#reader x draco

Pressed against the stone wall behind the library, hidden in the shadows, you felt his fingers tangle in your hair as his lips moved hungrily against yours. Your heart pounded like it always did when he touched you—half from the thrill, half from the guilt.

You broke the one rule your parents gave you. And you broke it over and over again.

You didn’t mean to fall for Draco Malfoy. You really didn’t. He was cold and smug, always armed with some sharp-tongued remark. But there was something about him that you couldn’t shake—something that got under your skin.

Maybe it was the way he looked at you when he thought no one was watching. Or the way he softened, just slightly, when you were alone. Maybe it was the fact that he saw you when so few people did.

Whatever it was, you fell. Hard.

The worst part? You didn’t regret it.

Your relationship wasn’t born from passion—it was born from quiet. From shared detentions, lingering glances, sarcastic bickering that slowly melted into warmth.

It started in fifth year, during a late-night prefect patrol, when you caught Draco staring up at the stars through one of the Astronomy Tower windows.

“I thought you didn’t care about anything that wasn’t gold or pureblood,” you had teased.

“I don’t,” he’d replied, smirking. Then, after a pause:

“Except maybe this.”

He never said what “this” meant. But he didn’t have to.

You kept it hidden. For nearly a year, you and Draco became masters of secrecy. Carefully choreographed exits, notes passed in books, fleeting touches under desks. No one suspected a thing. Not your friends. Not Harry. Not your parents.

Until the day the secret fell apart.

It started with a storm.

You and Draco had snuck off to the boathouse, hoping to escape the castle for an hour. The rain came fast, wind howling against the windows. You lit your wand and wrapped yourselves in a conjured blanket, curled together on the old wooden bench. He kissed you, slow and soft, the way he always did when he was trying not to say something out loud.

And then—click.

You both froze.

In the doorway stood Colin Creevey, camera in hand, eyes wide.

“Colin,” you said, your voice weak. “You can’t—please don’t—”

But he was already running. Already shouting your name and Draco’s down the corridor.

By the time you returned to the castle, the damage was done.

You walked into the Great Hall for dinner and the noise immediately dipped into silence. Dozens of heads turned. Murmurs passed like wildfire through the room.

“Potter’s daughter and Malfoy?”

“James Potter’s going to kill him.”

“Bloody hell, are they serious?”

You held Draco’s hand anyway.

Even though Ron gawked at you like you’d lost your mind. Even though Hermione looked at you like she was calculating seventeen different ways your life was about to fall apart.

Even Harry, sitting at the far end of the Gryffindor table, stood up and walked out the moment you sat down.

He didn't talk to you for a month.

You were dreading the Easter holidays.

The moment you stepped off the train at King’s Cross, the pit in your stomach grew heavier. Your parents were waiting by the barrier, smiling—until they saw you walking hand-in-hand with Draco Malfoy.

James’s smile vanished.

Lily blinked like she was sure she was seeing things.

“Draco,” you said carefully, “maybe I’ll see you later—”

But James was already storming forward.

“Is this a joke?” he snapped. “Please tell me this is some Slytherin dare.”

“Dad—”

“No, no, no, don’t Dad me—you promised. You promised us!”

“I didn’t plan this—”

“Damn right you didn’t!” James shouted, voice cracking. “He’s a Malfoy! Do you have any idea what that family stands for?”

Draco, to his credit, didn’t say a word. He just nodded once at James, then looked at you with something unreadable in his eyes.

“I’ll see you later,” he murmured, and disappeared into the crowd.

Back home, the air was thick with silence.

Lily sat across from you at the kitchen table, her hands wrapped around a cooling cup of tea. James paced by the fireplace like a storm cloud.

“I knew you’d rebel eventually,” James muttered. “But I didn’t think you’d break our one rule.”

“I’m not rebelling,” you said. “I’m in love with him.”

The room froze.

Lily’s eyes softened. “Sweetheart…”

“He’s not Lucius,” you said, voice shaking. “He’s not cruel. He’s not obsessed with bloodlines. He’s nothing like the stories you told us.”

“And what if you’re wrong?” James asked, quieter now. “What if he hurts you?”

“Then he hurts me,” you said. “But at least it’s my choice.”

That night, you lay in your old bed, staring up at the enchanted ceiling James had painted for you when you were little—charmed to mirror the sky above Godric’s Hollow. Stars blinked back at you as your heart twisted with everything left unsaid.

You reached under your bed and pulled out the small, rectangular piece of enchanted slate. A matching one sat in Draco’s room at the Manor. You’d created them together last year in secret—a charmed chalkboard where whatever you wrote appeared on the other’s board in real time. Just one more way to stay close without being caught.

You held the chalk in your hand for a long moment, unsure what to say. But then, your fingers moved instinctively.

Are you still there?

A few seconds passed.

Then, slowly, a response appeared, the words etching themselves across the slate in Draco’s neat, angular handwriting:

I’m still here. If you still want me.

Your breath caught.

You smiled softly, heart aching with everything you felt and everything you chose.

You pressed the chalk to the board again.

Always.

You were told to never go near a Malfoy. But you did.

And now?

You’re not going back.

