90%
Pairing: Draco x Reader
Summary: Tutor sessions, or lies? (Request, set in 6-7th year)
Warnings: Meh, just fluff
A/N: I’ve not written in a bit, so I hope this is okay, enjoy @rochelle-the-ravenclaw
“Top of the class again, Y/N! I believe some points for Ravenclaw are in order.”
You beamed at the test paper placed on your desk by Professor Mcgonagall, exhaling at all your hard work.
A few friends clapped your back, smiling and congratulatory, as your professor neared the table some ways behind you.
“Disappointing, Malfoy. I expect better effort from you next time.”
You spun round, just in time to see the 40% land on Draco’s desk. He simply met with Mcgonagall’s disapproving stare with his usual silver smirk, barely glancing at his paper.
“Perhaps, Professor, I’d do well with some extra help.”
Mcgonagall looked silently offended at this, the thought that her teaching may not be enough for this perfectly competent boy, but simply nodded her head.
And that was it.
You were cornered that very afternoon by the Professor, and offered the position of tutor. And ever the people-pleaser, you accepted. Even though you had much better things to be doing.
Your friends frequently conveyed their frustration the evening before your first session with the Slytherin. But you couldn’t bring yourself to share it.
And not because you enjoyed Draco’s company. No.
You’d barely spoken to the guy, who everyone in your common room cursed with joy, the guy who seemed to have enemies everywhere.
One conversation with Hermione Granger at the library, had you convinced he was the wrong sort.
But….he was also a challenge.
You knew he did well in every single subject you shared, so why this lesson? Why transfiguration?
You wanted to crack whatever wall he’d put up, and pull his grades up.
So, that’s all Draco was to you, you repeated on the walk towards the empty classroom, another achievement.
You didn’t need to like him. Just teach him.
The room was uneasily quiet when you stepped in, the familiar desks shrugging at you as if to say, “We don’t know where he is either.”
You set your books down on the nearest one, shifting your hair into a tight ponytail, the pre-studying ritual.
“I prefer it down.”
You tensed, determined not to show your surprise.
“And I’d prefer it if you didn’t comment on my appearance.” Draco blinked at your retort, his smirk never faltering.
“Noted.”
He slouched into the desk next to you, and you noticed something. Or, the lack of something.
“So, you’re late, and you didn’t bring any books?”
Draco gave you an exasperating shrug, tilting his head to fully flash that grin of his.
“I’m sure you’ll think of something. You’re the smart one.”
That, to your horror, was the tune to which each of your sessions played out, for the next month.
A month of no progress, a month of infuriating comments, and tardiness.
So when the next test rolled around, and Mcgonagall trailed around the class with the results, you were tense.
Not for your own, which you were relieved to see hadn’t dropped from last time.
For the blonde buffoon three rows back. Because you couldn’t recall a single thing you’d taught him, and was sure Mcgonagall would be disappointed with your inability to-
“An improvement, Malfoy. Keep it up.”
You balked, head whipping round to catch his signature smirk, this time angled at you.
“It’s all because of Y/N, professor. She’s brilliant.”
And then he winked. The damned boy winked.
And through your confused frown, the words ‘she’s brilliant’, couldn’t help but rise a heat in your cheeks.
“What was that all about?”
You slammed your books down, glaring holes in the boy seated in front.
The days had shifted from dark to light, and spring sunshine filtered it’s way through the usually dim classroom.
Draco flicked at his white shirt, pulling it down. A white shirt, you noticed, that didn’t do much to cover the muscles that lay beneath.
Not that you were looking.
You pulled your own cloak off, slinging it over your chair.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
It was you who scoffed this time, pulling the test paper from his open bag.
“A 70%. This is ridiculous.”
He raised an eyebrow at you, flicking his eyes down to where you pointed. “I think you mean to say congratulations. Easy mistake to make.”
Merlin’s beard this guy was driving you crazy-
“No, I mean, how?”
Draco tutted, removing his legs from their perch on the desk, and sitting up. “I’m trying my hardest not to get offended.”
His voice was like silk, wrapping around your chest, and pulling, and squeezing until-
“Well, then. Congratulations. You obviously don’t need my help.”
You needed to get out of there before you murdered the boy in plain sight.
