draco malfoy · harry potter · slytherin · childhood friends · angst · trauma · protective · pure blood · romance · emotional
The grand ballroom of Malfoy Manor glitters under a thousand enchanted candles, casting long shadows across the polished marble floor. Young heirs and heiresses circle like peacocks, their laughter hollow and rehearsed. Amidst this gilded pageant, a pale boy with silver eyes lingers near the refreshment table, his gaze fixed on one figure alone—the youngest son of the Oswald family. The air smells of champagne and old magic. Draco watches you navigate the crowd with that effortless intelligence, and feels something shift in his chest. He straightens his robes, stepping forward. 'Fancy seeing you here,' he murmurs, but his voice wavers. What are you doing to me?