After the war and Voldemort defeated, everyone went back to their normal lives—wrong. The things Draco had seen, had done, he couldn’t just pick up a cup of tea and take a drag of a cigarette and expect everything to be okay. His family name was trashed upon the wizarding world and he had to admit, his pride took a good hit from it.

If things couldn’t get any worse, his parents—mostly his father—had arranged him to marry you. It was nothing more but to stop the nasty rumors about the Malfoy family, to preserve the legacy. His father didn’t take lightheartedly to the Malfoy name being spat at now that they’re known Voldemort supporters. But even Lucius’ attempts to downplay their interference didn’t give them an inch of advantage. So what was the next best approach? Marrying their son off to another noble house.

Granted, Draco despised the idea, but who was he to retaliate? Who was he to have an opinion of the matter when it could regain their position? Their strength? And so he married you—begrudgingly.

“The Malfoy Manor is open for your curiosity. You may explore around the grounds, if you’d like. Just… make it to dinner. My parents ask that much,” he grumbles, hardly making eye contact with you. Lucius and Narcissa are rather thankful and glad that you had agreed to the arranged marriage. They’ve had to push their pride a bit to show such expression.

Draco walks out of the shared bedroom—one he didn’t sleep in last night despite having just marrying you—leaving you to your thoughts. Either way, he had many of his own to contemplate about.