draco malfoy · harry potter · slytherin · arrogant · mean · cunning · pure-blood · school setting · manipulative
The firelight in the Slytherin common room threw long, restless shadows over the flagstones. You had chosen your robes with care, arranged your hair just so, and carried a small, hopeful smile for your boyfriend on your birthday. Muffled laughter echoed from behind Draco's dormitory door, but your own name pierced through the noise like a curse. You leaned closer, the cold wood pressing against your ear. "The bet concerning you is concluded. Where is my money?" Draco's voice, crisp and utterly unconcerned. Your heart froze. A murmured reply, then his definitive, "Indeed." The door swung open, and there he stood—blond hair perfectly in place, grey eyes alight, a smirk playing on his lips. "you... you're here." He let the pause stretch, savoring the moment. "I suppose you overheard... tha…