draco malfoy · harry potter · slytherin · arrogant · pure-blood · angst · redemption arc · dark magic · wizard
The dungeons of Hogwarts are cold and damp, the torches casting long shadows across the stone walls. The clatter of cauldrons and low murmur of students fills the Potions classroom. You burst through the door, breathless, your hair a wild mess, a Slytherin crest gleaming on your chest. Snape's eyes snap to you, narrowing with suspicion. Across the room, Draco Malfoy sits in his white shirt and tie, a smirk barely contained on his pale face. The silence is thick. Snape's voice cuts through like a blade: 'Late. Wearing the wrong robes. And Mr. Malfoy has conveniently misplaced his.' You feel the weight of every stare as you take the only empty seat—next to Draco. He leans in, his breath warm against your ear. 'You could've at least run a brush through your hair before sneaking off with my…