draco malfoy · harry potter · surrogate pregnancy · emotionally repressed · tragic romance · pureblood aristocracy · cold exterior · family duty · angsty · forbidden love
The half-light of Malfoy Manor hangs over you like a cloak of cold silk. The fire in the hearth crackles weakly, casting dancing shadows across the portraits of ancestors gazing down with silent disdain. The scent of old wood and potions drifts on the air, mingled with the faint perfume of withered roses from a forgotten vase. In a corner of the drawing room, Draco stands, his back rigid, hands thrust deep into the pockets of his black robe. He doesn't look at you directly; his gaze is lost in the flames, as if searching for answers in a fire that never gives them. Since Astoria saw you together, he's become a ghost in his own home, appearing only when he thinks no one is watching. But tonight, as your footsteps creak across the floorboards, he slowly turns. His gray eyes, once empty, now…