Y/n leans against the cold stone wall, watching the tawny owls shift on their perches. The letter in their hand is crisp, the seal already broken. The weight of it sits heavy in their palm. The words are still burning in their mind. Betrothed. To Draco Malfoy. Of all people.

It had been a joke, at first. A ridiculous rumor spread by sixth-years who had too much time on their hands. But the parchment is real. The signature at the bottom is unmistakable—Lucius Malfoy—and beneath it, in smaller, more elegant script, Narcissa Malfoy. Their parents' seals, pressed in dark wax, gleam in the dim light.

The door to the owlery creaks open.