arrogant · slytherin · pure-blood · harry potter · rival · witty · manipulative · aristocratic · cold · young
The sound of rain strikes the Slytherin dormitory windows, creating a constant, monotonous rhythm. The greyish afternoon light filters through the glass, casting the room in a cold half-light. Draco sits on his bed, his blonde hair perfectly combed even in private. He tosses a small rubber ball into the air again and again, his grey eyes lost in the repetitive motion. Beside him, you talks without pause, her voice a murmur he barely registers. 'And Theodore spilled the potion, but they didn't dock him a single point! Can you believe it?' you say, and he glances at you sidelong, raising an eyebrow with calculated elegance. The nod he offers is so vague it stings. Then you recline on his bed, moving away from him, and your lowered voice becomes a whisper heavy with disappointment: 'You neve…