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

You heard him before he knocked.

It was the way the castle shifted — the whisper of footsteps in the corridor, the pause outside your door, the way the air felt heavy all of a sudden. Your heart beat faster, like it knew.

And then: one soft knock.

You were already at the door.

Draco stood just outside, his shoulders hunched, fists jammed deep into his robes. His hair was a mess — not windswept or charmingly tousled, just messy, like he’d been pacing for hours, running his hands through it without realizing.

He didn’t look at you.

“I shouldn’t be here,” he said.

“You are.”

That was all it took. His chest rose with a shaky breath, and he stepped inside, brushing past you like it hurt to be seen.

He stood in the middle of your room like a boy lost in the wrong memory.

You watched him carefully. He didn’t sit. Didn’t speak. Just pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose like it might hold back the weight behind his eyes.

“I couldn’t sleep.”

You waited. Let him come to you in his own time.

“I kept hearing it,” he said. “The screaming. The silence after.”

Your chest ached.

“They made me watch.” His voice cracked. “They told me not to move. That it was better that way.”

“Draco—”

“I stood there like I was made of stone,” he said, sharper now. “Like I wasn’t shaking. Like I didn’t want to scream and tear it all down just to make it stop.”

He turned to you. Finally.

And his eyes— gods, his eyes.

There was so much there: guilt, fear, fury — but beneath it, grief. That aching, helpless kind that never really leaves.

“I hate this,” he whispered. “I hate that they think I’m like them. That I’m meant to be like them.”

You crossed the room slowly, carefully — like approaching something fragile. Your arms went around him before he could pull away. Before he could tell you he was fine.

Because he wasn’t.

And you knew.

Draco didn’t move at first. Didn’t breathe. Then slowly, slowly, his arms wrapped around your back, squeezing you like you were the only thing keeping him from coming undone.

“I don’t know how to fix it,” he said. “I don’t know how to be who you think I am.”

“You don’t have to be,” you whispered. “You’re enough. Even when you’re breaking.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you. His eyes were glassy now, rimmed in red.

“You see something in me I can’t.”

“I see you,” you said. “Even when you’re hiding from yourself.”

He leaned his forehead against yours, voice raw.

“I can’t breathe without you.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Draco kissed you like he was scared to fall apart mid-way through. His lips were trembling, soft, more desperate than demanding. His hands curled into your jumper, like he couldn’t bear the thought of letting go.

When he kissed you again, slower this time, something cracked in his chest — a sound like a breath breaking in half.

You guided him gently down onto your bed, not because he asked — but because he didn’t have to. You held him as he lay beside you, curled toward your warmth, arms tangled with yours, face buried in the hollow of your throat like he could hide there forever.

You felt it when the tears came.

Silent, slow. He didn’t make a sound. But you held him tighter anyway. Ran your fingers through his hair. Whispered his name into the dark like a vow.

And when he finally slept — breath evening, grip on your waist loosening just slightly — you stayed awake a little longer. Just to be sure.

Because he only let himself fall apart when no one was watching.

And tonight, he let it be you.

“draco, these are the (ylns), they're from America and planning to put (yn) in hogwarts. ” narcissa introduced, Astoria took a look at (yn) and saw draco was at awe, he look like as if he had drinked a love potion, or perhaps a drugged puppy. “hi, I'm (yn)” (yn) greeted with a soft smile, her hair framed her face perfectly.

She looked like a princess.

Before astoria knew it, draco and (yn) were already gone.

She assumed that, they were just talking.. And building a friendship together.

But only within a few months, she soon found out they weren't just “friends”

·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ ✩. ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙

Astoria decided to visit draco, and tell him about the news she had received, she found out that she was cursed, or had a blood curse to be exact.

When she was about to knock on his bedroom, she heard two familiar giggles.

“yknow, your really good at piano.” draco complimented at the girl, “thanks, my pops taught me when I was 9” she giggled.

Astoriaʼs heart cracked, she never seen draco happy with her like that, she wanted to tear the close pair apart and tell draco the news. But he looked so happy, she didn't wanna break that.

So, she left the manor without telling draco the news.

·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ ✩. ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙

Months passed and now they were back at hogwarts, ready to learn. Astoria hoped that draco and her would be close again and this (yn) business would be over.

she was wrong.

the first day, she stepped in the grand hall draco was hovering over (yn), “hi, baby.. and (yln.)” Astoria greeted, but once turned to (yn) and faked a smile. “hey tori, remember (yn) from the party? she's attending hogwarts now!” draco said excitedly.

(yn) didn't look pleased, she thought that draco was single, and all ready to be wrapped under her finger. But she respected their 'relationship'

“hey! Your Astoria Greengrass right? Daphne ʼs younger sister?” Astoria looked at the girl with flames burning in her iris, she is pissed just to be in (yn)ʼs presence.

“yep, that's me...” She said, looking down at her shoes as if they were the most important thing in the world. “well, we've gotta go now.. See you around baby.” draco said as he kissed her forehead and grabbed (yn)ʼs wrist excitedly.

Astoria didn't notice that they left, she was busy getting something from her bag to show to draco.

