Draco Malfoy X Fem!reader - Tumblr Posts

prefect duties | d.m

draco malfoy x fem!reader

summary : Snape asked Draco to watch over you in detention

warning : NSFW! smut, swearing, degradation (just a lil), praising, dom!draco, choking kink, mentions of alcohol and weed

word count : 4.1K

It was a Friday night, a party blasting through the Ravenclaw tower, yet you are stuck inside the cold palace of the potions classroom, serving detention for Snape. 

Earlier that day you had agreed to help the Weasley twins with their prank, but unfortunately, it had gone wrong. It is not often that the three of you would get caught since you always think the plan through, but since you were in a hurry the prank ended up sloppy. Don’t get me wrong, you successfully pulled the prank– you just didn’t successfully get away with it. The twins, however, got away– slipping into one of the secret passages inside the walls of Hogwarts, you weren’t so lucky. 

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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐅𝐎𝐘.

pairings: childhood bestfriend!draco malfoy x fem!reader, malfoy!male oc x fem!reader

warnings: angst on draco’s part, draco is pining over reader for years, jealous!draco, reader is quite clueless, draco is in denial about being friends with a girl (at the start), and inappropriate language.

summary: draco had found solace in you and his valued friendship; he was fortunate that you were his best friend and that you were extraordinary and lovely, the polar opposite of him. he didn't realize he had feelings for you until you admitted that you like his older brother, and he had to endure years of longing until he eventually had enough of seeing you in his brother's arms.

author’s note: i suck at summaries but enjoy! not proofread btw, i was lazy. do not translate or paste this on another platform strictly everything belongs to me, do not claim it as yours, do not plagiarize, thank you.

word count: 5.5k

WHEN DRACO WAS six years old, he met you. He was accustomed with your parents since they frequently visited the manor—your mother and Narcissa were good friends throughout their Hogwarts years—but he was unfamiliar with you. Draco was definitely aware of your existence; he would have heard about you in the drawing room, where his mother and yours would drink tea and discuss a young girl named Y/N.

His mother would brighten up and signal him to come closer when he entered the drawing room to fetch some cookies. She'd remark on him meeting a girl his age, and your mother, with a radiant grin, promised to bring you once she came back to the manor. Draco was first dubious; he didn't want to be friends with a girl, so he scowled as his mother gushed about how pleased she was for him to meet you.

He was irritated by that. Draco was averse to meeting new people and forming friendships with them. He desired to be with his father and older brother, Atlas. Despite the fact that Atlas was only eight years old, their father was employing a slew of tutors and trainers to prepare him for his role as the Malfoy family's eldest heir. Draco also preferred to be prepared like his brother rather than be probed by someone far worse, a girl who would most likely chat about dresses and tea parties.

He'd form hundreds of conclusions about you before even meeting you, making plans to despise you. Draco was so apprehensive of your parents returning to the manor with you that he'd begged his mother to let him and his brother play quidditch to avoid meeting you. It was a stupid decision that he profoundly regretted.

“As beautiful as ever, my dear, like a princess.”

When your parents and you, as a youngster, came to visit the mansion, his mother said that to you. Your mother placed a hand on your lower back to nudge you into Narcissa's waiting hands when you clung to the hem of your mother's skirts, looking bashful and nervous. You approached his mother with trepidation and cautious steps, who kissed your cheeks and pinched it, marveling at how adorable you are.

Draco was taken aback when he found himself agreeing with his mother. His mother would generally read a story to him and Atlas about princesses and princes, so he was well-versed about the subject. Princesses were characterized as elegant and lovely, constantly dressed in exquisite gowns and smiling with delicate grins. You were a natural match for the princess character.

You were dressed nicely at the time, your cheeks were delicate and flushed, yet despite your timid demeanor, your stance was elegant. Draco had seen a lot of girls his age since his parents would go to gatherings and he'd meet young girls who wore dresses and clung to their mothers, but he was certain you were the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen. But he wouldn't say it out loud.

