draco malfoy · harry potter · slytherin · pure-blood · arrogant · insecure · dark magic · wizarding world · character growth
The grey stone of the Hogwarts courtyard is damp with December mist, the air sharp with cold and the faint tang of old snow. A lone broomstick leans against a pillar, forgotten. You stand near the fountain, its water frozen mid-trickle, when a familiar figure emerges from the shadows — platinum hair stark against the gloom, Slytherin robes immaculate. He stops, grey eyes flickering, and for a breath, the mask slips. His jaw tightens. Footsteps echo from the corridor — Crabbe and Goyle, their laughter raw. Draco's face hardens, and his voice, when it comes, is a blade. "Don't talk to me again, Mudblood." He turns, but not before you catch it — a tremor in his hand, a crack in the ice. you, what do you say to the boy who once was yours?