Summary: Draco receives a letter from his father, his new task is to get information through a certain Gryffindor.
Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Gryffindor!reader
Warnings: Name-calling and swearing.
He stared at the words in the parchment, the owl had already taken flight, meaning an answer was not expected. Though, it never really was. When your father was the same type of man that Draco’s was, what he did expect was obedience.
Befriend the girl, I do not care how. Learn whatever it is that they are plotting and report back to me. I will not hear complaining. This is not a request.
He dragged his hand across his face, letting it rest across his eyes for a moment. “Great.” Draco let out with a sigh. Folding the letter and shoving it into his back pocket, he made his way out of the Owlery.
As if he didn’t already have a mission, as if he wasn’t already carrying the weight of his father’s mistakes. Now he has another one to throw into the pile. How many more, he wandered, until he was swallowed by it all?
No. There was no time for complaining. He’d do that later.
The library wasn’t quiet. As contradictory as that seemed, it never really was. Silence reminds you of solitude, and that library was full of students. Desperate students most of the time, but that didn’t make much of a difference in the overall.
So who was to notice in the middle of all the excited whispers and desolated sighs, a girl in the transfiguration section reaching on her tippytoes for a book in a shelf much too high for her?
And as you reached for your wand when you realized that you were, in fact, a witch and could simply summon the book into your hands, something moved into your field of vision.
A hand. An incredibly pale, with well-cared nails and elegant long fingers, to be specific. It grabbed the book you were so desperately trying to reach, and as it did you finally felt the presence of the person who owned the hand on your back.
“Need some help?” You felt his breath against your left ear and your face turned into a snarl when you heard the smirk on his voice. Not only for the cockiness but because she knew the arrogant prick that came with it.
“Actually, no.” You said as you turned to face him. His hands shot up as if to appease you, the book still in his clasp.
“No need to be so frisky.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.” He looked at you for a moment longer before shrugging and closing the distance between you.
You panicked for a second thinking what he was playing at, but he just looked you in the eyes. You could feel your heart speed up, you never felt more aware of personal space as you did now, when yours was being so suddenly taken away. What the actual hell was he trying to do staring at you like that? He was so close you could actually see the spots of blue in his grey eyes.
And then he was back at arms distance and you could breathe again. You averted your gaze from his face and noticed he wasn’t holding the book anymore. And it dawned on you. The stupid asshole. You could see the corner of his lips turning up as you realized he had just put the book back on the shelf. The shelf you couldn’t reach.
“What do you want?” You snapped at him.
“Just helping the lady reach a high shelf.”
“Oh, I’m a lady now?” You stared up at him, one brow raised.
Resigned to the fact that you wouldn’t get a straight answer from him, you turned to make your way back to the table you had claimed previously. Deciding to get the book after you managed to shoo away Malfoy.
“You’re a pain in the ass, Malfoy. Has someone ever told you that?” The question was rhetorical, but you looked over your shoulder to see his reaction.
“Yes, actually.” With one hand on his chin, Draco made a scene out of pretending to be very deep in thought. “If I remember correctly, the last person to have the honour was you.”
“Well,” Now it was your time to smirk. You didn’t know what he was getting at or what he was trying to achieve, but you’d figure it out sooner or later. “We have to take pride even in the smallest of achievements.”
Harry had been kind enough to volunteer to help you with your flying since it was something you really wanted to learn because witches and brooms are the oldest thing in the book and you sucked at it. Royally. The thing was, Harry had a Dumbledore meeting and so that brings us to this very moment.
You, alone in the quidditch field, holding a broom. And you were quite sure you were holding it wrong too. Either way, you scanned the stands for any sign of life that could witness your first-hand embarrassment show, only to find you were safe from prying eyes.
Maybe trying this alone wasn’t the best choice, but you had already committed to the idea that it was something you wanted to learn. And the fact that nobody was there to see you eat grass when you inevitably fell was reassuring.
Flinging one leg over the broom and securing your grip on the handle, you gave a little impulse upwards. The plan wasn’t to fly thirty feet high but you treated your small three as a good accomplishment for the day.
And everything would have been fine if you hadn’t bent forward in an attempt to make yourself more comfortable, bending the broom downwards and sending you crashing down into the ground. The point of the broom hit the grass, your grip faltered and you were sent rolling over, face-first into the earth.
