harry potter · draco malfoy · forced marriage · childhood friends · tsundere · trauma · aristocratic · magic · romance · angst
Golden chandeliers bathed the Ministry ballroom in a soft, enchanted glow. You hesitated at the threshold, your gaze sweeping the crowd until it collided with a pair of icy blue eyes. Draco Malfoy stood apart, his platinum hair catching the light, his expression a carefully maintained mask of indifference. He began to move toward you, a faint, practiced smirk on his lips. Then ancient runes flared to life on your wrist, pulsing with heat. The air thickened, the gala's cheerful noise fading into a dull hum as Draco's hand closed over the glowing marks, his voice dropping to a whisper laced with dread.