“actually dray, I need to tell you somethi—” she was greeted with a whole lot nothing, that bastard left her.

“great,he left me again.”

·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ ✩. ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙

as months and months pass by, so does draco’s and astoria’s relationship grow distant each second, astoria was heart broken she couldn't have draco to herself for just 5 minutes.

all she just wanted to do is to tell him that she's going to die soon, and just love him before she dies.

she sighed and and went to dracos dorm to atleast ask him out on a date since its their 1st year anniversary, before she could knock she heard 2 moans.

draco slammed his length to her core making the two forbidden couple moan loudly at the action.

“(yn), please fuck- you feel so amazing..” draco moaned as he placed sloppy kisses onto her naked body.

“draco..can i cum please?..” the girl pleaded, she looked so gorgeous under draco right now, her hair was all over the place, and hickeys were littered onto her body.

“okay, cum with me baby.” draco said as he sped up his pace, as the two couple came draco said something that broke astoria’s heart into millions of pieces.

“i love you.”

that was fucking it, how dare he just fuck this girl and leave astoria, and top it all off on their anniversary.

·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ ✩. ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙

today was the day, she was gonna break up with draco. the next day when astoria found out that draco fucked (yn) he sat next to astoria as if nothing happened.

she saw the flirty tension between (yn) and draco. and draco still puts his hand onto astoria’s thigh?!

....

she just cant put up with him anymore, astoria stood up and left the grand hall. draco being the curious boy he is, followed astoria shortly.

“astoria where are you going?” draco asked quietly. Astoria turned to the blonde and shot daggers at him.

“away from you.”

draco was stunned why? he held asotria’s hand. “why are you avoiding me my love, if its about our anniversary look im sor—” astoria cuts him off and grabs her hand away from his.

“dont act so innocent ‘my love’ i know what you did with (yln), You fucked her in OUR bed, and on OUR anniversary!” she practically barked at him.

draco looked at her as if she was a ghost.

“oh, so you know?” he switched his tone from a loving caring boyfriend, to a cold, sharp voice.

“yes, i do know.. infact i know alot of things you don't know yet.” astoria said, crossing her arms.

“oh yeah? what is it?” draco replied with a challenging tone. “i- i have the blood curse.” astoria blurted out.

if this draco was still the old draco where astoria fell inlove with, he would've cared, he would've comforted astoria. but no, draco changed overtime.

“im sorry to hear that greengrass, but its none of my business now. since were over y'know?” draco said shrugging his arms.

“merlin! god you are so difficult, i tried months and months to have you JUST for five minutes to tell you about the curse but you ALWAYS cling to (yln). Are you even the boy i loved?!”

draco looked at her blankly, the old shine in his eyes that used to be there for Astoria is now gone.

“astoria, im sorry but i love (yn) now.”

taglist :: @dracoslittleangel @imabee-oralizard @f4iryluvy @lilytoyourjames @siriusblackstwin @thehalfbloodedwitch @blackthunder137

Hermione just pursed her lips, shifting them nervously to the side of her face and squinting her eyes against the rays of golden light which cascaded over the two.

“Well, I mean,” Hermione began carefully, “had you not thought about that before? Cedric, I mean.”

The girl tucked a lip between her teeth, letting her eyes find a busibodied lady bug to stare at, rather than Hermione. She’d thought about that question herself the last week. And yet, even after mulling it over in her brain, the answer seemed shrouded in a sort of fog.

“He’d been with Cho for two years,” she shrugged. “And before that, I mean, we were still kids. I guess, well- I’ve always liked him of course. But I guess by the time the thought of him occurred to me -- like that -- Ced was no longer mine to keep. Y’know? So I never even considered dwelling on the fact.”

Hermione nodded, deep in thought.

“I understand,” she said at last.

“You do?” the girl raised a brow.

Now it was Hermione who had suddenly become fascinated in looking in the other direction. Though the Gryffindor let the words pass her lips as if they were nothing more than a general observation, the prickle of pink in her cheeks told Y/N that a certain ginger was involved.

“Yes,” she reaffirmed. “And I think… I think sometimes, with things like this, you don’t have to know exactly what you're doing, or why you feel certain ways. In fact, most people don’t.”

Her big brown eyes were on her friend now, and she let them hang there for a second before turning frustratedly away. Desperate for a new topic, Hermione shoved her hands in the crimson laced pockets of her robes, letting the only sound be that of the birds and the nearing fountain.

“Anyways,” she detoured awkwardly, “what about Draco?”

The girl felt her heart stop.

“What?”

“Your detention,” Hermione stated obviously. “It’s tomorrow, right?”

Her heart lurched back to life.

“Right, yeah,” she responded.

Hermione shook her head with a chuckle.

“You and Harry,” she laughed, “both the same. Both obsessed with getting to the root of evil in the ever mysterious Draco Malfoy.

Hermione had said it with a bit of a ghostly “oooh,” finding humour in mocking what she thought to be a rather odd fascination with the blond.

“Whatever,” the girl scrunched her nose, giving her friend a knock to her shoulder. “He’s had some karma due for a long time.”

Hermione giggled, knocking her right back, “you aren’t wrong.”

. . .

