Chapter Text
Potions professor, Horace Slughorn, was ecstatic to see his pursuit of inter-house unity achieve such successful outcomes.
His NEWT level classes, despite the initial struggle, displayed that despite the colours of their robes, every member of the class was a student at the school of Hogwarts.
As the year comes close to its end, the old slugger can only be satisfied with the successful partnership between Hogwarts’ Slytherin Prince and Hufflepuff’s brightest smile- only the prime example of inter-house unity.
If Draco Malfoy thought he was whipped before, he had another thing coming.
Sure, the past six years were long enough to let infatuation conquer; imaginings of your personality based on bright smiles he only saw in passing from a great distance.
However, this year he had more than snarky comments, bitter interactions and passing ridicule. This year, Draco Malfoy got to know you- the you he could only dream about getting to know.
In fact, before this year, Draco Malfoy knew only very little about you. Maybe only the status of your blood (a subject he universally, and as of last year, no longer cares about), your Hogwarts house, your little quirks and mannerisms- everything that can be observed by a longing glance.
The rest- your personality, your family, the reason why you adopted the habit of playing with the charms of your bracelet when you were thinking and everything he has yet to learn- he had no choice but to assume, and he’s had a lot of time to create fantastical scenarios and answers to all the questions he one day aspired to ask you.
For example, he’d always assumed your favourite colour was yellow- a soft yellow like sunshine or golden like sunsets. However, your favourite colour was green- a soft green, almost sage, because it reminded you of the peacock feathers you used to collect as a child.
Draco should’ve been disappointed that he guessed wrong, for the Slytherin Prince and heir to the Malfoy-Black dynasty always hated to be wrong. However, the opportunity to relearn everything he thought he knew about you was an opportunity he never let himself think he was worthy of.
Not everything Draco Malfoy assumed was necessarily wrong; you were kind and patient and fair, it was plain to see. You somehow manage to exceed all his expectations, yet remain true to everything he believes about you.
Draco Malfoy craved for more, wished for more, dreamed of more. He wanted to be close to you, closer than friends and more than he’d consciously let himself imagine. Draco Malfoy- because he was selfish and greedy and known to get everything he desired tenfold- knows that he wants to be yours.
He knew he shouldn’t want it. He knew that nothing could change every past mistake he’s ever made with you.
Friendship, if that was all you were willing to give Draco, would be taken with gratitude. Friendship alone was more than he deserved, but a relationship with you is something he craves, wishes and dreams to get the chance to earn.
Over the past year, the two of you formed something of an understanding, an unlikely friendship that both your friend groups looked on in something more towards confusion than malice.
Draco’s best friend and the only person whose opinion was ever regarded, Blaize Zambini, should’ve assumed he’d been harbouring feelings towards you for quite some time. However, the Slytherin had been distant over the past two years.
Blaize Zambini was more just happy to have his best friend back, albeit not exactly the same- much has changed since their childhood rampaging and terrorising. He should’ve known you’d had something to do with it.
There were a lot of things he should’ve known, a lot of things he should’ve seen.
He should’ve seen it from the moment he started preying on you. He should’ve seen it when his gaze would linger on your retreating figure after each interaction. He should’ve seen it in the ways his eyes would soften in the sight of your smile, or his cheeks flush at the sound of your voice or the way the tip of his ears would redden at the mention of your name.
However, just like the Slytherin Prince, Blaize too was a childish, young boy who didn’t know any better.
Blaize Zambini was learning, and he was taking from the former Slytherin Prince’s example.
Your best friend, Hannah Abbot, was less confused than concerned.
She loved you like a sister and cared for you like her own. So, when she’d heard of your friendship with your childhood bully and tormentor of your nightmares, she had more than a few flags to raise in consideration.
Despite her initial scepticism, she’d seen him in person and she’d seen him with you and there were so many signs that she saw.
She saw how your eyes would find his in crowded rooms. She saw how your contagious smile would brighten, how it widen when he’d approach you. She saw how the fear in your figure was replaced with characterised timidness that left a dusting of rouge paint your cheeks in his presence. She saw how the retellings of his torment were replaced with anticipation and excitement for your next encounter.
However, much like Hufflepuff’s brightest smile, Hannah Abbot needed time to see the change, to see the blonde's improved state of maturity and most importantly-
Hannah Abbot needed time to forgive the Slytherin Prince for all the hell he’d given you.
Luckily for the blonde, Hannah was good-natured and kind and winning her favour and forgiveness was easy, especially when you’d look at him in the way that you did and care about him in the way that you expressed.
