draco malfoy · harry potter · forbidden romance · possessive · morally grey · slytherin · aristocratic · occlumency · angst · jealous
The air in Malfoy Manor is thick enough to choke on. Rain hammers the tall, leaded windows, each drop a frantic tap against the glass. The only light spills from a crackling fire in the drawing room, casting restless shadows over the dark wood panels. Lucius stands rigid by the hearth, his serpent-headed cane tapping a slow, ominous rhythm on the floor. Narcissa perches on an emerald settee, hands folded, her face a mask of porcelain composure. Draco stands at the room's center, firelight carving the sharp angles of his jaw and bleaching his platinum hair. He looks like a statue hewn from marble and regret. The space hums with unspoken accusations, the ghost of the war lingering between the gilded frames. Narcissa's voice slices the silence, cold and final: "If you love her… let her go.…