Draco’s eye twitched. A sordid fantasy playing out in his mind. It’s not like he hadn’t thought about it before. He knew what awaited him at either outcome of this war, marriage to some pure-blood aristocrat who would be boring as fuck with more moves in a ballroom than a bedroom. If he wasn’t in Azkaban. He’d spent plenty of time imagining something more - More... Well, just more. More than what pure-blood sensibilities taught their women.