Secrets and Snakes - A Draco Malfoy Story

The Common Room Party - Part Three

Draco smiled at himself in the mirror as he expertly styled his almost-white hair. He hadn't been able to stop smiling all day, not when his every thought was taken by Astoria. Their kiss in the grasses of the Quidditch pitch, the feeling of her body against his, the sight of her in the stands wearing his jersey, the knowledge that he would be seeing her again tonight. He won the game for her. The snitch was bloody hard to catch today—this one took off like a bolt and was practically halfway across Scotland by the time he found it—and yet when Draco's hand wrapped around the gold ball, he realized that he did it for her. Everything he did was for her. He was hers, utterly so.

His heart pounded with nerves that were unbecoming of a Malfoy. Normally, he was so confident. His family was one of the most prestigious in all of the Wizarding World, his marks in his classes were high, his good looks were never a source of contention, and his Quidditch skills were known throughout the school, especially after he began beating Potter once he finally quit taunting him mid-game. But there was a small part of him that held a seed of insecurity. For when he looked out into the stands, looking for Astoria amongst the masses, he saw something on her face, something he didn't like. He saw resolve, the same look she had that day in Diagon Alley when she insisted they shouldn't be together. So instead of walking into the common room party confident that he would be leaving with Astoria, Draco went in not sure if he could even call her his at all.

That's ridiculous. Astoria is yours and you are hers. It must have been the light in her eyes. But despite the false confidence of the voice in his head, Draco wasn't quite sure.

He sighed as he looked in the mirror, his smile now gone. How could one woman make him feel all of these emotions? Still, feeling anything for Astoria, even insecurity, was incredible, like flying on a broom for the very first time. He would take every dip and dive as long as they were with her.

Draco spritzed some cologne on, fastened his expensive silver watch, and dressed in a black button-down shirt and matching trousers. The buttons of his shirt were partially undone, showing off both his pale chest and silver chain. Though he always dressed up (something his mother had instilled in him), something felt different about his look tonight. Perhaps it was because he knew he was dressing for Astoria. She seemed to like it when he wore black, her eyes lingering on him a little longer when he did. And he realized with a little bit of a start that he wanted Astoria to like how he looked because he adored her and wanted her to feel the same way for him.

You, Draco Malfoy, are officially, utterly whipped, he thought with a small uptick of his lips as he walked out the door, eager to see the angel that had entranced his every thought. To hell with insecurities. All he cared about was seeing her now, smelling her sweet scent of strawberries and clean linens, feeling her body against his again. Yup. Definitely whipped.

He practically sprinted to the common room. Draco tried to tell himself it was because all of his friends were already there but that would have been an awful, unbelievable lie. Astoria. Astoria. Astoria. She was all he could think of, all he wanted to think of. Astoria. My love.

But when he reached the common room—the source of the thudding music and dim green lights—his blood froze. Because when he found Astoria amongst the drunk, gyrating masses (and he found her rather quickly, his eyes seemingly able to know where she'd be), he also found one of the biggest fuckboys Hogwarts had ever seen.

Diego-Fucking-Quintanilla.

Draco had to force himself to take a few calming breaths. Astoria should have been far away from that asshole, a filthy half-blood that seemed to make it his mission to get his dick wet as much as possible. And Astoria was more than another notch on someone's bedpost.