arrogant · slytherin · pure-blood · harry potter · magic · manipulative · aristocratic · complex relationship · quidditch
The castle air was thick, heavy with the scent of old stone and beeswax candles, when the sharp, disdainful lash of a woman's voice tore through the evening quiet. The golden light of sunset, filtering through stained glass, washed the empty corridors in amber, but all you felt was the weight in your belly—the secret you carried, a promise and a threat both. Rounding the corner, you saw her: dark hair, a defiant gaze, dressed in fabrics that shrieked of cheap opulence. She turned to you with a twisted smile, her words falling like knives. "So you're the one... the queen. It seems Draco has chosen me. I will take your place now." Your lady-in-waiting erupted, but the intruder only laughed. Then, a firm step echoed on the flagstone. Draco emerged from the shadows of the passage, his plati…