His face was hidden from you as you pulled on your cloak, “I’m happy you find transfiguration so easy now.”
Somehow, you’d been taken for a fool, and he’d wasted all your time.
And as quick as you could, you gathered up your things, heading for the door. No complaints from him.
Idiot. You and him. You’d fallen for it.
What kind of game was he even playing?
“Y/N.”
It was the tone of his voice that made you stop. For you had never heard the soft, pleading tune to to it before.
A slight turn of your head, that’s all you gave him. You wouldn’t let him wink you into staying.
But it seemed he had nothing to say.
So you left, a scoff and a slam your final words.
~~~~~
The next couple of days were a guilty back-and-forth, an internal battle with your conscience.
You were losing.
Lessons, and lessons went past, and all you could think about was him. And how you’d left.
Regret. You regretted how angry you’d become, the way you’d slammed the door on him. But he was just so damn smooth, and unserious, it irked you to no end.
Confusion. Why the hell had wasted his time with you when he was obviously as smart, or maybe even smarter. What was he hiding?
Guilt. The panic in his voice when you’d left. What was that all about?
But nothing, not even these emotions could bring you to face him. So it came as a shock, and a blessing when a note arrived at your desk, one transfiguration lesson.
“Meet me at our usual spot, usual time. We need to talk. Please.”
Your friends had questioned it, when you left halfway through evening feast.
And for some reason, you didn’t tell them the whole truth. You had no idea what to expect, anyway.
What you hadn’t expected, was to find Draco sat, quietly waiting, books laid out before him.
With a look he’d never shared with you before, he smiled.
“Start again? I’m early, and prepared this time.”
You were speechless.
Well, not speechless.
“What?” Your mouth failed to produce any other words. Other than, “Why?”
Draco just shrugged, but with less attitude than usual, “A 70% isn’t exactly a 90%. I could really use your help.”
Although this explanation was half-true at most, and you completely despised the boy….you found yourself sitting down.
Flicking through a textbook to your current topic.
And smiling back at him.
~~~~~
To say things were different would be an understatement.
A big understatement.
And not because he was actually nice now, or because he listened.
And not because he actually got there on time, and smiled at you, and was pleasant to be around.
No, it was because all of these things led to a change in you.
Another month in this boy’s company, and you’d changed. Well, your feelings had.
However you tried to fake it, when he accidently brushed your hand, you felt the somersaults in your stomach.
Even the smell of him, so clean and yet warm, clouded your head with thoughts of Draco.
And not negative ones, either.
The world was truly going mad.
And you loved it.
You caught yourself looking forward to the nights with him, when you’d meet in the classroom and let time run away with you as you taught.
He did this thing, a sort of nod and hum, when he finally understood something, that always made you smile.
And that afternoon, when you smiled wider than ever, he asked you about it.
“What’s so funny?”
You froze, the pencil in your hand falling onto the table. Uhhh….
“Nothing, just a joke a friend told me at lunch.”
The drawling way in which he answered, “Right,” told you he didn’t believe you for a second.
You blushed in response.
“Okay, so what I was saying here is that the incantation is just as important as-”
Your words died on your lips, Draco’s hand suddenly over yours.
“What’s up, Y/N?”
You shifted under his gaze, willing your cheeks to stop burning.
He sensed this, somehow, and quickly lifted his hand.
“S-sorry,” He mumbled, a word he never really said. Not since he’d asked you to tutor him again.
But, over the weeks, you’d realised he’d never really needed it. You saw the test papers he brought back, saw his method of thinking. Like he was getting the wrong answers on purpose.
He had a secret, but somehow you didn’t care. You just, perhaps, enjoyed his company.
You put some distance between him and you, his scent making you seriously dizzy. Any closer and you were sure you’d lose control.
“You ready for the test tomorrow?”
A feeble attempt to change the subject. An attempt Draco graciously accepted.
“Yeah, I’m really starting to get it now. Thanks.”
The smile he sent you then sapped all the strength from your legs, and you worked had to regain some sense.
So much for changing the subject.
“Right, yeah. We both know you’ll be fine even without me.”
His smile faltered, allowing a flash of secret pain to surface, just for a moment. But that moment was long enough to have you worried.
“What do you mean?” He asked, and you suddenly felt guilty answering.