The laughter that reached your ears was enough for you to feel the mortification rise in you. And at that moment you decided to play dead because surely, things could not get worse than this.
“Need some help?” His voice rang through your ears, reminding you of the library stunt.
“Actually, no.” Your voice came out muffled for your face was still squashed onto the ground. You could hear him approaching, the sound of his shoes stepping on the well-trimmed grass. He knelt beside your head, you could practically picture the shit-eating grin on his face.
“Well, then.” You saw the sparkle of mischief in his eyes as you turned your face to look at him. His gaze wandered down and you felt the skip of a beat from the treacherous little thing in your chest, but you didn’t let it show.
Suddenly he was reaching for you and you felt his warm fingers against your cheek, your gaze never left him but he wasn’t grinning anymore. You didn’t know what happened but you felt something aching to admiration? No, maybe you were just imagining things. Though, you observed, he looked really good in that light.
And as fast as the moment came, it went. He pulled away holding a piece of grass that you certainly hadn’t felt attached to your cheek.
“Thank you.” You whispered softly hoping he wouldn’t hear it, but the smirk was back in place and you knew he did. He rested his chin against his hand that was propped on his thigh. Draco was still looking at you, and though you wouldn’t say it out loud, he really did look good on that light.
The clinking of tableware and the noise of chattering filled The Great Hall. You sat with your fellow Gryffindors on your table, Harry and Ron across you and Hermione on your right.
You were happily sipping your pumpkin juice when you heard the first sign of danger. It was a screech, one everyone in this school knew well because it was what came out of Pansy’s mouth every three words. You turned your head to spy over your shoulder what was the problem this time, and that was when you had the second sign.
Pansy was standing, practically fuming at the Slytherin table, looking Draco with such intensity it might as well have made a hole through his skull. Him, on the other hand, was calmly eating his toast as if this was just the way every conversation went between them, and to be quite honest, you were pretty sure that they were.
That wasn’t the sign, though. It was when Pansy directed her killing gaze towards you, then you realized you were in for a rollercoaster.
She stomped her way to you in the most pouting child manner she could muster and you, who had quickly turned around as if if you couldn’t see her maybe she’d just pass you by. You had no such luck.
Your shoulders tensed as you heard a loud cough coming from your back, as you had flashbacks of Umbridge, you peered to the Golden Trio who were staring behind you in a curious way.
Turning to face her, you plastered the most polite smile possible. “Can I help you with anything, Parkinson?” Calling her by her surname made the phrase slightly rough in contrast to your intended soothing approach, but you weren’t about to call her Pansy. A flash of her strangling you came to mind, but you sent it away just as fast focusing on the pissed girl before you.
“Yes. You’re going to do me the favour of taking your eyes off of Dray. He’s mine.”
You stared her for a few moments, she couldn’t be serious right?
“I would not dare.” You laid out carefully. Whatever it was that bothered her seemed to be appeased after that.
“Good. He wouldn’t want you anyway, Gryffindor and a blood traitor.” Pansy huffed and left. Your eyes followed her until she left the Great Hall then you turned to your table to find more inquisitive faces.
“You’re talking with Malfoy now?” Harry was the first to ask.
“Twice and it was nothing much. Don’t know what the fuss was all about.”
“Yes, Hermione.” You tried finishing your juice that was cast aside in the midst of the confusion.
“And you’re a hundred per cent certain that he’s not up to something?” It was Ron’s time to worry. “I mean, it’s Malfoy. You know how he is.”
“Exactly, I know how he is. Nothing happened.” You finished determinately putting your cup down and getting up. “I’ll see you in class.”
As you walked out though, your confidence wavered. Draco wasn’t planning anything, was he?
You stared at the distorted reflection of your face on the glass jar that held the sherbert lemons. It wasn’t your favourite option, you really wanted some chocolate frogs but you had forgotten to grab enough money on your hurry to get out.
The plan was to have some butterbeer with Hermione, Harry and Ron so you grabbed the money you needed for that and nothing else. So if you were to give in to your cravings and buy the chocolate you wouldn’t have enough for the beer, but you did have for a few sherbert lemons. That’s why you were now staring at the jar, considering your options. On what you thought was an empty isle on Honeyducks.
