Chapter Text
The Hogwarts elite loved to hate you. They excluded you and your family every chance they got. When you first arrived at Hogwarts you picked them apart from the other students because they looked a little like you. New, perfectly tailored robes. Brand name leather bag, though your designer tag differed from theirs. New textbooks. Highest quality copper cauldron. In the beginning they spoke to you, curious about who you were, but after a week their curious whispers turned into dirty gossip and slander. At first, you didn’t understand why, but then the politics of the wizarding world became clear. It didn’t matter how much money you had. You would never fit in, at least not with them.
They called you mudblood behind your back and sometimes right to your face. You’d insult them in return and your friends would regularly hold you back from throwing a punch. You did get one punch in though. Draco Malfoy, second year, in the courtyard. You savor the memory still. Since then, nothing has changed. All those elitists still talk down to you, and Malfoy is still the worst of them. Draco Malfoy. You hate him more than all the others. Just thinking his name makes your headache. But the most painful part isn’t the name calling. No, you couldn’t care less about what those stuck-up purebloods thought. It’s that even after finding what you refer to as your real friends, you still don’t fit in. Your wealth shows. And since you don’t try to hide it or feel ashamed of it, there will always be a barrier between you and the others, blood-status aside. It’s made for some lonely years at Hogwarts.
Which is why, now, in your sixth year, you find yourself reveling in being part of the Slug Club of all things. You were surprised to be invited since you know Slughorn thinks lesser of muggleborns, but you suppose your intelligence and wealth outweighs your blood-status because Slughorn took a liking to you very easily. He talks to you about your interests—wizarding and muggle things alike—and treats you as well as any other of his favorite students. He makes you feel special, and that’s a rarity. And though the Slug Club consists of the same classmates who normally outcast you, you don’t feel like an outcast at Slug Club dinners and parties. There’s so much forced mingling on Slughorn’s part that everyone talks to anyone at these things and you’re never the odd one out. And if somehow a student is without company, Slughorn will find alumni for them to network with, so though you know how pretentious it all is, and you hate to admit it, you like the feeling of belonging that the Slug Club gives you.
You stand in the crowd of the Slug Club Christmas party tonight, talking with an acquaintance you met through the club and feeling perfectly happy. Slughorn’s office has been transformed for the occasion and your heartbeat picks up as you take in the beautiful scene. The entire room glows golden with candlelight reflecting off of every bit of gold and silver Christmas décor. Deep red and green curtains hang across the length of the ceiling, covering the dark wood, and making the room feel even cozier. To your left is a dessert table that stretches the entire length of the wall and in one corner is a handsome Christmas tree that sparkles with ornaments and tinsel. Though the most extravagant part of the room is the grand chandelier that hangs in the center, glittering from the light of the candles surrounding its rim. You take in the beautiful sight, chatter and music filling your ears. The number of bodies makes you warm but you don’t mind since you’re having a magnificent time.
You take a sip from your glass, listening as one of your classmates talks to you. Everyone in the club, plus alumni came tonight, all dressed to the nines. You’re wearing a new dress tonight. Silvery white, low back, and covered in delicate fringe and crystals that glisten with your every move. You wear your diamond accessories to match and your hair is up in an elegant bun.
You smile as you say goodbye to your acquaintance and turn to look for anyone you haven’t said hello to yet. You see that all of your classmates are here with their dates. Your eyes roam over Harry Potter leaving Luna Lovegood at the dessert table, and Blaise Zabini with his date chatting up someone from the Ministry. You turn around, wanting to avoid Blaise at all cost. Every time you look at him you’re reminded of the rest of his Slytherin crew who love to make your life miserable. Your thoughts go back to Draco Malfoy and your stomach twists into a knot. You shake your head to get him out of your mind. You don’t want to think about him, not tonight at the Slug Club Christmas party, where those snobby purebloods aren’t invited, except for Zabini. This is your private sanctuary away from their prejudice group, and you don’t want to spoil your fun by giving them any of your attention. You take a calming breath, determined not to let the thought of them, especially Malfoy ruin your night.
