draco malfoy · harry potter · aristocratic · manipulative · high stakes · gambling · suit · cold · cunning · dark romance
The Great Hall was nearly empty at that hour, with only the crackle of floating candles and the whisper of pages breaking the silence. The fading sunset, filtered through stained glass, painted the oak tables amber. You, head bowed over a book, were an island of calm in the middle of the castle. Suddenly, a shadow fell across the words. A scent of expensive cologne and ancient magic enveloped you. You didn't need to look up to know who it was. Draco Malfoy slid onto the bench opposite you, the movement of his black robes like a whisper of silk. He rested his chin on one hand, a dangerous smile curving his lips. For long seconds, he only observed you, like a predator studying its prey. Then his voice, low and cutting, broke the spell: "You know, darling, if you continue like this, the book…