Baking

Baking

summary: you and azriel bake a cake for your son's birthday.

warnings: none?

word count: 306.

You and Azriel were in the kitchen, baking a cake for your son's 2nd birthday. The two of you were like a well-oiled machine, working together seamlessly to measure out ingredients and mix them together in perfect harmony.

As you worked, you chatted and laughed with your mate, reminiscing. Azriel couldn't help but admire you as you mixed the batter, covered in flour but the happiest he'd seen you in a while, your hair falling in loose waves around your face and your eyes sparkling with joy.

"So," he said, leaning in closer to you, placing a kiss on your forehead. "Are you going to let me lick the bowl when we're done?"

You laughed, a musical sound that made Azriel's heart skip a beat. "I don't know, Az," you teased. "You might have to fight me for it."

Azriel grinned, his eyes flickering with amusement. "I'm up for the challenge," he said, winking at you.

You worked together in silence for a few moments, your movements fluid and synchronized. As you poured the batter into the cake pan, Azriel reached out and took your hand, his thumb tracing small circles on your palm.

"Thank you for doing this with me," he said softly. "I love spending time with you."

You smiled; your cheeks flushed with happiness. "I love spending time with you too," you replied, squeezing his hand gently before bringing it up and kissing his scars.

As the cake baked in the oven, you and Azriel set to work on the frosting. You worked together to whip the butter and sugar together, your movements slow and deliberate, stopping once in a while to check the cookbook Feyre lent you.

As you worked, Azriel couldn't help but steal glances at you. He loved the way your eyes crinkled when you smiled, and the way your lips curved into a perfect bow.

"Hey," he said suddenly, breaking the silence between you. "Do you remember the first time we baked together?"

Your eyes lit up with fond remembrance. "Of course I do," you replied. "It was that apple pie we made for your mother's birthday."

Azriel chuckled, shaking his head, the memory still fresh in his mind. "Yeah, we burnt the crust so badly she had to hack at it with a kitchen knife."

You giggled, your laughter ringing through the kitchen. "But it was still delicious," you said. "And we had so much fun making it."

Azriel nodded, his eyes softening as he looked at you. "We always have fun together," he said. "No matter what we're doing."

You smiled at him, your eyes shining with love. "I know," you said. "And I wouldn't want to do this with anyone else. I wouldn't want to be mated to anyone else, Azriel."

As you finished frosting the cake and placed it in the fridge to cool, Azriel pulled you into his arms, his lips meeting yours in a soft, tender kiss.

"I love you," he murmured.

Faking it (pt 1)

summary: you and draco agree to fake date - (eventual) friends to lovers.

warnings: contains angst, pining and definitely inaccuracies mentioning potions.

word count: 1655.

“Just a bit longer, love,” Draco whispers, mouth close to your ear, making your position seem more intimate than it was. Or maybe it was just you who thought that.

You both sway to the music, Draco’s hands on the small of your back, and your hands are around his neck, your left one absent mindedly playing with the waves of hair on his nape. 

The other weddinggoers move around you, some pointing. Hushed whispers erupt around the room, many probably questioning who the mysterious lady with the famous Slytherin Prince was, as except for Cedric and probably Cho, no other Hogwarts students would be here.

“Draco, are you sure this is even working? I think we’re drawing attention.”

“Obviously we are drawing attention. You’re stunning, y/n.” he grins. 

You feel your stomach twist with a new sort of feeling. Draco had been complimenting you like that all evening, to the point where you weren’t sure if it was an act or not. 

No. It was all an act. Draco reciprocating your feelings was as likely as cats gaining the ability to read.

“Well, Dray, I guess you’re fine to look at as well,” you scoff. He feigns offense and leans closer to your ear again to whisper some more.

“My mother and father are looking, so don’t turn around.”

“Should I fake laugh, or something?” you whisper back, conspiratorially.

“Fake laugh? I’m plenty hilarious, y/n. No, just... lean in more,” Draco says, grasp on your waist tightening as he dips his head to lightly brush his mouth against the corner of yours.

Wow, it was warm in here. Hot, one might even say. Flames were covering your body-

“You okay, love?” Draco breaks you from your trance, but you nod unconvincingly.

“Don’t think about him, and just remember, he’s an idiot,” Draco says.

