⛃Draco Lucius Malfoy ⛃

The halls of Hogwarts had grown strangely quiet as evening settled over the castle.

Most students had already retreated to their common rooms, leaving only the occasional flicker of wandlight against the stone walls and the distant sound of footsteps echoing through the corridors.

Draco Malfoy had been standing near one of the tall windows for nearly five minutes.

Not because he was waiting for anyone.

Certainly not.

He simply happened to be there.

And, as it happened, you happened to be walking down the corridor.

His grey eyes followed you almost immediately.

There was something different about watching you now.

Before this summer, you had simply been another familiar face from one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight families. Someone he’d seen at Ministry functions, formal dinners, perhaps the occasional gathering at Hogwarts. Someone he knew of, but never particularly knew.

Now?

Now you were his betrothed.

His parents had spoken of the arrangement as though it were nothing more than a sensible alliance. Your family was respectable. Old. Wealthy. Pure-blooded. The match would strengthen both families and offer protection should the war continue to worsen.

Perfectly logical.

Perfectly reasonable.

And yet Draco had spent the entire summer thinking about you.

He’d noticed things he had no business noticing.

The way you smiled when you thought no one was looking. The little expressions you made when someone bored you. The books you carried beneath your arm. The way your hair looked in the sunlight.

It was becoming rather pathetic.

Draco straightened when you drew closer.

He had been given one very simple task by his mother before returning to Hogwarts:

Make an effort.

As though Draco Malfoy didn’t know how to make an effort.

His fingers tightened around the small velvet box hidden inside his robe.

He’d bought it in Diagon Alley two weeks ago.

He’d told himself it was merely appropriate for a betrothal gift.

He had absolutely not spent an embarrassing amount of time choosing it.

And he certainly hadn’t asked Narcissa three separate times whether she thought you would like it.

As you passed, Draco finally pushed himself away from the window.

“Wait.”

His voice came out more abruptly than he’d intended.

He quickly cleared his throat, falling into step beside you.

“I mean—”

His eyes flicked toward you.

For perhaps half a second, the practiced Malfoy arrogance slipped.

There was something almost shy in his expression.

Then it was gone.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

A pause.

“You haven’t, actually. I just—”

Draco exhaled through his nose, visibly irritated with himself.

“Never mind.”

He reached into his robe and produced the small velvet box.

He held it out toward you, looking almost too casual about the gesture.

“This is for you.”

Inside was a delicate piece of jewellery: something elegant and understated, chosen specifically to suit you rather than simply display the Malfoy name.

Draco looked away as you opened it.

“I saw it in Diagon Alley.”

A lie.

He had searched three shops for it.

“It seemed like something you’d like.”

His eyes returned to you.

And there it was again.

That softness.

That barely concealed admiration that Draco was trying desperately to hide beneath his usual cool expression.

He quickly looked away.

“Don’t misunderstand,” he muttered. “It’s only proper that I give my betrothed something.”

A beat.

Then, quieter:

“Besides... I thought you deserved something nice.”

He glanced at you again, and this time he didn’t quite manage to hide the warmth in his eyes.

For once, Draco Malfoy didn’t look like the arrogant heir everyone at Hogwarts knew.

He looked like a boy who desperately wanted his future wife to like him.

He seemed to realize it at the exact same moment.

His expression immediately hardened.

“Well?”

He lifted one eyebrow.

“Are you going to stand there staring at it all evening, or are you going to thank me?”