You stand against the wall and take another sip from your drink, feeling the sparkling liquid go down cold before warming the back of your throat. Your eyes scan the room for your date. You weren’t sure who to ask, so you took a chance and asked a guy in your class who you thought was cute and nice enough but whom you have never really spoken to. When you asked him to be your date to Slughorn’s Christmas party he seemed a little surprised but accepted the invitation. Though since you’ve shown up together he hasn’t taken much interest in you, and after your attempt at conversation he left you to talk with Cormac McLaggen of all people. You know that relationship isn’t going anywhere.
You spy your date, Bentley, amongst the crowd talking to McLaggen still and looking a little too cozy with Hermione Granger. By the look on her face you think she wants to get out of the conversation, so you start walking towards them to save her. You’re halfway across the room when you halt suddenly, drink almost spilling out of your glass. You whip your head to the commotion on your left and your jaw tightens at the sight before you. Filch is dragging Draco Malfoy by the collar into the crowd of the party. Your eyes narrow automatically, and your body starts to feel hot as anger boils inside of you. What is he doing here? The voice in your head is a deadly sort of calm.
“Found this one lurking in the corridor,” Filch snivels, looking to Slughorn, “Claims to have been invited to your party.”
“Okay, I was crashing!” Draco scowls, “Now let go of me.” He jerks out of Filch’s grip, expression turning sheepish as he straightens his jacket, but you think he looks more annoyed than anything else at being caught. Your eyes linger on his face and you’re curious to see that he appears rather pale. Quite purple circles mark his under-eyes as well and your quick anger subsides as you wonder why he looks so exhausted. You then kick yourself mentally for almost pitying Draco Malfoy of all people.
“No need to worry,” Slughorn pipes up, “Stay!” He laughs halfheartedly and clumsily raises his glass. You know that Draco and the lot like him weren’t invited into the Slug Club this year for a reason, and you always thought that it was because Slughorn simply disliked them, but you wonder if it could be more than that since Slughorn looks…nervous, you think.
You don’t pay any more attention to it and look back to Draco to see if he’ll actually stay. You watch him look over the guest in the room. When his eyes land on you he looks you up and down and his face contorts in disgust before he looks elsewhere. It makes your blood boil all over again and your body tenses up. You hate him so much. Your jaw starts to ache from clenching so much, so you turn your body away from him to calm yourself. You blink and take a slow breath, wonder what you were doing before Draco arrived. Your head faces forward at suddenly hearing McLaggen’s loud voice across the room. Oh, right, you think. You politely pardon yourself as you brush past people in the crowd until you reach your ‘date’.
“Hi, boys,” you interrupt McLaggen mid-sentence with a beaming smile on your face. You take notice how Hermione’s attention quickly turns to you. “I’m sorry, but I’ll have to steal Hermione for a moment. Hope you don’t mind,” you say, putting your arm around her and leading her away from Cormac and Bentley.
“What’s going on, Y/n?” Hermione asks as you lead her across the room.
You glance over your shoulder, making sure you walk out of view of the boys.
“Nothing. I just thought you needed out of whatever that was,” you answer.
Hermione sighs with a slight smile. “Thank you.” You see the way her upper body relaxes.
“You’re welcome.” You smile at her.
Hermione glances back over your shoulder as you come to a stop. “Isn’t Bentley, your date?”
You raise an eyebrow. “He was.”
“Oh, sorry—” Her eyes dart down, looking a little sheepish.
“No, don’t be,” you interrupt her. “Now I know better.” You huff out of a breath.
“Why did you come with McLaggen?” you ask. You wouldn’t have pinned Hermione to come to the Slug Club party with someone as thick-headed as McLaggen.
She gives you a weary look. “It’s…a long story.”