It first appeared in your first study session with Draco Malfoy- that incessant twist of your stomach that left you feeling giddy and light-headed. You were startled at first, believing yourself to be ill as Draco grew attentive, in the pursuit of making sure that you would be alright.
Somehow, the feeling starting in the pit of your stomach flared sensations throughout your body only got worse.
His touch moved around your waist, soft and careful as slender fingers braced you, keeping you steady. Your heartbeat grew unsteady at every interaction- pulse beating erratically as he insisted on helping you to Madame Pomfrey’s.
In an internal battle of leaning into his cool touch (which would most certainly soothe the heat flaring from your cheeks) or pushing him and his touch away by the habitual instinct of your past, Draco’s persistent complaints of needing to hurry (albeit he let a few insults slip in worry) were no help.
Leaning into his touch ceased further complaints from Draco to spill from his mouth.
Despite your pretence of a study session failing, you didn’t need Madame Pomfrey's diagnosis to know that you were most definitely harbouring some feelings towards Draco Malfoy, an ex-bully and lonely boy.
Sometimes Draco could still feel the trace of your curves lingering on his fingertips and in his mind; he could still feel the warmth of your body so close to his, like a warm fireplace after a cold storm- like a home.
He’d never been that close to you before. He liked it.
What he didn’t like was how close you still were to Dean Thomas and his Gryffindor comrades. It was in Draco Malfoy, Slytherin Prince’s nature to be possessive, especially over things he had no right to be; he guesses that included you too.
So when he learned that you and Dean rekindled your friendship last summer, Draco Malfoy was incredibly distraught. Not to mention the familial pressure his father had been putting on his shoulders over the past year to get him to succeed in his NEWTs, Draco had a lot on his mind and no outlet to release all his pent-up emotions.
The time when he received a letter from home describing his father’s extraneous plan for the next five years- no corner left unconsidered and no consideration of what he wanted to do, it was a lot.
And seeing you getting all chummy with Dean Thomas on the Gryffindor dining table just about added the foam on top of his butterbeer. Draco Malfoy was seething. Partially with jealousy, minutely with family troubles but majorly with ill-directed fury.
He wasn’t proud of what followed, but old habits die hard.
You found Draco surrounded by his gaggle of Slytherin friends, his bright blonde hair giving him away every time. Sure you were upset to see a third-year Hufflepuff weeping in your common room, distraught over a recent interaction with Hogwarts’ Slytherin Prince and his cronies.
You were even more upset when you turned to see the look on his face.
Nothing. Absolute indifference.
The most he offered was a raise of his brow in confusion, of intrigue, in a challenge.
You dragged him to a secluded corner beyond the courtyard where you found him, ignoring the protests (some making crude noises, Blaize implying some filthy innuendo in your wake) and ignoring the flush of your cheeks at your touch against his wrist.
Draco Malfoy loved attention, especially when it came from you.
So after you caused a scene by dragging him away, he tried to suppress the grin from filling his cheeks. Instead, he settled for a well-practised smirk, albeit it was practically transparent.
You didn’t find it funny.
You showed it in the cross of your arms, which he mimicked with a boyish smirk. You waited for him to explain, even an offer of an apology but it never came.
You should’ve known better. This was Draco Malfoy after all, Slytherin Prince and Malfoy heir.
Sure, he’d grown up and sure, he was a great deal more mature than he had been six years ago. However, he was still Draco Malfoy and you couldn’t expect him to become an entirely different person just because you wanted him to.
And just because you had fallen for the quiet, considerate, attentive Draco Malfoy did not mean that you could just ignore the irrational, defensive, cunning side of him too. Draco Malfoy coexisted with all the good and the bad, but after coming to know more about him, you learned that the good did (and managed to) outweigh the bad.
You couldn’t expect him to apologise, or you shouldn’t have because the closer you got to him, the more it came to you that Draco Malfoy rarely ever said what was on his mind. It didn’t bother you that much, at first anyways, he never did have a reason to confide in you but sometimes you’d think you made progress but he’d go quiet and fall into some dazed cloud of distance.
You learned it was better when you didn’t push him. In a way, maybe his actions could be enough- they do speak louder than words.
So, the two of you settled for a compromise: he would leave the younger years alone for the promise that you’d escort him to Hogsmeade the following weekend to help him find a broach for his mother (on the pretence that he didn’t have the eye for it- except he was a pureblooded heir whose extracurricular skill was to shop and spot the most valuable store items).
If you assumed it, you never brought it up.
