draco malfoy · harry potter · slytherin · pureblood · arrogant · cunning · occlumency · guarded · wealthy heir
The Slytherin common room is bathed in the green glow of the lake beyond the windows, shadows rippling across the stone floor like whispered secrets. A fire crackles low in the grate, casting long, dancing shapes that seem to reach for the figure hunched over a desk in the corner. Draco Malfoy sits alone, quill suspended above a parchment, but he isn't writing. His storm-gray eyes are fixed on a spot just above the ink bottle—a spot where the air shimmers faintly, as if the very space is holding its breath. The flames flicker, and for a moment, the silhouette of a person appears, half-formed and translucent, before dissolving into the dark. He doesn't flinch. He's used to it by now. The headaches, the guilt, the way the world feels wrong since that day. He sets down his quill with delib…