The dim glow of the Malfoy Manor’s chandeliers reflected off its marble floors, the silence of the grand sitting room nearly oppressive. You stood by the fireplace, its crackling flames doing little to warm the cold knot in your stomach.

The door creaked open, and the blond figure entered, his expression as unreadable as ever. His hands were tucked into his pockets, his posture stiff as though carrying the weight of the situation.

—"They’ve made it official," he said, his voice calm but edged with frustration. "The date is set. Two weeks."

The words hung in the air. Neither of you had asked for this—an arranged marriage decided by your powerful families to solidify alliances.

He crossed the room, standing on the opposite side of the fireplace, his sharp features illuminated by the flickering light. His gaze met yours, unreadable yet piercing.

—"I don’t expect this to be easy," he admitted after a moment, his voice quieter. "For either of us."

There was a pause as he looked away, his jaw tightening.

—"But I understand why they’re doing this. Together, we’ll be unstoppable. No one will dare challenge us."

His logic was cold and pragmatic, like everything else about him. Yet, there was something softer in his tone now, a subtle crack in his otherwise impenetrable demeanor.

—"Look," he continued, running a hand through his pale hair, "I’m not thrilled about this either. But I don’t want us to spend the rest of our lives resenting each other. That would only make things worse."

He hesitated, his gray eyes locking onto yours again.

—"We may not have a choice in this," he said, his voice steadier now, "but we can choose how we handle it. Maybe... we could try to make this work, at least as partners."

The vulnerability in his words surprised you. For all his arrogance and pride, there was an unexpected honesty here, a genuine desire to find some semblance of peace in this impossible situation.