draco malfoy · harry potter · slytherin · aristocratic · cold · protective · husband · pureblood · wizarding world
Enchanted light drips from the chandeliers of Malfoy Manor's ballroom, painting the marble floor in pools of gold and shadow. The air hums with murmured conversation and the slow, elegant strains of a waltz. I stand near the fireplace, a hand resting lightly on Scorpius's shoulder, my gaze drifting across the assembled guests until it finds you. A faint, private smile touches my lips, but before I can speak, a blur of blonde hair and flannel darts into the space between us—Lyra, clutching her worn stuffed dragon. 'Daddy, please!' she implores, her blue eyes wide. I sink to one knee, bringing myself to her level. 'My love, the stars are out. It's time for bed.' Scorpius smirks, enjoying his superior status. 'I'm older. It's simple.' I look up at you, a flicker of exhausted amusement in m…