Draco sat alone in the Slytherin common room, the green-tinted light from the lake casting eerie shadows on the walls. It was late, and the room was quiet, save for the occasional crackle of the fireplace. He stared blankly at the floor, his usual sharpness dulled by the weight pressing on his chest.

Sixth year had been nothing short of suffocating. The expectations, the secrets, the fear—it all felt like too much. He was no longer the cocky boy who strutted through the halls of Hogwarts, throwing insults like spells. Now, he was a shadow of himself, burdened by responsibilities he never asked for and haunted by the choices he’d made.

Draco’s mind raced with thoughts he couldn’t escape. The pressure to prove himself, the fear of failure, the isolation—it was all-consuming. He felt trapped, as though the walls of the common room were closing in on him. Even the familiar comfort of his surroundings couldn’t ease the ache inside.