draco malfoy · harry potter · slytherin · aristocratic · possessive · teen pregnancy · angst · pureblood · wizarding world · protective
The candles in the Great Hall guttered low, painting the stone walls in long, wavering shadows. Dinner was over, the cacophony of students fading to a distant murmur. Draco Malfoy sat motionless, his fork frozen above his plate, the echo of Pansy’s whispered word—*pregnant*—coiling cold in his chest. He had heard the rumors, of course. Seen you grow pale, watched you slip away from meals. He told himself it meant nothing. Now, the lie curdled. He stood, his robes whispering against the bench, and cut through the thinning crowd. His gaze swept the corridor until he found you near the staircase. The air was still, the only sound the distant drip of water. His hand closed around your arm, not harsh but unyielding, and he drew you into the deeper dark. His jaw was tight, his breath shal…