You smiled shyly at him at the moment, uncertain but with an encouraging grin from Narcissa. You spoke to him, your voice gentle and sweet, and offered him your name. Draco gave you an unimpressed look at first, almost like he still didn't want to be friends with you. He didn't bother to mention his name back, which made you frown; he could see his mother giving him a warning look, but his brother may have rescued him before he could speak forcefully.

Draco would have eventually regretted that, but he didn't realize it at the time because he was only six years old and refused to be friends with a girl, no matter how pretty she was.

“Hello, Y/N,” Atlas said kindly, tenderly staring at the girl. “My name is Atlas, and I'm Draco's older brother.”

You'd suddenly brighten, your eyes gleaming as you smiled at Atlas, maybe relieved. Draco's mother gave him a disappointed look, but the six-year-old Draco didn't seem to mind. He wanted to play quidditch and had a nasty desire to make you feel left out, but he couldn't since he couldn't find someone to play with. Atlas was busy entertaining you, and he seemed to stick by your side like a bloody leech the entire time.

When Draco was obliged to sit down in the drawing room with his mother, your mother, you, and Atlas, he sulked and a scowl tugged at his lips. You were eating cookies, practiced and lovely, despite your age, you ate like a well-mannered woman, and Draco was studying you, looking for flaws, even watching you as you drank milk, hoping you'd spill it on your lovely dress, which you didn't.

Atlas would allow Draco engage his talk with you, and Draco was obstinate, glaring at you and dismissing his brother with crossed arms. Atlas was amused and merely shrugged before carrying on with your conversation, while Draco sulked and tried to find something other than you to gaze at.

When his mother observed him peeking at you, she discreetly murmured, “You should talk to Y/N. She's your age and a lovely young girl.”

Your mother smiled slightly when she heard what his mother said. “Y/N was delighted to meet you and hoped you'd become wonderful friends.”

Your round, sparkling eyes widened and you flushed at what your mother said, so you stopped talking to Atlas. Atlas chuckled and fidgeted with the ends of your hair where he sat beside you. Draco frowns; he had no idea that you and his brother were already friendly, but Atlas had the ability to be friends with anybody.

Draco considered it for a moment before reluctantly agreeing, and he began a conversation with you, and he could see your mother and his mother smiling at you guys, and Draco resisted the urge to sigh, and he felt invigorated seeing your beaming smile, despite being nervous, the entire day you and Draco chatted, and his mother suggested that he tour you around the manor, and Draco agreed, and he toured you around with Atlas.

The first thing they did was walk out into the backyard, where the grass was lush and lovely, and there were three brooms laying on the grass that their house-elf had forgotten to discard, but Draco knew he had left it there because he had wanted to play with Atlas earlier. You gazed about, carefree, and made a point of staying near to Draco and Atlas. Suddenly you noticed the broom and stared at it curiously.

“What is that?” you asked cautiously, your voice full of astonishment.

Draco was staring at you as if you'd sprouted two heads. “You've never heard of broomsticks?”

You were embarrassed and unsure of yourself; perhaps you had a flaw at the time. “Am I supposed to know?”

“Of course—”

“No, not really,” Atlas chuckled softly at what you asked as he regarded Draco warningly. “It's an item of quidditch equipment.”

“My father told me about quidditch,” you responded, a flicker of recognition flashing over your face. “However, I'm not sure whether I really fully comprehend it…”

Atlas reassured you, “It's nothing to be embarrassed of.”

Draco frowned as he stared at you, thinking it was something to be embarrassed of. Quidditch is such a popular sport in the Wizarding World and he recalls visiting matches with his brother and father, but he wasn't shocked because he believed quidditch was only known by boys.

He groaned and rolled his eyes, thinking that if he had friends, they should at least be familiar with quidditch. They then proceeded to the corridor, which was lined with about a hundred paintings of the Malfoys and their ancestors. You had stood there in wonder, talking just then and now, while Draco would respond boredly and Atlas would respond compassionately.

It was humorous because you were enthralled by everything you saw. When you and Draco followed Atlas into the dark corridors, you appeared like a doll, eyes wide and posture upright. Atlas strolled ahead, gesturing at the portraits and paintings as if he were a tour guide.

