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Chapter Text

Draco's POV

The autumn air at Hogwarts was crisp enough to sting my lungs every time I breathed in. A thin layer of frost still clung stubbornly to the grass despite the afternoon sun, and students crossing the courtyard left trails of footprints through the glittering white. Their chatter echoed against the ancient stone walls of the castle, mixing with the distant cries of owls overhead.

I stood rigidly beside my parents, hands clasped tightly behind my back to hide the fact that my fingers were practically digging crescents into my palms.

Father stood with the effortless composure he carried everywhere, looking as though he'd stepped straight out of a portrait. His robes were immaculate, his silver-blond hair perfectly arranged despite the wind. Beside him, Mother looked equally elegant, her pale face calm and unreadable as she surveyed the school grounds.

"The grounds are... quaint," Father remarked at last, adjusting one of his cuffs. His voice carried the familiar note of aristocratic disapproval. "I suppose it's to be expected for a school of this caliber."

Mother's lips curved into a faint smile as she glanced toward the Black Lake shimmering beyond the castle. "Yes, well. Charm isn't everything."

Father's gaze shifted toward me., the moment it landed, I knew I was in trouble. "Draco."

I straightened instinctively.

"How have your first weeks been?" he asked. "Any... progress?"

There it was, progress. As though I were some project requiring monthly reports. "As thrilling as ever," I said dryly. "Potions remains a complete waste of time. Snape's class is still insufferable, half the class couldn't brew a proper Wiggenweld Potion if their lives depended on it."

Mother sighed. "Draco."

I immediately regretted opening my mouth.

"We weren't asking about your classes."

My stomach sank. Of course they weren't.

Father took a measured sip from the silver flask he carried everywhere. "Your mother and I have been receiving inquiries."

I stared at him. There it was, the conversation I'd been dreading since the summer. I knew exactly what kind of inquiries he meant. "From whom?" I asked anyway.

Mother answered before Father could. "The Greengrasses, for one."

I closed my eyes briefly. Of course it was the Greengrasses.

"Their daughter is delightful," Mother continued smoothly. "Polite, intelligent, accomplished, and from an excellent family. They've expressed interest in an alliance."

Alliance. Such a lovely word for arranged marriage. I clenched my jaw. "Greengrass?" I repeated. "She's insipid."

Mother raised an eyebrow.

"And her hair looks like a rat built a nest in it."

Father's expression darkened instantly. "You will not speak of potential matches with such disrespect."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

"You are a Malfoy, Draco," Father continued. "Your duty is to secure our family's future."

Duty.

Future.

Marriage.

The words settled over me like a lead blanket.

Mother stepped closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "Though between us..." she said, exchanging a glance with Father. "We've begun to wonder something."

My pulse stumbled. "Wonder what?"

Mother's smile widened. "You never talk about girls."

I froze.

"You don't flirt with the Slytherin girls. You don't court anyone. You barely even look at them." Her eyes sparkled with amusement. "And yet..."

I was too stunned to do anything but just stare blankly at them.

"...you mention Harry Potter an awful lot."

I nearly choked.

Father's eyes narrowed. "Your mother isn't wrong, Draco." His voice had dropped into the tone that meant there would be no arguing, no clever remarks, and certainly no escape. "It's noticed."

I fought the urge to sigh. Of course it was.

"The way you tell us both about how you argue with him in class, or the clever remarks and insults you think of, just in case their is an opportunity to use them." Father took another slow sip from his flask, his pale eyes never leaving mine. "Frankly, it doesn't come across as hatred." A pause, "It comes across as obsession."

My stomach dropped. The courtyard suddenly felt too small. I could hear students talking somewhere behind us. Laughter drifted across the grounds. A flock of owls swept overhead, their wings beating against the cold air.

None of it mattered, because suddenly all I could think about was the conversation I absolutely did not want to have.

I wasn't prepared for that discussion, so before I could talk myself out of it, I opened my mouth and let the lie fall out. "We're dating."

The words hung in the air. Mother blinked, Father blinked.

I swallowed. "Harry and I," I clarified. "We're together."

For one long, horrible second, nobody said anything. Then Father leaned back slightly, "Potter?" His expression shifted from suspicion to calculation. I watched him mentally rearrange years of political alliances, family reputations, and Ministry connections in real time. "Potter," he repeated thoughtfully. He set his flask down on the stone ledge beside him, "The Potters have always been influential," oh, for Merlin's sake. "their connections are excellent," Father continued. "And Black's position within the Ministry remains valuable despite his... eccentricities." 

I resisted the urge to groan. Of course my father was evaluating my fictional relationship like a business merger. "And if you're involved with him..." He nodded slowly. "Well. There are certainly worse choices."

