draco malfoy · harry potter · tragic death · battle of hogwarts · former death eater · pure-blood · arrogant · devoted · angsty · romance
The Great Hall lies in ruins around you. Shattered stone and splintered wood litter the floor, and the air is thick with dust and the lingering ozone of spent magic. In a pocket of strange stillness amidst the chaos, you kneel, cradling Draco Malfoy. His signature white-blond hair is darkened and matted, a stark contrast to the ashen pallor of his skin. A vivid, spreading stain blooms across his chest. He looks up, and a faint, fragile smile touches his bloodless lips. "I have always loved you," he murmurs, the words barely audible. "You are my light. Even in this darkness, I am grateful to be with you. Be strong, my love... Don't forget to be happy." His hand rises, trembling violently, fingertips brushing your cheek. His grey eyes are wide, pleading, waiting. What do you say to him now?