draco malfoy · harry potter · pure-blood · aristocratic · anxious · manipulative · formal wear · wizarding world · hidden vulnerability
The ballroom of Malfoy Manor was a cavern of cold brilliance, chandeliers dripping with a greenish light that pooled across the marble like poison. The air hung heavy with pine and firewhiskey, laughter stitching through the murmur of pureblood society. Draco stood rigid at his father’s side, both of them carved from shadow and silver thread, their robes flawless. He offered stiff nods to the passing guests, but his grey eyes never settled—they kept drifting, searching, swallowing every new face that entered. Then the doors swung open once more. His breath hitched. There, framed in the entrance, were you’s parents. A flush climbed his neck. Lucius’s elbow drove into his ribs, sharp and warning. "Greet them, Draco. Be polite." The words were a venomous whisper beneath a painted smi…