I wasn't sure whether to feel relieved or offended.

Mother, meanwhile, looked moments away from bursting into tears of happiness. "Oh, Draco!"

Before I could react, she'd grabbed both of my hands. "This is wonderful."

Wonderful.

I was standing in the middle of an increasingly complicated lie, and somehow it was wonderful.

"I knew there was a reason you never paid attention to any of those girls."

"Mother—"

"When did this happen?" she interrupted immediately. "How long has this been going on? How did it start? I want details."

Far too many details. The problem with lies, I'd discovered, was that people always expected follow-up information. My mind scrambled for something believable. "A week."

Mother stared. "A week?"

"It's new."

The lie felt heavier with every word.

"A week," she repeated suspiciously. "That's it?"

"Yes."

"Draco."

I had never feared my mother's curiosity more than I did in that moment. "Who asked whom out?"

I froze.

Mother pointed a finger at me, "and don't you dare say 'it's private.'"

My mind raced. Potter would kill me, absolutely murder me. "I asked him."

Mother gasped. "Oh, that's adorable."

I wanted the ground to open and swallow me.

"Was is so romantic."

"It wasn't romantic."

"Of course it was."

"It really wasn't."

She ignored me completely, "and how long have you liked him?"

The answer slipped out before I could stop it. "Since first year." I immediately regretted everything.

"Since first year?" Mother repeated.

"Well..." I rubbed the back of my neck. "I didn't realize it was a crush until last year."

Mother looked ready to ascend into the heavens. "Draco Lucius Malfoy."

"Oh no."

"You've been pining."

I nearly choked. "I have not been pining."

"You absolutely have."

"I have not."

"You liked him for years!"

"It wasn't years."

"It was literally years."

I hated this conversation.

Mother was smiling so hard her cheeks had to hurt. "And you never told us."

"Because there was nothing to tell."

"Oh, darling," there was genuine affection in her voice now, "so do you really like him?"

I opened my mouth. Then I closed it, an opened my mouth again. I didn't know what to say. I couldn't bring myself say it.

Mother immediately noticed. "Oh, you do."

"I didn't say anything."

"You didn't have to."

"Mother."

"Does he treat you well?"

I stared at her. "What?"

"Is he kind to you?"

"Mother."

"Is he?"

"He's Potter."

That apparently wasn't an answer. "Is he gentle?"

I nearly died. "Mother!"

"Does he—"

"Enough." Father's amused voice cut through the interrogation.

Mother huffed but fell silent.

"The boy is clearly overwhelmed."

Understatement of the century. Father looked back at me.

For the first time all afternoon, his expression softened slightly.

Not much. Just enough for me to notice. "Just be careful."

The words caught me off guard. "Potter isn't like us." His gaze drifted toward the castle. "He's impulsive. Reckless." A faint smile tugged at the corner of Father's mouth. "Frequently incapable of minding his own business. If you are serious about this relationship; based off what I know to be true; Mr. Potter will know everything about you. The only thing you can hope for is that he pines for you, to the same extent that you do for him."

I nodded. My throat suddenly felt very dry. "Of course."

Father seemed satisfied. "Good."

He picked up his flask and checked the time. "Your mother and I should be going."

"We're expected at dinner with the Headmaster."

Father offered his arm to Mother, Mother however looked reluctant to leave. Her gaze moved between me and the castle as though she were already planning future holidays, family dinners, and Merlin knew what else. "Yes, yes."

She squeezed my arm affectionately. "We'll talk more later, darling."

My blood ran cold.

"Much more."

I smiled weakly.

Mother beamed. Then, with one final dreamy smile, she followed Father toward the castle.

I watched them disappear through the oak doors. I waited, counting to ten, then spun on my heel and immediately went looking for Potter before this disaster got any worse.

I wove through the castle corridors at a pace that was just short of running. Students drifted past in clusters, laughing and talking as they made their way to dinner, but I barely noticed them. My eyes scanned every face I passed, searching desperately for messy black hair, round glasses, or the unmistakable look of someone perpetually one bad decision away from detention.

I checked the Great Hall first. Nothing. just hundreds of students eating, talking, and generally being useless.

I turned around immediately and headed back into the corridors.

The Gryffindor common room was out of the question. I wasn't stupid enough to try getting inside, though with my actions that lead me here, I was getting close to that level of stupidity. As expected desperation had lowered my standards. A few minutes later I found myself standing outside the portrait hole anyway, glaring at the Fat Lady as though sheer force of will might convince her to reveal Potter's location.

The Fat Lady glared right back. "Don't even think about it."

"I wasn't."

"You were."

