the boy who had no choice [d.m]

𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖗𝖙𝖞 𝖙𝖜𝖔

He didn't answer; only looked at her, warily.

"What could be here that I want that isn't at the Ball?" she pressed on, coming to a stop in front of him and tilting her head back to look at him.

Draco's eyes flicked between hers and he released a shaky breath. "I don't remember being a 'what'."

Elara shook her head and when he tried to look away, cupped his face and brought his gaze back to hers. "Draco - what I - what I feel for you -" She hesitated, felt him inhale, sharply. "What I feel for you is complicated and confusing and -"

"I know," he breathed, looking at her with suddenly bright eyes. "Trust me, I know."

"But it's not because of your father or your last name or your house."

It was a simple phrase but she could tell it had hit him straight in the chest; it was written in the twitch of the muscle in his jaw, the spasm of his fingers.

She knew it meant everything to him.

"Everything that goes on here," she went on, softly, not tearing her eyes from his, "is because of you and I. Nothing else comes into play. Okay?"

Upon seeing the look on his face, she clarified. "Although I would love to have your last name one day, it's not something I judge you by today."

As soon as the words rolled off her tongue, she wished she'd never said them. It wasn't the time to joke - he'd snap at her, shove her away. Draco and jokes about marriage didn't seem to mix well.

It had only been a joke -

"Elara Malfoy." His voice was lower now, a rough edge to it that made Elara burn. "Sounds nice."

Elara's anxiety slipped away. "You taking a joke? That's new."

She stepped back just as he said, "Must be the dress." He looked her up and down again, a slow gaze that set her alight, his eyes burning into her. "Is there a reason you're wearing Slytherin colours?"

Elara breathed out a laugh, her mind still reeling from everything that had just occurred. "Let's just say I was trying to impress someone."

Draco scoffed with a roll of his eyes. "Someone? You impressed half the fucking ballroom."

Elara sent him a sideway glance, hearing the possessiveness creep into his tone. "But the real question is," she purred, "did I impress you?"

Draco's eyes searched her face as she continued, "You're the only one I'm trying to impress."

His tongue darted out, wet his lips, and he reached for her.

She let him rest his hand on her cheek, dragging his thumb across her cheekbone. She sighed, something in her chest expanding and warming her to the bone.

"Consider me," he murmured, brushing aside a strand of her hair. "Thoroughly impressed." The corner of his lips quirked up. "Although I would like to see what you look like with it off."

Elara rolled her eyes but was unable to keep the smile off her face. "You're insufferable."

Her pulse was still pounding from Draco's speech and the butterflies in her stomach wouldn't stop fluttering. She didn't think she'd ever get tired of the feeling he gave her.

She brushed past him, rested her forearms on the railing, looking out over the grounds.

He joined her. "I have something for you."

Elara's eyebrows shot up and she turned to look at him as he snapped his fingers, a small, emerald green pouch appearing inside his palm.

Elara's eyebrows furrowed as she took it from him, feeling the soft, velvet material under her fingertips. She glanced up at him. "Draco, there was no need for a -"