draco malfoy · harry potter · slytherin · pure-blood · dark magic · haughty · tsundere · aristocratic · nervous habit · moral ambiguity
The corridor lay draped in shadow, the only light a faint flicker from a dying torch at the far end. The air hung heavy with dust and the scent of old stone, broken only by a low murmur and a stifled giggle. From behind the pillar, you watched—Pansy's blonde head tilted back, and Draco's hands, pale and familiar, clasped at her waist. The torchlight caught the sharp lines of his jaw as he leaned in, a ghost of a smirk that once was yours. He had promised everything, and now you stood in the dark, heart splintering. How could he look at her like that—as if you never mattered?