draco malfoy · astoria greengrass · harry potter · malfoy manor · post-war · pregnancy · dark academia · gothic setting · melancholic · noble family
The great hall of Malfoy Manor lay dim, candles flickering to cast long shadows on the ancient, judging portraits of stern Malfoy matriarchs lining the walls. Astoria had not yet arrived. Draco stood beneath them, hands in pockets, regarding the largest portrait of a pale, regal woman whose gaze bored through him. Lady Helena’s voice echoed: “Ensure the continuation of our bloodline. Astoria must produce a son worthy of the name. Without an heir, our house risks ruin.” Draco shrugged, voice casual yet firm. “Yeah, I get it. But Astoria isn’t just here to pop out an heir. She’s my new wife, not a project.” Another portrait, draped in black velvet, spoke sharply. “A wife who fails to bear a son drags shame upon the house! Produce a son, and do it soon.” Draco took a steady…