They then proceeded to the kitchen, where buslings house-elves were busy preparing meals, making tea, and generally preparing food. Before beginning their work, they greeted you three. One house-elf approached the three of you, with enormous, tennis-ball-like green eyes, a pencil-like nose, and long, bat-like pointed ears. Draco noticed your beaming smile at the house-elf.

“That's Dobby, our house-elf,” Atlas said, grinning. “He has been with us when I was six, like Draco's age.”

As you gazed at Dobby, your smile was gentle and kind. “Hello, Dobby; my name is Y/N.”

Dobby's eyes widened as he glanced at you. “Miss Y/N, Dobby is delighted to meet you; are you friends with both Mr. Malfoys, miss?”

You looked hesitant for a moment, casting a fleeting glance towards Draco before averting your gaze. Atlas placed a hand on your shoulder, possibly sensing your apprehension, and he was about to speak when Draco interjected, surprising both Atlas and you.

“Yeah,” Draco answered grudgingly.

You flashed him a shocked look while he just shrugged at you, ignoring your smile, and the delightful friendship began.

When Draco received his Hogwarts letter, the first thing he did was write to you, demanding that you visit the Malfoy manor. Draco was a demanding child even at the age of eleven, and you were the polar opposite, a gentle and lovely personality that his mother and your mother would admire for the balance of your friendship.

When you and your mother arrived at Draco's house, he questioned, “Did you receive yours?”

You enthusiastically nodded. “I did,”

Draco recalled you two sitting in the garden with a blanket on the grass, as he asked Dobby to get it for you so dirt won't stain your skirt. As you ate cookies, orange juice, and other delicacies on the mat, you talked about Hogwarts and how pleased you were to finally attend the school that your parents admired.

You stated that moment, eating on cookies and glancing over the garden, “Atlas told me Charms would be fun. I think it is easy for him since it is his favorite subject.”

Draco rolled his eyes and frowned at you for a while before tucking into some candies. “Charms is boring; potions is far more exciting.”

“It's because you had your Uncle Sev tutor you before you even went to Hogwarts,” you replied, laughing, and Draco agreed.

You offered him a sly grin. “I'm guessing you're going to join the quidditch team?”

“Of course,” Draco said, as if it were self-evident. “But first years can't try out yet,” he grumbled, “so I'll have to wait till my second year.”

You inquired, “What house do you think you'll be in?”

Draco gave you a mocking glare that made you pout at him. “Honestly, your questions are so obvious,” he said. “Of course, Slytherin.”

“Your entire family is Slytherin,” you added, your voice filled with astonishment and awe.

Draco was smug because of your voice. “Obviously, Slytherin is the best house; it'd be a pity if you were placed in another.”

You frowned, and Draco felt a pang of remorse inside him. “Atlas promised me that whichever house I'm in, I'll do great.”

Draco had to fight the urge to frown. You trust anything that comes out of Atlas' mouth, and since Draco is your best friend, you should believe anything he says. Years passed despite Draco's obstinacy, and you became inseparable with one another. You and Draco grew closer since Atlas had his own friends his own age.

Draco would be lying if he said he despised your dependency on Atlas. His brother would take you under his wing and lead you through Hogwarts, he already knew. Draco would've been exaggerating if he stated his brother was unpopular, not only because he was a Malfoy, but also because Atlas was known as a handsome and friendly Slytherin. Atlas had a lot of love letters in Valentines when he was only twelve, and Atlas would write Draco letters about it, claiming he was entertained.

Atlas' letters would be about how aggravating and humorous he found the love letters addressed to him. Even though he was thirteen and in his third year, Atlas had yet to fancy a girl. Draco's older brother was very focused in class, on his academics, friends, and, of course, you. Atlas would write you a slew of letters about Hogwarts, including one in which he expressed his delight at the prospect of you joining.

“Sure.” Draco sniffed arrogantly, “But, if you want to be more successful, you must be sorted into Slytherin.”

Draco gazed at you for a moment, and saw you fiddling with the hem of your skirt with your little fingers. “Would we still be friends even if I'm not sorted into Slytherin?”

Of course, Draco thought without hesitation.

