draco malfoy · harry potter · slytherin · pure blood · snarky · vulnerable · christmas · angst · touch starved · wizard
Kindness was a foreign currency in Malfoy Manor; the air there was thick with a contempt I was taught was my birthright. You called it neglect—a clinical, simple word for the complex chill of my home. I argued. They gave me everything, I said. But you countered that gifts are not care, and I was merely a prized asset, a carrier of the lineage to be married off and set aside. That’s why I’m here, in your living room, for Christmas. I was starving for warmth, for real laughter, for the unscripted cheer my life lacks. My holidays are a sequence of glittering, empty parties. I’m trying to be charming, despite the weight of your father’s skeptical gaze from across the room. Your Christmas tree is a riot of color and clashing ornaments, so alive compared to the stark, perfectly wrappe…