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Draco Malfoy would never admit it, but he had grown somewhat fond of certain Muggle technologies that had surreptitiously made their way into his life. He was by no means a slave to social media the way Pansy and Blaise were, with their several hundred thousand followers apiece and their screens practically glued to their faces, but he was, admittedly, quite fond of sending direct messages. And particularly these things called snaps. Especially to a few in his inner circle.
Currently, his screen showed a whopping zero new messages. He set the device aside with a sigh. He was in Blaise’s private locker room, getting ready to play a pick-up game of Quidditch with Blaise and Theo.
The two boys in question glanced over at his sulking and sniggered.
“I’ll take it Weasley’s still not talking to you,” Blaise ventured with a grin, strapping on his shin guards using old-school buckles instead of the new wand snaps that had become popular with the masses.
“It’s been three days,” Draco lamented. “I don’t get it. It was just an interview. I didn’t even say anything wrong.”
Theo choked loudly on his WizHydrate, which was officially banned in professional Quidditch and definitely a performance enhancer. They figured if it was banned, it probably meant it worked, so the three of them drank it religiously before their scrimmages.
Blaise, ever the asshole, pulled out a copy of the Daily Prophet and cleared his throat before reading aloud:
“When Draco Malfoy, heir to the mega-giant Malfoy & Co. Ventures and Holdings, was asked about how he felt about his girlfriend, Ginevra Weasley, being promoted to Head Auror of her own division, one of the fastest promotions in recent history, he said: ‘I mean, she’s a Weasley, with multiple family members already holding top jobs in the Ministry, she’s still pretty good mates with Potter, and her sister-in-law Granger is on the short-list to become Minister of Magic someday. Of course she’s running her own department, she’s always had doors open to her.’”
“I said she was successful. She has everything going for her. It was meant to be flattering,” Draco defended, using his wand to snap on his own shin guards.
“Mate,” Theo bemoaned, trying to get the point across, “you basically called her a nepo baby.”
“I did not,” Draco rebutted, pausing for a moment. “Besides, even if I did, there’s nothing wrong with being a nepo baby.”
“Blaise,” Theo said, exasperated, pointing over at Draco.
“Look, we’re all nepo babies here,” Blaise interjected smoothly, coming to Theo’s aid. “But we all grew up knowing that. Weasley didn’t. Her family might be part of the elite now, post-war, but they had to work hard for everything they had. I can see why she wouldn’t take kindly to her boyfriend, of all people, implying she got her job because of connections instead of her actual work ethic.”
Draco huffed, running his fingers through his blond locks, unintentionally messing them up. Not that it mattered. He was heading out to the pitch in a few minutes anyway.
The silent treatment was killing him. He could handle her mad, fiery, hurling insults and hexes in unison, but the nothingness? That was unbearable.
His eyes slid back to his device as an idea started to form. He had been dating Ginny Weasley for two years. He knew exactly what she liked. And he was convinced he could get her to thaw, at least a little.
“Uh oh,” Theo said with concern. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m going to send her a thirst trap. She loves my thirst traps,” Draco said matter-of-factly, a wild glint in his eye. He picked up his device and shot over to the mirror, tilting his head just so to make his collarbone pop. It was one of her weaknesses.
“You know you could probably just apologize or something,” Theo mumbled, not that it mattered. Draco had already tuned him out, striking a pose in front of the mirror while Blaise circled him, adjusting angles and muttering things like “chin up, but not arrogant” and “more brooding, less broody.”
Theo rolled his eyes, shrugged on his practice robes, picked up his broom and walked out onto the pitch all while wondering if it was too late to make some new mates.
---
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Draco was flushed and sweaty, having just given his all out on the pitch, but the only thing he could focus on was the words on the screen in front of him.
Opened 53 minutes ago
He blinked, taking a beat, before looking back at the screen that taunted him.
He closed the app, before immediately opening it again hoping to see something different, which, technically, he did.
Opened 54 minutes ago
Blaise and Theo peered over his shoulder to see it as well.
“Did she at least screenshot it? Replay it? Something?” Blaise asked.
