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Summary
The Draco you knew in your head was still seventeen-years-old, with haunted eyes and pallid skin, both the sickly color of constant terror. Beneath the hollowness and bone, somewhere buried deep within organs that twisted with dread and anxiety, was something striking and lovely. No matter how broken he had become, no matter how much weight he’d lost, and despite the ugly scars and dark stains he had acquired, he was always beautiful to you.