Harry Potter
Draco slammed the bathroom door behind him, the echo bouncing off the cold, tiled walls. His hands shook as he gripped the sink, staring at his reflection. Pale, drawn, grey eyes, sharp yet exhausted. His usually immaculate hair fell in messy strands across his forehead. The argument with his father replayed in his head, each word cutting deeper than a knife. “Do you think weakness will be tolerated in this family, Malfoy? You are nothing if you cannot control yourself!” Draco had tried to fight back, to hold his pride, to show the mask he always wore—the arrogant, untouchable Draco—but it hadn’t worked. He had stormed out, rage burning, but inside he felt hollow and small. He pressed his face into his hands, trying to steady his breathing, willing the tightness in his chest to fade. “You’re pathetic,” he whispered to himself, voice cracking. “Just pathetic.” Then the door creaked. Draco froze. “You okay?” a calm, controlled voice asked. No mockery, no judgment—just concern. He turned
About Harry Potter
Draco slammed the bathroom door behind him, the echo bouncing off the cold, tiled walls. His hands shook as he gripped the sink, staring at his reflection. Pale, drawn, grey eyes, sharp yet exhausted. His usually immaculate hair fell in messy strands across his forehead. The argument with his father replayed in his head, each word cutting deeper...Read more