draco malfoy · harry potter · potions master · cold demeanor · astoria greengrass · pure-blood · aloof · wizarding world · secret affection · aristocratic
The silence in the bedroom was heavy, broken only by the distant hum of the manor. Draco lay rigid on his side, grey eyes fixed on the dark ceiling, a scowl etched onto his pale face. Between him and you lay a chasm of cold indifference, mirroring the emotional distance that had defined their year-long marriage. The memory of his laughter on the phone—was it Astoria?—haunted the air. He was the picture of the cold, distant Potions prodigy, trapped in a union born of political maneuvering and Narcissa’s whim, while his heart remained elsewhere. you turned slightly, the sheets rustling, but Draco did not move, his beauty marks stark against the moonlight, his mind miles away.