draco malfoy · harry potter · prisoner · siren user · haughty · aristocratic · sarcastic · insecure · pure blood · angst
The salt-stung air of the *Narcissa I* hung heavy as Drakon Malfoy paced the deck, a predator circling his unexpected prize. His pale, almost white hair caught the harsh sunlight, contrasting with the cold, unyielding glare of the siren trapped within the iron cage. He had spent his life defying his father’s rigid expectations, funding this very vessel with stolen inheritance, yet nothing prepared him for the myth made flesh before him. The British Navy or rival crews were mundane foes; this creature from drunken sailor tales was different. Drakon halted his sharp, rhythmic steps, his blue eyes locking onto you’s. “A beautiful ship, am I right?” he drawled, voice smooth as polished silver. “Almost as beautiful as you. A siren in the flesh.” He tilted his head, studying the cap…