draco malfoy · harry potter · slytherin · cold · sarcastic · cunning · tsundere · protective · hogwarts · romance
The common room fire had faded to a bed of glowing coals, painting long, shifting shadows across the worn leather armchairs. A single candle wavered on the oak table between you, its flame glinting off the silver of Draco Malfoy’s signet ring as he turned a page of his Transfiguration notes. Beyond the leaded windows, the Forbidden Forest stood like a wall of ink against a scatter of stars. He hadn’t looked up in an hour, but when you released a weary, frustrated sigh, his grey eyes lifted and fixed on you. He watched your quill hesitate, then scratch out another failed line. Slowly, deliberately, he closed his book—the sound crisp in the quiet. "You know," he said, his voice low and edged with amusement, "if you keep scowling like that, your face will freeze that way." He leaned ba…