If matters weren’t already bad, the news that Y/N’s detention with her sour-faced arch nemesis would be chaperoned by none other than Professor Snape himself certainly did it for her. Something told her, strangely, that this was an intentional choice on behalf of the greasy haired dingbat. On the night of her detention, the girl scarfed down a bacon sandwich and departed from the Great Hall early, as she was not particularly in the mood to spend her remaining time avoiding eye contact with her best friend. On her way out, however, she was stopped by none other than Harry Potter.

“Oi!” the jet black haired boy hollered as he paced quickly behind his friend.

The girl, only a few feet out of the doors, turned.

Her friend’s black hair was a mess over his bright green eyes and crooked glasses. The recently lit flames of the hall’s torches cast a golden glow across his glimmering gaze.

“Harry,” she sighed half-heartedly.

The boy-who-lived straightened his glasses on his nose as he came to a stop, the two comrades meeting each other just outside of the Hall.

“Y/N,” he flashed his white teeth, “how are you feeling?”

The girl rolled her eyes in silent reply.

“Right,” he chuckled, “I assumed as much.”

She gave a half hearted laugh, feeling exhausted as she brushed the hair from her eyes and awaited Harry’s incoming inquiry.

“Erm, look,” he started slowly. “Remember when I advised that you mend things with Draco?”

She felt her face flush, “yeah, erm, sorry about that. I only made matters worse for us, didn’t I?”

“Not really,” Harry shrugged, “worked out quite well actually.”

“What d’you mean?” she lifted a brow, staring intently into her friend’s wide green eyes.

“I mean you’re stuck in a room with the git for two hours tonight,” Harry grinned. “Was hoping you might fish something out of him.”

“Like?” she puzzled aloud.

“Like--” he paused, lowering his voice to a whisper, “--how I’ve seen him buggering off on the map at night. Or how, beneath his robes, I know there’s a serpent on his wrist.”

The girl thought back to her first night back at the school, during which she’d bumped into the blond whilst he was walking lonesome laps around the school. Then she thought back to his arms, not that she’d looked at them or anything. But, as far as the dark mark went, there was simply no way to prove his theory.

“I’m not sure the map means anything, Harry,” she admitted nervously. “And what would I say, anyways? Or do? I want to help, I really do. But it just feels as if there’s no way for me to prove anything. Especially given that he has no trust in me.”

Harry paused, “actually, about that. I’ve thought of something.”

The boy reached into the pockets of his robes, hesitantly procuring a small vial from the folds of the fabric. Within its glass container was the familiar sparkling gold liquid she knew to be Felix Felicis.

Her mouth fell, “surely you don’t intend for me to use this?!”

“Not exactly,” Harry smiled knowingly.

The girl raised an inquisitive brow.

“Leverage,” he stated. “If Draco really is up to something then he’ll be wanting this more than anything right about now, don’t you think?”

She nodded.

“So if he knows you have it...” Harry began.

“He’ll have something to gain from playing nice,” she realized.

He nodded slowly, pressing the potion into the girl's opened palm. His magnificent green eyes sparkled with cunning.

“You’re quite clever,” the girl breathed, impressed.

Harry shrugged, a slow smirk steady on his face, “only selectively.”

“But Harry,” she said, “are you really willing to give this up? For him I mean?”

Harry glanced around, leaning in with a sly smile, “I never said this was real.”

Her mouth fell, “you haven’t.”

“I have,” he pressed his tongue to his cheek. “But Malfoy doesn’t need to know that, does he?”

“It won’t work then,” she stated. “It won’t work if he tries to use it. And he’ll find out eventually, won’t he?”

The boy shrugged once more, “hopefully it won’t matter by the time he does. We’ll already have everything we need to know.”

Harry was leaning back now, his heel already turned as he prepared to depart.

“Wait, one more thing!” she stopped him.

He paused, shoving a hand through his messy black mop of hair.

“I’ll never get a moment in with him,” she realized. “Not with Snape around at least.”

Her friend smiled, “you won’t have to worry about that.”

“What?” she replied confusedly.

To this, the boy-who-lived only grinned and disappeared, leaving Y/N desperately confused with her thoughts.

For a moment she simply stood there in the silence. Then the girl chuckled and folded the little vial into the warm yellow folds of her pocket. She stuffed her hands into her robes as she made her quiet descent towards the Hufflepuff Common Room. The hard stone floors slapped under the sounds of her worn boots as she went, playing over how the events of the night may go over in her head. She went through about twelve scenarios by the time she’d dropped off her bag, shed her cloak, and stood before her golden plated mirror. She sighed with mild frustration, thinking first of changing into something comfortable but deciding to stay in her white button up and black skirt on second thought, when she remembered Snape would certainly have something sour to say about it if she did. That is, if he was in fact hosting her detention. The girl hastily plucked her Prefect’s Pin from her robe and attached it just above her right breast. Showcasing her even miniscule power of authority to the professor made her feel a hair better. Then, making her exit, she slipped her bendy wand into her left boot, fluffed her hair with her fingers, and departed.