You start chatting about how annoying the boys are and then after some time your eyes catch on a figure past her shoulder. The boy with platinum blonde hair and a black suit. You quickly focus your attention back to Hermione. You smile at something she says and then can’t help when your gaze falls to Draco again. He stayed. Of course he stayed. You narrow your eyes and then quickly catch yourself before getting too distracted. You continue to talk with Hermione but you find it hard to be engaged in conversation when your thoughts keep drifting to Draco. You’re relieved when Harry Potter comes up to the both of you. Good, you think. More distraction for you, and another person to give Hermione attention since you keep spacing out. Harry greets you both and then asks Hermione to come talk with him in private. Hermione spares you an apologetic look and Harry apologizes, but you wave them both off and let them go without making it a big deal. You hear Harry’s mumbling as they walk off together, and you’re left standing alone by the wall. You fiddle with your bracelet, not knowing quite what to do with yourself now.
You search the party again for people to converse with and your stare narrows when you spy Draco Malfoy again, talking with Blaise. Your breath deeply and your stomach does something strange at the sight of him. You look away, hoping to find someone, anyone to talk to, but you can’t help yourself when you look back at him and let your gaze linger. Why is he here? You feel your insides warm up the longer you stare. Of course he had to show up tonight and ruin your night. You hate him so much, and you hate him even more as you notice how smooth his skin is. Not one worry line, as if he hasn’t a care in the world. Your breath starts coming to you a little faster and you watch as he glances around the room quickly, his pale eyes flashing without meeting yours. He takes a sip from his glass and then says goodbye to Blaise. You watch as he sets his drink down and then follow his tall form weave in and out of the crowd. You lift your head to keep him in your sights as he makes his way towards the far side of the room, but then he disappears in the crowd, and you’ve lost him. Before you know it, you’re moving across the room in his direction. Your heels sink into the cushioned carpet and you brush past the guests in the room. You move through the crowd, eyes fixed ahead of you. You catch a glimpse of the back of Draco’s head and his black suit before he slips out the door. You stride the rest of the way to catch him outside before you miss him completely.
You reach the end of the room and take hold of the doorknob. You open the door, sliding through and closing it behind you in one swift motion. It slams a little and you hope you didn’t draw too much attention to yourself from the party. You freeze then in the stone corridor, feeling the cool air chill your skin now that you're away from the warmth of the crowd. You let out the breath you were holding and release the cool metal handle. You turn around to face the corridor and inhale when your eyes catch on the back of Draco’s form as he walks down the hall, just a few long paces ahead of you. You don’t know why your body is so still and nervous all of sudden. You blink yourself out of your reverie and let out a breath. You strut towards Draco, taking the biggest steps your heels will allow and lifting the skirt of your dress so you don’t trip. Your heels echo loudly against the stone with each step you take and in just a couple seconds you’re right behind Draco. Without thinking you reach your arm out and pull on his forearm to turn him around.
“What are you doing here?” you yell. The moment his face turns to you your gut twists and you have to steel your face lest you show how he affects you. You’ve never been this close to him before, you think. And you don’t know what to think about the way your body grows tenser with every passing second you look into his pale blue eyes.
Draco rips his arm from your grasp, forehead wrinkling in disgust as he looks you up and down. “None of your business,” he spats.
He makes to walk away but you step in front of him, sticking your hand. When his shoulder bumps into your hand he jerks backwards like he’s been burnt. It makes your blood boil even more.
“Actually, it is my business, since you’ve decided to show up and ruin my night.” You stare at him with daggered eyes, placing your hands on your hips.
“Well I’m trying to leave. So, if you’ll stop chasing after me just to yell…” His icy blue eyes stare you down and you glare right back. How dare he yell at you when he’s the one showing up where he doesn’t belong and isn’t invited, you think. You finally have a nice night to yourself, a place where you’re welcomed, and he has to show his face and spoil it. You hate him. You hate him so much you feel a growl threatening to escape your throat.
