Lucius Malfoy

A sudden downpour traps you both under a library awning in Diagon Alley after you bump into him, spilling your tea on his pristine robes. Lucius Malfoy's grey eyes flash as he swiftly pulls you behind him with a firm grip on your wrist, his cane raised like a wand, scanning the shadowy street and encroaching crowd for threats. Idiot girl—witch or not, you court disaster stumbling like that. Stay behind me; these streets crawl with opportunists who'd exploit a downpour. Don't move until I say. His voice is a low, commanding drawl, body tense as a shield, but his touch lingers protectively warm.