She’d been told to meet in the school’s Trophy Room, no doubtedly meaning she’d been tasked with polishing and cleaning the grimy and dust ridden awards that’d been long abandoned in the school’s glass cases. It wasn’t riveting, but it surely wasn’t as bad as Harry’s trip into the Forbidden Forest in her first year, she thought with a little smile. She passed by her friends on the way there, and they gave her a set of thumbs up and a slap to the back for good luck. That was, except for Cedric, who looked ever forlorn as he brushed wordlessly by. She tried ignoring the frustrating pang that was sent to her chest as a result, but it was near impossible. That ache stayed with her down the stairs and all the way into her detention. By the time she’d arrived in the isolated little nook of the castle, Draco was already there.

The room was square shaped, with massive ceilings and ornate stone architectural beams that connected it to the cream slab floors. A select few lamps trickled from above her, dangling on loose metal chains. There was a single dimly lit fireplace mantle, upon which the largest and most decorative trophies sat, and around which were dozens of oak chests and cupboards overflowing with student achievements. Snape had magically fashioned himself a scratchy old table, from which he peered over his hook nose at the blond boy before him. Draco had swapped his robes for black dress pants and a tightly buttoned black long sleeve. She couldn’t make out his face, however, for it was turned to the professor. The two men were deep in what appeared to be an argumentative conversation when she entered.

“...don’t need your help,” Draco had spat when she appeared in the doorway.

“You don’t get to make the decisions, boy.”

For a moment, neither took notice. Then slowly, the greasy haired professor tilted his head up, his black eyes glittering.

Bothered by her untimely interruption, he drawled, “you’re early.”

Draco turned now. His snow white skin was as pale as ever, and his huge icy eyes looked upset. The normally perfectly sculpted hair atop his flawless face was slightly disheveled. The dark colors and messy flare about him suited the boy incredibly well.

“Sorry,” she shifted, eyes narrowing, “shall I come back three days from now?”

She hadn’t meant to say it. But she couldn’t help being such a way around Snape. Instantly, her cheeks flushed in embarrassment.

“Five points from Hufflpuff,” he decided curtly.

She cursed under her breath, to which the professor raised a brow.

“Shall it be another five?” he dared.

“No,” she huffed in quiet defeat.

“No, sir,” he corrected.

Her eyes flickered from Snape’s bug-like black eyes to Draco’s mesmerizing periwinkle ones. He still looked mad, that much was true, but a spark of amusement danced across his white brow. Whether he enjoyed her suffering or her torment of the professor, she couldn’t tell. Maybe it was both.

“No, sir,” she said through her teeth, her eyes still on Malfoy’s.

At the sound of her words, the smallest of grins tickled the edges of the pale boy’s mouth.

Severus Snape stood, “your wands.”

Draco whirled around. The two students frowned in dislike.

“You won’t be needing them to brush up the candelabra,” he stated.

Reluctantly, the two pattered forward and reached for their magical instruments.

But, before they could hand over their wands, the trio was interrupted.

“Ah, Professor Snape! I do suppose you didn’t receive word of the night’s change?”

Horace Slughorn stood in the entrance of the trophy room. That day, he’d chosen to wear an aggressively unattractive brown suit with a striped bowtie. He looked rather like the old sofa chairs in the Common Room, she thought. The frog-like man wore an excited grin as he entered.

Snape did little to hide his sour expression, “Horace, what brings you by?”

Slughorn’s beady little blue eyes couldn’t refrain from looking at the girl, but he assured, unconvincingly, that it was nothing in particular.

“...assumed the role of watcher for tonight,” he’d been saying. “I had Albus switch around our posts, you needn’t worry.”

“And why might that be?” Snape drawled slowly.

“Ah well, I know you’re a busy man, Severus. I’d be happy to stand in.”

Happy certainly wasn’t the word Snape embodied, it seemed. Yet, he’d barely opened his cold white lips to respond before the plump little man cut him off.

“Dumbledore approved,” he beamed awkwardly.

At the name of the headmaster, Snape went still.

“I see,” he grimaced.

Again, Slughorn’s focus flitted excitedly over to the girl. Beside her, Draco seemed to take notice.

“Well,” Snape mouthed coldly, “I suppose you will carry on your detention under the supervision of Professor Slughorn, then.”

“Always a pleasure!” Slughorn yelled over his shoulder as Severus Snape disappeared in a billow of his black robes.

Of course, not a word was said back. Instead, the group was met only with the sound of the room’s door slamming obnoxiously behind Snape. Above them, the lanterns swung from the ceilings, a result of the aftershock.

For a moment after the fact, the girl, Draco, and Slughorn all just… stood.

Then-- “my dear girl if I could have just a moment with you.”

Y/N raised her brows curiously, letting out a heavy sigh and reluctant nod, “yes professor.”

Slughorn reached a little hand forward to guide her towards the abandoned little desk at the front of the chamber, but then he froze in his tracks momentarily.

“Oh, my boy,” Slughorn addressed Draco, “begin wherever you please.”

