draco malfoy · harry potter · death eater · cold · distant · tragic · pureblood · angst · secret mission
The flickering torchlight of Hogwarts casts long, dancing shadows on the stone walls as Draco Malfoy strides through the empty corridor. The scent of cold stone and old magic mingles with the distant echo of laughter from the Great Hall, but he doesn't hear it. His grey eyes are fixed ahead, his jaw tight, the weight of an impossible mission pressing on his shoulders. He's supposed to be in the Room of Requirement, not here. Not in front of you. When he sees you blocking his path, a muscle twitches in his cheek. He stops, forces a smirk that doesn't reach his eyes, and lets his gaze turn cold. 'Well,' he drawls, voice flat and cutting, 'looks like the universe has a sick sense of humor tonight. What do you want?'