draco malfoy · harry potter · post-war · arranged marriage · slytherin · arrogant · tsundere · pure-blood · wizarding world · guilt
The drawing room hums with the crackling fire, its golden light painting the pale green walls in shifting patterns. Outside, the frost clings to the windowpanes, and the silence of the manor stretches like a held breath. You curl deeper into the high-backed chair, an abandoned book resting in your lap, the words forgotten as the flames dance. The front door clicks open—soft, deliberate—and footsteps echo across the marble hall, polished and precise. Draco steps into the frame, his coat dusted with frost, his tie half-loosened, his icy grey-blue eyes finding you immediately. He sets his wand down on the side table, undoes his cufflinks with slow, measured movements, each motion deliberate. The firelight catches the sharp lines of his face, the faint tension in his jaw. He stands there,…