“Nothing,” Draco deadpanned, still staring like he could force an unread message into existence if he glared hard enough.
Blaise let out a low whistle, “You got left on read, mate. That’s cold.”
Theo sat down on the bench with a cooling towel around his neck. “Maybe just put the phone down, yeah?”
It was a little tragic to watch Draco spiralling. The man did a lot of things, but spiral was not one of them. When Theo had first found out about Draco and Ginny dating, he was confused, he never really saw it coming, but now, he couldn’t even imagine one without the other. They were two puzzle pieces that fit each other perfectly, infuriatingly so.
“You know what this means, right?” Blaise spoke finally, nudging Draco in the ribs, “it means you’ve got to escalate.”
Theo groaned, “No, it means you’ve got to stop. Or apologize. Or possibly both.”
Draco ignored them, wrapping a towel around his waist and headed towards the back of the locker room.
Traditionally, that area would house a row of communal shower stalls, but this was Blaise’s private locker room on his family estate. Communal anything wasn’t really their style. Instead, each player had access to a luxe ensuite, complete with rainfall showerheads and enough high end products to stock a small boutique.
“Oh good,” Blaise shouted as Draco walked away. “Make use of the fancy lighting in there!”
“You know you’re not helping at all, right?” Theo questioned once Draco had turned the corner.
“I am well aware of that, Theo,” Blaise replied, smug.
“Such an ass,” Theo muttered, laughing as he picked up his own gear and made for his own shower.
---
As the suds rolled off his back, Draco mulled over Blaise’s advice. Maybe escalation wasn’t the worst idea. It was clear that Ginny was at least looking at his messages. That was something, right?
Okay sure, the collarbones were a pretty big weakness of hers, but they weren’t her only weakness. He knew that she had a particular fondness for his back, which, thanks to Quidditch, was all lean muscles and clean lines. Ginny once described it as being “disgustingly defined” and “borderline obscene,” which he took as compliments, especially since she had walked straight into a table the first time she saw it in person.
Once the water was off, he dried himself off with a quick spell, tugged on a pair of soft cotton lounge pants that sat low on his hips, and turned toward the mirror. He made good use of the lighting, as per Blaise’s instruction, and snapped what he deemed a solid, 10/10 thirst trap.
He hit send without letting himself overthink it.
---
---
When confronted between going back to his empty London flat, or stopping by the Manor where his mother was undoubtedly up to something chaotic that only she could be insane enough to do, he chose the latter option.
Within minutes of stepping through the door, handing his dirty Quidditch gear to Nixie, the house elf, he was led into one of the many formal living areas. It looked like a greenhouse had exploded, with flowers of several varieties in various stages of bloom scattered around the space. There was an ivy that Draco couldn’t quite place that was draped artfully over a gilded mirror. He could have sworn it was humming faintly.
“Darling!” Narcissa said in surprise, closing the gap to give him a kiss on the cheek, “We weren’t expecting you.”
“Yeah,” Draco shrugged slightly, “just dropped by.”
Narcissa frowned slightly, taking a closer look at her son who at this point towered over her. “Still at odds with Ginevra, I’m guessing?”
“She hasn’t spoken to me in days,” Draco confessed, flopping down on one of the chairs in a manner that was undignified and very un-Malfoy-like.
“Well, darling,” Narcissa hesitated, “you did imply that she hadn’t earned her position. In the national newspaper. On the front page.”
“I didn’t know it was going to be on the front page, Mother,” Draco grumbled, head in his hands now. “If I had, I would’ve made sure I looked better in the photo.”
He sighed. “Besides, there is not a single person that actually knows her, who would even think her promotion was undeserved. She is intelligent and competent, fiercely determined, and honestly? Unstoppable. Well out of my league, really.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Narcissa said finally.
“You’re only saying that because you’re my mother,” Draco grumbled.
“Maybe,” Narcissa replied with a faint smile, “ she does have rather good taste in men.”
Draco let out an unexpected laugh. “I’m going to assume you mean me, and not her ex-boyfriend Potter.”
