Draco X Reader ▸ HIS PRIDE | ✓

Y4 C8~ What Makes Him A Malfoy

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❛ SECOND POV ❜

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Snow crumpled beneath their boots, its sound filling the void of their silence. The two Slytherin's walked side-by-side, too awkward to attempt starting a conversation, but still desperate for the other to say something, anything.

You kept your eyes trained steadily to the ground, watching her boots dig into the powdered snow with every step. It did nothing to bring you solace, as the weight of the young Malfoy beside you was heavy and distracting, and the dark shades of his coat sticking out in your peripheral vision like a splash of colour to a blank canvas. It was hard to focus on the crunching of the snow when his presence was so distinguishable.

Taking your eyes away from the ground, you took the risk of glancing at the blond, whose hair was almost as platinum as the snow around them. You nearly jumped back, startled to see Malfoy had been watching you the whole time.

Realising he was caught staring, Draco quickly clenched his jaw and sharply turned away, a scowl replacing his previous neutral countenance. Damn it, why did they have to do this, seriously?

After walking a little farther, Hogsmeade began to poke out in the distance. You would've sighed with relief if it weren't for the fact you and Malfoy were supposed to get lunch together. Alone. Courtesy of both your fathers. No doubt there was reasoning behind their last-minute decision to force you and Draco to spend a Hogsmeade trip together.

The whole arrangement had been sprung on the two of you quite suddenly. You remember receiving the letter, and reading it with sheer disbelief twisting and turning in your gut. Your father's phrasing of the letter was exactly like that of his previous letters - straight to the point, as passive-aggressive as ever, and not up for negotiation.

After gripping the letter in a not-so-lax way, you had headed towards your Common Room from your shared room with Chloe, hoping - but also not really - that Draco would be there to talk about it. Your heart stopped when you had seen him sitting on the large sofa, a letter in hand, as his band of suckups surrounded him, pointing at the letter and laughing, shoving his shoulder teasingly.

He must've sensed your presence, because he tore his eyes away from the letter in his hand to you, expression incomprehensible. The teasing of the boys around him grew louder upon noticing that you were there, laughing hysterically and making "oooh" sounds. You tensed, feeling the weight of your father's letter in your hand as Draco continued to stare at you.

He slowly sat up, and you contemplated retreating to your dorm, not wanting to hear any hate-filled words from Draco claiming this was your fault, when you hadn't done anything to warrant any of this.

He approached you surprisingly calmly, almost sad. There was a clouded look to his eyes, as if he was trying to cover something up. You wondered if his letter had the same contents as yours, but it couldn't, otherwise why did he look so... troubled?

You decided to speak first, before he could get a sarcastic word in first, "Is there a way to get out of this?" I asked him, glancing at his still-teasing friends from over his shoulder. I already knew the answer, but it was worth trying. My eyes returned to his.

The nervous - why is he so nervous? - clenching of his jaw answered me before his words did. "No," he answered lowly, words scratchy, like there was a lump in his throat, "he'll find out. He always does." And you knew that he was right.