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❅
I hate Draco Malfoy.
There. I said it.
Even though he’s my best mate and I would literally die for him—though, not without making sure he’ll be haunted by my ghost for eternity—I hate him.
He is the sole reason why I’m in this dilemma. Draco Malfoy, the ‘Prince of Slytherin’ (Gods, it couldn’t get more ridiculous), just had to fall in love with none other than the Boy Who freaking Lived.
Oh, wow, enemies to lovers—how original of them. And the crowd goes wild! It took them merely months of working together to confess their feelings, fuck like animals and get a flat together. In Muggle London to be precise, and to be even more precise in Notting Hill.
If only I knew that Draco falling for the Harry Potter would be the start of my sweet, sweet demise. I would have made sure they’d never get the chance to even look at each other. To hell with true love!
They’re the reason why I’m now friends with Gryffindors—I know, tragic. Because, of course, Pottah (as Draco used to call him so lovingly) wouldn’t dare to breathe without his Golden-Trio-Buddies Ronald and Hermione.
Smartest witch I know, for sure. Awfully witty and quick-mouthed, to my surprise. Love of my life, apparently.
I sigh, my misfortune sitting heavily on my shoulders. Of all witches and wizards on this planet, my heart beats for my best friend’s boyfriend's best friend (say that three times quickly).
It happened over the span of years, I guess. I can’t really pinpoint it. All of a sudden, I had her on my mind—constantly. I thought I had been bewitched and even asked the Curse Division to check me. Result: No curses. Just my mind hootering and hollering about a woman. I tried to stop it. Really, I did. I even dated other people.
Horrible, horrible idea.
And then there is this stupid little thing called hope, which made me unable to let her go.
Sometimes Hermione says things that make my breath hitch.
“That red jumper looks really good on you.”
Like, I know she’s just being friendly, which is why I would never make a move.
To make matters worse, tonight is the infamous annual Pottfoy Christmas Dinner. Which means I’ll have plenty of time to pretend Hermione isn’t turning me into a mad man—no, more like a neanderthaler. Reduced to mere grunts. Ooga, ooga! Woman pretty, woman know many things. I kill mammoth, woman impressed!
The last time our dearest circle of friends got together at the pub, I boasted about my successes as an Auror. Hermione works at the Ministry, she knows what I do. Even if she didn’t, she isn’t impressed by simple things like me hunting down an active Vampire cell. I don’t know what was going through my head. I digress.
A knock on the door to the Auror’s office makes me finally snap out of my self-pitying. I’m sitting alone at one of the desks, surprised that somebody is still here at this time of the year.
The door opens, a head with white-blonde hair peeks in. Draco Malfoy. Speaking of the devil. He looks around before entering and closing the door behind him.
“What do you want?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.
Draco saunters over with both hands in his pockets. He doesn’t really like robes anymore, so in his free time outside of being a Potions Master at Hogwarts, he exclusively walks around in sharp-tailored suits.
His eyes are glinting. Oh, Salazar.
“I’ve got something for you,” Draco says, all sing-song in his voice.
“I should have never given you access to the Auror’s quarters,” I respond and put down my quill. “What is it?”
Draco’s smile reaches both his ears. He pulls a vial out of his pocket and holds it up. Its contents swish from side to side, showcasing the golden spectacle of a liquid.
“No.” I shake my head vehemently. “Piss off. Whatever this is, I don’t want it.”
Draco dangles the vial in front of my face.
“Consider it an early Christmas present, my dear friend,” Draco says.
“No, thank you.”
“It’s Felix Felicis. I’ve been brewing it for months, mate. People would kill for it.”
I eye the potion between Draco’s fingers.
“I’ve seen the way you look at Granger. Take it tonight. See what a bit of luck can do for you.”
“I don’t need luck from a pot. Besides, she’s taken.”
“Right,” Draco says with an awfully annoying undertone, and sets the vial down onto my desk. “See you tonight.”
I wait until Draco leaves to take a closer look at the potion.
This is a dumb idea.
Right?
