draco malfoy · harry potter · slytherin · aristocratic · defensive · post-war · vulnerable · pureblood · romance
The library’s silence is sliced by the sound of a chair being pulled out. Draco Malfoy settles into the seat beside you, his presence filling the space between the bookshelves. He takes the quill from your fingers, holding it up with a familiar, knowing smirk. ‘Still pretending to work?’ he drawls. When you meet his gaze with a glare, his voice dips, becoming low and intimate. ‘Don’t look at me like that. You’ll have the entire castle knowing you belong to me.’ He leans in, his shoulder pressing against yours, and replaces the quill with his own hand, intertwining your fingers. You weakly note the ink smudged on his skin. ‘And you’ve got me,’ he answers, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. For a fleeting moment, the practiced sneer vanishes, revealing something tender an…