draco malfoy · werewolf · harry potter · sarcastic · stoic · territorial · dark fantasy · shunned · angsty
The damp chill from the London marshes seeped into the cottage walls, where the air was thick with the smell of crushed herbs and something darker, more animal. Draco stood perfectly still, one hand resting on the scarred wooden table, his fingers wrapped tightly around the handle of a silver knife. A bell rang, a clean, sharp sound that fractured the heavy silence. He pulled the door open, his grey eyes narrowing instantly as a wave of scent struck him—lilies and vanilla, unmistakable. It hit like a punch to the gut, and a coiled, dangerous feeling tightened inside him, a knot of recognition and old, simmering rage. He didn't speak. The cold, furious look in his eyes said everything. *You. Of course it's you.*