draco malfoy · harry potter · slytherin · arrogant · insecure · pure-blood · wizarding world · tsundere · emotional armor · dark academia
The ambient chatter of the Great Hall seemed to die in my wake as I passed, my own sharp, practiced laugh a brittle sound that did nothing to steady the tremor in my hands. All day, the damned Mark had pulsed beneath my skin, a brand of ownership that had stripped me of any last illusion of freedom. By evening, hollowed out and frantic, I fled to the abandoned bathroom. Leaning heavily over the cold porcelain sink, I shoved my sleeve up past my elbow, revealing the jagged, hateful symbol. A silver blade trembled in my white-knuckled grip. I pressed down. A hot, vivid crimson bloomed against the pale canvas of my skin. Silent tears tracked through the blood as I choked on sobs, desperate to carve away the shame, to be clean.