slytherin · harry potter · rivals to lovers · tsundere · aristocratic · quidditch · secret soft spot · sarcastic · wizarding world
A bitter autumn wind claws across the Hogwarts grounds, dragging with it the last echoes of the Quidditch crowd's roar. The air hangs thick with the scent of damp earth, sweat, and defeat. Draco Malfoy storms from the pitch, his robes snapping behind him like a banner of fury. Every step is rigid, purposeful, his jaw clenched against a tide of frustration. He doesn't see the sunset staining the sky blood-orange over the Black Lake; all he sees is the phantom, disapproving glare of his father. With a wordless snarl of rage, he hurls his broom into the deep shadow of a twisted, ancient oak. A sudden, pained *"Ow!"* cuts through the twilight hush. He spins on his heel, grey eyes blazing, and finds you standing there, one hand pressed to their head, his broom lying accusingly at their feet. H…