***

The morning of the wedding was a rollercoaster of emotions. You’d just been broken up with by Cedric Diggory, mascara streaming down and eyes puffy when Draco found you. Cedric had cheated on you with Cho Chang and that morning you went to confront him after Cho had come to your dorm late last night, apologizing over and over, saying she didn’t know you two were dating again. You were always an on-and-off couple with Cedric, and her apologies rang so genuine in your ears, you couldn’t blame Cho, (plus, who were you to allow women to be pitted against other women?). So, you set your mind up to confronting Cedric that next morning after first period, but you were the one who got broken up with. 

It was outrageous, and Draco had thought so too as he comforted you, the two of you sitting on your dorm bed. You were grateful for his listening skills, and he was ever the patient friend. 

***

“You’re too good to cry over him. He’s a bloody fool to cheat on you, y/n,” Draco said, brushing away a tear. You sniff in reply.

“My parents have got this wedding they’re invited to; Sadly, I’m forced to go. I hear Amos is officiating, so I suppose his son will be there.” He dropped his voice to a whisper. "Why not give them something to talk about? Come as my date, we can act.”

“We can act.” He says.

You’d let out a sob-laugh. Your friend, the one who had stolen your heart for years, was asking you to “act” like you were in love with him.

“No way you’re serious,” you had said, turning to look at him after sob-laughing some more. “Deadly serious, y/n,” Draco’s brow furrowed as if he was confused to why you thought he was joking. “Come on, love. You need some fun so let’s make that insufferable git jealous.” Draco smirked.

Letting out a soft laugh, you also started to smile. “Okay Draco, I’ll act with you.”

***

‘Okay Draco,’ you replay that morning’s conversation as your pulse races. ‘I’ll act with you.’ 

He’s kissing the side of your cheek, just as you dance past Cedric. As you twirl away, you see Cho’s sad smile from her seat next to him and you give her your own smile back. 

Draco suddenly drops his voice and whispers, “There’s something I’ve got to tell you later,”

“Yeah?” you reply.

“Yeah. But not now, because there’s so many people looking at you like you’re theirs.” 

He says ‘theirs’ strangely, like it leaves a bad taste in his mouth. The sudden change in conversation makes you wary, cautious... with excitement and anticipation consuming you.

“I want you to myself,” he finishes.

He wants you to himself. 

Your heart flutters at the thought of what he was going to say. You weren’t stupid, anyone with half a brain could hear “I’ve got to tell you something” and “I want you to myself” together and think what you were thinking.

He likes you. 

“Draco!” calls a sudden voice as he turns you into a spin, lips brushing your shoulder. Just an act.

Oh no, the voice was Astoria’s. What was she doing here?

“Please do not tell me that’s dearest Astoria calling me,” Draco pleads through gritted teeth as he twirls you around, the happy bride and groom dancing near you. You suck in a laugh, your reaction telling him all he needed to know.

“Dracoo please come dance with me! Dracoo!” Astoria calls. 

“Good luck Draco, she’s drunk,” you say with a grimace, slightly annoyed she interrupted your intimate moment. Fake intimate moment, you mentally amended.

“Oh no y/n! She’s drunk!” Draco says at the same time.

“Come onnnn Dray! ‘Cissy would want us toooooo! and Luc-” she hiccups. “Lucie too!” you can hear her frown in her voice as she struggles to pronounce Lucius’ name. Through your peripheral vision you see her come hurtling toward you, half-full flute of some alcoholic drink in hand.

“Oh god, y/n. From previous experience I can tell you she is not going away until she gets what she wants,” Draco groans, dragging a hand down his face as he turns away from her.

Your heart deflates a tiny bit and you both loosen your grips. “Oh, okay. I guess you better go dance with her.”

Your heart throbs. Of course this would happen while you’re on the precipice of the conversation which could change your entire relationship. And of course, it’s Astoria “will-steal-your-yule-ball-date” Greengrass who ruins it.

Draco cocks his head, earnestly saying, “I’ll be back soon. I promise.” before kissing your cheek and floating away from you and into Astoria’s waiting arms, for the second time in 3 years.

***

Two hours later, you’re sitting by the chocolate fountain dipping fruit when you finally see Draco’s silhouette, but he’s stumbling towards you. 

“Draco, it’s been forever, where’ve you been?” you ask before realizing you... had no business knowing. After all, you weren’t his girlfriend. Merlin, why did you feel so bitter?

You soften your voice, “Sorry, you just promised her one dance and it’s been a while.”

