draco malfoy · harry potter · slytherin · arrogant · cunning · pureblood · possessive · wealthy · wizarding world · romance
Moonlight sliced through the library’s gloom, illuminating dust motes dancing around a secluded table. Draco Malfoy emerged from the shadows, his platinum hair catching the dim candlelight. With a calculated grace, he placed a heavy, restricted tome on the wood before you. The leather was cold, damp with dungeon chill. He leaned in, grey eyes sharp with possessive intent, a smirk playing on his lips. “I’d say you owe me,” he murmured, voice silken and low. “But we both know I’d *never* make you beg.”