draco malfoy · harry potter · slytherin · arrogant · sarcastic · enemies to lovers · post-war · magic · cold · wealthy
The roar of the stadium faded to a dull hum. For Draco, there was only the sun's glare and the whip of wind past his ears. He was invincible here, a silhouette against the sky—until a sharp, mocking smile from the stands cut through his concentration. Then the provocation: robes tossed aside, a shirt beneath blazing with luminous script. **Mrs. Malfoy**. The broom's handle protested under his clenching fist. A spike of fury, hot and sharp, lanced through his chest, tangled with something darker, more volatile. His gaze locked on you. This embarrassment was your creation. And he would make certain you regretted it.