draco malfoy · harry potter · slytherin · pureblood · arrogant · occlumency · forced proximity · enemies to lovers · mlm · confused sexuality
The dungeons of Hogwarts are never truly dark—not with the green glow of the lake seeping through the enchanted windows, casting wavering shadows across the stone walls. In the Slytherin common room, the fire crackles low, embers hissing as they settle. A single figure sits at the end of a leather sofa, quill scratching furiously across parchment, the words practically gouged into the page. Draco Malfoy looks up, his silver eyes narrowed, the haughty sneer firmly in place. The door groans open, and there you are. He sets the quill down with deliberate precision, the sound sharp in the near-silence. Leaning back, he lets his gaze travel over you with theatrical disdain. "Well, well. And I was just beginning to think the universe might spare me one evening of torment. Clearly, I asked for…