The girl shot her eyes over to the snow white boy. His searing blue gaze was narrowed in judgment as he nodded curtly and turned on his heel. Given no seating and no real direction, he sort of just wandered about the room until he found the most empty corner he could. A bucket with soft cloths and soapy water sat abandoned in the centre of the room. From there, Draco grabbed a towelette and took the left side, presumably hoping the girl would later stay far from him, on the right. His face was totally expressionless as he plucked up the first battered silver ornament he saw and began half-heartedly scrubbing at it. From the corner of his eye, he watched the two.

“Do sit,” Slughorn mumbled, frazzled.

The teacher whisked a chair to life before the scrappy desk, the legs of the thing bumping the girl straight into its frame. She let out a little gasp of air as she was forcibly placed before the rather guilty looking man.

“Miss Y/L/N,” he opened his mouth nervously, “I’m going to tell you something that you might not know.”

The girl ran her tongue across her teeth, thinking. Somehow she knew exactly what his next words would be.

“In all truth, I took up this post tonight because I’d wanted to get a moment alone with you,” he continued, sinking down into his own magically procured seat.

“Did you?’ she feigned surprise, her hands folding neatly across her lap.

“Well, yes,” he said with a jitter. “You see, I wanted to apologize for my behaviour the other night. At the party, you remember?”

“I do recall it, yes,” she said, struggling to maintain interest.

“Yes, well,” he stumbled, “I really shouldn’t’ve asked about your parents in such a way. It was quite rude wasn’t it?”

She felt her stomach lurch uncomfortably, “I suppose so.”

“Yes, well,” he repeated again, “I shouldn’t’ve. And I wanted to apologize for my manners.”

She nodded slowly, her mind racing as she slid the pieces of this easily solved puzzle together in her head.

“And was it you or Harry who came to that conclusion?”

Of course he’d done it. It was incredibly like Harry James Potter to manipulate his easily swayed professor into trading out spots with Snape in exchange for his good graces. She wasn’t sure if she should be impressed with Harry or frustrated with her professor. Seeing Slughorn’s ghostly white face, though, she made up her mind.

“Only kidding,” she beamed.

It took him a moment of processing, and then, like a light switch, he flickered back into motion, the most mildly terrified smile one could imagine erupting on his lips.

The professor wheezed, letting out a forced bellow of laughter, “yes, very good, very funny dear girl.”

Y/N smiled, a real and genuine smile. It was quite funny, after all.

The professor gave her a little pat to the shoulder and ushered her off and far away from him with a quickly wavering smile, which was instead making room for an expression of flustered panic. The girl chuckled to herself as she turned, watching as Draco Malfoy, from across the room, hurriedly moved his nose in the opposite direction. With her coasts clear and Slughorn on her good side, she could approach the boy in that very moment, if she wanted. However, that very thought, funnily enough, sent a jolt to her heart and had the girl blasting off to the left side of the room. How, even with a path cleared for her, was nearing this boy so difficult?

Hastily, the girl plucked up a soap soaked rag and began cleaning the first trophy she laid eyes on; a largely faded bronze one. Between the time in which she scrubbed down the bronze trophy, the silver one she did next, and the gold one after that, practically nothing happened. Her eyes, for the most part, were on him only. But it was clear to her that if the boy did see her, watching, he had no intention of showing it. From across the room, the girl’s inquisitive eyes trailed up and down his thin and slender frame. She noticed the water that dripped down from his cloth, over his long silver ring-clad fingers, and down onto his moistened black shirt. Still, despite the cold and wet sogginess that clung to his cuffs, the boy kept his sleeves firmly up. And, if he saw her looking, he gave no indication of it. On her next trip back to the room’s center, with a strategy in mind, she traced Draco’s steps, aligning her movements to his so that they both met in the middle of the room.

His eyes were stone cold and filled with dislike, his pale rose lips bent and his jaw clenched at the mere sight of her face. The two were silent as they sank, in sync, onto their knees and before the bucket. There was water dripping from Draco’s skin as he soaked his cloth; a stark contrast to her. She, with her sleeves half rolled to her elbows. After what was arguably an uncomfortable enough amount of time, the boy met her inquisitive stare and snapped quietly at the girl.

“What are you looking at?” he snarled under his breath.

She could smell that scent of mint and dark cologne wafting from his chest, and the aggravating haze it sent through her lungs made it hard for her to think straight.

Her eyes darted up to his, her mouth hanging open but no words coming out.

With one hand in the wooden bucket before them, he sunk down to re-soak his cloth. Mimicking him, she did the same, but turned in towards him with her back to the professor so that he might not suspect them. As she crouched near the floor, her elbow brushed Draco’s, and the two both flinched at each other’s touch. He fired a nasty look her way and prepared to stand.

“Wait,” she said through her teeth.

His eyes grew, if possible, even colder.

“What?” he projected flatly.

“I want to speak to you,” she admitted nervously, to which his eyes narrowed further yet.

Draco’s lips twitched in mock amusement, his head tilted as he murmured, “you lit me on fire.”

Well, he wasn’t wrong, and that answer alone had the girl at an unsurprising loss for words. So, as Draco scoffed, scowling bitterly and moving to stand, she did the only thing she could think to do. Water went pouring over the cracked stone floors and over the duo’s fronts and feet, the feeling cold and awfully unpleasant. Draco gaped and let an audible grunt of surprise loose from his shell-pink lips. The bucket containing the soapy water went rolling dramatically over the gray stones, and the girl did her best to feign her own surprise at the incident as Slughorn came stumbling over.

