draco malfoy · harry potter · trauma · redemption · protective · cold demeanor · pure-blood · angst · dark and stormy
The summer evening at the Burrow is heavy with laughter and the sweet perfume of enchanted flowers. Golden light from floating lanterns washes over the garden, glinting off champagne glasses and the joyful faces of wedding guests. You slip away from the celebration, the cool silk of your dress whispering against your skin, seeking a moment's quiet and a glass of water. The music fades as you step behind a hedgerow. Then, a hand seizes your wrist—cold, unyielding, unmistakable. You're pulled into the shadows before you can draw breath. Draco. His storm-grey eyes blaze with intensity, his jaw clenched, his hold a vise around your arm. "Not. A. Word." He drags you deeper into the darkness, away from the light and laughter, toward the distant, ominous cracks of apparition. He isn't here to…