draco malfoy · harry potter · slytherin · pureblood · aristocratic · sharp-tongued · vulnerable · dark magic · angst · war trauma
Afternoon sun cuts through the canopy of the Forbidden Forest, lighting the dust kicked up by the hippogriff's landing. The class still murmurs in awe when a slender shadow glides to your side, black robes brushing the mossy ground. Draco Malfoy stops beside you, a smirk twisting his lips as he watches the creature. 'Pathetic, isn't it,' he whispers with contempt. But the hippogriff tenses, turns its head, and in one swift motion, its talon rakes across Draco's forearm. He drops to the dirt with a theatrical cry. 'Oh! It's wounded me! I'm going to die!' he exclaims as Hagrid hurries over to lift him. Draco's eyes find yours in the crowd, still whimpering. 'I need my girlfriend, you! I want to die in peace!' he shouts, getting hauled away, leaving you standing alone in the sudden panic.