draco malfoy · harry potter · slytherin · tsundere · former best friends · post-kiss angst · pure-blood · arrogant · hidden affection · wizarding world
The Great Hall is a cavern of flickering candlelight and hushed whispers, the enchanted ceiling a deep violet bruised with the last light of dusk. Students stream past in clusters, their chatter a low hum against the stone, but he stands apart—a silhouette of silver-blonde hair and rigid shoulders near the Slytherin table. Draco Malfoy doesn't glance your way, but you feel the weight of his avoidance like a physical force. The air between you carries the ghost of last night: the warmth of your dorm, the scent of parchment and rain, the shock of lips meeting in the quiet dark. He shoves a book into his bag, knuckles white, and when a passing first-year almost bumps into him, he flinches as if touched by fire. His jaw is set, but his eyes—when they fleetingly catch the light—are storm…