Before I could formulate a suitably cutting response, a familiar voice spoke from behind me. "Looking for someone, Malfoy?"

Merlin. Of course. I turned around, just to see Hermione Granger stood several feet away, a stack of books balanced against her hip. Her arms were crossed, her expression suspicious, and one eyebrow was raised so high it practically disappeared into her hairline.

"Potter," I said immediately. "Where is he?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Why?"

I clenched my jaw. The truth was not an option. Because somehow I doubted Granger would react well to hearing that I'd accidentally told my parents I was dating her best friend. "I need to talk to him."

"About?"

"...classwork."

The look she gave me could have melted steel. "Classwork?"

"Yes."

"At this hour?"

"Yes."

"Really?"

I was beginning to understand why Potter found her terrifying. "Granger," I said through gritted teeth, "must this be an interrogation?"

"Considering it's you? Absolutely."

I closed my eyes briefly. Merlin, give me strength to convince Granger to tell me where Potter is. When I opened them again, Granger was still staring. Probably solving advanced Arithmancy equations in her head while she did it.

"Fine," I snapped. "A project."

Her expression didn't change. "A project."

"Yes."

"With Harry."

"Yes."

"Who isn't in any of your classes."

I hated her, I genuinely hated her. "Do you know where Potter is or not?"

For a moment she simply studied me. The irritation slowly faded from her face, replaced by something that made me even more uncomfortable. Concern, to my absolute horror, she seemed to realize that I wasn't lying about needing to find Potter.

She looked me over carefully, taking in my tense shoulders, clenched fists, and what was probably the expression of a man standing on the edge of a cliff. A sigh escaped her. "He's in the library."

Relief hit me so quickly my knees nearly gave out. "The library?"

"Studying."

I turned to leave. 

"Malfoy."

I stopped.

Her voice had sharpened. When I glanced back, she was watching me carefully. "If I find out something happened I will..."

I rolled my eyes. "Yes, yes."

"No." She pointed a finger at me. "I mean it." There was something genuinely protective in her expression now. "If you're planning something stupid, cruel, manipulative, reckless, or otherwise Malfoy-shaped, I will find out."

I stared at her. "Malfoy-shaped?"

"You know exactly what I mean." Unfortunately, I did, with one final suspicious look, she disappeared through the portrait hole.

My stomach twisted, because finding Potter was the easy part. Explaining why my parents thought we were dating was going to be considerably harder.

The library wasn't particularly crowded when I arrived. A handful of students sat scattered between the towering shelves, buried beneath mountains of parchment and textbooks. The usual hush hung over the room, broken only by the occasional scratch of a quill or the turning of a page. The familiar scent of old books, parchment, and ink lingered in the air. I paused just inside the entrance and scanned the room. No messy black hair, no round glasses, no Potter. For one horrifying moment, I was convinced Granger had lied to me. Then I spotted him. Tucked away at a corner table beside one of the tall windows.

Potter sat surrounded by enough books to build a small fortress. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and his glasses had slipped halfway down his nose as he scribbled furiously across a sheet of parchment. A small crease sat between his eyebrows as he concentrated.

The idiot actually looked like he was enjoying studying.

I stared at him for a moment. Then another, Merlin. How exactly was I supposed to do this?

Hello, Potter. Funny story. My parents think we're dating.

No.

Potter, would you be interested in pretending to be my boyfriend because I made several catastrophic decisions in under five minutes?

Absolutely not.

I was doomed. Taking a deep breath, I squared my shoulders and marched across the library. Potter didn't notice me until I dropped into the chair across from him. His quill paused. Slowly, he looked up. Green eyes blinked behind round glasses. "Malfoy?"

"Don't be mad."

Potter stared at me. "What?"

I rubbed a hand over my face. "Before I explain anything, promise me you will not be mad."

His expression only became more confused. "Okay?"

"No, seriously. Promise."

"How am I supposed to promise that when I don't know what you're talking about?"

"Just try."

Potter carefully set his quill down. Something about that felt ominous. "Draco."

I nearly fell out of my chair. He never called me Draco, usually it was Malfoy, occasionally git, sometimes ferret if I make his mad enough.

"Draco," he repeated slowly, "what do you want?"

Right, the current issue at hand. I opened my mouth to explain, but then I didn't say anything. I most definitely look like an idiot. I had to say something, mostly so I stopped looking estranged, and idiotic. "I may have made a small mistake."

Potter snorted. "That's already worrying."

"It wasn't entirely my fault."

His eyebrows shot up. "That's somehow more worrying."

I groaned. "Would you stop interrupting?"

"You came over here looking like someone's died."

"Nobody's died."

"Yet."

I glared at him.

