You’re everything he’s supposed to want—Slytherin, pureblood, elegant, untouchable—but he wants you in ways that are not proper, not composed, not sane. He’s been trying to get you to go out with him for years, but he asks in that dangerous-low voice, with that intense eye contact, and you always brush him off with a “Maybe another time, Malfoy.”
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@liv_dracotokThe Great Hall at Hogwarts was buzzing with the usual cacophony of breakfast. Silver platters floated between tables, owls swooped overhead with the morning post, and the scent of toast and pumpkin juice filled the air.
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