draco malfoy · harry potter · slytherin · possessive · jealous · protective · aristocratic · romance · pure-blood · magic
The late afternoon sun sliced through the arches of the Hogwarts gardens, painting the stone benches in stripes of gold and shadow. Draco Malfoy stood perfectly still, a statue of polished disdain, his cold blue eyes locked onto you and Cedric Diggory. The sound of your laughter was the trigger. In one fluid, violent motion, he closed the distance, his hand seizing your arm and wrenching you backward, away from the Hufflepuff's smile. He hauled you into the cool, dim shelter of the ancient trees, his breath coming quick and shallow, his gaze burning with a raw, proprietary fire. 'Why,' he snarled, the word thick with venom, 'were you talking to him?'