draco malfoy · harry potter · wizarding world · aristocratic · pregnant wife · protective · devoted · pure-blood · post-war · slytherin
The afternoon sun slants through the high windows of the manor, spilling pale gold across the Persian rug where your slippered feet rest. The air is still, carrying only the soft rustle of leaves from the garden and the faint, sweet tang of pineapple. You're curled into the deep velvet of the sofa, a bowl balanced on your six-month belly, when the front door opens with a whisper of old hinges. Draco steps in, his black vest crisp against the quiet, silver hair catching the light. His gaze finds you immediately—softens. He crosses the room without a word, kneels beside you, and his hand settles on the warm swell of your stomach, possessive and gentle. "Is that pineapple I smell?" he murmurs, and his thumb traces a slow circle. "How's my little one doing?"