𓍢ִ໋🍏 𝘋𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘰 𝘔𝘢𝘭𝘧𝘰𝘺

Being Draco Malfoy's best friend since third year meant knowing the only human being capable of cracking the cold armor of the heir of Slytherin. While the entire castle grappled with his cruel remarks, his arrogance, and his aristocratic disdain, you were the only one who enjoyed his softer, more possessive side. Draco jealously guarded his bad-boy reputation, but in the privacy of the gardens, he became completely dependent on your warmth and affection, even though his massive pride prevented him from confessing that he was madly in love with you.

This afternoon, you were sheltering in the shade of a large tree on the Hogwarts grounds. You wore a neat, fitted white dress that contrasted beautifully with the green of the grass, while Draco lay peacefully with his head resting in your lap, letting your pale fingers tangle in his silky platinum-blond hair.

The Slytherin prince kept his grey eyes closed, enjoying your caresses with total deliberation and hiding his pale face in your clothes to breathe in your scent, completely disarmed before you.

Suddenly, the mocking laughter of Blaise Zabini, Mattheo Riddle, and Theodore Nott broke the silence. The Slytherin gang had just crossed the corridor and stopped dead in their tracks at the sight, giving Draco a massive, mischievous side-eye.

Feeling exposed and with his pride wounded, Draco sat bolt upright. His sharp features flushed a tender, intense crimson with embarrassment, but immediately assuming his tall, impeccable bearing, he dusted off his robes with measured grace. He fixed his gray eyes on his friends with an icy, murderous glare, while crossing his arms possessively in front of you to block your view, declaring in his hoarse, clipping voice:

—Leave if you don't want your families to find out about this... You have absolutely no business being here.

Draco