❅
I feel the vial press against my thigh as I sit at the dining table in Casa Potter-Malfoy. The hosts sit at either end of it. I flank Harry on his right, next to me sits Pansy with her (I can’t believe I’m saying this) fiancé Neville Longbottom. Ginny Weasley sits across from me with my dearest friend Blaise next to her—yes, they fucked. No, they’re not serious. And then, between Blaise and Draco, Hermione is cutting into her vegetables. The entire room is decked out in golden and red Christmas decorations. It looks like we’re in one of those American muggle holiday movies that Hermione loves to put on every year (yes, Harry insisted on getting a television and Draco secretly loves it).
Speaking of Draco, he is giving me all kinds of freaky looks from across the table. I try to ignore him as best as I can, but when he clinks his glass with his knife and stands, my eyes follow suit accordingly.
“Friends, thank you all for coming to our annual Christmas dinner. Harry and I are exceptionally happy to have you here. Enjoy your meal, the night, and let’s have a great time!”
We all raise our glasses and say our cheers.
Hermione looks at me and smiles. She mouths cheers again, but this time it’s only meant for me. My heart skips a beat and my hand shakes in response, making my champagne spill the tiniest bit. I hurry to set the glass down and grab a napkin to correct my fauxpas. I don’t look back to Hermine as my cheeks burn flaming hot.
When dinner is over and we all gather in the sitting room, I stumble over the damn carpet and stagger towards the sofa.
“Already drunk, Theo?” Blaise asks and grabs my arm to squeeze it. The bugger has the audacity to smile at me with his perfect teeth. He leans in as we sit. “I heard Hermione broke up with Cormac.”
Oh, have I told you about the fact that I have an insufferable crush on a woman who is dating the most outlandish bloke ever? No? Well, now you know.
“What?” I ask back incredulously.
“Apparently she left him after finding out that he cheated on her,” Blaise whispers and rage fills my chest at his words. Who could ever cheat on Hermione Granger? A pioneer in the Studies of Magical Maladies? A human with the heart of an elephant and the courage of a lioness? Okay—I need to calm down.
“That was like two months ago, she just couldn’t talk about it because of the contract—you know, him being a Quidditch star and all that,” Blaise continues.
I don’t get time to either process nor reply due to Ginny interrupting. She pulls Blaise away from me and plants a fat smooch on his lips. So they’re fucking again. Cool. I decide to head to the toilet, which is ridiculously small because the entire flat is ridiculously small (it really isn’t, but compared to Malfoy Manor… you know).
I look into the mirror and take a deep breath to steady my racing heart. Hermione is single. After eight months. The vial almost burns a hole into my trousers. I grab it quickly, undo the cork and down the golden liquid without a second thought.
Why shouldn’t I take it? It’s just a bit of luck, I’m not trying to rob a bank or murder someone.
I see my reflection and notice how a smile settles on my face. Maybe this evening wouldn’t go as so many others have before. Actually, I feel quite confident that it will go perfectly. With a new-found spring to my step, I find my way back to the sitting room where I announce my departure.
“Wait, why?” Draco asks, alarmed.
“It’s Christmas Eve, have you taken a look outside?” I ask back and swing my arm towards the big windows. I cackle. “Why is there no snow?”
Hmm—the potion feels nice. Like a warm hug. My friends share worried and confused looks.
“And?” Pansy asks. Her eyebrows are pulled together in that famous Parkinson-way.
“We need snow!” I look at them with big eyes and mouth agape, waiting for—waiting for an applause? I don’t know.
“Do we?” Harry now asks and plants his elbow into Draco’s ribs, who yelps.
Draco instantly kicks into action and pulls me to the side. He inspects me for a second. I squint my eyes, pout my lips and lean in, which makes Draco roll his eyes as he enforces space between us with a palm to my chest.
“You took it, didn’t you?” he says quietly.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I say and step aside, gliding through the door that brings me to the master bedroom.
“What are you doing then?” Draco follows me.
I cross the room quickly and open the double-winged door to the balcony. December air fills my lungs in an instant and I take it in as deeply as I can and exhale theatrically loud.
“Isn’t it a beautiful night, Draco baby?” I ask and twirl in a circle.
I stop to pull out my wand and point it to the sky.
“Draco baby?” Harry repeats behind me. He must have followed us without me noticing—catching me in flagrante delicto. I spin around and wink at him.
“He was mine, first, Harry baby! But you can have him.”
“Is it drugs?” Harry asks Draco. Draco shrugs, but his smirk tells me he knows what I did. What he did.
