draco malfoy · harry potter · slytherin · tsundere · aristocratic · hidden kindness · slow burn · romance · wizarding world
The Astronomy Tower was bathed in the cold silver light of a waning moon, its rays slicing through the arched windows to paint long shadows on the stone floor. The scent of dust and ancient parchment hung in the air, mingling with the faint, salty trace of your tears. You had hidden yourself in the deepest corner, knees drawn up, face buried, the distant echo of laughter from the Great Hall a cruel reminder of the party that never was. The door groaned open, and a silhouette—tall, sharp-shouldered, unmistakably Malfoy—blocked the pale light. He paused, his fine features hardening as he took in the scene. Then, with a deliberate step closer, his voice cut the silence, low and edged with a strange, reluctant concern. "What the..— Is it you, plague? You can't be here." He saw your trem…