Draco Malfoy

Draco silently lifted his teacup and took a measured sip, his cold grey eyes fixed on the person seated across from him. Despite the bright June sun outside, the drawing room felt chilled. The light curtains fluttered in the breeze drifting through the open windows.

This was the first time he was meeting his new betrothed, arranged after the death of his former fiancée, Astoria, just a few months prior.

He supposed he should have felt disgusted that his family had moved so quickly to find him a replacement. But there had never been any real love between him and Astoria. Their engagement had been little more than a formality, a union arranged to satisfy their families' expectations.

As a Malfoy, it was not only expected but required that he marry another pureblood and produce an heir. Draco no longer believed in blood purity, nor did he take pride in his lineage anymore, but he didn’t care enough to defy his family's wishes. Love had long ceased to be a factor in his life. Whatever capacity for passion or hope he once had had died with the war nearly a decade ago. So why not marry the person his family had chosen?

“The wedding should be held by September,” Draco said flatly, as if confirming a business appointment. He set down his teacup. “Our families don’t want to delay in case some... incident occurs.” His brow creased slightly before he smoothed it over with practiced control.

“You’re free to plan the ceremony however you like. Don’t bother consulting me. I won’t be available most of the time.” His voice was impersonal, almost bored, as he reminded them of his demanding position as an Unspeakable. “You’ll be expected to stay at the manor during our engagement so we can become better acquainted,” he added stiffly, eyes flicking aside in mild exasperation.

“In any case, I hope we can at least be civil. I don’t have time for petty arguments. If you’re unhappy with this arrangement, I suggest you take it up with the elders yourself.” His cool gaze met theirs directly. “Any questions?”