You closely inspect that Draco’s dress-shirt is rumpled, his hair messy and his tie is nowhere to be seen. He sits next to you and the heavy smell of something strong envelopes you both. Something weird. It’s pungent, yet comforting, like green apples and mint. 

“Fuck, y/n,” he finally mumbles. “How long have I been gone?”

“Over two hours.”

“I just got so caught up with Astoria. I think she...” he trails off, looking dazed.

This was outrageous. Draco Malfoy had all but told you that he liked you and then goes and does merlin-knows-what with Astoria?! 

Terrible. Terrible, terrible feelings. Jealousy was seeping out your every pore, and you were getting ahead of yourself.

“I’m glad you had so much fun with her,” you say. “That you forgot about me.”

“No! I didn’t forget you, y/n, I went upstairs first, and- bloody hell, I feel so sick.”

“Went upstairs? You told me you were going to dance, Draco!”

“Yeah, maybe?” He looked queasy. “But she handed me a drink and tried to-”

“You think? Draco, you’ve been gone almost 2 and a half hours and you think you danced?” you interrupt.

“I told you, y/n. I don’t remember. That drink, I think it was-,” comes his reply.

“You know, now I think about it, you just weren’t quite hesitant enough to go with her!” you spit, voice low but rising.

“What? It was a mistake, y/n! You’re getting so riled up over what?” Draco counters, anger in his gaze.

“You’re my best friend Draco! Why I can’t be worried about you?” you shriek, attracting attention. Draco huffs and you sigh, before saying, “You just left me there for Astoria and whatever the hell you did ‘upstairs’, but oh, forbid me if I show concern or my disapproval?” you hiss.

Draco’s face changes and his brows furrow.

Not wanting to argue (more than you already had in the foyer), you drag him by his hand and pull him into the hallway, noticing his 2 usual silver rings are gone from his right hand, and his wrist has some pink stain on it, like lipstick. 

“Well, y/n,’ Draco continues in the hall, voice louder now. “You’re my best friend. Not my girlfriend. Why the hell would you care what I’m doing?” 

Skipping over his question you just say, “Oh, believe me, Draco! I know I’m not your girlfriend!’ you shout, cheeks slightly heating. For a second you regret it, hoping it didn’t give your jealous feelings away, but to your relief and also utter dread, Draco replies, “And what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

You had never been subject to his quiet rage to an extent like this, but it didn’t scare you. The faint golden light from the foyer filtering through the stained glass on the hallway door and onto him, the glow lighting his features.

You inhale. “I hope Astoria was a good fuck.” and turning on your heels, you walk away.

Ghost.

summary: azriel visits your old home after its destroyed during the second fae war.

warnings: this got a tad dark. mentions of war and his mate (you)'s death (off-page), and an unborn child.

word count: 1313.

***

Azriel returned to the home he had shared with you, his heart heavy with grief and anguish. The Second Fae War had ravaged the Night Court and left behind a trail of destruction. As he stepped through the door, his eyes fell upon the ruins that lay before him. The walls were cracked, the roof had caved in, and the once-beautiful garden was now nothing but a wasteland, the roses Elain had gifted you, the ones that the two of you had spent hours tending to, were now nothing but ashes.

Azriel's heart shattered as he gazed upon the ruins of what had once been his home. He walked through the debris, his footsteps echoing through the empty house. He saw the old picture frames that used to adorn the walls, and memories of his mate flooded his mind.

There was one picture that stood out from the rest, a picture of you and him on your wedding day. Azriel reached out to touch it, but his hand only touched the broken glass that lay on the floor, the picture underneath dull and burned.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions that raged inside him. His siphons flared, and he itched to unsheathe Truthteller, but as his fingers twitched, the flashbacks began. He saw himself and his mate as they had once been, happy and in love. He was about to become a father.

He remembered the way you had smiled at him, the way you had laughed at his jokes, the way you had held him close in your arms. He remembered the way you had kissed him, the taste of your lips, the feel of your soft hands against his marred ones. He remembered the whispered promises, and the whispered sins. The moments he loved, and the unloved ones.

The days and nights you two spent tangled up in crisp, white sheets, exploring each other's bodies until the sun rose. The days and nights where you had cried so hard, begged and pleaded for Azriel to not leave to the point where your throat was raw. You did everything to stop the torture as Azriel put himself on the front line, again and again, as Azriel pushed himself too far, again and again.