“It’s the last exam of the year. We leave for summer afterwards.”
And as if this truth had just dawned on him, Draco nodded, something like disappointment on his features.
Or maybe you were just being crazy.
That night, you didn’t sleep. Not when you’d left that tutoring session, your last ever one, with more questions than the student.
~~~~~~~~~
It was a bittersweet feeling, the test paper staring back at you. A 98% smiled welcomingly at you, and yet you failed to smile back.
Because just three rows behind, Draco was also receiving his test score. And you weren’t surprised when Mcgonagall said,
“A 95%, Malfoy. I think congratulations are in order. The progress you and Miss Y/L/N have made is excellent. I expect the same level of dedication next year.”
Your last test. Last week in school before summer separated you and your unlikely friend, your tutor sessions a forgotten dream.
When the Professor finally dismissed you, the only goodbye you were graced with was a short, clipped, “Thank you.” And a weak smile.
The darkness of his eyes, it haunted your dreams.
~~~~~~~
You heard the stories, shuddered at the dread that filled you, when the words, “THE RETURN OF THE DARK LORD”, covered every newspaper.
The world was suddenly suffocated in fear, the entire country rocked by darkness. It all happened so fast, the deaths and the danger.
When september finally grew from the grey ashes of summer, your parents tried to convince you to stay home.
You wouldn’t hear of it.
Because, of the stories, you’d heard Draco’s name. And going back to hogwarts was the only way to make sure he was alright.
You just needed to see him.
For fear of sounding crazy, you didn’t tell your parents this.
Just that you needed to go back to the place you’d called home for so long. That not even Voldemort would steal Hogwarts from you.
~~~~~~
Your fears melted away as soon as you stepped into the great hall, only to burn right back up again.
For yes, Draco was here. Visibly unharmed, and alive.
But, Merlin.
The gaunt, blank face that stared at Dumbledore, the hollow, pale boy that looked as if he’d not smiled in an age.
It didn’t look like Draco. It couldn’t have been.
He caught your shocked stare, holding your eyes with his own, cold, grey.
And then looked away. As if you didn’t exist.
No. You’d not allow that. Not after an entire summer thinking of how he smelt, how he smiled, his voice.
He may want to pretend there was nothing, but you cared too much not to worry.
So when he got up, halfway through the feast, you followed.
Crazy, you admitted, as Draco rounded corner after corner.
But it was this crazy that fuelled you on, taking you down stairs and through corridors until you ended up at-
The boys bathroom.
You didn’t think twice before entering after Draco, but did falter once you reached the mirrors.
Not because he’d spotted you. But the tears that reflected in the mirror.
“You never wrote.”
His voice was low, cracked and hoarse. Broken beyond repair.
You didn’t know what to say. So you stepped forward in silent apology.
Draco scoffed, “It’s not your fault. Perhaps it’s better you don’t talk to me.”
He stared, disdainfully, at the mirrored version of himself. “No-one should talk to me.”
You broke through your shocked silence, taking steady steps towards him. This broken mess of your old friend.
“What happened?”
Tears streamed more freely down Draco’s face now, your own quickly springing up to join them.
You’d never seen such despair.
“If I tell you, he’ll know. He’ll punish me.”
And no more explanation was needed. The rumours were true.
“Voldemort…he found you.”
He winced at the use of the dark lord’s name, but allowed you to step closer. Not to hug him, but to lift the sleeve of his shirt.
A snake, burnt into his skin, hissed up at you.
Your voice was barely a whisper, as you wrapped him in your arms.
“Oh, Draco.”
There was a second, a second where he hesitated, his arms stiff at his sides.
And then his strong arms held you as you both shook, rocked with the strength of his sobs.
It could’ve been a year, or just 5 minutes, when Draco finally whispered,
“I didn’t get you to tutor me because I needed help.”
You froze, face still burrowed in his neck.
The next words where whispers on your shoulder, sweet kisses on your soul.
“I did it because I was falling in love with you.”
The world did not stand still, nor did your heart sing.
Because the dark times were still approaching, the tattoo still burning on his arm.
All that you could do, was be there in that moment, and promise to be there forever.
“I know.” You whispered, placing light kisses on his neck.
You’d always known, even when you didn’t. That he was yours.
“I love you too.”
