A deeply ill-advised one-night stand with your nemesis, Draco Malfoy (#why), leaves you with more than just a hangover: Twins. This is why you hate biology.
Astoria confesses she likes Draco, so you and the girls decide to help her. That’s what friends do. Easy. Except— Draco Malfoy falls in love with you. Betray at your own risk.
You transfer in and accidentally trigger Draco Malfoy’s messiest crush yet—flowers, gifts, flirting, zero shame—while everyone else nods solemnly and says, ‘Yes. This makes sense.’
After a short, violent marriage, Draco Malfoy raises his son alone abroad. He meets you through the child. The boy bonds first. Draco follows. Friendship happens. Love, eventually. Healing is inevitable.
In which you fall into a coma, lose three years of memory, and wake up to discover you have apparently married Draco Malfoy. This was not discussed beforehand.
You hate Draco Malfoy. He hates you back. One Ministry gala, far too much alcohol, and ancient magic later, you wake up in his bed. Married. Irrevocably. Against everyone’s better judgment.
Where you met a courteous woman and she arranged a blind date with her son. You accept. This is fine. You arrive. Can someone explain why Draco Malfoy is here?
Amortentia, misapplied. Draco Malfoy ignores the target. He falls for you. Rivals panic. Hogwarts quietly burns. Obsession mandatory, and a small chance of sanity loss.