“Well, your showing up for just a moment is long enough to spoil any event,” you grit, leaning forward.
He looks over your form and you feel a deep flush run through your bare arms and back. “Your presence is certainly enough to spoil anything, especially wearing that, like a pathetic cry for attention,” he snarls, and you feel the warmth of his breath on your skin.
Your eyes widen at his remark and you feel yourself blush even more, but you’re determined not to give him the upper hand. “You’re the one needing to cry for attention. Trying to sneak into places where you don’t belong and aren’t wanted,” you finish with a huff, feeling your chest rise and fall deeply at how angry you are. You hold his stare, his eyes just inches from your own and suddenly your stomach twists in a much different way. You know you’ve gone too far when you see tears pooling in the bottom of his eyes, though you’re still hesitant to back down.
You watch as he blinks and a new determination enters his eyes. He looks directly at you as he speaks in a fiery, quiet tone, “Mudblood.”
Your gut sinks to the floor and then very quickly you feel a dangerous calm come over you. Your anger simmers just below losing all control, and yet it mixes with something else you don’t want to admit. You hate how Draco affects you. You can normally brush it off when people use that word with you, but hearing it come from him right now, from his lips, right to your face... You don’t know why it hurts so much. You feel your resolve breaking the longer you hold his stare so you break eye contact and step around him before he can see the tears forming in your eyes. You walk down the dark corridor, your anger spiking with every clap of your heel on the stone. However, it quickly succumbs to your overwhelming sadness. Your eyes feel hot with unshed tears and you fist your hands to help keep your composure, listening to every step you take echo in the silence. The chill of the night raises goosebumps on your arms, and you feel more alone and colder than you did before.
You’re almost to the door leading back to Slughorn’s office when you stop in your tracks at hearing Draco behind you.
“I’m sorry.” His voice reverberates in the corridor. With the last wave of his voice it feels like the distance between you has closed and he could be standing right behind you. What did he just say? You sniffle and turn your head just enough to peak over your shoulder. Draco stands back where you stood, half lit by the moonlight. You feel your heartbeat pick up at the sight and quickly turn your head back to face forward. Your whole upper body shakes with every heartbeat and it makes you more nervous. “I’m sorry,” you hear his voice again, weaker and quieter. It makes some of the tension leave your body, but you can’t accept his apology. You hate him. You hate everything he’s done, everything he’s ever said to you. You’re not sure if it’s your anger or your sadness that makes a tear finally escape your eye. You start walking away again and wipe the tear from your cheek. I’m sorry. The words spin in your head. Was he crying? And since when does Draco Malfoy apologize to anybody? The thoughts make your chest ache in a way you don’t understand and without thinking you spin on your heel and find yourself striding back towards him. In just a matter of seconds you’re standing before Draco again, mouth open to speak, but you hesitate when you see tears shining in his eyes. Though his expression is just as hardened as it was earlier, so you don’t feel bad when you start up again.
“Why are you crying?” you yell, still angry with him.
“None of your business,” he snaps back, holding your glare. You’re taken aback at first, but looking back and forth between his glossy eyes, you know exactly why he snapped at you. He doesn’t like being caught in a vulnerable state, doesn’t want to trust anyone or open up to them, you think. When he doesn’t continue you scoff and look up and down his black suit.
“Fine!” Your voice comes out sharper than you wanted, but you ignore the part of yourself that pities him, and walk away again. Your heels clack on the stone as you huff out through your nose, not knowing why you even bothered to turn around for him in the first place. What did you expect? For him to actually open up to you?