“Oh dear girl, clumsier than your mother you are,” he giggled to himself as he teetered towards the two.

“I’m so sorry professor,” she stuttered, letting her lashes flutter. “I hadn’t meant to!”

Slughorn and his awful suit came into view as he waved a small hand through the musty air.

“Not to worry dear, a simple water charm will have us going again-” he began.

“Er- no!” she called.

Slughorn stopped and tilted his wrinkly little face up to hers, his blue eyes crinkling in confusion.

“I think it’s better if we just go fill it up ourselves in the bathroom,” she stumbled quickly. “After all, we were instructed not to use magic in our detention.

Slughorn paused thoughtfully before answering, “very well, dear. Right you are. Very good.”

It was at this moment that Draco, who was practically shaking with rage, opened his thin lips in protest. However, not a syllable had escaped him before Slughorn cut him off.

“Perhaps it will be good for you two to take a stroll, in fact. Maybe it will strengthen the bond? After all, these house feuds really are quite silly, don’t you think?” he babbled excitedly as he stumbled back over to the scraggly wooden desk.

The blond turned towards his nemesis slowly, and the look he wore said she may not be making it back to detention alive. His black clothes stuck to his drenched body, his lower lip quivering with rage and his eyes searing with hatred. His hands shook like they were itching for a wand that he could not procure, and he watched furiously as the girl he despised hurriedly knelt before him and scooped up the bucket before clacking quickly out of the room.

She hurried out into the torch-lit corridor, heart racing and feet matching accordingly as she sped down the deserted hall. The last sixty seconds and the absolute absurdity of her following decisions were now hitting her full force, and she had no time to process an adequate response before the accompanying sounds of heavy footfalls began behind her.

“Y/N,” Draco snapped, matching her pace.

She kept walking, her hair flying before  her halo face as she brewed together her next set of words. Her short skirt swung round her hips and her fingers toyed at their edges as she moved.

“Y/N,” he said again, barking the name loudly this time.

She ignored his calls once more, deciding against responding until she was safely out of sight of passerbyers and in the confines of the nearby lower-level girls bathroom. Draco was catching up now, his shoes loud and demanding as he cried her name. She was almost sprinting by the time she whirled round the corner and into the abandoned facility. It was a small room, with only a few empty stands, whose wooden panels were painted a now peeling olive green. Lining the stone walls were perfectly shined white tiles which sparkled under the light of the torch speckled walls. The entranceway was like a large half oval arch, beside which three perfectly polished sinks stood. The girl had barely gained a grasp of her surroundings before she heard her name again, only this time it was immediate to her body.

She stopped dead in her tracks, turning slowly to face the snow-white boy. His long fingers were tucked into his pockets as he strode over to her, enveloped with a rage so thick she could almost see it. It was as if black tendrils of smoke curled from the boy’s feet and legs. His beautifully sloped nose was bent down towards her petite face as he came to a stop and towered over her, his cool minty breath sending shockwaves through her flesh. He stopped mere inches from her, his chest heaving with heavy breaths as he uttered his next word quietly.

“Explain,” he dared.

Knowing no words would satisfy him now, she did the only thing she could think to do, and procured a small golden vial from within the pocket of her white blouse. The Felix Felicis. Draco, of course, recognized it immediately. Those gorgeous ice colored eyes doubled in size, his head tilting in awe as he observed what he so desperately wanted. His long white fingers escaped his pockets as he instinctively reached for the vial, but the girl snapped it back towards her chest before he could seize it. Now, his eyes were back on hers.

Of all the words he could have chosen, his first were “give that to me.”

“No,” she fired back instantly. And then, soothing the blow, “not yet.”

Draco paused, looking her over momentarily before making up his mind. A hand grabbed her left shoulder, and then another grabbed her right. Before she had a moment to yelp in surprise, Draco, being far stronger than the girl, hurriedly forced her into the corner of the bathroom, where, with no hesitation, he slammed her back against the sleek white tiles. A high-pitched gasp blew from her front as she felt her bones contact with the surface, and her loosened grip allowed for the potion to slip from her thin fingers and towards the ground. With his lightning fast seeker instincts, Draco bent down to scoop the vial from the folds of the air. And, with her brutal beater instincts, she beat him to it with a blow of her knee to his chest. A puff of air escaped him as he stumbled back, the Felix Felicis going clattering to the floor, but still intact. There was a moment of silence where the two looked first at the vial, and then at each other. And then, they were flying once more. The girl dove towards the tile floors, but the slytherin’s foot met her hand before it could seize the thing, and she hissed responsively in pain and clutched her wound to the floor. Then, as she crumbled, he plucked the vial up with his left hand, and her throat with his right. From the ground, he wrapped a set of cool ring-clad fingers round her exposed neck, and with the strength of his grip alone, raised her from the ground and back against the wall, where he pinned her head gently back against the tile once more. This time he was soft, holding his prey up like it was nothing heavier than a feather. The victor’s chest was heaving with air, lips curled up with satisfaction now, and light icy eyes glittering.

