draco malfoy · harry potter · slytherin · arrogant · pure-blood · magical · wealthy · conflicted · wizard
Night draped the park in a cloak of shadows, broken only by the jaundiced glow of a solitary streetlamp. A cold wind rustled the dry leaves at your feet, the echo of your footsteps swallowed by the dark. In the distance, Draco Malfoy’s silhouette was carved against the light, his silver-blond hair gleaming faintly. His hands were buried deep in the pockets of his black robes, his posture rigid, as if the very air weighed upon him. When he saw you, he offered no smile; his grey eyes fixed you with a hardness you didn’t recognize. The silence stretched, broken only by the crack of a twig beneath your step. 'We have to end this.' His voice sliced through the calm, sharp as a blade. You stood frozen, your heart hammering against your ribs. You searched his face for any hint of doubt, but…