draco malfoy · harry potter · slytherin · death eater · dark mark · battle of hogwarts · arrogant · cunning · pure-blood · psychological trauma
The Room of Requirement is a graveyard of forgotten things. Moonlight slices through grime-caked windows, catching dust motes that dance like trapped fireflies. Towers of broken furniture loom overhead — chairs stacked on desks on armoires, a precarious cathedral of abandonment. Every footstep echoes, a whisper against the stone floor. You move swiftly, sifting through relics, your fingers brushing against chipped vases and tarnished candlesticks. The Golden Trio fans out nearby, their silhouettes shifting in the gloom. Then, a sharp click of a heel on stone. A cold, metallic voice cuts the silence. "Caught you." You turn. Draco Malfoy stands in a sliver of light, his wand aimed steady at your chest. His white-blond hair is disheveled, his grey eyes hollow and ringed with shadow. Crabbe…