Chapter Text
It’s strange how quiet things can feel even when the world refuses to be. London is loud. It always has been, or at least that’s what I’ve heard. Cars pass by in a constant stream, people talk over one another on the sidewalks, and somewhere in the distance, a siren wails just long enough to be noticed before fading into nothing.
And yet—
Inside the car, sitting beside Draco Malfoy, everything feels… muted.
Like the world outside exists somewhere far away, just out of reach.
I turn my head slightly, careful not to make it obvious. From the reflection on the window alone, I can already tell what I’ll see.
Tension.
It’s in the way his jaw tightens ever so slightly, like he’s holding something back. In the way his fingers rest too still against his leg, as if even the smallest movement might give him away. Draco has never been good at hiding what he feels—not from me, at least.
Even now, he’s trying.
Trying not to look disgusted.
Trying not to say anything.
Trying not to ruin this before it even begins.
It’s only been a week since I convinced him.
A week since I stood in front of him, insisting—begging, really—that we leave. That we take a break. That we go somewhere that wasn’t filled with memories neither of us wanted to face just yet.
The Muggle world wasn’t his first choice.
It wasn’t even on his list.
But I knew.
I knew he needed something different. Something far away from everything that reminded him of who he used to be… and everything he was forced to become.
Even if he doesn’t think so.
Even if he’ll never admit it.
“We didn’t exactly leave Hogwarts smiling,” I murmur quietly, more to myself than to him.
The words slip out before I can stop them.
Draco doesn’t respond.
But I notice the way his fingers shift this time—just slightly.
So he heard me.
Of course he did.
“Dray, look—it’s our hotel!” The excitement in my voice comes out before I can tone it down, and I don’t even try to hide it. My hand lifts instinctively, pointing toward the building ahead, lights reflecting off its windows like something straight out of a film.
It’s ridiculous, really.
How something so normal can feel so… new.
I’ve never stayed in a place like this before. Never had a reason to. Never had the chance.
And now—Now I’m here.
With him.
Draco follows my gaze.
For a moment, nothing changes. His expression remains carefully neutral, like he’s observing rather than reacting. Like he’s already decided this entire trip is beneath him, and nothing I say or do will change that.
And then—
Just barely—
Something softens.
Not enough for anyone else to notice.
But I do.
I always do.
The car comes to a stop.
Before I can even reach for the handle, Draco is already moving. He steps out first, adjusting his sleeve with that familiar precision, like everything about him has to remain in place—even now, even here.
He walks around the car without a word. Opens the door for me. And when I look up at him—
There it is again. That small, almost reluctant smile.
It doesn’t last long.
It never does.
But it’s enough.
The moment I step out, I find myself turning in a slow circle, taking everything in. The building towers above us, all glass and light, polished in a way that feels almost too clean to be real. People move in and out of the entrance with ease, dressed neatly,
Like this is normal.
For them, it is.
For me—
It feels like stepping into something entirely different.
“Come on,” I say, unable to hide the excitement in my voice as I reach for his hand without thinking.
For a split second, I expect hesitation.
A pause.
Something.
But Draco doesn’t pull away. His fingers curl around mine naturally.
Inside, everything is just as overwhelming.
The floors shine beneath the lights, reflecting everything back in a blur of gold and movement. There’s a faint scent in the air—clean, subtle, nothing like the familiar potions or parchment of Hogwarts.
Everything is different.
Draco stays quiet beside me as we approach the front desk, his posture straight, composed—perfect, even here. If anyone were to look at him now, they’d never guess this wasn’t his world.
He blends in too well.
He always does.
The check-in is quick.
Simple.
Muggle.
I handle most of it, answering questions, offering a smile here and there, while Draco stands beside me, observing more than participating.
When we’re finally handed the key, I turn to him with a grin.
“Ready?”
He raises a brow slightly. “For what, exactly?”
“For this,” I say, already tugging him toward the lifts. The ride up feels longer than it probably is.
Or maybe that’s just me.
I can’t seem to stand still, shifting slightly from one foot to the other as I watch the numbers change.
Draco, on the other hand, barely moves.
Of course he doesn’t.
“Relax,” he murmurs, glancing at me from the corner of his eye. “It’s just a room.”