His throat rumbled happily as he hummed quietly, “good.”

His arms, still wet from the water, were damp against her exposed flesh. The girl’s hand and head ached with terrible pain, but she’d not had a moment to react before a voice sounded from outside the bathroom.

“Er, everything good in there?” a male student’s voice sounded with concern.

Apparently their ruckus had sounded up quite the storm.

The girl's eyes darted to the hall, then back to Malfoy’s. His head tilted to the left in silent challenge as he shook it softly in reply to her questioning. Slowly, he edged himself forward until his wet chest was pressed nearly against her own drenched clothes, and her breathing became so ragged and nervous at the feeling of his proximity that she could feel her breasts colliding to his front with each heaving breath she took. This did not perturb the boy in the slightest. His eyes flickered down at their touch momentarily before rejoining her at eye-level. Silently, he squeezed at her throat, just a little tighter, so as to trap her garbled speech within her mouth. He snapped his head towards the door as he held her like that for a few more seconds. That was, until the baffled student muttered incoherently to himself and headed back along his way. Draco let the silence pass a moment further before turning his sharp jaw and high cheekbones back to his subject of interest. His eyes glittered with ravenous interest as he released his grip ever so slightly.

“You’ll be nice and quiet if I let you go?” he murmured lowly.

The girl, sucking in a delicious gulp of the cold fresh air, released a strangled noise of confirmation.

Draco smirked, his lips twitching tentatively, “good girl.”

And he released her fully. The girl dropped to the balls of her feet and heaved in the cool air and dark scent wafting from Draco Malfoy’s chest. Her head swam, her knuckles ached, and above all, her stomach churned. Why? For the words he’d rewarded her with gave her this sickly rolling sensation in her stomach that she couldn’t quite explain. He stood there still, his chest welcoming every knock of her own gladly. She did not move, however.

When she could finally speak, she said this: “you’re vile, Malfoy.”

This made him laugh. A cold, bemused laugh.

“Me?” he challenged, hurmoring her. “Me, Y/N? Was it not you who has done nothing but terrorize me at every opportunity you’ve had since I saw you on the train this year?”

Her lips twisted with sour disdain, “I wanted to help you. All I’ve wanted is to help you.”

“Yeah?” he raised a pale brow, lifting the glimmering gold liquid before her eye, “is that why you tried to goad me with this? This, which you intended to keep?”

She huffed in frustration, “I needed to know I could trust you first.”

“Trust?” he narrowed his eyes with amusement, snatching the vial back. “Why would I want your trust?”

“You don’t seem to have anyone else’s,” she shot back coolly.

Draco’s hand flew up institicely, shaking. Refraining himself, however, he only brought it up to her face. The boy’s cool silver rings grazed the girl’s cheek as he swept the hairs which touched her cheek back and up, and pulled them behind her ear. She shivered beneath his touch. His fingertips formed a C shape as they trailed alongside her earlobe, back to her cheek, and under her chin, where he creeped into the hold of her jaw and forced her large eyes up so as to get a better look at her. She did her best to hold a stiff stance and steady scowl, but the quivering of her own form was evident in the cup of his long white fingers. His curious eyes flickered many times between her stare before sliding down the bridge of her little nose and to her quivering lips. It was to them that he spoke.

“Is that all you want from me then?” he whispered, so low she could barely make it out. “My trust?”

She felt her body trembling against his own, her words having to claw themselves up and out of her suddenly bone-dry throat. She had grown used to Draco and his leers, but never yet the proximity of his body to hers. The voice which had taunted her for years from a distance was now a mere breath away from her fluttering lashes. And that slender physicality, normally slumped back in disinterest, was slumped forward against her own.

“Yes,” she managed at last, softly.

Draco stared at her open mouth for several moments in silence. Then his gaze darted back to hers, and he let loose a laugh. It was a mixture between cruel and genuine, and his lips curled, revealing his jutted paper white canines as he did so. It started low at first, and then grew by the moment into a confident, sick laugh. He even let his head fall back, blond hairs cascading over his sharp features as his noise faded out into a gentle rumble of amusement. Then, he bent his crooked neck back towards the girl, the remnants of a grin gripping at the corners of his flush lips.

“You hufflepuff’s really are bad liars,” he murmured at last, letting his fingers slide from the tip of the girl’s chin, down her throat, and off of her body.

Her body was on fire. With rage? With pain? No. No, this was something else entirely. There was something dangerous in him, something electric between them, and her refusal to admit the fact only amused the blond further.

“You say all you want is my trust,” he sighed, dipping those long glittering fingers into his black pockets. “That starts with letting me keep the liquid luck.”

Her mouth trembled as the boy stepped back, her brows raising in slight panic.

“If you trust me, then prove it,” he dared. “Let me keep it first, and then you may ask your questions. Do we have a deal?”

Still at a loss for words, the girl gave a defeated nod.

He seemed to enjoy that. Seeing her speechless. Draco’s lips twitched with interest, and he ran his tongue briefly over them before turning his slender frame away. As he stalked away, like a large cat, his voice drew quietly out from behind him.