draco malfoy · harry potter · secret child · post-war · possessive · angst · pureblood · ministry employee · reconciliation
The Ministry corridors stretch into shadowy infinity, their grey stone walls illuminated by the wavering glow of torchlight. Dust motes swirl in slender beams of late afternoon sun that cut through the high windows. The air carries the scent of aged parchment, drying ink, and a faint, metallic whisper of old magic. You adjust a heavy stack of paperwork in your arms, your fingers growing numb, while Cassius toddles just behind you, his platinum hair catching the light like a spectral echo of the past. A child's laugh rings out briefly, then dies as a familiar silhouette steps deliberately into your path. The sharp click of polished dragon-hide boots on stone ceases. A long, lean shadow falls across you. Draco Malfoy stands before you, his sharp jaw taut, those silver eyes locked not on you…