“Fine!” you hear his voice echo loudly behind you, still a little broken, and it spikes the anger in you again. You spare a glance over your shoulder and then keep walking. Your heart beats faster for unknown reasons which makes you more exasperated with yourself. You place your cool hands on your cheeks to calm the flush in your face. You don’t know whether you want to turn around and yell at him some more or just run away as fast as you can. It’s a different kind of anger you feel now, a different kind of fluster than you’ve felt before and you don’t really understand why you’re so affected by him. What is it you’re feeling, you think to yourself. Anger? Not quite. Sadness? No, not sadness. All of the pity you felt has left you. But you don’t know why your heart is beating the way it is or why your stomach feels twisted in knots again. Your body feels so hot despite the bareness of your skin, you think.
You stop walking and turn around once more in the corridor. You stay where you are and stare at Draco as he watches you a few long paces away. You search his eyes to see if they shine with tears still, but you can’t tell from this distance and dark lighting. You take in the way the shadows cut and carve half of his silhouette, eyes roaming up and down his form, but when your stomach flips you refocus your attention back to his face. You look into his pale eyes and ponder how the thought of him crying makes you hate him even more, frustrating you to no end. You’re sure that he’s trying to hide his pain, but you would never pity Draco Malfoy, you think. Never. Though you are sure you know the reason he’s hurting. Draco’s family dynamics aren’t exactly a mystery to anybody at Hogwarts. And though you don’t know the details, you know enough to believe Draco faces a lot of difficulty at home, more than you could imagine, you’re sure. The thought pulls at your chest and you scold yourself internally. You will not pity Draco Malfoy, you remind yourself.
You’re taken out of your thoughts when Draco takes a step towards you. Your heart suddenly leaps out of your chest. You stare, mouth going dry, as he stalks nearer, his unmoving gaze making you feel like you need to look away. The way his eyes bore into yours, intense, but not angry. You don’t understand him, you think.
You stumble one step back, still looking into his pale eyes, and then suddenly Draco’s standing before you. You inhale, eyes fluttering, and then look down to his chest. Your head feels fuzzy at feeling his shadows fall all over you and you try to collect yourself by staring at one of the black buttons on Draco’s shirt. You’re then distracted by the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes and your stomach flips again. Why are you so nervous, you think. Your eyes suddenly catch the movement of his throat as he swallows and you quickly avert your gaze to stare blankly in front of you. You gulp as you look up slowly to his face again. The backlighting lets shadows conceal most of Draco’s features, making you feel at a disadvantage. You can’t make out what he might be feeling in the moment, though you suspect he’s probably upset with both himself and you. You notice how his fair skin appears dull in this lighting, and when you look at his pale eyes you breathe in at how close you are. You could count every blonde eyelash, you think. Your eyes wander back down, over his cheek, and then to the part of his mouth. Your stomach flips again and you’re frozen in place. You hate him, you remind yourself.
You stand still, not knowing what to say, not knowing why he isn’t saying anything either. You take in his smooth skin again. He’s so close, you think. Part of you wants to shove him away, but you don’t, and you don’t understand why you aren’t moving. You glance up to meet his eyes again, but his are downcast and…looking at you…at your lips, you dare think. Your breath catches and your heart pounds again, so loud and you hope he can’t hear it. He leans his head towards you just a hair and you look at his mouth. His lips are partly shadowed, the light exposing his full bottom lip. You want…you don’t dare think what you want. Before you can think further Draco is crashing his lips onto yours and pulling you into his arms. You gasp and then stop breathing all together. He doesn’t loosen his embrace and you pay far too much attention to how warm his body feels against you, how his hands grip your bare arms, how his lips are soft against yours. You finally breathe in and your body melts into him, stomach flipping when you smell the deep scent on his cologne all around you. You angle your head and kiss him back, your hands reaching up to fist his hair and grab the collar of his jacket, gripping the fabric tight in your hand. He growls into your mouth then and your blood pulses more. You don’t know why you feel like you need to hold him so closely. You don’t know why you kiss him back in the first place. You hate him, you think to yourself as you tilt your head and deepen the kiss. He mimics your action and you sink into him even more. I hate you, you kiss him again. I hate you, your body arches into his touch when his hand falls to your waist, his fingers brushing the bare skin of your back. I want you.
