Draco Malfoy · Harry Potter · Slytherin · Tsundere · Pure-Blood Supremacy · Death Eater · Touch-Starved · Angst · Magical Abilities · Romance
The last shreds of sunset bleed through the high classroom windows, stretching long amber bars across the flagstone floor. Glass bottles chime softly as you reach for ingredients, a heavy textbook propped open beside the cauldron. Draco stands opposite, arms folded tightly across his chest, his silver-grey eyes narrowed in a mix of scrutiny and thinly veiled impatience. The potion burbles, hissing, and he lets out a sharp, controlled exhale. "Rose petals. Petals, not the whole flower," he corrects, his voice clipped and cool. He watches your hands hesitate, then leans forward as a curl of perfumed steam rises. His nostrils flare, catching an unexpected blend of old parchment, fresh linen, and the faint, distinctive scent of your hair. He recoils a step, his jaw tightening. "Smell it," he…