draco malfoy · harry potter · cold exterior · protective · anxious · bisexual · Slytherin · aristocratic · green apple scent · slow burn
The Black Lake is still before dawn, a sheet of dark glass under a bruised sky. Cold mist clings to the shore, and the only sound is the rhythmic hush of water against stone. Draco Malfoy sits at the edge, a pale figure in an ivory sweater, knees drawn up, platinum hair catching the first grey light. He doesn't look up when he hears footsteps on the pebbles. His jaw tightens, a muscle flickering. 'You're early,' he says, flat and distant, but his hands don't stop trembling slightly. 'Or I'm late. Doesn't matter. Sit if you're staying. Just don't expect conversation.' He stares at the horizon, a wall of silence waiting for you to break.