He supposed that now all he had left were memories, and they were not enough to ease the pain he felt. What wouldn't he give for one last moment with you?

He fell to his knees, tears streaming down his face as he let out a cry of agony. Lifting Truthteller out of the sheathe you had crafted, he stabbed it into the floorboards, rotted and crumbling, channeling the little energy he had left to plunge the knife deep, his siphons flaring blue, bouncing off the decrepit walls.

"Why did you leave me?" he whispered to the empty house. "Why did you have to go?"

Azriel knew the answer, but it did little to ease the pain he felt. You, his mate had died in the war, a casualty of the senseless violence that had torn their world apart. You were supposed to be safe. A craftswoman, a healer. You were never supposed to be on the front line, so what had happened?

He knelt there for what seemed like hours, until his legs cramped, and his eyes drooped. When he finally got up, he knew that he had to visit one last place. Tears in his eyes, he turned his head, coming eye to eye to the room where he was last happy.

The nursery.

He faced it, the door with the name of their unborn son still painted on it, Feyre's charm for everlasting paint somehow holding when his numerous wards did not. The door still stood tall and unbroken amidst the chaos, like a cruel reminder. Cobwebs hung from the hinges, the star-shaped window in the middle was shattered, but the frame and his son's name, remained virtually untouched.

As he reached towards the doorhandle, the memories of you flooded back. Memories of your laughter, your touch, your smile, your ability to do good and see good in everyone. This remarkable female, his remarkable mate, his remarkable wife, who would have been a mother like never seen before.

But the happiness was brief, because then came the memories of your death. Then came the memories of the way your body had gone cold in his arms, had gone limp in his arms. Then came the memories that detailed how he had watched the light that he loved so much leave your eyes, the blood on his hands yours.

He sank to the ground again, just shy of stepping inside the nursery, body wracking with sobs. Most of his family was gone, the Night Court's remaining allies were unhelpful now, weak themselves. And of the remaining 4 courts, each was depleted in their own way, almost entirely destroyed and unable to support any more than their own dwindling populations.

His mate and his unborn child were gone, taken from him by a war that seemed to have no end.

Azriel didn't know how to go on, how to keep fighting when everything he cared about was gone. There was no point in surviving without joy.

But then Azriel remembered something. And that thing reminded him that he had a duty to fulfill, a war to fight.

He thought long and hard, clung to this small beacon of hope that had graced his conscious thoughts. There were few people alive to fight for. Some of the Inner Circle's loved ones who made it, some of the Inner Circle itself.

Then he thought about the ones who didn't make it, the friends and family he had known for centuries. He would fight for them too.

He first vowed to visit them soon, bring them a rose or two, give them a proper sendoff. Then, he vowed that no one else in his life would receive the same damned fate you did.

And so, he forced himself to stand, to take one last look at the ruined home that had once been filled with love and laughter, filled with the promise of new beginnings, and a family.

Azriel turned and walked away, his steps heavy and slow. His mind was clearer, brighter now, and he knew that the pain of the war would never leave him, that the memories would haunt him forever, but he also knew that he had to keep going, to keep fighting.

His thigh had stopped bleeding now, the arrow head crusted with his blood. His head was not as heavy as it was that morning. His wings were still torn, his shoulder dislocated, but he couldn't spare an ounce of sympathy for himself. He was a monster. He had tortured and killed, had hunted and stalked. Perhaps the Cauldron thought he deserved such a fate, and who was he to disagree?

As he walked away from the ruins of his home, Azriel knew that he would never forget his mate, that he would always carry her memory with him. But he was not the Night Court's Spymaster for nothing. He knew could not let his grief consume him, he had to keep going, no matter how hard it was, because that would mean losing himself, and he wouldn't dare lose the thing you loved most.

He ran a mental finger over your words, his beacon of hope, his saving grace.

"Whatever happens, promise me you won't dwell," you said, the evening before Azriel was to leave for the Winter Court. You had heard Cassian and Rhys in the meeting room earlier that day, planning to divert supplies and visit the Illyrian camps for recruitments, but you knew nothing else. "Promise me you won't let whatever may or may not be coming render you to merely a husk of your old self. I love you, Azriel, and I will never stop, and I just know our son will love you too."

Draco Malfoy - Masterlist 📜

💗 - fluff, 🌒 - angst, 🍒 - smut

Cliche 💗: you and draco ditch a party...

