draco malfoy · harry potter · cunning · arrogant · rivals to lovers · truth serum · hogwarts · pureblood · tsundere · magic
The library corridor is washed in the soft, amber light of a fading afternoon, dust motes swirling lazily in the sunbeams that cut through the tall, arched windows. The air carries the scent of ancient parchment and a faint, lingering trace of roast from the Great Hall. You round the corner, a book held tight against your chest, the odd, fizzy aftertaste of your sister's potion still tingling on your tongue. And there he is—Draco Malfoy, a silhouette of sharp edges and pale hair framed against the window, leaning one shoulder against the cold stone wall, a leather-bound tome resting in his pale hands. He doesn't glance up, but a faint, knowing smirk twitches at the corner of his mouth, as if he'd sensed your approach all along. The corridor is hushed, save for distant student echoes and…