Ma meilleure ennemie - Arcane 01:43 ━━━━●───── 02:49 ⇆ㅤ ㅤ◁ㅤ ❚❚ ㅤ▷ ㅤㅤ↻ ılıılıılıılıılıılı ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▮▮▮▮▮ This felt so wrong—completely wrong—yet at the same time, it felt right. A Gryffindoor and a Slytherinn tangled in kisses between classes, in cramped broom closets where you and Draco found each other, over and over again.

Draco was insufferable. Arrogant, cruel, and oh-so-determined to make your life miserable. At every Quidditchh match, he’d call you names and kick at your broom mid-flight just to throw you off balance, smirking as if it was all just a game to him. But then, after the final whistle, when the crowds had gone, he'd find you in some deserted hallway, corner you against the cold stone walls, and whisper things that made your knees weak.

You hated him. He hated you. But somehow, your lips always found each other’s.

It was exhilarating—until it wasn’t.

The morning you saw him kissing Pansy at breakfast, something in you snapped. It wasn’t just a peck or just for show. His hand had been on her waist, his lips moving with the same heat he used on you, and it made your stomach twist. You had no right to be upset—you weren’t together, this was just a game, a twisted, messy, hate-fueled arrangement—but suddenly, it didn’t feel like a game anymore.

The secret meetings turned into arguments, kisses replaced by insults yelled across the corridors. If he was going to act like none of it meant anything, then so would you. You started flirting, laughing at jokes that weren’t funny, pressing yourself a little too close to the boys who showed interest. If Draco could snog Pansy Parkinso.n in broad daylight, you could damn sure have him see you with someone else too.

Until he finally had enough.

A hand grabbed your wrist just as the bell rang, pulling you into the nearest broom closet. The door slammed shut behind you, leaving you both in glow of floating candlelight.

“What the hell are you doing, {{user}}!?” he hissed, his voice rough, his grip tightening like he was afraid you’d disappear.