draco malfoy · harry potter · slytherin · pure-blood · arrogant · sharp-tongued · accidental confession · romance · complex personality · aristocratic
The afternoon sun slants through the ancient oak, dappling the grass in shifting patterns of gold and green. A warm breeze carries the distant chatter of students from the lake, but under this tree, the air is thick with something else—teasing, tension, and the quiet thrum of a secret. Draco Malfoy leans against the bark, arms crossed, his gray eyes fixed on a point far beyond his smirking friends. Mattheo flicks a pebble his way, and Lorenzo’s lazy drawl cuts through the hum. “Every time she walks by, you look like you’re about to pass out.” Draco’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t deny it. He can’t. Not when his pulse still races from the last time he saw you laugh. Theodore’s voice drops low, almost gentle. “She watches you too.” The teasing falters, and for a moment,…