You break the kiss, needing to catch your breath. His warm breath mingles with your own and you can’t control it when you lean in to kiss him again. Draco’s arms come around you then, practically carrying your body weight in his arms and you feel like you're floating, dizzy in the most delightful way. “Y/n,” he mumbles your name against your lips and it makes your heart flutter.
You breathe out his name in response, feeling his hands warm against your skin. Why does this feel so good? You don’t want him to stop and you certainly don’t want to either. It feels like eternity with him in the corridor. You suddenly can’t understand why you’ve loathed him for so long.
Draco kisses you softly once more and you suddenly taste salt on your tongue, and his grip on the fabric at your hip tightens. You furrow your brow and break from his lips to brush a kiss over his cheek. You taste the same salty wetness and you kiss him again, moving up to his eye and then to the other, wanting to kiss away his tears. Why is he crying, you wonder. You don’t want him to cry. Your chest aches in a different way and all you want now is to take his pain away, but you don’t know how. You brush your lips against his skin gently one more time and pull away to look into his eyes. You breathe deeply as you take him in. The moonlit corridor barely lights his face, and shadows dip and curve all around his features. Tears pool and shine at the bottom of his blue eyes and streaks glisten down his cheeks. Oh, Draco. You lift your hand and brush your fingertips along the soft skin of his face. His face is flushed and you don’t know if it’s because of the kiss or his crying, or both. He meets your gaze then, eyes scanning the rest of your face. Your eyes flutter as his hand brushes a fallen piece of hair from your face to tuck it behind your ears. You still hold each other in your arms, neither of you wanting to break contact. You like the warmth of his hands, you think. You take a breath, allowing yourself to enjoy the moment, unsure of what will happen when it ends.
You look into his eyes, staring at the glistening in his pale irises. You don’t see the spoiled brat you always made yourself see when you looked at him before. Instead, you see a tenderness, gentleness. A brokenness too, one that’s almost like looking in the mirror. You move your fingers along his jaw with a featherlight touch. You know there’s more to Draco underneath the surface. Just like how people ignore you, being born into a rich muggle family, it’s not his fault he was born into a rich pureblood family. No one can choose those kinds of things. You wonder what he faces in his family life, being dragged into horrible circumstances, danger, prejudice…Voldemort’s circle. You feel a chill in your chest when you think of it. Everyone knows the politics of the Malfoy family, and with Draco grown up now, he must be pressured to be more involved, you think. You imagine he must be lonely. You see it in his eyes, a dullness and sadness that also yearns and hopes when he looks at you. You’d recognize those eyes anywhere because it’s what you see when you look at your reflection. Loneliness. Like a cavity in your body, wanting to be filled. You hope it could be filled by him….and that perhaps you could help fill his.
Draco looks into your eyes still and you feel his hand tighten on your waist slightly. His other hand smooths over your hairline and you relax a little at his touch.
“I’m sorry,” his voice is just above a whisper, but it sounds stronger than before when you thought his voice was breaking. “That was a foul thing to say. And it isn’t true. I didn’t even…mean it.” He hesitates to hold your stare and his eyes dart down. You look at every fine lash again.
“I know you didn’t,” you say quietly, thumb moving to the corner of his mouth. You believe him. You know he only spoke in anger. You know how hard it is to be vulnerable. “Apology accepted,” you whisper. “And I’m sorry too, for yelling, and saying you aren’t wanted.” You are. You don’t say what you’re thinking.
“I deserved it.”
“No.” You shake your head slightly, thumbing by his mouth again. “I really like you, Draco.” You smile a little, searching his eyes for a response.
