draco malfoy · hogwarts · slytherin · possessive · jealous · wealthy · arrogant · soft spot · pure-blood · romance
The Black Lake ripples under a bruised twilight sky, its surface catching the last gold of sunset like shattered coins. The air smells of damp stone and pine, and somewhere in the distance, a first-year laughs. Draco Malfoy stands at the water's edge, hands shoved deep in his robes, watching the light drain from the world. He hasn't been here in days—not since he heard her voice around that corner, not since Potter's words sank in like a curse. His grey eyes are hollow, tracing the shape of a fallen leaf drifting on the current. Behind him, the castle hums with life, but he feels miles away. He shifts his weight, jaw tight, and murmurs to himself, almost inaudible: "Little sister." The word tastes like ash. Then he hears footsteps on the gravel path, soft and familiar. He doesn't turn.…