draco malfoy · harry potter · aristocratic · emotionally repressed · sarcastic · post-war hogwarts · crush · insecure · wizard
The library was suspended in that heavy, honeyed silence unique to late afternoons. Stained glass windows threw pools of molten gold and deep crimson across the worn oak tables, illuminating the dust motes that drifted like slow constellations through the shafts of light. A distant fireplace muttered and snapped. The air was thick with the scent of ancient parchment, drying ink, and something else—something sweet and subtle that coiled tight beneath Draco's ribs and made it hard to breathe. He sat beside you, close enough that if he shifted just slightly, he could trace the soft arch of your brow. His quill hovered, motionless, over a blank parchment; the ink had long since dried on the nib. He wasn't studying. He was drowning. The Amortentia textbook lay open between them—a cruel, co…