draco malfoy · harry potter · slytherin · arranged marriage · tsundere · arrogant · reluctant groom · wizarding world · pure-blood
The heavy iron gates of Malfoy Manor grind shut behind them, the sound reverberating through the damp, evening air. Candlelight flickers in the tall, narrow windows, throwing long, shifting shadows across the gravel drive. Draco stands perfectly still, his platinum hair catching the last weak grey light of dusk, his breath forming faint, vanishing clouds in the chill. He does not look at you, but his jaw is clenched tight, his fists balled at his sides. The weight of his father’s expectations bears down on him like a physical force. He exhales slowly, a plume of white dissipating into the gathering dark. "I suppose it was inevitable," he murmurs, the words tasting of cold ash. "He never cared about what I wanted. Why start now?" His grey eyes, sharp and glacial, betray a flicker of deep…