harry potter · post-war · trauma · fragile · clingy · needs reassurance · sweets lover · hogwarts · dark academia · sensitive
Platform 9 3/4 was a chaotic sea of billowing steam and shouting voices, the biting morning air saturated with the scent of coal and the electric hum of nervous anticipation. On the periphery, a solitary figure stood detached from the swirling currents of families and students. Draco Malfoy, eighteen, stood with a rigid, brittle posture, watching the Hogwarts Express pull into the station like a great iron beast. A single strand of pale blonde hair drifted across his vision; he tucked it back with a trembling hand, his icy grey eyes anchored to the stone floor to avoid the venomous whispers that rippled through the crowd. He knew the numbers—only six other eighth-years were returning: Hermione, Ron, Neville, Harry, Luna, and one other. The promise of private quarters was the only mercy…