He lets out a short laugh. “I would hope so after that,” he says referring to your kiss and your breath out slight laugh as well. “I really like you too, Y/n.” You feel his hand along your hair again and it makes your chest flip. He leans his forehead against yours for just a moment and then pulls back to look around the corridor. He swallows before speaking again. “Y/n,” he hesitates, looking serious all of a sudden. “We can’t do this,” he says. You feel your stomach drop, confused by his rejection. You take a step back from him, looking away from his gaze, not understanding what’s happening. “I mean-”
“I know what you meant,” you cut him off. He steps forward to keep you in his arms, his grip tight and suddenly you want to cry, feeling so embarrassed. You feel your face heating up already and the sting of tears threatening to form in your eyes. You try desperately to keep your composure together and not make a fool of yourself in front of him.
“No,” he says firmly, “you don’t.” Your brows furrow and you chance a look at his face when you feel your body starting to cool down and no longer feel in danger of crying. His eyes are tender, but strong. “What I meant is it’s dangerous…” he says slowly, “for you.” He looks so intently into your eyes and suddenly you know exactly what he means. He’s right, you think. It is dangerous, for both of you. There are people who would stop at nothing to keep the two of you from entangling in a relationship because of your blood status, people who are in Draco’s inner circle. You feel a pull at your core. You want to help Draco away from all that, help him find peace. You nod purposefully, letting him know you understand.
This time, your eyes are the ones that dart around the corridor to check that you’re still alone. You are. You look back to Draco. “You’re right,” you say, disappointment settling into your gut as you speak it out loud. But you know you have to stop this before it starts. It’s already started, you think, but you try to shake it from your mind. You can’t help it though when your chest aches at the thought of staying away from Draco and pretending this never happened. You sniffle once and force yourself to step out of his arms, instantly missing the warmth of his body. You don’t meet his eyes lest you give in and step back into his embrace. You take another step back to ensure you don’t.
“I’m sorry,” you barely hear him whisper one more time and it pulls at your heartstrings.
You finally look at his eyes and see the same longing you feel reflected there. “I’m sorry too,” you reply quietly, taking one last look at his face. You turn around fully to walk back to the Slug Club Christmas Party still going on, though it feels like the whole night has passed since then. Your heels click and echo against the stone and you peek over your shoulder to look at Draco once more. You take in his dark suit, his blonde hair, his beautiful face. He watches you and your chest tightens before you face forward again. It feels like forever before finally reaching the door to go back to the party.
Light streaks into the corridor when you open the door, and the sound of the crowd and music fills your ears. You slip through the door soundlessly and turn to pull it closed. You want to be careful of what people notice now, so you don’t look at Draco’s shadowy silhouette all the way down the corridor as you close the door to the office. The door thuds closed and you let go of the warm metal handle. Your heart starts beating faster as you enter the room, looking around at the crowd and feeling like an imposter as you make your way across the room to get a drink to calm your nerves. You reach the refreshment table and take a glass of champagne you think it is. The cool glass feels good in your hands as you try uncloud your mind and come back to the present moment. You do your best to mingle a little bit, not totally hearing the voices that speak to you. Your mind is filled with thoughts of Draco. You can’t believe what just happened in the corridor. You had been ignoring your feelings for so long, lying to yourself. You had yourself convinced you didn’t feel anything for Draco, other than hatred. Now you can hardly believe yourself. The two of you kissed. You like him. And he likes you. Now that you know how he feels and you’ve allowed part of the lonely hole in your chest to be filled, all you want is to hold onto him and not let him go. But you know that you have to keep away from each other to protect one another. You understand that Draco doesn’t want a target on your back, and you certainly don’t want to create any more trouble for him than he already has. You don’t know what they’d do to him if they knew he entangled with a muggleborn, especially one as infamous as you. Your chest tightens with worry for him and for not having the chance to be close to him anymore.
Though initially you thought you would enjoy this night, for the rest of the party you feel solemn and lethargic. You can’t bring yourself to enjoy anything now that your heart has been filled and then so quickly broken, all in one night.