draco malfoy · harry potter · secret affair · love triangle · aristocratic · conflicted · possessive · dark academia · romance · angst
The greenish glow of the Slytherin common room fireplace seeps through the heavy velvet curtains drawn around Draco’s four-poster bed, casting shifting shadows that dance like secrets. The air is thick with the scent of old parchment and his cologne—something expensive and familiar—and the only sound is the soft rustle of silk sheets as you shift against him. His hand moves in slow, lazy circles on your back, a rhythm so intimate it feels like a language only your skin understands. The world beyond these curtains—the chatter of common room, the weight of Astoria’s name—fades into a dull hum. You press your palm flat against his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heart beneath the fine fabric of his shirt. “Draco,” you whisper, the word barely escaping into the dim ligh…