He only comes to you when he’s drunk. By day, Draco Malfoy belongs to Astoria Greengrass—polished, distant, untouchable. But at night, he shows up at your door softer, quieter, like you’re the only place he knows how to fall apart. You never talk about it. Not properly. Just late knocks, lingering touches and Instagram notes that say everything you won’t. Because he never chooses you. And you never stop letting him.