Faking It 💗🌒: a little fake dating with beloved d.m, (eventual) friends to lovers... // pt 2.

It's a Match! 💗: mugglecollege! au. you and your roommate have a little competition to get the most tinder matches...

Romeo and Juliet 💗: highschool! au. you and draco are cast as romeo and juliet in your highschool play...

Keep laughing, because it's a beautiful sound 🌒: draco writes his last letter to you.

Romeo and Juliet

a/n: pls just ignore however incorrect my references and lines and actions to the play are, i found the scripts but im just kinda clueless <3

summary: you and draco are cast as romeo and juliet for drama class.

warnings: none?

word count: 468.

“God, this is stupid,” mutters Draco from across the room.

“I’m not too keen on it either, but we should just shut up and start,” you say back.

“Positions! Where’s my Romeo and Juliet?” calls Professor Trelawney.

Theatre class had seemed fun at first, and if it wasn’t, it would just be a place to slack off, but Professor Trelawney disagreed. From lesson 2, she started drilling lines and potential plays into your class. The only reason you didn’t start in your first lesson was because she misplaced her glasses. They were on top of her hair, but no one told her that.

"Come on, you two!” hollers Trelawney. “We can all turn away when you kiss,” with that, you hear the rest of your class laugh, and you feel like melting away. God, this was embarrassing.

You look up to find Draco already looking at you, and he nods towards the stage. 

Ugh. you shudder. Kissing Draco Malfoy. Maybe if you hadn’t fallen out all those years ago, you two would be laughing about it, joking how Draco, of all people, was your first kiss, but instead, there was tension, everywhere. 

No one but your best friend Daphne knew you hadn’t been kissed yet, but you knew that you would be interrogated at lunch since she was in the room watching.

“Fine. Whatever,” you whisper to yourself. “Just get on stage and kiss him. Quick. Whatever, it’s fine. Whatever!” your convincing doesn’t really work. 

You and Draco walk onto the stage, and you clear your throat.

“Saints do not move, though grant for prayers’ sake,” you move closer to Draco. You see him visibly swallow, his adam's apple bobbing. 

“Then move not,” he says. “While my prayer’s effect I take,”

Then he crashes his lips onto yours, and the feeling is indescribable. How long were you supposed to kiss for? 3 seconds? 33 seconds? Who cared. Not you.

You were so enveloped in this euphoric feeling coursing through your veins, the warmth in your body, and Draco’s arm snaking around your waist that it took several throat-clearings from your professor for you two to break apart. 

“Ahem! Well, Mr Malfoy, Ms Y/l/n, that was spectacular! Bravo, bravo!” Trelawney launches into enthusiastic clapping and the rest of the class, albeit  unenthusiastically joins in (with the exception of Daphne, who’s smiling and wiggling her eyebrows, and some of Draco’s friends. Blaze is winking at Draco and Theo Nott is giving him the most “I-told-you-so!” smirk you’ve ever seen). You see Draco roll his eyes and subtly flip them off, which makes them laugh harder. 

Oh no. You had totally forgotten. Play? First kiss? In front of your entire theatre class?

“The chemistry!” Trelawney gasps. “The chemistry was divine, darlings, well done! Should we do it again?”

Lord spare me. 

It’s a match!

a/n: can you tell i’ve never used tinder and had to google things like “what number is a lot of tinder matches” 💀💀

summary: you and your roommate draco decide to start a fun romance competition but unbeknownst to Draco, you fell in love with him when you were 12...

warnings: none?

word count: 1914.

Saturday morning - 9:32 am:

“Wanna play a game?” your roommate asks.

“Sure,” you reply. Although this was only the second week of holidays, you two were already bored out of your minds. “We could play Uno again, but that’s getting boring. Or maybe Scrabble, Pictionary, Cluedo...” you glance at your board game cupboard, listing them all before looking back to Draco, who’s shaking his head.

“No, it’s this game I saw my friends play, on your phone.” 

“Other friends? I thought I was your one and only,” you shake your head disapprovingly. 

“Very funny, y/n. No, it’s Tinder.” he answers, grabbing his phone and moving closer to you on the couch.

“Tinder? There’s games on there now?” you ask, confused.

“No, the game is Tinder. You set a time limit, say, three days, and the person with the most matches by the end gets to dare the other people to do something,” he explains. 

