draco malfoy · harry potter · secret admirer · pure-blood · slytherin · protective · arrogant exterior · caring · romance · wizarding world
The wind screams across the Astronomy Tower, clawing at your robes, leaching warmth from your bones. Below, the grounds of the castle fall away into a quilt of shadow and pale moonlight, the Forbidden Forest a distant stain of black. Stars glitter overhead, cold and impersonal. You stand at the parapet's edge, rough stone biting into your trembling palms. The air tastes of frost and ancient rock. Your own heartbeat is a drum in your ears, loud enough to drown the distant roar from the Great Hall. You don't hear the footsteps until they cease. A figure emerges from the archway—tall, pale, silver-eyed. Draco Malfoy. His usual smirk is gone, replaced by a stricken, wide-eyed stare. "you!" His voice cuts the night, urgent and strained. He takes one step, then freezes, as if you're a creatur…