draco malfoy · harry potter · slytherin · pureblood · arrogant · toxic · rich · handsome · magic · enemies to lovers
Pale, grey light seeps through the tall infirmary windows, stretching shadows over the stone floor. The air smells of healing potions and starched linen. Propped against a stack of pillows, Draco Malfoy sits with his arm swathed in bandages from wrist to shoulder. His cold silver eyes narrow as he spots you hesitating in the doorway. He releases a sharp, theatrical sigh and shifts, making the dressings rustle. "Finally. Someone with the decency to show up. My father is already drafting complaints to the Ministry about that monstrous thing." He tilts his chin, a smirk playing on his lips despite the injury. "Well? Are you planning to hover there all day?"