He'd met a lot of kids his age at gatherings and pureblood parties, but he'd never met someone like you. Because of his older brother Atlas and the fact that he was a Malfoy, kids normally draw close to him, but you weren't like that. Despite his frigid and domineering personality, you struck beside him with your decency and kindness, softening Draco's stubbornness. When his mother introduced you to him, he thanked her every day in his thoughts.

When his brother came into their line of vision, he was saved from replying. When you saw Atlas, Draco could see how your timid personality brightened. When Atlas sat next to you, messing with your braided hair, Draco groaned, and you swatted Atlas' hands away with a small grin.

Atlas asked, “What were you talking about?”

You shrugged, your gaze averted from Draco. “About the Hogwarts houses,”

His grey eyes shone brightly. “Are you excited? I'm entering into my third year, and there are some new subjects.”

“Yes,” you answered, your face beaming with delight. “But, I'm also nervous.”

Atlas grimaced before shifting his focus to Draco. “Don't believe anything Draco says; you'd be great there.”

“I didn't even say anything,” Draco muttered, attempting to avoid the frown that formed on his face every time he remembered your unhappy pout.

When you and Draco arrived at Hogwarts, he was already acting as if he owned the place, with Crabbe and Goyle flanking him, despite the fact that you were there alongside him, looking warm, lovely, and small. Draco had forced you to accompany him on the whole journey to Hogwarts, including the train, the boat, and the sorting ceremony.

Draco was sorted into Slytherin, much to nobody's surprise, and he was greeted in the snake pit with loud applause and a pleased smile from Atlas, who patted Draco on the shoulder as he reached the table with the greens. Draco began chanting Slytherin under his breath as if manifesting you in the Slytherin house as your name was announced, and Atlas looked to be muttering under his breath as he saw you sit on the stool.

As the hat yelled Slytherin on top of your head, Draco's chant must have been heard. When you met his eyes and offered him an enthusiastic smile, he found himself grinning like a fool. As you approached, Atlas offered you a quick embrace and a broad smile, which you imitated. You were meant to sit next to Draco, but he sat next to Crabbe and Goyle, and before Draco could swat them away to make room for you, a blonde girl approached you and offered to sit beside her.

The school years went by quickly, and while Draco and you were best friends, you had your own group of friends, all of whom were your roommates. You and Draco would talk in the common room or even the library in your spare time, where he would spit bitter words and complain about Potter and his goons, while you sat there disapprovingly.

Despite being a Slytherin, you were quite respected. Draco was aware of this; you were lovely, well-behaved, kind hearted, and it was a mystery to everybody how the sweet Y/N L/N could be friends with the arrogant young Malfoy.

Draco had a large number of friends. Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott, and the bloody fools Crabbe and Goyle, who were more like his bodyguards. Regardless of his friends, he'd always find his way to you, and you to him. At the end of the day, you'd be back beside Draco, talking and studying.

You fared fairly well in your first year, with high grades, following the lead of Muggleborn Hermione Granger, whom Draco despises wholeheartedly. You've become close friends with Daphne Greengrass, Pansy Parkinson, and Tracey Davis, and you've spent a lot of time with them, but Draco has always made sure he gets half of your time.

Atlas was a busy student, but he found time to spend with you and Draco; he gave advice, which Draco ignored, annoyed that his brother was bothering both of your time, but you didn't seem to mind—of course you didn't, you were too pleasant—listened to Atlas' advice for class, making new friends, and even how to treat subject professors charmingly.

Atlas would occasionally invite you and Draco to his quidditch practice, and Draco would watch there, half-impressed by his brother's skills and half-annoyed that you were observing the procedure with such zeal. Draco, but on the other hand, was pompous about how you'd ask him questions and he'd answer them all effortlessly.

In your second year, the routine persisted. Although the girls and your friendship became closer, you still had time for your best friend. And you and Draco were finally comfortable as second years, he'd get into his ritual of complaining about Potter and you'd listen in, miffed, and Atlas was more keen to assist you guys, he was in his fourth year, skillful and intelligent as he was.

Draco was a part of the Slytherin quidditch team, and you assured him that you would attend every practice. And you went with Pansy, Daphne, and Tracey, watching in admiration as Draco showed off his skills despite only being a second year. He'd explain the basics of quidditch to you in the common room at night, and you'd listen intently, just like he would when you told him about the new books you were reading, and he'd listen with a slight smile on his face.

