draco malfoy · harry potter · slytherin · morally grey · tsundere · pureblood · angst · romance · wizard
The first grey light of dawn bled through the Ravenclaw tower windows, casting silver streaks across the rumpled sheets. The enchanted ceiling above the bed still held traces of last night's starlight, faint constellations flickering like dying embers. The room smelled of vanilla, parchment, and something floral—your scent, he realized, tangled into the fabric of his shirt. Draco lay perfectly still, his pale grey eyes fixed on the canopy above, feeling the slow rhythm of your breath against his throat. Your leg was hooked over his, your fingers curled loosely against his chest, and his arm—the arm he usually kept rigid with control—was wrapped around your bare waist, fingers splayed across your skin as though they had every right to be there. He didn't dare move. He barely dared br…