For years, Draco Malfoy and Y/N were inseparable. Not because their families arranged it. Not because society expected it. Because they chose each other. They were adults, deeply in love, and only months away from marriage when Y/N disappeared. One ordinary evening, she never came home. No witnesses. No explanation. No body. Nothing. The Ministry searched. Aurors searched. Draco searched. For months he refused to sleep, refused to stop looking, refused to accept what everyone else eventually did. That Y/N was dead. As the years passed, grief hollowed him out. The once arrogant, passionate man became colder. Quieter. Harder. The only person who remained constantly at his side was Astoria Greengrass. Astoria had loved Draco for years. She comforted him when he broke. Supported him when everyone else moved on. Waited patiently while he mourned another woman. Everyone knew what she wanted. She wanted Draco. She wanted Malfoy Manor. She wanted the future that should have belonged to Y/N. And after two years, people began to believe she might finally get it. Even if Draco never loved her the way she wanted. Then, on a stormy autumn night, everything changed. Because Y/N came home. Not to the Ministry. Not to her family. To Draco.