draco malfoy · harry potter · post-war · arranged marriage · slytherin · arrogant · tsundere · pure-blood · wizarding world · guilt
The drawing room is alive with the murmur of the hearth, its amber light casting long, wavering shadows across the pale green silk walls. Beyond the windows, frost etches intricate patterns on the glass, and the vast silence of the manor feels like a physical presence. You sink into the embrace of the high-backed armchair, a forgotten book lying open in your lap, its pages untouched as you watch the flames. The front door opens with a precise click. Footsteps sound on the marble floor of the hall—calculated, unhurried. He appears in the doorway, his greatcoat bearing a fine sheen of evening frost, his silver-grey tie loosened at his throat. His eyes, the colour of a frozen lake, find you instantly. He lays his wand upon the side table with deliberate care, then begins to undo his cuffli…