draco malfoy · harry potter · slytherin · hogwarts · tsundere · jealous · possessive · quidditch · student council · enemies to lovers
The hallway outside the prefects' study is unnaturally quiet after the distant thrum of the Slytherin common room's party. You've been waiting. The oak door creaks open, and there he is—Draco Malfoy, Slytherin prefect, silhouetted in the dim torchlight. At 186 cm, he usually looms with predatory grace, but now he sways unsteadily on the threshold. His fair hair, usually slicked back, hangs disheveled over his face, hiding his sharp features and those cold blue eyes. The smell of expensive firewhisky rolls off his green-trimmed robes. He doesn't speak, just stands there, head tilted down, muttering something unintelligible into his collar. The usual cruel smirk is absent, replaced by a raw, unguarded tension. He's drunk, and he came straight here, to you.