Draco Malfoy x Reader One Shots

Over Butterbeers

The sequel to "Hogsmeade".

~ ~ ~ ~

By the time the weekend rolled around, you were something of a nervous wreck. Why had you said yes to Draco? The reasoning behind that decision had abandoned you now, and you were left alone with an ever increasing sense of dread. The two of you were enemies - what had you been thinking? What would the two of you talk about? Where would you go? Surely you had conflicting interests; you were kind, intellectual, and down to earth, and he was, well, Draco.

You could've spent eternity wallowing in self-pity, but time was not on your side, and soon, all students with signed passes were being ushered out into the stone courtyard.

The late December air was cold and harsh, biting at any exposed skin it could find, and snowflakes danced on the wind, each feathery crystal of ice twisting and turning to a rhythm as unique as it's motif.

The bleak weather came as a surprise to you, given that it was only a handful of days prior when you were sat comfortably before the Great Lake, enjoying the mild climate as wan rays of sunlight filtered through the leaves.

Nevertheless, snow was a phenomenon you could appreciate, and you allowed your eyes to catch on and follow a certain spiraling crystal as it descended leisurely. It weaved between other fragments of falling snow before getting caught only feet from the ground. Ice embraced ice as two became one, and then it was gone, lost in the ever growing squall.

You turned away to inspect the crowd forming to your right, rubbing your gloved hands together in an attempt to foster heat as you searched for Draco. Maybe he'd forgotten. Maybe he'd changed his mind. You weren't too sure how you felt about either of those scenarios, but you couldn't blame him if the latter was true. Not when you'd had doubts yourself.

"You came." Draco was suddenly stood in front of you, smirking and imperious.

You weren't sure what you had been expecting him to say, but you didn't think that was it. You blinked and glanced around, just to make sure he was talking to you. You could have been honest and said you had but didn't know why, or you could be polite and say you were glad of it, but instead, you just looked right back at him and said, "so did you." Then, realizing that perhaps your tone had been too vulnerable, you added, "You're late, though."

He nodded, his gaze leaving you to sweep your surroundings. The two of you were walking now, idly following the procession of students into town. "I wasn't sure I was going to come." He said, sounding nonchalant.

You scoffed, the noise escaping you with a bitter edge. "At least you're honest."

Draco glanced at you, his keen Slytherin sense of perception prevalent as he detected the hurt undertones in your voice. You might not have been the blond's biggest fan, but for reasons unbeknownst even to you, his words mattered and his speculated upon rejection stung. Despite his gaze, however, he said nothing.

The silence held until you were in Hogsmeade. Then Draco seemed to remember something and straightened up, smirk firmly back in place once more. "I held up my end of the deal." He turned to you, leaving you no choice but to stop walking, and his voice dropped an octave as he uttered his next words. "Time for you to hold up yours."

You frowned for a moment, confused, but when a slim but strong hand enveloped your own, you remembered.

'No.' Draco said, smirking as he stepped closer. 'I have my own rule.'

You arched an eyebrow. 'And what's that?' You questioned.

His voice was soft as he replied. 'You have to hold my hand.'

You felt heat rise to your cheeks as you allowed your fingers to entwine with his, and you softly mumbled a string of half-hearted insults under your breath, none of which you had the heart - or desire - to declare to the boy's face.

Instead, you opted to change the subject. "Any idea where we're going?"

Draco's hair fell loose now that he no longer gelled it back, and the persistent wind had scattered it messily across his forehead, softening the sharpness of his face and making it seem more open, though you knew those steel eyes were secure. Nothing would escape him unbidden.

"The Three Broomsticks." He said without hesitation, interrupting your thoughts. "Is that alright?"

You glanced at him sideways. "Yeah. Are you?"

He barely seemed to take notice of your words. "I'm allowed to be polite without being ill." He informed you.

"Mmhm." You weren't sure you believed that.

~ ~ ~ ~

Upon entering the pub you'd garnered some disbelieving stares, but neither you nor Draco paid them any heed, and soon people grew bored of watching you where you sat, staring out of the frosted window at the lively bustle of Hogsmeade as you sipped your Butterbeer.

Draco was opposite you, absentmindedly tracing a finger around the rim of his mug. His brows were drawn ever so slightly, and his eyes were fixed on something unseen, revealing him to be in a state of deep thought.

As you studied his face, you couldn't help but wonder what exactly it was that he needed to reflect so deeply upon.

Moments passed like this, and then Draco's eyes lifted to yours. "My father didn't want me to do this." He confessed, taking you aback.

"You told your father?"

He nodded slowly, his gaze dropping to his drink. "I'd been planning on doing it for... Way too long, really. It's quite pathetic. But my father always told me it was wrong."

Your face softened slightly. "But you did it anyway." You said. Draco idolized Lucius, so the knowledge that he went against his wishes for you, of all people, made you feel things for the boy you'd rather not.

"I did." He replied softly. "And I was wondering if we could do it again sometime."

If someone had told you a week ago that you'd be sitting in the Three Broomsticks with Draco Malfoy, you'd have laughed. If they'd told you he would be open - vulnerable - you'd have told them to check into St. Mungo's.

And you half considered the possibility that you, too, ought to be admitted as you smiled behind your mug. "I think that'd be alright."