The third year came to a conclusion, and summer began. Draco, you, Daphne, Pansy, and Theo were all at your place. Draco couldn't care less about Crabbe and Goyle as Tracey stated she was in Italy and Blaise was in France. You were both fourteen at the time, and as the years went, Draco grew more protective, affectionate, and eager to be in your company.

As you talked and listened to whatever Pansy was babbling about, his head was laying on your lap and you were playing with his hair—normally he would loathe the notion of anyone touching his hair, but it seems you were an exception.

“I'm just fussing because it's bloody annoying,” Pansy grumbled. “He won't take the hint, despite the fact that I've already rejected him three times!”

Daphne smirked and cast a knowing glance at Pansy. “Perhaps because your rejection was unclear? If my memory serves me correctly, you merely left the poor boy alone at the Three Broomsticks with no explanation.”

Pansy locked her gaze on Daphne and crossed her arms fiercely. “How do you tell a boy who clearly fancies you that you're not fond of men in general?”

Draco instinctively smiled when he heard you chuckle from above. “Perhaps you should've just been honest?” you said softly, your voice gentler than Pansy's high pitched ones.

Pansy gave you a sidelong glance. She cynically remarks, “Not everyone is as lovely as you are, Y/N.”

“Watch your tone, Pansy,” Draco said lowly, not raising his head.

Theo said to Pansy while fiddling with his ring, his tone suggestive. “Rather than deceiving yourself into thinking you're interested in fake dating boys, you should just ask Tessa out.”

Draco sighed and rolled his eyes. Tessa had been the Ravenclaw Pansy's crush since the beginning of their third year. Pansy was in denial; she merely made up excuses about how much she despises Tessa, so she could gaze at her across the room and seem to be glaring at her. You and Draco found it humorous.

Pansy snarled at Theo, “How many times do I have to tell you that I don't like her? She's an obnoxious Ravenclaw who thinks she knows more than the rest of us.”

“She is sorted into Ravenclaw for a reason,” Theo said, just to irritate Pansy.

As Daphne turned to you and Draco, Pansy and Theo continued to argue—mostly Pansy was annoyed, while Theo was laughing.

“Well, what about you, Y/N?” Daphne asked.

You sounded perplexed. “What about me?”

You got a teasing grin from the blonde girl. “Why haven't you agreed to any of the boys who asked you out in your first Hogsmeade last year?”

Draco bristled, and he frowned when he noticed your fingers had ceased caressing with his hair. He didn't like it when boys asked you out on dates or expressed interest in you. Because you were his best friend, he was protective of you, therefore he found himself paying great attention to what Daphne had to say.

If Draco thought you were beautiful when you first met at the age of six, you grew up to be even more gorgeous. You grew taller, your hair grew longer, and the outfits and dresses you wore became more fitted and flattering on you. It didn't surprise him that so many people liked you, yet it irritated him greatly.

“I don't like any of them,” you respectfully stated, and Draco sensed that you didn't want to talk about it any longer.

“That's because Draco here hovers behind Y/N like a black shadow and his glares and stares scare the shit out of the boys,” Pansy said, pausing her argument with Theo.

Draco only glared at Theo as he reluctantly sat up from where his head lay in your lap, while Theo gave him a knowing grin.

“Not to mention Atlas,” added Pansy.

Daphne is swooning. “He's so hot, I'm surprised he doesn't have a girlfriend yet.”

“The fuck,” Draco grumbled, strangely staring at Daphne.

Pansy giggled, and her face began to relax. “Look, I'm not a big fan of boys, but Atlas has this aura around him.”

Draco turned to you, hoping you weren't involved in Pansy's shenanigans, but you were blushing, much to his astonishment and horror. You were fucking blushing. Draco liked to assume it was because of the sunlight blazing down on your flawless face, giving you a beautiful sheen, but he knew he was wrong.

“He doesn't talk to a lot of girls,” Daphne expressed her displeasure. “What does it feel like to be lucky, Y/N?”

