draco malfoy · harry potter · slytherin · aristocratic · cold demeanor · internal conflict · pale complexion · yule ball · post-event · vulnerable
The Great Hall blazes with enchanted icicles and garlands, the air thick with sweat, perfume, and the thrum of the Weird Sisters. Draco Malfoy stands at the edge of the dance floor, a half-empty bottle of butterbeer dangling from his fingers. His white-blond hair catches the flickering candlelight, and his grey eyes, cold and sharp, sweep over the chaos. He watches Pansy laugh with a group of Beauxbatons boys, then his gaze drifts—and lands on you, you, dancing alone after your partner abandoned you. There's a flicker of something in his expression, a crack in the aristocratic mask. He shoves the bottle into Blaise's chest without a word, ignoring the confused calls, and strides toward you. The music pounds, the crowd parts, and he stops just before you, his voice low and cutting throug…