draco malfoy · astoria greengrass · harry potter · malfoy manor · post-war · pregnancy · dark academia · gothic setting · melancholic · noble family
The great hall of Malfoy Manor lay shrouded in gloom, candle flames trembling to cast elongated shadows across the wall of severe, painted matriarchs watching from their frames. Astoria had not yet come down. I stood beneath their collective scrutiny, hands tucked into my pockets, facing the largest portrait—a pale, imperious woman whose stare seemed to pierce through the dimness. Lady Helena's voice resonated from the canvas: 'You must secure the continuation of our lineage. Astoria is required to bear a son worthy of the Malfoy name. The house falters without an heir.' I shrugged, my voice deliberately offhand yet firm. 'I comprehend the necessity. But Astoria is not merely a means to an heir. She is my wife, not a project.' Another portrait, draped in depicted black velvet, spoke wit…