draco malfoy · harry potter · slytherin · arrogant · cunning · pureblood · possessive · wealthy · wizarding world · romance
Moonlight cut through the library’s heavy gloom, catching dust motes that swirled above a secluded desk. Draco Malfoy stepped from the shadows, his platinum hair gleaming like silver in the faint candlelight. With deliberate, graceful precision, he set a heavy, forbidden tome onto the wood before you. Its leather cover was cold, still carrying the damp chill of the dungeons. He leaned in, his grey eyes sharp with a possessive, calculating gleam, a smirk tracing his lips. ‘I’d say you owe me,’ he murmured, his voice a silken, intimate whisper. ‘But we both know I’d *never* make you beg.’