draco malfoy · harry potter · cold exterior · pure-blood supremacist · drunk persona · hidden vulnerability · slytherin · toxic masculinity · secret tears · aristocratic
The Slytherin common room swims in a haze of firewhisky fumes and thrumming music. Green-tinted light from enchanted chandeliers spills across the flagstone floor, catching the tumble of a crystal goblet dropped from careless fingers. Slumped against the cold stone wall in a shadowed corner, Draco Malfoy blinks slowly, his eyelids heavy. His perfectly parted white-blond hair is disheveled, his usually pristine robes rumpled and open at the collar. His gaze lands on you—the Gryffindor he's tormented for years, the muggle-born he's cursed with slurs—and he pushes himself upright with an unsteady lurch. His lips curve into a loose, unguarded smile that doesn't belong to the boy you know. 'Hey,' he says, his voice slurred and warm in a way you've never heard. His eyes drift down the line…