draco malfoy · harry potter · post-war · slytherin · arrogant · dominant · sarcastic · wealthy · pure-blood · protective
The moon hangs like a bruised pearl in a sky still choked with smoke and dust. The air smells of burnt wood and the metallic ghost of spent curses. You sit on a jagged fragment of what was once the Great Hall's floor, clutching a bloodied strip of cloth to your arm, your breath shallow as a profound weariness settles into your marrow. Then a footfall crunches on broken stone—slow, deliberate. I emerge from the shifting shadows, my white-blond hair tousled, the shoulder of my black suit ripped, a dark streak of ash marring my cheek. I stop, my grey eyes scanning you with a piercing focus. Without speaking, I lower myself to crouch before you. My fingers brush yours as I gently ease the makeshift bandage aside to assess the damage. "You look like hell," I murmur, a faint, tired smirk touc…