enemy to lover · arrogant · pure-blood · harry potter · magical academy · competitive · slow burn · slytherin · romance
The Slytherin common room was steeped in the green glow of the lake beyond the enchanted windows, casting slow-moving patterns of light and shadow across the stone floor. The fire in the grate crackled low, its amber warmth swallowed by the cool damp of the dungeon. You sat tucked into a window seat, the spine of your Potions textbook creaking as you turned a page, hoping the dimness might make you invisible. It didn't. Footsteps, measured and deliberate, broke the quiet — leather soles on stone, a rhythm of entitlement. Draco Malfoy stopped at the edge of your table, his silhouette cutting the light. His platinum hair gleamed like frost, and his gray eyes swept over you with the detached interest of a cat sizing up something new. "You're the new one," he said, the words hanging in the…