“Not just a room,” I correct quickly. “A hotel room.”
He hums softly, unimpressed. “How thrilling.”
I nudge him lightly, earning the faintest twitch of his lips.
The door clicks open.
And just like that—
I’m pulling him inside.
“Okay, wait—no, stand here,” I say, dragging him a few steps in before letting go, only to immediately move again.
“There’s—look, the bed—Draco, it’s huge.”
I don’t even wait for a response before crossing the room, running my hand over the sheets like that somehow proves my point.
“And the bathroom—oh, you need to see this—” I grab his hand again, pulling him along as I move from one side of the room to the other, pointing things out like I’m giving a full tour.
“This is where we’ll put our stuff, and—oh, the view—look at that—”
The city stretches out beyond the window, lights beginning to flicker on as the sky slowly dims. For a moment, I forget to speak.
It’s… beautiful.
When I turn back, Draco is already watching me.
“What?” I ask, a little breathless.
His expression is unreadable for a second.
“You’re excited,” he says simply.
I blink. “Obviously.”
He tilts his head slightly, like he’s trying to understand it.
“I told you,” I say, softer now. “It’ll be fun.”
There’s a pause.
Not long.
But long enough.
“…we’ll see,” he replies.
Eventually, the excitement settles.
Just enough. I fall back onto the bed first, the mattress dipping beneath my weight as I let out a quiet sigh.
“It’s so soft,” I mumble, staring up at the ceiling.
A second later, I feel the other side shift.
Draco.
He doesn’t say anything at first.
Just lies there beside me, one arm resting loosely at his side, the other bent slightly against his chest.
For a while, neither of us speaks.
And somehow— It’s not uncomfortable.
“I know this isn’t your thing,” I say after a moment, turning my head slightly to look at him.
He doesn’t look back.
“Mm.”
“But… you came anyway.”
That gets his attention. His eyes flicker toward mine, just briefly.
“I said I would.”
“That’s not the same.”
A pause.
“…it is to me.”
I study him for a second longer before looking away again.
“You don’t have to like everything,” I continue quietly. “Just… give it a chance.”
Another pause.
“I am.”
Later, when the sky has fully darkened and the city lights have taken over, we find ourselves stepping out again.
The restaurant is… nice.
More than nice, actually.
The kind of place I’ve only ever heard about, where everything feels a little too perfect and everyone seems to know exactly what they’re doing.
I try not to stare.
I fail.
Draco, of course, doesn’t.
He sits across from me like he belongs here, posture straight, movements controlled, completely at ease.
“You’re staring,” he notes without looking up.
“I’m observing.”
“Poorly.”
I huff softly. “You’re used to this.”
“Not this,” he corrects. “Just… similar.”
Dinner is better than I expected, Actually, it's better than both expected. How do I know?
Draco didn't complain.
By the time we step outside again, the air has cooled. The city feels different at night.
Quieter.
Softer.
“Walk?” I ask.
Draco glances at me then nods.
We don’t rush.
There’s no need to.
The streets are calmer now, the earlier noise replaced with something more distant, more manageable.
Our steps fall into rhythm easily.
Naturally.
The park isn’t far.
It’s quieter there.
More peaceful.
The lights are softer, casting everything in a gentle glow as we make our way toward the fountain at the center.
Water trickles steadily, the sound oddly calming.
I stop at the edge, digging into my pocket.
“Here,” I say, holding out a coin toward him.
He looks at it.
Then at me.
“…what am I supposed to do with that?”
“Make a wish.”
A pause.
“You’re serious.”
“Completely.”
He studies the coin like it might explain something.
Then, slowly, he takes it.
“…and this works?”
“Sometimes.”
“That’s not reassuring.”
“Just try.”
For a moment, he doesn’t move.
Then—
He flicks the coin into the water.
It disappears beneath the surface with a quiet ripple.
“Well?” I ask.
He glances at me. “…what?”
“What did you wish for?”
“That rather defeats the purpose, doesn’t it?”
I smile. “So you did make one.”
He doesn’t answer.
But he doesn’t deny it either.
We sit there for a while after that.
Not talking much.
Not needing to.
The night stretches on quietly, the world around us fading into the background until it feels like it’s just us again.