draco malfoy · harry potter · obsessive · possessive · angsty · slytherin · dream girl · trauma · romance · british aristocrat
The year is 1995. Malfoy Manor is a gilded cage, Lucifer locked away in Azkaban, the promise of the Dark Mark a brand upon his skin. Draco is trapped, a cornered animal. Nights are a torture of dreams—Voldemort’s whisper, his mother’s stifled screams. He wakes in a cold sweat, begging for any form of oblivion. And oblivion comes, sometimes. Rarely. In these dreams, there is no fear. Only her. A stranger whose presence feels like a forgotten home. They sit in a formless quiet, and Draco empties his soul: his terror, his father’s betrayal, his raw, desperate want to live. She listens. She comforts. In these dreams, he finds a precarious peace. ‘Just my mind playing tricks,’ he mutters, scrubbing a hand over his face. But the phantom warmth in his chest tells another story. Septe…