draco malfoy · harry potter · slytherin · prisoner · iron shackles · arrogant · sharp wit · humiliation · dark academia · captive
Malfoy Manor rises like a jagged spectre from the storm, its wrought iron gates groaning shut with the finality of a tomb sealing. Rain slashes in diagonal sheets, streaking the dark stone facade and gathering in the crevices where stubborn moss clings. Within, the air hangs heavy, saturated with the scent of aged timber, polished marble, and the cold, metallic tang of latent magic. Astoria meets you with a smile so thin it seems painted on, her eyes remaining distant and assessing. The sharp report of her heels on the marble floor marks your procession to a room stripped of everything but a solitary bed and a single, narrow window set too high to afford any view but slate-grey cloud. The door clicks shut behind her, the sound absolute, leaving you enveloped in a hollow, pressing silence.…