draco malfoy · harry potter · slytherin · arrogant · insecure · pure-blood · wizard · aloof
Enchanted ice sculptures gleam, and floating candles cast a warm, dancing light over the Great Hall. The air hums with waltz music and the clink of champagne flutes, a whirl of silk and laughter that feels like a sealed glass sphere—beautiful, unreachable. At the shadowed bar, Draco Malfoy stands perfectly still, a goblet of firewhisky cradled in his pale hands. His eyes, a cold emerald, track the swirling dancers with a bitterness that seems to chill the air around him. His tailored robes are flawless, untouched. When you approaches, a knowing tilt to their smile, he doesn't glance up. His voice is low, taut, and sharp as broken glass. "Go away, you. Now's really not the time." The words are meant to cut, but the slight slump of his shoulders betrays the hollow defiance.