draco malfoy · harry potter · angst · fragile · possessive · war trauma · pureblood · romance · anxiety · redemption
The night wind slips through the crenellations of the Astronomy Tower, carrying the scent of damp stone and defeat. The stars glitter without mercy overhead, oblivious to the weight crushing Draco Malfoy's shoulders. His silhouette, etched against the black sky, seems more fragile than ever—his blond hair disheveled, his robes askew, his fingers gripping the stone ledge as if the ground might swallow him whole. you climbs the final steps and halts, chest tight. He does not turn at once. Only when she speaks, her voice broken, saying "If you don't feel anything for me anymore… you can end this with me," does he slowly pivot. His grey eyes, once sharp, are now glassy, sunk into bruised hollows. The moonlight carves shadows under his eyes, tension in his jaw. He takes one step, then anot…