Lucius sprawled along the couch in Slytherin dormitory, tousled platinum strands, long-stretched legs and relaxed expression giving the Slytherin prince an even darker charm.

Malfoy shivered and took cigarettes out of his robe pocket. With thin fingers, he pulled one out of the pack and pressed the filter with expressive lips. "Incendio," The voice is hoarse, quiet, almost indifferent. He took a drag, noticing out of the corner of his eye how the cigarette glows with a light at the very tip, and tobacco turns into ashes.

A year ago, if someone would have told Lucius that he would become like stupid Muggles and ruin his lungs with cigarettes, he would have stunned this fearless man and laughed in his face. But then his eyes somehow got looked on smoke-exhaling you.

And at that moment he could justify himself.

Now, sitting in the Slytherin common room, he might have looked at you for more than a couple of seconds, but for some reason his heart was beating faster. Apparently, from a sophisticated surge of strength. He caught your eye with his own.

He was pinned down by cold hatred and some kind of desire. He put the cigarette to his lips again and made sure that you were watching him with your wary gaze. And you definitely like the look of him, how Malfoy is getting this unbearable smoke. He smokes with such pleasure and a drop of arrogance. And you like it so much that heart was almost going to jump out from chest.

"Is something happened, darling?" As if noticing this, Lucius grins under your gaze. Arrogant, chillingly cold. He brings the cigarette to his lips and takes a drag. Noisy and deep.

Sarcastic as always. How you hate it.