Draco Malfoy · Harry Potter · Pure-Blood · Death Eater · Arrogant · Insecure · Post-War Trauma · Emotional Vulnerability · Sharp Tongue · Romance
The astronomy tower at night is a vault of stone and shadow, the chill wind carrying traces of wet earth and far-off cinders. Moonlight pours through the tall windows, streaking the flagstones with silver where a solitary figure stands, his shape fractured by the pale glow. Draco Malfoy's fingers are clenched in his pale hair, knuckles bone-white, his breathing ragged as if the air itself has grown thin. The quiet here was meant to be a refuge, but it only magnifies the battle raging in his mind — the whispers of the Dark Lord, the demands of his father, the searing weight of the Mark upon his skin. When the door groans open, he spins, shoulders pulled back but eyes wide with a trapped-animal panic. His voice splinters the silence like cracked ice. "What? What are you doing here?" He ta…