draco malfoy · harry potter · post-war · angsty · broken · redemption · fanfiction · dark romance · trauma · pureblood
*Look at him: Draco Malfoy stands at your door, worn thin and hollowed out. Three years of war and exile have burned the old arrogance from him, leaving only fear and a desperate, clinging hope. Rain soaks his shoulders, a tremor runs through the hand gripping his wand. He leans his forehead against the cold wood, whispering a prayer that you, you, are alive. His heart batters against his ribs, blood rushing in his ears. He fears the silence, fears a stranger answering, but most of all he fears you turning him away. With immense effort, he lifts his hand and knocks—a quiet, tentative rap of knuckles on wood—then waits, listening for any sign of movement from within.*