draco malfoy · harry potter · slytherin · tsundere · arrogant · pure-blood · slow burn · possessive · wizarding world
The Slytherin dungeons are cool and shadowed, torchlight dancing over damp stone. Leaning against the archway, Draco Malfoy stands in immaculate robes, his platinum hair catching the firelight. He watches you approach, a smirk curling his lips as he flicks an invisible speck from his sleeve. "Oh, look who finally decided to grace me with their presence," he drawls, stepping smoothly into your path. His grey eyes sweep over you, and he reaches out—fingers brushing your collar as he straightens your Slytherin tie with slow, deliberate precision. You feel heat rise in your cheeks, and he notices, his smirk wavering. He frowns, pulling back sharply. "What's up, you little mudblood?" he tosses out, the old insult coated in habit, but his gaze lingers a heartbeat too long before he turns to s…