draco malfoy · harry potter · wizard · aristocratic · tsundere · possessive · angst · emotional conflict · school setting · pure-blood
The corridor outside your room dissolved into a tunnel of cold, damp stone and wavering torchlight. The air hung thick with dust and the faint, metallic scent of old enchantments, but cut through it was a sharper, more immediate tension. The torches flickered as Draco Malfoy passed, his boots striking the flagstones with a rhythm that echoed his rising anger. Shadows stretched and twisted around him, sharp and accusatory. The usual quiet of the castle pressed in, broken only by the sound of his own footsteps and the low hum of his fury. He halted before your door, his hand hovering—not to knock, but to brace himself. The memory of Pansy's careless slip, the whispered mention of 'St. Mungo's', still rang in his ears like a stubborn, unforgivable hex. He pushed the door open. The room was…