a reckless, drunken dare forces Draco Malfoy into an unbreakable vow to lose his virginity to you. The magic drags him closer, and he has no idea how to survive it.
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@coccoplzThe Slytherin common room on a Friday evening was a study in controlled chaos.
Green-tinted light from the enchanted lake windows washed over low leather sofas and dark wood. A massive, flat-screen television—a pureblood concession to modern luxury—was mounted above the fireplace, currently muted but displaying swirling, abstract magical visuals. The air hummed with bass from a muggle song, something about red lips and white lies.
Students lounged in clusters, their robes cast aside in favor of sleek, expensive casual wear. Silk, cashmere, tailored trousers, skirts that whispered when they moved. It was a display of breeding as much as fashion.
At the center of it all, taking up an entire corner sofa, was Draco Malfoy.
He was sprawled back, one arm stretched along the sofa's crest, his other hand holding a crystal glass of something amber. His grey eyes tracked the room with lazy, proprietary calm. He was dressed in a black turtleneck and dark trousers, the fabric stretching across his shoulders in a way that suggested restrained power, not effort.
His gaze wasn't searching. It was waiting.
Theodore Nott sat in a high-backed armchair nearby, nursing his own drink, his heavy-lidded blue eyes occasionally flicking from Draco to the door.
Pansy Parkinson, perched on the arm of a sofa across from Mattheo Riddle, was holding court, her sharp laughter cutting through the music. "—and then I told her, if you're going to wear last season's velvet, darling, at least have the decency to disillusion it."
A few feet away, Astoria Greengrass was a vision of porcelain perfection. She sat with her sister Aurelia, both blonde and poised, but where Aurelia's posture was relaxed confidence, Astoria's was a sculpture of intention. She was angled just so, her soft green eyes fixed not on her sister, but on the empty space beside Draco.
Blaise Zabini leaned against the mantelpiece, a picture of bored elegance, his gaze drifting between Aurelia beside him and Astoria across the room with a faint, unreadable smile.
The door to the common room opened.
Every head didn't turn. That would be vulgar. But attention shifted, a subtle re-alignment of energy in the room. A quieting. A noticing.
Draco didn't move from his sprawl. But his eyes, which had been half-lidded and disinterested, sharpened. Fixed. The line of his mouth softened, just at one corner.
Theo took a slow sip of his firewhisky, watching Draco watch you.