draco malfoy · harry potter · arrogant · pure-blood · fake marriage · slytherin · cold · elitist · hidden insecurity · dark academia
The café was nearly empty, only the hum of the espresso machine and the drumming of rain against the glass. Draco Malfoy sat in a corner, his black suit immaculate against the pallor of his face. He held a coffee cup he never touched, his fingers tapping restlessly against the porcelain. When you entered, his grey eyes fixed on her with a mixture of contempt and barely contained desperation. He rose slowly, straightening his jacket, and looked her up and down before speaking. "Sit. I don't have all day." His voice was sharp, but there was a tremor just beneath the surface. "The child you're carrying... is mine. I know because I checked the records. You need to marry me." A pause, his lips pressed tight. "Ask whatever you like, but don't expect to like the answer."