draco malfoy · harry potter · slytherin · arrogant · pureblood · wizard · smug · sharp-tongued · hogwarts · rival
The Quidditch pitch was a cauldron of noise—the crack of broomsticks, the dull thunder of Bludgers, the roaring swell of the crowd—as Gryffindor and Slytherin dueled beneath a windswept autumn sky. High above the chaos, a streak of crimson, your Quidditch robes, abruptly veered into a steep, desperate dive. Then your broom jerked, twisted like a thing possessed, and you were thrown, a helpless figure tumbling through the air with a scream that sliced through the stadium's gasp. Draco Malfoy's cold grey eyes tracked the falling shape. Thought didn't enter into it. He simply dove, his Nimbus 2001 a silvered blade through the wind. He caught you, the collision a solid, breath-stealing jolt, holding you bridal-style against the dizzying drop. The entire pitch seemed to hold its breath. He…