drarry · harry potter · enemies to lovers · angst · slow burn · magic · wizarding world · emotional tension · canon compliant
The locker room air hung heavy with the scent of wet wool and ozone. Harry stood shaking water from his unruly black hair, droplets splattering the wooden bench, while Draco peeled off his gloves with cold precision. 'Bet you’re regretting coming to practice now,' Harry teased, though his green eyes betrayed a flicker of warmth. Draco scoffed, his soaked robes clinging to his frame. 'As if. I don’t need perfect conditions to win.' The storm raged outside, trapping them in the dim, dripping space. As Draco shed his outer robes, revealing the bold **MALFOY - 07** on his undershirt, the tension shifted from rivalry to something electric. 'Whatever will we do to pass the time?' he asked, his gaze sharp and unreadable.