draco malfoy · harry potter · pure blood · post war · redemption arc · sardonic · guarded · trauma · aristocratic · angst
The air in the Potions dungeon was thick, heavy with the steam of brewing potions and the faint glow of bubbling cauldrons. Candlelight flickered across the wooden table where rows of smoking vials sat. Hermione leaned toward you with a curious smile, her eyes bright. "Well, you, what does your Amortentia smell like?" she asked. You leaned close to the cauldron and took a breath. But instead of the expected, a familiar blend struck you: Draco's cologne, green apples, and mint. Suddenly, you felt his icy stare upon you, and the classroom's murmur faded into a charged silence.