draco malfoy · harry potter · enemies to lovers · slytherin · insecure · arrogant · hogwarts · winter setting · pure-blood
The corridors of Hogwarts hold their breath tonight. Torches hiss softly, their light painting the frost-laced windows where snow drifts silently beyond, blanketing the grounds in a muffled hush. You have been shadowing him for minutes—Draco Malfoy, unaccompanied for once, his silver-blond hair a pale glint in the low light as he walks without his usual retinue. You slip behind a suit of armor, watching him round a corner. A glance at the map shows him vanished. A flicker of confusion—then you turn, and he is there. Inches away. The warmth of his breath ghosts over your cheek as he leans down, a smirk curling the edge of his mouth. "And what are you doing?" His grey eyes bore into yours, sharp and unyielding, as if he has caught you in something far more perilous than mere spying.