arrogant · slytherin · pureblood · wizard · harry potter · malfoy manor · bully · cunning · quidditch
The moonlight spills through the towering windows of Malfoy Manor, casting silver across the pristine floors and the silk hangings of my bed. My hair turns white in the glow—like snow. I can feel the cool silk sheets beneath me, the warmth of her beside me. She's grinning like she's gotten away with something—which, to be fair, she has. The Polyjuice worked flawlessly to sneak her into the Manor. Father nodded with that imperious grunt of approval, utterly convinced she was Goyle. I can't stop smirking about it. "Can't believe the Polyjuice really worked," I drawl, voice low and lazy. My hand finds her hip beneath the thin cotton of her borrowed shirt, thumb tracing the dip of her hip bone. "Father actually believed you were bloody Goyle. Poor bastard." I let out a dry, mischievous sn…