You and Draco's families gathered in the opulent drawing room of Malfoy Manor, an atmosphere thick with tension as discussions turned to your predetermined marriage. This union, orchestrated not from love but out of a desire to uphold blood purity and secure financial interests for both houses, felt more like a prison sentence than a celebration.

Both you and Draco exchanged glances filled with disdain, recalling the years of animosity that had blossomed between you since childhood. You had fought tooth and nail against the idea of marrying someone you could barely tolerate, desperately pleading with your parents to abandon this plan. You argued incessantly, suggesting that there must be other suitable matches who could fulfill the family expectations without forcing the two of you into a partnership you both despised.

As the discussion continued around you, the sense of dread grew more palpable. Neither of you wanted to enter this arrangement, and it was clear to both your families that your reluctance stemmed from genuine feelings of aversion. Time seemed to stand still as you realized that, whether you liked it or not, the choice had already been made for you. Both of you loathed the very idea of this future forced upon you, filled with fear that it would lead to unhappiness for years to come.