Your face flushed. “Lucky?”

Daphne shrugged her shoulders. “He only talks to you,”

Draco had no idea where this talk was leading, but he wanted to put an end to it. “Of course, Atlas is like her older brother already.”

He glanced at you, expecting you to nod and agree, but you remained silent. You were acting strangely, Draco could feel himself frowning.

“Older brother?” Pansy said, laughing as if Draco were an idiot. “I think it's rather obvious.”

“Yeah,” Daphne said, a thoughtful expression on her face. “And we'll be in our fourth year this year, so I think it'll be convenient.”

Draco spat, “Convenient?”

He received a look from the blonde girl. “I thought you were aware of your brother's stance on Y/N?”

Draco hoped he didn't know they were discussing what he was thinking about. Draco cast another glance at you, noticing you playing with the hem of your sundress, something he knew you did only if you were nervous or bashful, and Draco sensed you felt the former.

“Y/N?” Draco probed, his gaze falling on you. “What are they talking about?”

You were reluctant, but a glance from Draco prompted you to speak, albeit timidly. “Promise me you won't get angry?”

“Bold of you to think he'd be angry at you,” Theo muses, his mouth clamped to avoid a scowl from Draco.

“Well?” Draco said, his brows knitted.

Everyone turned to look at you; despite their teasing smiles, Pansy and Daphne offered you supportive nods, and Theo, like Draco, seemed intrigued and a little worried by your answer.

“I fancy Atlas.” You eventually answered, blushing and avoiding Draco's eyes, “Ever since I was in second year…”

The words pierced Draco's heart like a knife. He had no idea or was unaware of this, and while he should be pleased that you liked his brother rather than some other bloke, he was also enraged, why his brother?

Theo whistled lowly, “Low blow.”

“He's kind, appreciative,” you proceeded to talk about his brother, and while Draco admired your voice, he hoped you would just stop talking.

Draco didn't realize it at first; after all, he's your best friend, so he should know everything about you, right? But he was plainly mistaken. There was also a Triwizard Tournament in your fourth year. Draco complained about the silly competition again since Harry Potter was in it, and while you watched the first task, Draco continued wishing the dragon would eat Potter, much to your chagrin.

He could still recall how you blushed at the mention of his brother, and he resorted to observing you whenever Atlas was around. Draco adored your dazzling grin and bright eyes, but what made him devastated was the fact that Atlas seemed to reciprocate it as well.

There was a Yule Ball after the first task. Many students were ecstatic, but some were nervous—especially the boys—because dates were being asked, and some feared rejection. Draco was unconcerned about it; many girls had approached him in the halls and in class, and he had just ignored them all.

As they strolled into the courtyard, Theo asked, “When are you going to ask Y/N? For all you know, she may have already been asked.”

Blaise was busy looking for a date, while Theo had already agreed to accompany Daphne. And as the days passed, Draco began to yearn you; it took him years and a whack in the head from Theo for him to recognize he had feelings for you. His best friend.

It was silly of him to embrace these thoughts; he didn't want to jeopardize your friendship, but both Theo and Blaise were pressing him to ask you to the Yule Ball as a date, and Draco had been thinking about it since the Tournament was announced. He didn't understand why he was always worried about this; after all, he was Draco Malfoy, and something as little as this shouldn't bother him. But it wasn't a frivolous deed, especially because it involved you.

“Where is she?” Draco inquired, his brows furrowed in puzzlement.

Theo was about to say something but he stopped, almost falling as he looked ahead of him, and Draco looked at him with irritation, but Theo's eyes were wide and he was pointing at something across the space, and he looked like a bubbling fool with his mouth twitching open and closed, and Draco would have been amused if he hadn't turned his head to the direction Theo was pointing at.

“Holy shit,” Theo exhales as he regains his balance.

Holy shit indeed. You were in the courtyard, but this time with Atlas. And Draco could see what was going on, Atlas looked sheepish and like a lovesick idiot, and you were beaming with a bouquet of daisies under your nose, your favorite flower. Draco felt as if he were seeing a horror film, and he could feel himself becoming shallow in disbelief and even betrayed.

