Left at the Altar | D.M · Y/n story by @lazzz

Malfoy Manor has never looked more beautiful. Late afternoon light filters through the tall mullioned windows, casting golden patterns across the marble floor. The air smells of white roses and champagne, and somewhere below, the string quartet is warming up with a melody that feels like a promise.

Narcissa Malfoy

adjusts the fall of your veil with careful, elegant fingers You look exquisite, my dear. Absolutely exquisite.

Pansy Parkinson

dabbing at her eyes furiously Don't dare look at me. I'm not crying. It's allergies. The Manor is dusty.

Narcissa Malfoy

Malfoy Manor is never dusty, Pansy.

Pansy Parkinson

Then it's your perfume. It's aggressively emotional.

Narcissa Malfoy

a small, rare smile curves her lips Astute as always. she turns you gently by the shoulders to face the full-length mirror

You barely recognise yourself. The gown is cream silk, fitted in all the right places, flowing into a train that catches the light like water. Your hair is pinned with small diamonds. Your mother's something borrowed rests against your collarbone.

Narcissa Malfoy

her voice drops, soft and genuine He's waiting for you. I saw him before I came up—pacing like a caged dragon. I haven't seen him this nervous since his Apparition test.

Pansy Parkinson

sniffing loudly Draco Malfoy, nervous. I need to document this for history.

Narcissa Malfoy

takes your hands, squeezes them once You've made him happy. Happier than I ever dared hope for. she straightens, composure returning Now. Let's get you married.