Then begins your weekly Hogsmeade adventures. It started with the repartee of each of you forming excuses to spend time at Hogsmede with each other (“Honeydukes stocked up on some new treats and no one else wanted to try it with me,”- you always had an affiliation to sweet treats or “I’ve been needing to pick up my new custom quill from Scrivenshaft's and I could use some company”- that was one of Draco’s, obviously).
Soon, it became a habit and suddenly the both of you didn’t have to ask anymore. It was just another one of those things that were left unsaid.
“Graduation’s soon,” His voice cut through the silence of your reading.
The two of you were at your favourite spot by the Black Lake, a small patch of grass shadowed by a tree with a great view of the endless water. You liked how spring left the grass you’d sit on blossom with patches of wildflowers and you liked the way that the warm sunlight danced across the water.
You closed your book, “I know,” you replied, sitting up to look at him.
You liked looking at him. He seemed so calm, far less lonely than at the start of the year. He had this quality about him when he’d sit here with you- a delicateness, a softness. You liked it- you’ve learned that you liked all of it, even the blunt harshness and every layer you seem to discover.
You just really liked him .
“I wonder what life’s gonna be like outside of Hogwarts- I mean not as students and like kinda adults. It’s all so surreal that everything we’ve known for the past six years is going to change-” You rambled. A lot.
Draco didn’t mind though, he liked listening to the sound of your voice. Sometimes he’d just zone out to the sight of your hypnotising lips and just watch them.
He’d watch the pretty patterns your mouth would make as you enunciated and move just slightly- just ever so slightly- to inch his head closer to yours. Your lips just beg to be kissed and he’d have to restrain himself each and every time.
He was doing it again.
He nodded at your words, hardly processing what was said but agreed nonetheless, breaking out of his trance and leaving your look of disappointment to slip from his awareness.
Draco Malfoy wasn’t listening to you. You knew you spoke a lot but whenever you were with him, this giddy excitement would just well up from the depths of your stomach and fog your mind until you’d blabber absolute gibberish, cheeks flaring vibrant pink.
He had this effect on you and you couldn’t stop it- so, you rambled.
But he’d have this habit of zoning out, you noticed it a few months back, which made you relatively self-conscious of over-sharing. He’d reaffirmed that he didn’t mind and that he was listening but you couldn’t help but think that maybe you were boring him.
You quieted up. Draco Malfoy noticed.
“I don’t think much is going to change,” He said in response.
“Really?” You knew a lot was going to change, but you’d still listen to what he had to say.
“Yeah,” He smiled, soft and genuine and a sort of innocence in his eyes which made you want to kiss him all over, “I think that you and I will still be the same- you know, still be… friends and still see everyone around and… I just think that not much is gonna change,”
Friends . He just wanted to be friends .
The way he said it shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did but you couldn’t help but reel at the sting his words had on your heart. If his friendship was all he could give you, you’d just have to learn to be okay with that. You will be okay with that.
“Yeah,” You repeated, “We’ll still be friends,”
You leaned into him, resting your head against his shoulder. He should let you have this- he should at least let you have this moment where you can just play into the fantasy that he may reciprocate the many months in the making of your little, childish crush.
You can cope with graduation bringing the change- and for this little moment, at least for the countdown, nothing has to. You can still have him like this- soft, delicate and unchanging- and you were going to make every moment count.
Draco leaned into your touch, relaxing at the weight of your body against his. He restrained himself from stroking your hair and intertwining your fingers with his, breath hitching as you turned to face him.
“Graduation is like really soon,” You said, eyes sad as you sighed but a hint of teasing at his earlier words.
“Yeah, I know,”
But what he wanted to say was: If everything changes, I know that I’d still love you .
-
“Here,” Draco Malfoy presented you with a small black box with silver ink that flourished your name so neatly it could almost be printed but you could recognise his handwriting anywhere.
“What’s this?” You raised your brow with curiosity, taking the small black box from him.
He pulled you away from Hannah Abbot a little after the ceremony to an empty hallway- most of your class was busy weeping, exchanging contacts with false promises of staying in touch or finishing their last-minute packing.
Graduation finally arrived and you’d been avoiding Draco Malfoy all week in what can only be interpreted as denial- denial that your time at Hogwarts is over, denial that everything is changing and denial that after today Draco Malfoy is under no obligation to have to see or speak to you again.
“It's a little graduation gift,” He smiled sheepishly, scratching the nape of his neck shyly- a habit that you’d observed and come to like, especially when his biceps would flex just a bit.
“You didn’t have to get me anything,” You lowered the box to look at him- your heart swelled at his thoughtfulness in the gesture alone, moving swiftly to give him a warm hug as a small laugh fell from your lips.
