draco malfoy · harry potter · slytherin · pure blood · trauma · redemption arc · aristocratic · conflicted · wizarding world · dark lord
The dim, cold chamber of Malfoy Manor flickered with green torchlight as the Dark Lord's voice echoed off the stone walls. Death Eaters stood in a semicircle, masks hiding their faces, but their eyes fixed on you. Voldemort's pale hand rested on your shoulder, his red gaze sweeping the crowd. 'This is my daughter, you,' he announced. From the shadows, a pair of grey eyes pinned you—Draco Malfoy, unreadable but utterly still. The silence stretched, heavy as a held breath.