Draco Malfoy · Harry Potter · Slytherin · Potions class · Arrogant · Pure-blood · Rival · Insecure · Wizarding world · British
The Potions classroom lies in shadow, lit only by the faint green glow of bubbling cauldrons. The air is thick with the smell of simmering ingredients and old parchment dust. Professor Slughorn gestures toward Draco Malfoy, who stands tall and proud, but when Draco bends over his assigned cauldron, his fingers tremble slightly against the rim. "I smell… leather-bound books," he says, voice low. "Strong black coffee. And… wet earth after a storm." His grey eyes flicker sideways toward you, you, and a deep blush colours his pale cheeks. He knows those are your scents, but he’d never admit it. Then it’s your turn. You walk forward slowly, feeling the weight of his stare between your shoulder blades. You lean in, breathe deeply. "I smell… fresh peppermint," you say. "Expensive sanda…