In a very uncharacteristic move, his mother just winked, then tossed a slim folder toward him. “Take that up to your father for me, will you?”
---
“Here,” Draco said, thrusting the folder his mother had handed him into his father’s study.
The space was meant to be cold and intimidating, which it was, but not to Draco. He’d spent a lot of time in this space while his father worked, having one-way conversations about anything and everything that occurred in his life from a very early age. Christmases at home between his years at Hogwarts had made Lucius Malfoy privy to every scandal that mattered to a teenage boy, from classes to girlfriends, to Potter, and even a particularly vexing redhead during sixth and seventh year.
The same vexing redhead who had opened his second message… and left him on read. Again. It had been two whole hours and it was driving him mad.
He flopped into one of the chairs across from his father, no easy task, as Lucius seemed to have gone out of his way to make them as uncomfortable as possible.
“If this is about that article , I already had to pretend I hadn’t read it. Don’t make me pretend to care as well.”
Draco just slouched further down in the chair.
Lucius let out an infuriating sigh, looking at his only child, quill no longer scratching against the parchment of a very important correspondence, “You know, in my day, we brooded upright.”
There was another beat of silence, then the sound of a quill being set down.
“I really should have had a second child. The heir and the spare, like most aristocracies. But no, your mother thought you were absolutely perfect,” Lucius lamented sarcastically. “Is this about the Weasley girl?”
Draco gave him a flat look. “Obviously.”
“Has she broken up with you?”
“No.”
“Has she indicated that she wants to break up with you?”
“No. But she hasn’t said much of anything lately.”
Lucius met his eyes. “You did, quite publicly and loudly, call into question the merit of her position.”
“I was misquoted.”
“I read the quote.”
“Okay but what now?” Draco implored, “how do I fix this?”
“Have you tried apologizing?” Lucius asked finally.
Draco’s head snapped up like Lucius had sprouted a second head.
“Weren’t you the one that said ‘Malfoy’s never apologize'?"
“We don’t,” Lucius replied smoothly, “However, if you’re truly set on making this girl a Malfoy someday... it would be the only exception to the rule.”
Before Draco could make heads or tails of that response, the door to the study opened slightly, allowing Narcissa to poke her head in. “Lucius, darling, I need you for a moment.”
Once they were gone, Draco looked at his phone again. He knew better than to take it out in front of his still very pure-blood father, who detested the infestation of Muggle technology into the wizarding world.
He glanced at the door, defeated, then realized he had one final move left.
The collarbone had failed. The back, usually a guaranteed success, had also gone tragically unappreciated.
But his abs… those were his last weapon.
Ginny had once described them to him as “an apology for everything you’ve ever done wrong.” He still wasn’t sure if that was a compliment, but it had stuck.
Besides, his father had told him to apologize.
Getting up from the criminally uncomfortable chair, Draco lifted his shirt, tensed his core, and took the shot.
“For Merlin’s sake, Draco,” Lucius scolded, re-entering just in time, with Narcissa letting out a distinctly undignified snort from the doorway. “Put your shirt back on.”
He looked back at his wife accusingly, “Narcissa, remind me again why we didn’t have a second child? Is this truly the state of modern courtship?”
---
---
Ping
Draco sat up in bed for a beat, wondering if he'd imagined the sound, wishful thinking brought to life by sheer longing.
He looked around, grappling with the tangle of bedding before his hand brushed cool metal. He picked up the device he’d discarded moments earlier.
New Snap from: Ginny Weasley.
Draco blinked at it.
Then stood up, paced once, sat back down, then paced again.
He was going to open it.
He wasn’t ready.
He opened it anyway.
---
---
Without pausing to think, he grabbed a handful of Floo powder from the ornate pouch by the hearth and flung it into the flames and clearly enunciated his destination.
It wasn’t until the flames licked their way up his legs did he wonder if perhaps she had revoked his access to her flat.
Between one breath and the next, his room vanished, replaced by the familiar warmth of her small but cozy living room.
Water sloshed somewhere in the distance. He followed the sound, already moving.
