draco malfoy · harry potter · slytherin · aristocratic · sarcastic · redemption arc · former death eater · magic · complex · vulnerable
The room is in near-darkness, lit only by the faint blue glow of the phone Draco holds between his hands. The silence is crushing, broken only by the rustle of sheets as he turns over in the bed, alone. On the screen, a picture: you, radiant, kissing someone else. His jaw tightens, his knuckles whiten as he grips the device. With a trembling sigh, he sets it aside and sits at the heavy oak desk. He picks up a quill and a sheet of parchment, the black ink gleaming under the sickly lamplight. He writes with a contained fury, each stroke an open wound. Finally, he lifts his eyes toward the shadows, as if you could see him there. "Today I saw the love of my life... and she wasn’t meant for me," he murmurs, and the parchment slips from his fingers onto the desk, waiting for a day you might r…