“Oh. I always like a good competition,” you say. “’Get the most matches on Tinder in three days to dare the loser’ isn’t the most catchy name, but I trust you to buy a good trophy for me, since you’ve have so much practice.” you gave him a saccharine smile. 

You and Draco had a little trophy cabinet where the loser would buy the victor a trophy with whatever the competition’s name was engraved on the outside. It had become a game between you two, the winner at the end of the year would... It was undecided, but you were going to make sure Draco’s punishment was bad, or at least, totally hilarious. So far the tally was 5 to you, and 4 to Draco. 

“It’s only a one trophy difference! Anyway, make a new Tinder account, fake information but choose any pictures of real you.” he says. 

You quickly sign up, and pick 5 of your best photos. 

“’If you like water, you’ll already love 70% of me ;).’’ you laugh and look away from his phone. “Really, Draco. Pickup lines?” you snorted. “That’ll never work in this day and age.” 

He smirks. “We’ll see, y/n. I’ve heard I can be pretty charming.” 

You roll your eyes at the reference to what 13-year-old you had said when he talked you guys out of detention.

At 10am, you guys were ready to begin.

|| You: 0 matches || Draco: 0 matches ||

Sunday evening - 8:24pm:

The whole day, you were furiously on your phone, swiping right, right and right. You tried to keep an open mind and had inputted no preferences to try give yourself an advantage, but 24-year-old Dudley Dursley was still living in his mother’s basement with his girlfriend. Yeah, girlfriend. The guy put it in his bio. Even though this was a game, Fake Y/n was not about to be a homewrecker. 

“You alright there, love?” asks Draco. “Your thumb might need a break.” he laughs at you. You noticed he had been staring for a while now, watching your thumb as it furiously swiped right, with the occasional exception of people like Dudley Dursley. 

“No, I’m fine, thanks. I see you haven’t been swiping too much. Why?” you demand, not looking up from the screen.

You see him arch an eyebrow and he whistles. “Your concentration right now is intense. I think I’ve done enough, today. My matches have been rolling in.”

This makes you look up. “Rolling in?” How many have “rolled in”, Draco?”

He smirks, “Maybe 17?” 

“You’re joking!” you say, mouth open in shock. Your eyes lift up from the phone and just briefly you catch him looking at your mouth. 

“I’d never lie to my one and only friend.” he picks up his phone and walks out of the kitchen. 

|| You: 5 matches || Draco: ??? matches ||

Monday morning - 5:11am:

The next morning you woke up early, despite being up late googling the best way to get matches. To your delight, you found that overnight you’d matched with 9 more people.

“Draco?” you walk into his surprisingly clean room and dramatically throw open the curtains. “Wakey wakey!” He had work at 8, but you were looking forward to bothering him enough to at least get him to spill some of his secrets. 

He groans, and his muscular arm flexes as he grabs his blanket and covers his eyes. “What is this,” he mumbles with one eye open. “sick joke?”

“Is it working? Mind if I... take a quick peek at your match number?” you give Draco your sweetest smile and he smiles too. God, he had a great smile, even first thing in the morning. 

“Whatever, love, just let me sleep before I have to work.” he yawns and snuggles back down into his bed. Like the very best friend you are, you use his phone to take a picture, send it to yourself, and then set it as his lock screen. Snickering, you sneak out of his room, his phone in your hand. 

“Wrong password?!” you whisper to yourself. Draco changed it?! It used to be his birthday, what was it now? You tried 0000, 1111, 2222 and all the other basic combinations. His mum’s birthday, even his dad’s - even though their relationship wasn’t the best - but lastly, yours. To your surprise, it unlocked. 

My birthday? You think. Why would it be my birthday? 

Oh well. You resist looking through his photos and move right on to the good stuff. His matches. 

He lied. 17 matches? More like 6.

You smile happily, very content with your findings. Unable to resist, you take a quick peek at his messages, searching your name. 

Why, why, why was your best friend the last person he’d used your name in conversation with? The preview of the text merely said: “Y/n will love it, Draco, good luck!”

What is this thing Pansy was so sure you’d love? You’d have to confront him about that later. 

Monday afternoon - 4:30pm:

"I’m back,” Draco calls, voice echoing through the hallway. 

“Hey Dray, café busy today?” you ask while flipping through a book. 

“Actually not really, but you know what was busy? My phone. All those Tinder notifications were blowing it up.” 

