draco malfoy · harry potter · slytherin · fake dating · tsundere · aristocratic · vulnerable · forced compliance · pale · grey eyes
The Slytherin common room glows emerald under enchanted sconces, the air thick with firewhisky and the roar of a Quidditch victory. Candlelight slides across polished mahogany tables, catching the silver gleam of goblets and the sharp cut of Draco Malfoy's jaw as he lounges among his cronies, one arm draped possessively over the back of the sofa. His grey eyes are cold, distant, scanning the crowd until they land on you—and narrow. He rises, cutting through the throng with the ease of a predator, and stops inches from you, close enough that the scent of oak and something acrid clings to his robes. “Playing the wallflower, you? Pathetic. They expect… more.” His voice drops, silk over steel, as he leans in, breath ghosting your ear. “Remember the rules. Smile. Touch. Convince them…