I avert my attention to the sky and a blue spell shoots out of my wand. Seconds later, snow starts to fall in luscious flakes. Perfect. I walk past the couple and back to the sitting room. Hermione gives me a look of curiosity from across the room. She stands next to the window with a glass of bubbly, so I join her.
“What?” I ask. My lips curl upward, amusement plays on them.
“You made it snow,” she states and watches the flakes float past the cold glass.
“I want you to be Kevin,” I say and immediately regret it. Why would I say that? It sounds awful.
She snorts. It’s adorable.
“Kevin? From Home Alone?”
“Yeah.” I blink slowly.
“You want me to feel like a little boy who has been forgotten?”
“Ugh—” I want to scream. Felix Felicis is supposed to make me lucky, not an idiot. “Not exactly.”
“Please,” she says and bats her eyelashes at me, taking a step closer. Am I hallucinating? Oh, fuck. Draco probably drugged me with some fuckass shit. “Enlighten me, Theodore.”
“The first Christmas dinner four years ago you made us watch Home Alone and afterwards I had a lot of questions because I’ve never seen something like it.”
“I remember.” Hermione giggles. I love when she laughs, it sounds angelic.
“And you said you loved the feeling of it. The Christmas decorations, the songs, the snow,” I ramble.
“So you—”
The words tumble out before I can hold them back. “Christmas doesn’t feel the same without snow, so I wanted you to have snow.”
Hermione’s eyes widen and her mouth opens, and she’s about to say something, but the sitting room turns dark apart from the lit candles.
“Oh,” she whispers.
“What happened?” Harry asks.
“Theo happened,” Draco replies and gestures to the window where Hermione and I stand awkwardly.
All heads turn and I follow their line of sight. That’s when I see it; the snow accumulated so fast that the cars outside have vanished beneath a thick layer of it. The rest of Notting Hill seems to have been dipped into darkness as well.
“Theo,” Hermione says. “I think your spell backfired a bit.”
“I’m supposed to be lucky,” I mutter.
“Huh?” Hermione asks.
“Nothing,” I reply quickly.
“Guys, no chance you’re getting home tonight,” Draco says and I can see the fucker’s teeth glint in the dim light from afar. He’s happy we’re stuck because he’s trying to play matchmaker. Now that I think of it, he probably got this place without a Floo for this sole purpose. Just to fuck with me years later.
“Eh, we’re fine to apparate home later,” Pansy says.
“No chance, I’m too drunk. Dibs on the guest room!” Ginny shouts.
Hermione and I stare at each other. We’re both tipsy—too tipsy to risk getting splinched.
“We have one bed left,” Harry says. “The sofa is a pullout. If you want to stay.”
I’ve slept on the pullout before. It’s tiny.
“Movie!” I spit out.
Hermione’s face crinkles in bewilderedment while the rest of my friends watch us.
“I mean—do you want to watch a movie?” I try again.
“Sure,” Hermione replies and gives me a big grin. “I’ve brought The Holiday on DVD.”
We settle on the sofa and on the soft carpet, snacks appear with a snap of Harry’s fingers and Hermione places the disc into the movie machine. She turns around and seeks a spot to sit—there’s no room left except next to me. She hops over and plops herself on the sofa. Her thighs touch mine.
I barely take notice of anything happening on the telly. Hermione’s scent wafts over with every laugh and every sigh. She leans in the more time passes.
And then, an hour into the holiday romcom, she lets her head fall on my shoulder. I basically freeze. I’m scared that if I move, she’ll retreat. Gods, how her hair smells—I take a deep breath and let it marinate my lungs.
Hermione looks up and her lips pull upwards.
“Are you smelling my hair?” she whispers without anyone else hearing her.
My mouth falls open. Fuck. “You smell amazing,” I hear myself say. Holyyy shiiit.
“You smell amazing, too.”
With that, she settles back onto my shoulder and glides a hand into mine.
I stare at our entangled fingers and caress her soft skin with my thumb. She feels like heaven beneath my touch. I can’t bite back a smirk. I am indeed the luckiest man alive.
A movement catches my eye—Malfoy quirks his head to grin at me.
Fine, I’ll say it.
I love Draco Malfoy.
❅