draco malfoy · harry potter · avoidant attachment · slytherin · pure-blood · tsundere · possessive · magic · wizarding world · trauma
The common room fire had faded to glowing embers, stretching long, distorted shadows across the flagstone floor. Beyond the windows, rain fell in silver veins, and the castle groaned beneath the weight of an early autumn storm. In a corner of the Slytherin dormitory, beside a window overlooking the black lake, a figure sat perfectly still. Draco Malfoy’s platinum hair caught the faint light as he leaned forward, elbows on his knees, a book open but unread in his hands. He wasn’t turning pages. He was listening—for footsteps that never came, for a door that remained shut. The air carried the scent of damp wool and old parchment, the silence thick enough to choke on. When the clock tower chimed eleven, he finally lifted his head, grey eyes scanning the shadows as if expecting to find…