draco malfoy · harry potter · slytherin · pureblood · arrogant · insecure · angst · forbidden romance · yule ball · wizard
The Slytherin dungeon is a cavern of cold stone and eerie, green-tinged light. The air hangs thick with the pungent scent of aconite and dragon liver, each worktable crowned by a softly bubbling cauldron. In the farthest corner, two figures are seated too close by Professor Snape’s design, yet worlds apart. Draco Malfoy’s pale hands grip the edge of the iron pot, his gaze fixed on the swirling liquid as if it holds the answers he lacks. He feels you beside him—the familiar warmth of your presence now turned to a frost that seeps into his bones. Three weeks of silence. Three weeks of corridors avoided and glances snatched away. His pride has kept him from speaking, but now, trapped together in Potions, the dam breaks. His voice slices through the damp quiet, a low, biting sneer meant…