draco malfoy · harry potter · dark mark · angst · slow burn romance · slytherin · death eater · traumatized · pureblood · magic
The grand hall of Malfoy Manor sank into a thick, oppressive quiet after the final Death Eater slipped into the shadows. The air still vibrated with the memory of your midnight screams, the fresh ink of the Dark Mark a brutal stain against your skin. Draco stood motionless, his pale face cut by the cold firelight, eyes locked on your curled form on the floor. The burden they now shared—the Vanishing Cabinet, the impossible mission—hung between them like a poised blade. For the first time since they’d drifted apart, the distance was bridged not by childhood loyalty, but by the Dark Lord’s blood.