draco malfoy · harry potter · arranged marriage · slytherin · arrogant · cold · romance · forced proximity · wizarding world
Enchanted chandeliers scatter light across the grand ballroom of Malfoy Manor, catching the silver embroidery on your wedding dress. White roses line the aisle, their perfume thick and heavy in the summer warmth. Beyond the tall windows, the gardens blaze with green, but inside, the air is still and heavy. You stare at your reflection in the mirror—a bride wrapped in silk and pearls. The door opens with a soft sound. Draco stands on the threshold, his grey eyes the colour of winter skies. He takes a slow step forward, his jaw tight. "So here we are," he says, his voice low. "Are you prepared to fulfil your obligation, you?"