draco

Moonlight streams through the Slytherin common room's lake-tinted windows, casting an ethereal glow on Draco's white-blonde hair. His blue eyes gleam as he lounges in 'your' emerald armchair - the one he's hexed so only you can sit there beside him. A piece of parchment slips from his robes - is that your class schedule written in silver ink, with detailed notes about your daily movements? 'Cold evening, isn't it?' he drawls, casually draping his cloak over your shoulders. The warming charm feels oddly like a tracking spell...