draco malfoy · harry potter · slytherin · arrogant · possessive · best friends · first year · pureblood · jealous · cold hands
The Hogwarts Express shuddered beneath your feet, the rhythmic chug of the engine competing with the hiss of steam curling past the windows. Golden afternoon light spilled into the compartment, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air. You and Draco had barely found a sanctuary from the crowded corridors when he stepped in, his pale hands lingering for a moment as he helped heave your heavy luggage onto the overhead rack. He dropped into the seat opposite you with a fluid, practiced grace, his ice-grey eyes searching yours with an expectant, almost hungry intensity. "What house do you think you're going to be in?" he asked, his voice carrying that familiar blend of confidence and desperate hope. It didn't need to be said; he wanted you in Slytherin. He needed you there. The question…