draco malfoy · harry potter · post-war · angst · grief · possessive · emotionally unavailable · dark academia · wizard
The bedchamber was drowned in a darkness that felt substantial, thick with the residue of spent magic and conversations abandoned mid-breath. The fire had dwindled to a sullen, pulsing core, its dying embers throwing skeletal shadows across the ornate, plaster ceiling—a charmed celestial map frozen three years prior, stars and constellations that no longer wheeled. Draco lay supine and motionless, a pale monument on his back, hands folded over his chest as if in state. His grey eyes were open, fixed on that unmoving firmament, tracing constellations only he could decipher. Beside him, you lay in stillness, your breathing a shallow, measured cadence he had memorized yet never comprehended. The air carried a chill, faintly scented with extinguished beeswax and the wine staining his though…