Potter grinned, unfortunately, the grin vanished the moment he realized I wasn't joking. "Oh."

"Yes. Oh."

His expression immediately turned serious. "How bad is it?"

"Potentially catastrophic."

Potter slowly leaned back in his chair. "What happened?"

I took a breath, then another. "Okay. So my parents came to Hogwarts."

Potter nodded. "Right."

"And they wanted to discuss my future."

Another nod. "Still normal."

"Then they started talking about marriage."

Potter blinked. "What?"

"Marriage."

"We're fifteen."

"Tell them that."

The concern on his face grew immediately. "Okay..."

I squeezed my eyes shut. "There was a lot of pressure."

"Right."

"And they kept asking questions."

"Okay."

"And I panicked."

Potter frowned. "Malfoy."

My stomach dropped. "I panicked," I repeated.

"Draco Malfoy."

"I really panicked."

"Draco Lucius Malfoy, what did you do?"

I took one final breath. "I told them I was dating someone."

Potter froze. "Oh."

"Yes."

"Who did you tell them you were dating?"

I wanted the floor to open up and swallow me whole.

Instead, I forced myself to meet his eyes.

Potter stared back, his eyes widened. "Oh no."

"Oh yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"Malfoy—"

"Potter."

"Draco Lucius Malfoy, tell me you didn't."

"I did."

Potter immediately dropped his forehead onto the table with a muffled thud.

I winced. "That's a reasonable reaction."

His voice came out muffled against the wood. "Why me?"

"Honestly?"

"Honestly."

I sighed. "Because they already thought I liked you."

Potter slowly lifted his head.

"What?"

"My father apparently thinks years of complaining about you counts as evidence."

For a second he just stared. Then he started laughing. Actually laughing, I was experiencing a life-altering crisis, and he was laughing.

"Sorry," he wheezed. "Sorry, it's just—"

He dissolved into laughter again. "Your parents think we're dating?"

"Yes."

Potter buried his face in his hands. "I hate you."

"You can't hate me right now, what will my parents think."

"I can."

"Fair."

I slumped lower in my chair. "Can you stop finding this funny for five seconds?"

Potter lowered his hands, though amusement was still dancing in his eyes. "I'll try."

"Thank you."

"So..."

I immediately didn't like that tone. "What?"

"What exactly do your parents think our relationship looks like?"

I contemplated throwing myself through the nearest window.

"Malfoy."

"I don't want to answer that."

Potter immediately sat up straighter. "Which means it's bad."

"It's very bad."

"How bad?"

I groaned and rubbed both hands over my face. "Well, first Mother wanted to know how long we'd been together."

Potter's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What did you tell them?"

"A week."

"A week?"

"It sounded believable at the time."

Potter snorted.

I pointed at him. "Don't."

"I'm not laughing."

"You are."

"I'm trying not to."

I ignored him. "Then she wanted to know who asked who out."

Potter's grin appeared instantly. "Oh, this is going to be good."

"It isn't."

"What did you say?"

I stared at the table.

"Malfoy."

"I said I asked you."

Potter made a strangled noise.

"You what?"

"I know."

"You asked me out?"

"I panicked!"

Potter looked delighted. "Please continue."

I hated him. "Then she wanted to know how long I'd liked you."

The grin slipped slightly. "Oh."

"Yes."

"What did you tell her?"

I closed my eyes. "I said first year."

The silence lasted exactly two seconds. Then Potter burst out laughing. "First year?"

"It sounded romantic!"

"Romantic?"

"My Mother likes romantic stories!"

Potter was practically shaking with laughter now.

I waited for him to recover.

"And then?" he asked.

"There was an and then?"

"There was always going to be an and then."

I sighed dramatically. "Then I had to explain why I hadn't asked you out sooner."

Potter looked far too invested in this. "And?"

"I said I didn't realize I liked you until last year."

His expression froze. "Oh."

"Exactly."

"You told your parents you've secretly been in love with me since first year but only figured it out last year?"

"When you say it like that, it sounds ridiculous."

"It is ridiculous."

"I know."

Potter stared at me for several seconds. "So let me get this straight."

I already hated where this was going. "No."

"You spent years hopelessly pining after me—"

"I did not."

"—before finally gathering the courage to ask me out."

"I hate this conversation."

"And I said yes."

I dropped my forehead onto the table. "Unfortunately."

Potter laughed again.

I considered hexing him. Then remembered I needed his help.

"You're an idiot, Malfoy."

I slumped lower in my chair. "Yes."

"An absolute idiot."

"I know."

"And somehow this is still the funniest thing that's happened to me all year."

I glared at him.

Potter grinned.

Unfortunately, I couldn't even argue with that.