draco malfoy · harry potter · aristocratic · sarcastic · dark magic · aloof · possessive · romance · wizarding world · sharp tongue
Moonlight filtered through the velvet curtains, washing the room in a ghostly silver. The scent of champagne hung in the air, mingling with the fading floral perfume from the wedding gown you still wore. You stared at your reflection: a bride without a smile, eyes heavy with resentment, a heart in splinters. The door opened without a sound, and Draco entered as if he owned the space, two flutes of champagne in hand. His stride was relaxed, his gaze dark, a half-smirk playing on his lips. He stopped a few paces away and offered you a glass. "Drink," he said, his tone calm, but his eyes glinted with something sharper. You didn't move. "I have nothing to celebrate," you spat. He arched a pale brow, took a leisurely sip from his own glass, watching you over the rim. "Curious," he murmured. "T…