Ginny lounged in the bathtub, phone in hand, scrolling like she hadn’t a care in the world.
She glanced up at him, barely lifting her brows. “Well? Let’s hear it. This is the part where you get down on your knees and beg.”
Draco’s gaze swept the small puddles on the tile. “You’ve clearly been splashing,” he said dryly. “My knees would get wet.”
Ginny shrugged, unimpressed. “That sounds like a you problem. There’s only one way this goes, Malfoy, and it ends with you groveling.”
She only called him Malfoy when she was really mad.
“I can’t believe I’m about to do this,” Draco said with a dramatic groan as he dropped down onto his knees.
“You mean begging for forgiveness?” Ginny asked, arching a brow.
“I mean ruining a perfectly good pair of trousers…but yes, that too.”
“Okay,” Ginny said, leaning back into the side of the tub, getting comfortable, “I’m listening.”
“I should’ve started with an apology for that... article.”
Ginny smirked, bubbles catching the light. “You mean the one where you basically said I’m a ‘nepo baby’?”
He winced. “I didn’t use those words, but I get how it might have come off. I was trying to be... flattering.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Flattering or not, you made it sound like I didn’t earn it.”
“I know,” Draco muttered. “You worked harder than anyone I’ve ever met. You earned it. All of it. More than I have in anything I’ve ever done, obviously, though I’d appreciate you never repeating that. And if it wasn’t painfully clear: I’m sorry. There. I said it.”
“Now say Weasleys are better than Malfoys,” Ginny goaded with a grin.
“Absolutely not.”
Ginny laughed, looking more amused than angry. “It was worth a shot.”
“Are we good?” Draco asked, reaching over to cup the back of Ginny’s neck, his thumb tracing the sensitive spot just below her ear.
“Well, consider this groveling accepted. But next time, keep the nepotism commentary to yourself.”
Draco grinned, “Deal.”
There was a beat of silence before something devious lit his face. “You know, I still haven’t shown you how sorry I am.”
“I mean, you’ve shown me plenty,” Ginny said, eyes flicking to the phone perched on the edge of the tub.
“Oh, but it’s so much better in person,” Draco murmured, closing the distance to kiss her, dragging her toward him despite the tub awkwardly wedged between them, soaking himself in the process and not giving a damn.
Ginny melted into the kiss, fingers curling into his soaked shirt, half-laughing as his mouth trailed to the corner of hers.
“You’re insufferable,” she whispered, breath catching when he nipped at her jaw.
Draco smirked, dragging her a little closer despite the lip of the tub bruising his ribs.
With a low groan of protest, he sat back, tugging his clingy, soaked shirt over his head and tossing it aside with a wet slap on the floor. “If I’m going to suffer, I might as well commit.”
“You’re not actually—” Ginny started, eyes widening as he swung one leg over the side.
“I absolutely am,” he said, crawling in fully, water sloshing violently around her as he sank down on top of her, his bare chest pressed against hers.
Ginny tried to look unimpressed but failed, wrapping her arms around him to pull him closer. “You’re such a menace.”
Draco leaned in, his voice low. “You love it.”
His fingers skimmed her thighs beneath the bubbles. “Now, about that apology...”
“Oh?” she asked, tilting her head, heart thudding.
He moved closer, eyes darkening as he brushed a thumb across her plump bottom lip. “I just think if I’m going to say I’m sorry, I should be thorough.”
Ginny’s lips curled. “Are you planning to grovel properly, then?”
Draco’s lips twitched into a smirk, “Consider this the grovel of all grovels.”
Ginny’s retort died on her lips, replaced by a sound only Draco could elicit as his fingers did some truly magical things to her.
---
Theo’s eyes fluttered open as the soft morning light filtered through the gap in the curtains. Instinctively, he reached for his phone.
New Snap from: Draco Malfoy
He tapped into the group chat that he shared with Draco and Blaise and opened it.
Fucking finally. Brooding Draco was such a pain to be around. It was his absolute worst iteration.
He shot back a quick reply: ‘Bout time, mate.’
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