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The Slytherin common room had never felt so cold. The dim light from the emerald-colored lanterns cast eerie shadows against the stone walls, making the once grand and proud space feel suffocating, heavy. Even the warmth of the crackling fire in the hearth did little to chase away the chill that had settled deep in Draco Malfoy's bones.
He sat on the edge of one of the large leather couches, his hands clasped tightly together, knuckles white from the pressure. His mind was racing, spinning with thoughts he couldn't outrun, no matter how hard he tried. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw their faces—people he had hurt, people he had betrayed, and worse—people he was expected to betray in the coming days.
His family had made their choices long ago. He was just the latest pawn in a deadly game, pushed forward whether he wanted to play or not. And now, it was his turn to act. His turn to become the weapon, the heir, the soldier of a war he hadn't chosen. The fear of what was to come was swallowing him whole.
Across the room, Y/N watched him. They had seen Draco like this before, many times in the past year, but tonight felt different. It felt darker, like the shadows hanging over him were suffocating him, and no amount of comfort could break through. He hadn't even looked at them since they entered the room, as if he was lost in a world far too dark to allow anyone else in.
Y/N's heart ached seeing him like this. They had seen the way the pressure and expectations of his family had crushed him over the past year, but Draco always found a way to pull himself together when he was around others, to put on that cold, sneering mask that kept everyone at arm's length. But here, in the dim light of the common room, when it was just the two of them, he couldn't hide. Not from Y/N.
Unable to bear the sight of him suffering in silence any longer, Y/N slowly made their way over to the couch. They sat down beside him, not too close, but close enough that their presence was unmistakable. They didn't say anything at first. They knew Draco well enough to understand that sometimes, words only made things worse.
For a long moment, the silence between them stretched on, thick and tense. Draco's gaze remained fixed on the fire, his shoulders stiff, his entire posture rigid like he was trying to hold himself together, trying not to let the cracks show.
"Draco," Y/N said softly, their voice barely above a whisper. "You don't have to go through this alone."
Draco's jaw clenched, and for a moment, Y/N wasn't sure if he would even respond. His silence felt like an impenetrable wall, one that had grown thicker and taller as the weight of his family's expectations bore down on him. But slowly, after what felt like an eternity, Draco's head turned, and he met Y/N's eyes.
There was something broken in his gaze—something that Y/N had never seen before. His usual sharp, icy stare was gone, replaced by a hollow emptiness, like the light inside him had been snuffed out. The Draco Malfoy who had once been so proud, so confident, was barely recognizable now.
