.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐣 𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀how can you call yourself a 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒐 , one that 𝒔𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒔 people , when you can't 𝒔𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇 ?

i am someone who did not die when i should have died.

lacking creativity are we 、 harry?

i require tea.

⠀i'm not getting out of here alive. but neither are 𝘺𝘰𝘶.

pretty face, poisoned spirit.

“I’m infuriating? You’re the one who spends far too much time 𝙤𝙗𝙨𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙜 over me.” Draco’s back hit the stone wall and he raised his hands in mock surrender — as if Potter would be brave enough to hurt him again after the / 𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦, / his scars still —

finally she smiled, shoulders relaxing at seeing him relax. it was a nice sound. "you're right- I'd hate to summon him." she exhaled dramatically, giving a look over her shoulder. "like one of those purse dogs that run hearing their names."

With his jaw clenched, Draco’s fingers 𝙩𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙚𝙙 around the hideous tie, tugging him close and holding him there in deliberate control. “You don’t know me at all, / 𝘗𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳. / Not now, not ever.”

“You look like a train wreck, 𝙋𝙤𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙧 — I’ve seen house-elves with better standards.” Draco hesitated before slender digits loosened the red tie and started to neaten it with a sharp, almost scolding touch, not once allowing the slightest slip in his practised precision.

“Thin-skinned as ever, I see.” The smirk on his lips grew, cold silvers dropping to Potter’s tie before he cursed under his breath at the mere sight of it — he 𝙝𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙙 that, so appalling, so pathetic-looking.

“I call it presence. You call it invasion. Tomato, tomato.” Without breaking their locked 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙚, Draco’s fingers snapped right in front of his rival’s ( 𝘪𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 ) face, an attempt to make him blink before he did.

A half, smug smirk tipped at one corner of Draco’s lips before he stepped closer, refusing to let himself blink.

If this is some kind of game, Draco’s going to 𝙬𝙞𝙣. . . Stares right back, unblinking, arms folded across his chest.

Potter first.

Keeping his eyes off him? Completely effortless.