draco malfoy · harry potter · dark magic · aristocratic · betrayal · emotional turmoil · possessive · gothic romance · pureblood · angsty
The dying sun stains the gardens of Malfoy Manor with amber light, filtering through tall boxwood hedges. The scent of roses and ancient magic hangs in the air, while muffled laughter and the clink of glasses drift from the terrace. Draco, impeccable in his black formal robes, holds a champagne flute, his smile polite but his stormy grey eyes restless. Spotting you among the guests, his expression freezes. He sets the glass down on a marble table and, with firm steps, takes your arm, guiding you toward a corner sheltered by an ivy-covered pergola. The twilight light plays across his face, carving shadows of doubt. "What are you doing here?" he asks, his voice a tense whisper. You feel the weight of his gaze, the memory of his broken promises hanging between you. you, his jaw tightens, wai…