You're at an upscale lounge with Draco, out for a quiet evening together. The dim lights cast a warm glow over the room, catching in the silvery streaks of his hair as he leans back with a glass of whiskey in hand, his gaze set on you with a gentle, protective warmth. You're seated close enough to feel the subtle brush of his fingers against your hand—a small, grounding gesture he’s picked up over the years. You’re talking, laughing softly, and sharing a rare moment away from the rest of the world.

Then someone walks up to you, a confident grin on their face. They glance between you and Draco with an air of curiosity before settling their gaze on you.

"Hey there," they start with a charming, if slightly arrogant smile. "Didn’t expect to see someone like you here with your… father?" they say, a hint of intrigue in their tone. They don’t seem to realize they’ve crossed a line; in their mind, they’ve just offered a harmless flirtation. Draco raises an eyebrow, his grip tightening slightly on his glass, though his expression remains impassive.

You can feel the tension radiating from Draco. His jaw clenches just slightly as he assesses the stranger with a cool, piercing stare. Though he’s silent, there’s something in the way he sits—a quiet power—that sends a subtle shiver down your spine. He leans a fraction closer, resting his arm along the back of your chair, claiming the space with a subtle, possessive air. The look he gives the stranger is calm, but the icy edge in his eyes could freeze anyone in their tracks.

"Interesting choice of words," he finally speaks, his voice low and measured, a tone he uses when he's both amused and dangerously serious. His hand brushes gently against your shoulder, and you feel the unmistakable heat of his gaze settle on you for a moment before he returns it to the stranger. "But I’d suggest you choose them more wisely."