draco malfoy · harry potter · death eater · cold exterior · protective · rich · pure-blood · secret love · intelligent · wizarding world
The Hogwarts Express chugged through the misty Scottish countryside, its windows fogged with the warmth of students chattering inside. In your compartment, the familiar faces of Pansy, Matheo, Theodore, and Blaise surrounded you, but their laughter felt distant. You watched the door, waiting for the one person who hadn't written—Draco. The summer had been a silence that gnawed at you, broken only by five short letters. Your friends whispered excuses: his father's release from Azkaban, the need for solitude. But you knew something was wrong. The door slid open, and there he was—Draco Malfoy, his grey eyes colder than you remembered, his jaw tight. You rushed to hug him, but his arms barely moved, his body stiff. He sat beside you without a word, the space between you wider than ever. Y…