“I wanted to.” He whispered into your ear, wrapping his arms around you, “You should open it though,”
“I didn’t get you anything though,” You replied, guilt festering in your mind.
“I didn’t do it to get something in return,” Draco Malfoy, Slytherin Prince and heir to the Malfoy-Black dynasty never pictured those words in that same coherent order would ever fall from his lips, but change lingers whether you want it to or not and this was a change he welcomed with open arms, “I did it because like I said- I just wanted to,”
You took the black box in your hands and opened it with a gentle touch, noticing the sight of a familiar silver band strung through a thin chain of silver- a makeshift necklace.
He remembered .
Your gaze immediately looked for his, eyes soft with glassiness, “Thank you, Draco, but it belongs to you and I can’t accept this.”
“I want you to have it,” His hand brushed against yours as he reached for the chain, brushing his thumb against the crest etched in the silver, you watching his hands move to unclasp the chain.
He moved towards you, your heart beating rapidly against your restricting chest. He clasped the necklace around your neck, fingers following the silver chain until they hit the cold metal of the ring just below your chin.
His gaze was set and hard, almost longing.
Draco glanced at the sight of the ring in his fingers, to your lips and back to the ring- dropping the chain to your chest as he stepped back and cleared his throat.
“It looks good on you,” He commented as you played with the chain and the silver band, remembering the way the metal cast rays of sunlight against the ceiling.
“Thank you, Draco.” You smiled at him, brows softening in sincerity, “I love it,”
His cheeks were rouge, a familiar sense of shyness overwhelming him as he uttered the two words he’d been unable to say for the past three years, “I’m sorry.”
His seriousness brought unfamiliar tension to rise between the softness. He needed to get it off his chest.
You didn’t need him to elaborate, you knew exactly what he meant and you knew he meant every word- you knew it even before he ever said it. You could see it in the way he let you see his smile, the way he initially hesitated before coming close to you and you’d seen it in the way he first looked at you in your Potions class.
He was sorry in every sense of the word and all you wanted to do was weep- this wonderful, once lonely, stubborn, soft and amazing guy was standing in front of you telling you the words year 1, 2, 3, 4 and 5 you so desperately craved to hear.
You didn’t even know that you need to hear it until he was standing in front of you and saying it.
For the first time in your life, Draco Malfoy left you speechless.
Draco Malfoy didn’t apologise to that Hufflepuff that day he let his emotions win because he didn’t want his first apology to go to anyone but you.
He wanted to tell you. He’d practised plenty in the mirror and wanted to wait for the best time to tell you but he didn’t want the reminder of his past mistakes with you to resurface and put distance between the budding friendship that only just started seeing progress.
Instead, he waited.
He waited so long that suddenly it was graduation and you were still here, left completely in the dark about how truly sorry he felt and how much he wanted you to hear it. So when he started, he just couldn’t stop. In your likeness, he cut the tension in your lack of a response by talking.
“I am so, so sorry, Y/N,” He ruffled his hair in the messy way you liked to look at as his gaze trailed everywhere apart from your face.
“I know that it's not an excuse but what the hell- we’ve graduated. I did all of that because I had… well- I- I’ve liked,” He sighed as you hung on to his every word.
“I’ve liked you since I was 11 years old, Y/N.” He said with full clarity, gaze finally seeking yours. You couldn’t help but replay the sound of his voice in your head.
He likes you. Draco Malfoy likes you back.
“You,” You pointed at him, “like me?” You pointed at yourself.
He nodded, the pink of his cheeks brimming to the tips of his ears, “I really, really like you, Y/N- and I really am sorry.” Truthfully, he loved you, but he wouldn’t admit to it- not yet.
“Good thing I really, really like you too, Malfoy.” You grinned, smile soft like a sunset and sage, like the colour of spring.
You grabbed him by the dress robes and kissed him softly; it was all divine, sweet, and passionate and everything you ever dreamed it would be. He held you by the waist, cool fingertips pressing into your graduation robes as your fingertips drifted from his chest to rest by the nape of his neck.
The touch of your fingertips playing with his hair was surreal, Draco Malfoy never let himself picture you here, like this with him because he knew it would only be a cruel punishment to his already cold, caged and tortured heart.
He never let himself believe that one day he would truly get the chance to be this close to you and he loved it.
Your lips were plump and soft and fit his in such a way that made him hungrily push for more and you didn’t retaliate- you let him deepen the kiss until both your lips were swollen blue and both your breathing was laboured.
“And just to be clear, I forgave you a long time ago, Draco Malfoy,” You whispered against his lips.