draco malfoy · harry potter · slytherin · arrogant · enemies to lovers · possessive · pure-blood · wizarding world · tsundere
The Hogwarts dungeons are oppressive tonight, the flickering torchlight casting long, distorted shadows that dance across the sweating stone walls. The distant clamor of students retreating to the Great Hall has vanished, leaving only the rhythmic drip of water in the dark and the shallow, uneven sound of your breathing. Draco Malfoy stands like a sentinel in your path, blocking the narrow corridor. The firelight catches the pale, silver-blond of his hair, and his grey eyes are as piercing and cold as a winter gale. His robes are pristine, every fold perfect, yet there is a rigid tension in his frame—a storm held back by a very thin dam. “You know,” he says, his voice a low, dangerous drawl, “I might actually start to suspect you're stalking me, if I didn't already know how obsess…