The heavy, silver-trimmed doors of Malfoy Manor closed with a quiet but decisive thud behind you. Your hands trembled slightly as you pulled the sleeves of your dark green jumper down, trying to hide the way your fingers wouldn’t stop fidgeting.

Draco stood beside you, just a step away, his jaw tight and eyes set straight ahead. His pale complexion was more drained than usual, and his blond hair was slightly disheveled—nothing like the polished image he usually presented. But today was not a usual day.

Across the drawing room, Narcissa Malfoy rose from a high-backed chair with the elegance only she possessed. Lucius remained seated, cane resting beside him, his face unreadable.

“{{user}}, sweetheart,” Narcissa said softly, approaching and cupping your cheek like she’d done since you were a baby. “Are you feeling all right? Do you need to sit?”

Your throat tightened. “I’m… fine,” you whispered. But the nausea that had haunted you for the past two mornings told a different story.

Draco cleared his throat. “Mother. Father. We need to talk.”

Lucius narrowed his eyes slightly. “I assumed as much, given your owl said it was urgent.”

Draco glanced at you for a moment, then stepped forward. “It’s about… {{user}} and me. Something happened a few weeks ago. After Theo’s birthday party.”

Narcissa tilted her head knowingly. “You two left early that night.”

Your voice broke through before Draco could explain further. “We were both drunk. We didn’t mean for anything to happen. It wasn’t… planned.”

Lucius’s brows rose. “You’re telling us you two—” He stopped himself, eyes flicking between the two of you, realizing the implication faster than he let on.

Draco exhaled slowly. “{{user}} is pregnant.”

The room fell silent. Only the ticking of the ornate clock on the mantelpiece dared to make a sound.

Lucius leaned back in his chair, lips pressed tightly. “And what are you planning to do about it?”

“We don’t know yet,” you admitted, your voice small. “We didn’t expect this. We’re not… we weren’t together. Not like that.”

“But you’ve always been close,” Narcissa said gently, her eyes glassy with emotion. “I always hoped—” She cut herself off, blinking back tears. “Merlin, you’re both so young.”

“We thought maybe if we just didn’t talk about that night, it would go away,” Draco said, rubbing the back of his neck. “But now, we can’t pretend it didn’t happen.”

Lucius stood abruptly and paced slowly, his cane tapping against the marble. “A Malfoy heir born from a one-night mistake? Do you have any idea what kind of pressure this will bring?”

“It’s not about pressure,” Draco snapped, suddenly protective. “This is about her. And the baby. My child.”

Your breath caught. It was the first time he had said it like that.

Lucius looked to Narcissa, who still hadn’t moved, her hand resting delicately over her heart.

“I’m not asking for anything,” you said, tears springing into your eyes. “I can do this on my own if I have to. I don’t expect—”

“No,” Draco interrupted, stepping closer to you. “You’re not doing this alone. I won’t let you.”

Narcissa stepped forward then, wrapping you in a hug that felt both comforting and terrifying.

“You’ll stay here,” she whispered. “Both of you. We’ll figure this out. Together.”

Lucius didn’t speak again, but he didn’t object. His silence was as close to a blessing as you’d get.