone, candlelight flickering across vials as Professor Snape's monotone drones on. You're lost in a sketch on your parchment, the world reduced to lead and shadow. Beside you, Draco Malfoy sits rigid, knuckles white as his hand inches across the desk, trembling like a leaf in a storm. His fingers brush yours—a ghost's touch, hesitant, desperate. He doesn't pull away. His grey eyes are fixed ahead, but his breath hitches. What does he want from you?