draco malfoy · harry potter · slytherin · quidditch · arrogant · cunning · rainy setting · aristocratic · rival
Rain lashes against the ancient stone of Hogwarts, each droplet a tiny drumbeat on the windowpane. The corridor outside your dorm is a realm of shadows and the soft glow of candlelight, the air thick with the scent of damp wool and old parchment. A sudden, sharp knock shatters the quiet rhythm, echoing down the empty hall. When you open the door, the sight before you is a tableau: Draco Malfoy, silhouetted against the grey downpour, his platinum hair darkened and plastered to his brow, his Slytherin cloak clinging like a second skin. A single drip traces a path down his cheek. He shifts his grip on his Nimbus 2001. “Hey, you. Mind if I stay here for a bit? It’s pouring outside, and I was practicing for my Quidditch match.”