“Didn’t take you for the kind to like the sour stuff.” At this point, you didn’t even turn to acknowledge him.
“I don’t, but it’s all I’ve got money for. So is take or leave it.”
“What do you really want?” Your gaze travelled to his face. He was standing beside you, hands on his pockets, hair perfectly in place even with all the wind out there and all you wanted to do was mess it up. Though you thought that even if Draco had the ability to have a bad hair day, he’d probably pull it off, so you relented.
“I’m not taking charity.” He rolled his eyes.
“You’re very sure of yourself if you think I’m trying to buy you something.”
“Oh, and you’re not?” You turned to face him properly, crossing your arms.
“So why did you ask what I really wanted?”
“Curiosity.” Here he comes, all smirky again. “Future reference.” Draco shrugged.
You were fighting it but you couldn’t help that the corners of your mouth lifted just the tiniest bit. And of course, he noticed, because his smile only grew.
“Shouldn’t you be buying Pansy something?”
“Why would I?” He frowned.
“Well, after the little stunt in the Great Hall were she laid claim on you, I’d just expected that it’d be the case.”
“Pansy seems to think that I belong to her, somehow. She’s way over her head.” He inclined, his face only a breath away. “Is that what you wanted to hear?” His voice was way lower than usual and that did something to you because suddenly you forgot how to process what he implied with that and you just stared at his eyes.
But as soon you saw the cockiness on his face, you broke away. “You owe me nothing.” And then you fled.
Sitting in the shade of a tree, reading your notes for the exams, hearing the waves of the water on the Black Lake, admiring the view of the almost setting sun, you were so close to believing that you would finally have some peace and quiet.
Those dreams were shattered the moment you felt the presence take a seat beside you on the grass.
“You literally cannot think of a better way of spending your time?” You directed at him.
“Is it so hard to believe I enjoy your company?”
“Very much so.” The intention wasn’t for him to take it seriously, you thought it was pretty clear from your tone that you were teasing, but when you turned to him after a moment of silence his expression was way too serious.
“I know it might be difficult to wrap your head around it, but I like you a little bit too much for my own sake.” Merlin only knew that you should have paid more attention to his choice of words.
That was most certainly not what you expected. You stared at him for a while, trying to read his expression, but he seemed determined.
So maybe you shouldn’t have done it, maybe you shouldn’t have leaned forward and kissed him, maybe he really was just playing you, and that sure as hell was very sudden but when you felt his lips on yours everything just flew away from your head.
You were a little bit too mesmerized by the effect he was causing on you that you almost missed when he placed a little box on your open palm.
A chocolate frog, you realized when you separated and looked down. That brought a grin on your face that may or may not have been there for the rest of the day.
You fought your way out of the mass of students getting out of potions class, a few people might have received an elbow on their face, but really what were they doing with their faces where you could reach it?
As they dispersed you noticed a hand on your arm, and no, it wasn’t Draco this time.
“Look, Parkinson, I’m not in the mood.” She just gave you a secretive smile and handed you a letter.
“Just wanted to give you some correspondence.” And with that, she was off.
“What is this supposed to mean?” You had wandered the entirety of Hogwarts grounds to find him and in the meantime, your rage did not die down. The words on the paper were as clear on your mind is if you had memorised it on the one time you read it.
He looked down at the piece of parchment being shoved at his chest and when the glint of recognition appeared in his eyes, he knew he had a big storm coming.
“Befriend the girl? Is this what this whole thing was about?” You stared at his eyes, you never wanted to smack his head on the wall that badly. You could feel yourself shaking with contained rage. No, this time he had stoop too low. “Nothing? You have nothing to say for yourself?” You wanted to scream in his face for him to do something, say something but you wouldn’t make a show of yourself. He already had done it for you.
“If I told you that there was so much more at stake and I didn’t do this for some kind of sick pleasure, would you believe me?” The resignation in his eyes told you that he already knew the answer.
“I wish I could, but when have you ever told the truth?” You left your hand fall away, he didn’t make a move to grab the incriminating letter as if fell to the ground. He also didn’t come after you when you left.
