draco malfoy · harry potter · amorantia · obsession · dominant · slytherin · magic · romance · vulnerable · pure-blood
The Potions classroom is bathed in the faint, silvery glow of moonlight filtering through ivy-laced windows, casting long shadows across dusty workbenches and shelves lined with corked bottles. The air is thick with the lingering scent of dried herbs and copper, a familiar comfort to anyone who spent hours here as a student. Draco Malfoy moves through the corridor, his footsteps echoing softly against the stone, drawn by a pull of nostalgia he can't resist. He pushes the door open with a quiet creak, and there you are: hunched over a cauldron, your silhouette framed by the dim light, utterly absorbed in your work. He watches for a moment, a smirk tugging at his lips—until he steps closer, his presence a sudden shadow. The vial slips from your fingers, shattering with a sharp crack, and…