𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙥 | DRACO MALFOY

to have and to hold

Harper Audrey Malfoy

I didn't sleep.

I laid there all night, staring at the ceiling of the grand guest room in Malfoy Manor, the velvet curtains still drawn and the fire reduced to embers. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw him. My father. The way he looked at Draco like a tool. The way he spoke about me like I was a lock he intended to keep sealed.

"She is a storm," he'd said. And Draco hadn't argued.

The silence between them was louder than anything.

By sunrise, I was already sitting up in bed, knees pulled to my chest, my nightdress wrinkled, hair tangled from tossing. I felt heavy. Like I'd been buried alive under silk and pressure.

A soft knock broke the quiet.

Before I could answer, the door opened. Narcissa slipped in like a breeze—graceful, delicate, terrifyingly composed.

"Good morning sunshine. You should be getting ready," she said gently. "The dress is here and Pansy's waiting downstairs."

"Of course she is," I muttered.

She didn't scold me for the sarcasm. She only crossed the room and sat at the edge of the bed, brushing a strand of hair from my face like I was her own daughter. That almost hurt more than anything else.

"I know this isn't what you imagined," she said softly. "But there is power in appearances, Harper. Power in playing the part."

I turned to look at her. "And if the part kills me?"

She looked away. "Then make sure they regret it."

The dressing room was glowing in warm candlelight when I entered, the smell of roses and powder thick in the air. Pansy twirled around in her heels, practically bouncing.

"Oh, finally," she said, dragging me to the center of the room. "You look like a ghost. Good thing I brought blush and a glam team."

I didn't argue.

While she ordered the girls to work their magic with makeup brushes and perfume, Narcissa carefully unveiled the dress—pure white lace, cut like liquid moonlight, with fitted sleeves and a low back that looked like it belonged to someone stronger than me. The veil shimmered like frost.

"It's beautiful," I admitted.

"It's armor," Narcissa said.

That word lingered.

Pansy helped me into the gown with gentle hands. Her excitement didn't dim, even as I stood there like a statue. She fastened my dress and then stepped back to admire me.

"You don't even look nervous," she said.

"I'm not." Not nervous. Just numb.

"You're marrying the most eligible bachelor in our world," she added. "Some girls would kill to be you."

And some girls wouldn't have to survive it, I thought. But I only nodded.

Draco didn't knock. He just pushed the door open and stepped in. Narcissa tensed immediately.

"Dracooo. It's bad luck to see the bride," she said sharply.

"I need a moment," he replied, already locking eyes with me. "Alone."

Pansy looked offended. Narcissa looked wary. But after a pause, they both filed out, the door shutting behind them.

We stood in silence for a moment.

"You look..." he began, then stopped. "It doesn't matter. I just—Harper, about last night—"

"Don't." I turned toward the mirror, adjusting my sleeves. "Don't say anything you don't mean."