Draco did what he did best after that fairly dreadful display in the courtyard: he sulked. He didn't pay any attention to you, didn't let you tell him about your Yule Ball date, and Draco didn't welcome you with a hug every morning like he used to. Draco knew he was behaving childish by ignoring his brother, but it upset him to see that his best friend, whom he had feelings for, like his brother.

After much deliberation, Draco and Blaise chose to attend the Yule Ball without any dates, much to the astonishment of everyone since girls admired Draco and Blaise for their attractive looks, engaging personality, and background.

Theo, Daphne, Blaise, and Draco all went to the Yule Ball together—Pansy went with a Durmstrang student, which Daphne assumed was because someone had already asked Tessa and Pansy was envious. To everyone's amusement, Pansy, of course, denied it. You, on the other hand, were with his brother.

It was difficult to ignore you. Draco's gaze has been fixed on your form since you entered the ball. You wore a lovely gown that accentuated your contours, and your hair was groomed to perfection, as did the jewelries adorning your wrists, ears, and neck. You looked like a princess, Draco could feel himself swallow a bitter air.

He left the ball with a sour taste in his mouth and stepped outside, letting the snow kiss him on the cheek. He couldn't stand there and watch you have a good time, dancing and laughing while looking so lovely in his brother's arms. If he had been friendlier when he first met you, like Atlas, perhaps your perception of him would have been different, or perhaps it was because you just see him as a friend. Draco closed his eyes to drown off the thoughts.

“You didn’t dance.”

He turned around when he heard a voice speak from behind him, and it was you. Even in the dark, your cheeks were flushed from the exhilaration of dancing and the few sips of champagne, you shone brightly.

Draco bit the inside of his cheek with his teeth. He nearly sneered, “What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be dancing with Atlas?”

His tone made you frown. “I was hoping to dance with you.”

Draco was on the verge of rolling his eyes. “You have Atlas for that,”

“Draco, what's wrong with you?” you said quietly, biting your bottom lip, and his gaze followed your action unconsciously. “For the past few days, you've been avoiding me... did I do anything wrong?”

He wanted to reply, No, you didn't, you'll never be able to, but he never did.

Instead, he fixed his cool gaze on you. “For a long time, you never told me you liked Atlas,”

Your eyes lit up in realization. “It's about this, isn't it?”

“Of course it's about this,” Draco snarled as he approached you. “It's always fucking about this.”

You look down and Draco takes a deep breath and grabs your chin with his fingers, forcing you to gaze up. He stood near to you and his thoughts were at war; your lips were tempting, but he told himself he was upset at you, and he had to swallow his desire as he glared at you.

“You've been snapping at boys who get close to me, and I'm tired of it,” you began. “And now you're upset with Atlas, your brother, which I hoped would make you less protective of me and allow me to have my fun.”

“You just don’t get it,” Draco whispers. “Do you?”

“Get what?”

Draco exclaimed, releasing his fingers from your chin and moving away from you, “That I've liked you since the first time I met you,”

You gave him a shake of your head. “No, you despised me when you first met me,”

Draco rubbed his face with his hands, not looking at you, and said, “I was six years old for fucks sake. I had a hard time expressing myself to a girl. I wanted to despise you, believe me, I did.”

For a little while, the only noises you could hear were the cold wind blow and the background sounds from the ball. People were coming in and out, but they didn't notice or care about you and Draco, who were hidden in the corner.

“What about now?” you asked. “What do you want?”

Draco's hands were clenched. “Now,” he murmured, his voice low yet sure. “I'd want to kiss you.”

You were silent for a time before saying, “Then kiss me,”

Draco gave you a stunned expression before grabbing your face in his hands and kissing you. The sensation of your lips on his made him drunk on you, and his hands wandered to your waist, pulling you closer to him and sharing his warmth.

He pulled away first, hesitantly but he didn't let go of your waist. “What about Atlas?”

“I've been an idiot,” you said, staring up at him. “I just realized I've had feelings for you the whole time, and I simply convinced myself that I like Atlas. I just didn't want to jeopardize our friendship…”

“We're both idiots,” he said as he kissed you again, and this time Draco felt absolutely thrilled to finally have you in his arms.