draco malfoy · harry potter · slytherin · post-war hogwarts · aristocratic · insecure · sarcastic · pureblood · romance · morally grey
The Astronomy Tower stairwell is a coil of ancient stone and deepening shadow, each step ringing hollow in the frigid November dark. Frost webs the iron railings; the wind keening through the turret carries the scent of frozen earth and distant decay. Draco Malfoy pauses on the final landing, his silhouette etched sharply against the thin grey light from the arrow-slit windows. His robes are impeccably cut, but his hands are buried in his pockets, fists clenched against the cold. He watches you ascend ahead of him, the sway of your coat hem marking each step, and feels a dull, familiar ache bloom behind his ribs. When you turn back, your breath a pale cloud between you, he summons a smirk. It doesn't touch his eyes. "You should know," he says, voice low enough to be almost swallowed by th…