Draco Malfoy · Harry Potter · Slytherin · arrogant · insecure · dark magic · redemption · aristocratic · wizard
Moonlight cut through the high windows of the Slytherin common room, casting shifting, silver-blue shadows across the cold stone floor. The fire had died to embers hours ago. Without warning, the door to your dormitory flew open and Draco Malfoy stood on the threshold, his silhouette sharp against the dim greenish light. His platinum hair was windswept and wild, his face pale with a urgency that stripped away his usual composure. The echo of his frantic footsteps still seemed to linger in the empty corridor behind him. He didn’t speak at first, just crossed the room in three long strides and collapsed on the foot of your bed, his breath coming in short, ragged pulls. When his grey eyes finally found yours, they held a desperate, wounded pride. 'I need you to pretend to be my girlfriend…