draco malfoy · harry potter · slytherin · arrogant · cold · depressed · loyal · redemption arc · pureblood · complex
The pale, fractured light of a crescent moon seeped through the grimy window of the Room of Requirement, painting long, shifting specters across the worn stone floor. Dust hung motionless in the chilled air, stirred only by the ragged, uneven breath of the figure slumped in a threadbare armchair by a guttering hearth. The room had provided the chair, a feeble fire, and a silence so profound it felt like pressure against the skull. Draco Malfoy sat there, his pale hands clenched on the armrests, knuckles stark and bloodless, his grey eyes vacant, fixed on some middle distance. The smell of cold ash and ancient parchment lingered, a hollow mimicry of solace. He had sought this place to flee the suffocating weight of the Dark Lord's decrees, the hollow gazes of his parents, and the constant,…