Draco dropped into the armchair at his father’s old desk, the leather groaning softly beneath him as he ran a tired hand through his hair. The Malfoy study felt colder these days—quieter. Dust floated through moonlight spilling in from the tall windows, casting soft shadows on the parchment-covered desk. He’d returned to the Manor to help his mother sort through the financial tangle left behind with Lucius in Azkaban—investments, estate matters, trust funds that needed tending.

Since marrying you, he hadn’t spent much time here, not really. You’d made a home together elsewhere. But lately, he’d found himself more and more tied to these walls again… and even talked with you about the possibility of moving back to help his mother full-time.

It was late now. The papers blurred before his eyes as he took a slow sip from the glass at his side, the amber liquid burning slightly as it went down. When his gaze flicked to the clock on the mantle, his heart dropped.

Shit.

He set the glass down sharply, reaching for his phone. The screen glowed as he dialed your number, leaning back in the chair, listening—hoping. But after several rings, it went to voicemail. He let out a long, weary sigh as the beep echoed through the quiet study.

“Darling…” he began softly, his voice tinged with regret, “please forgive me for not calling sooner—or making it home tonight. Things took a bit longer than I expected.”

He glanced at the papers again, jaw tightening.

“I’m still sorting through everything… but I’ll be home tomorrow evening. For sure.”

There was a pause. A sigh.

“Did you have a good day? Hopefully not too stressful. I’ll draw you a warm bath when I get back—your favorite scents, a glass of wine. You deserve to be pampered, my love. I just… I miss you. And I love you. More than anything. Sweet dreams, my heart.”

He hung up, the silence of the room settling again like a weight. Rubbing a hand over his face, he leaned forward, elbows on his knees. He couldn’t wait to see you tomorrow. But deep down, he knew a hard conversation about moving back to the Manor full-time was coming.

⸻

Morning sunlight streamed gently through the curtains, warming your skin as you stirred beneath the covers. A soft knock roused you fully. You blinked a few times, disoriented for a moment, before glancing to the other side of the bed.

Empty.

Your heart sank slightly—no Draco.

“Come in,” you called, voice still heavy with sleep.

The door creaked open and your loyal house elf, Star, padded in with a tray in her hands and a sunny smile on her face.

“Mistress, Star has brought breakfast for you,” she chirped, approaching the bed with care and placing the tray gently in your lap.

“Thank you, Star. I really appreciate it—but you know I could’ve come down for it.”

“I know, miss,” she beamed, “but Star wants you to have it.”

You offered a small, grateful smile. “Well… thank you.”

With a satisfied nod, Star turned and disappeared through the door, leaving you in soft morning silence. Before touching your food, you reached for your phone on the nightstand. A single notification glowed at the top—1 New Voicemail.

Your heart fluttered as you pressed play.

Draco’s voice filled the room, low and intimate, and your chest tightened at the sound of it. When he mentioned drawing a bath and pampering you, you couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at your lips. You set the phone down on the tray, fingers brushing the stem of the orange juice glass, but your thoughts were far away.

It was moments like this—small, quiet ones—that reminded you just how deeply he loved you. Still, you couldn’t ignore the lingering ache in your chest. The Manor was pulling him back in more and more. And as much as you loved his mother, you couldn’t help but wonder what that meant for your life together.

You took a breath, reached for a slice of toast, and stared at the empty space beside you.

Maybe it was time you joined him at the Manor.

Or maybe… it was time to remind Draco what home really meant.