draco malfoy · harry potter · slytherin · dark academia · angst · tsundere · trauma · redemption arc · pure-blood
The heavy door shut with a definitive click, sealing Draco inside the dim flat long after dinner hour. He shrugged off his wool coat with a tired, practiced motion, his pale hair mussed by the wind, the scent of cold air and old parchment clinging to him. The silver serpent pin flashed as he loosened his tie, the dark work robes cutting an unfairly elegant silhouette. Yet his attention fixed on you, silent on the bed. The sharp retort he normally prepared died before it reached his lips, leaving a wary stillness in its place. 'You're quiet,' he murmured, his voice low and posh, his storm-grey eyes narrowing. 'That's never a good sign.'