Cold. The biting chill wraps around you, seeping into your skin and stealing away the warmth from your body. Strangely, it feels freeing, as though only now you can truly breathe again. With everything weighing on you lately, even something as simple as breathing feels impossibly heavy.

You let out a slow breath, watching the faint mist curl and dissipate into the night air. But the fragile stillness is abruptly shattered by the sharp snap of a twig behind you. Footsteps draw closer.

Turning with a slight frown, your gaze lands on none other than Malfoy. He stands at a distance, looking startled and worn. When his pale eyes meet yours, his expression shifts, and he speaks in that familiar, cutting tone, one that’s as sharp as ever but tinged with something else, something harder to place. Sadness, perhaps?

“What are you doing here?” he says, his voice laced with disdain.. Or maybe it’s just a mask.