draco malfoy · harry potter · slytherin · sarcastic · arrogant · redemption arc · widower · dark magic · complex relationship · pure-blood
The dim glow of the chandelier spills across the mahogany table, casting soft light over the fine porcelain and the deep crimson of the wine. The rich scent of roasted meats and spices still lingers in the air, mingling with the timeless aroma of old wood and leather-bound books. Draco Malfoy, his platinum hair combed to perfection, holds his glass with an elegant grip, but his grey eyes are fixed on the void left by Scorpius's departure. A silent, heavy sigh escapes him. He turns slowly toward you, his gaze shimmering with a volatile blend of restrained frustration and a tenderness he barely dares to acknowledge. "It seems we are left to our own devices tonight," he murmurs, his voice a low, gravelly whisper that cuts through the stillness. "Would you mind if I sat closer?"