“What? How?” you bunch your eyebrows and stare. “You were literally working.”

“Every girl I served, I showed her my Tinder, and I think she made sure we matched.” He snickered. 

You laugh but roll your eyes. “That’s cocky. How many matches are you on now?”

“Cocky? I prefer charming, but I have...” he looks at his screen. “15 matches now.”

You take in this information, trying not to smile. Four more people added you throughout the day, so you were only barely in the lead. Time to start furiously swiping again. 

|| You: 19 matches || Draco: 15 matches ||

Tuesday morning - 9:54am:

“Malfoy,” you nod your head. Across the room, Draco smiles.

“Last names now? Someone’s in game mode.”

“I was in game mode long before this, just thought I would go easy on you before, make sure you remember me being nice before I totally obliterate you in this competition.” 

“You’re intense,” he teases, moving to lean against the kitchen cabinet across from you.

“I checked your phone this morning. 19 matches? Cute. I’ve got 22.” You’re feeling pretty good about yourself right now, intimidating him and all. 

He claps slowly. “That’s great, love, but there’s still 6 more minutes.” 

“That’s... fine. These next,” you glance at the clock to make sure. “5 minutes I will be swiping so intensely, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

He walks towards you. “Really, y/n/n? Nothing?” You turn around and face the kitchen island, hiding, his eye contact making you go red. Suddenly, you feel something behind you. It’s Draco. Of course. 

You turn around, mouth open, about to belittle him for thinking flirting will make you go easier when you see his eyes flicker to your lips and your breath catches in your throat. He meets your eyes, in silent question. You nod.

“No, love, I need you to say it,” he brushes your hair behind your ear, the contact making you squirm. 

“Draco, kiss me.”

And then he does. One hand wraps around your waist, his other tangles in your hair. He kisses you like you’ve never been kissed before. He kisses you like he wants you. Needs you, needs this moment more than anything. You know you do.

He kisses you and you feel time stop and slow down and get quicker all at once. Or maybe it just stops.

He kisses you like he’s been waiting for this moment his entire life. 

He kisses you... and everything’s perfect, exactly where it should be. 

You pull away, breathing heavily. He rests his forehead against yours, and he smiles. You bite your lip, nervous. You two had never crossed that line before. All those times you thought he felt something too, but you had been too scared to act. You start to smile, the stereotypical line of, “If I knew you also felt that way, we could have been together for years now!” in your head.

“If I knew you also wanted that, y/n, I would have obliged you long before now.” Draco admits, voice rough. 

Oh my god.

“If I knew you also wanted that, Draco, I would not have stopped you if you did kiss me long before now.” 

For a moment, it’s all smiles and laughter, before a shrill, piercing noises hits the air.

Draco starts to laugh even harder. “Sweetheart don’t tell me that’s an alarm. You really did get competitive.”

You look down, embarrassed it ruined your perfect moment. “N...No? Pssh, what alarm?”

“I know what you’re thinking. It’s not like our moment was ruined,” he says, eyes staring deep into yours. “I have a feeling every moment with you from now on will be perfect.”

“Watch less romance, Draco,” you deadpan. 

“What can I say, I’ve been told I’m charming.” he shrugs, and you grin. 

“I wouldn’t doubt that Dray,” you say sincerely. “But I have to ask... why did you change your password to my birthday? I’m sorry for snooping but I just have to know. Why did Pansy tell you I was going to love something?” 

His eyes widen.

“I- I didn’t expect you to see the messages. I mean, the password I knew you’d get, but...” he takes a deep breath.

“Before I walked into the kitchen and we kissed, I changed my password again. It’s the year we met. The year I fell in love.” he admits.

“You’re lucky I’m in love with you too, because that was almost too cheesy,” your smile grows. 

“Yeah?” Draco smirks and you nod.

“I had this whole date night prepared, and I showed Pansy, and she said you’d love it, but... Never mind now, right?” he smirks even more and puts his arm around you. “I want to be yours, now,” he says softly. 

“I can’t believe you had plans!” you say, caught up in the fact that the Malfoy heir planned a date night?!

“I was going to wait until after this whole game these last few days, I couldn’t keep listening to you go on about the hordes of matches you had.” He smiles sheepishly. “And I hated listening to you read messages.”

You grin. “Jealous, Draco? It’s okay,” you affirm. “I’m yours now, I promise.”

|| You: 1 match || Draco: 1 match ||