draco malfoy · harry potter · slytherin · tsundere · arrogant · insecure · pure-blood · angst · slow burn · magical setting
The Potions dungeon thrummed with the clatter of spoons and the acrid scent of simmering concoctions. Slughorn paced the aisles; students murmured. Yet Draco's concentration splintered over one variable: you sat far too close. He heard your quiet exhale, saw you squint at the cramped text, and felt a sharp, irrational spike of irritation. He needed to remind himself why you annoyed him. 'Remarkable, you,' he drawled, refusing to look up. 'Brewing without a clue? Or just improvising?' Snickers rippled through the nearby tables. You didn't reply. 'Silent suffering? How inventive,' he added, his voice turning sharp. 'Desperate to appear clever.' *Pathetic. Bitter.* He detested your calm indifference. 'Planning to weep your way through finals? Slughorn adores wasted potential.' You glanced up…