dancing with our hands tied | draco malfoy x reader
song; dancing with our hands tied [taylor swift] pairing; draco malfoy x pure-blood!fem!slytherin!reader genre; arranged marriage, light angst, humour, fluff word count; 3,6k timeline; no voldemort au, christmas after 7th year warnings; swearing, family pressure, referenced sex summary; a secret that you had long kept from your friends was that you and draco were betrothed, but when avoiding him becomes impossible, will the cat be let out the bag? and will you and draco begin to like the arrangement?
part 2 of my isolated series, which also includes look what you made me do, the tortured poets department, loml, and fortnight this series does not need to be read in a particular order but i would recommend reading fortnight last!
and this marks the close of my reputation anthology!
masterlist
"baby, can we dance through an avalanche?"
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There was little more exciting than going on holiday, and you were absolutely buzzing at the prospect of two weeks away with your closest friends. They had been there for you through thick and thin, never pushing or prying when you clearly did not want to talk about something. And, now you all had completed Hogwarts, it was time for a cosy getaway in the mountains, in a cabin that was only accessible by magic— meaning it was wizard-exclusive.
You gazed out your window, which overlooked the decking of the cabin, and your eyes glinted curiously at the sight of the second cabin across. There were only two of them on the mountain, and you could not help but wonder if anyone was residing in the other one.
But as exciting as those curiosities were, the hot tub was ten times as enticing, and you hurried to pull on a bikini. Emerging from your room, you saw that most of your group had the exact same idea, all making their way for the door.
"Bitch, come on! We're gonna get in the hot tub!"
You laughed at the order given to the only friend yet to make an appearance, sliding open the door to the decking. Submerging in the hot bubbling water felt like heaven, and you couldn't help but release a relaxed sigh.
"Merlin, this is amazing," your friend said, mimicking your exact thoughts.
"Mm, that girl better hurry up," you replied, "She's missing out."
As if you had spoken of the devil, said girl emerged from the cabin, and only now did you realise that you had never seen her wear immodest clothing before. Her body was littered with scars, and you could only exchange glances with your other friends.
"What took you so long?"
She shrugged, "Couldn't decide on a bikini."
Deciding to move on, you began engaging in casual chatter, relishing in the perfect first night to a holiday. Could things get any better?
"I wonder if anyone's staying there," one of your friends pondered aloud, making you turn your attentions to the other cabin. Apparently, the other cabin's residents had been a common thought.
"The lights are on, so surely," you replied.
And then, on cue, the door to the other cabin dramatically opened, and out came none other than Mattheo Riddle— an infamous character in your school year, known for his fights, detentions, and conquests.
You heard a scoff from your group, "No fucking way."
You could not help but agree with that comment. What were the chances?
And, unfortunately, where one Slytherin boy went, the rest followed. It was a piece of knowledge you had quickly learned during your years as a Slytherin, despite how little time you had actually spent there. None of your friends had ever questioned why you avoided your own house so much, and only one person other than you was privy to the answer.
Draco Malfoy, your betrothed.
He was the reason you sought friends in other places, because from the second you were born, he was marked to be yours. Which was unfortunate, given the fact that he was a stuck-up snob that paid no attention to anything that didn't concern him. Did you hate each other? No, saying as such would be an exaggeration. But there was definitely a mutual agreement that just because you would be married, did not mean you had to be friends— and certainly nothing more.
Your friends had no idea about this, so you were forced to smile and wave as the boys noticed the five of you.
***
Coming from a wealthy pure-blooded family, you had been privileged to go on many holidays in your lifetime, and magic ski trips were a common theme. Therefore, you found yourself assuming the role of teacher to your four friends the next day when you all hit the slopes. Thankfully, they were fast learners, and got the hang of it in short time. As you proudly watched them floating in the air and landing on piles of snow that appeared as quickly as they disappeared, you found yourself wondering how muggles could ever enjoy skiing without that level of unpredictability.
You also found yourself wondering if Malfoy was good at magic skiing.
As much as you didn't want to think about him, you knew that it wouldn't be long before your parents started planning the wedding. After all, Hogwarts was now over, and you were both adults. Soon, you wouldn't be able to avoid and push aside your pre-planned fate, and you would have to come clean to your friends.
One of said friends, who was using this cabin retreat as an opportunity to write for her next book release, had not hesitated to accept when the boys asked you all to come over for dinner and drinks that evening. You were a little annoyed that she had not considered asking anyone else their opinion, but you supposed that you couldn't ignore Malfoy forever. Maybe you should finally bite the bullet and attempt to build a solid foundation for your marriage.
So you sat there in their kitchen, nursing a firewhiskey and coke, contemplating how best to start a conversation with Malfoy without arising suspicion from your friends. Perhaps your hesitation was the suspicious part, but you didn't have to think about it much longer when the man himself sat next to you.
"My mother has been bringing it up more and more frequently," he said quietly, not that he needed to. The music was so loud that you had to be right next to someone to hear them without shouting.
You hummed, "I suppose it's time to face the inevitable."
"Indeed. Do your friends know?"
You shook your head, "Do yours?"
He also shook his head.
"Well, we need to tell them at some point."
There was a silence— presumably one of reluctant agreement— and then Malfoy let out a long sigh, "We hardly know each other."
"I guess that's our fault."
"Yours," he corrected, "You were the one that abandoned Slytherin the second you were sorted into it."
"I didn't abandon Slytherin, I abandoned you," you paused for a moment, "So I guess you're right. It is my fault."
"Why in Salazar's name did you avoid me?"
You shrugged, a sly smile creeping on to your face, "Because you're a stuck-up snob."
He scoffed, his eyes tracking as Nott followed one of your friends out on to the decking.
"Do you deny it?"
He appeared to think for a moment, before saying, "No."
"Well, I suppose I can work with honesty," you said, "Salazar knows we don't have to be in love or any of that shit, but we should at least get along."
Malfoy snorted, taking you by surprise.
"What?"
"I don't know. I guess I never expected you to say Salazar."
You frowned, "I was never ashamed of being a Slytherin."
"Regardless, you're right," he then added, "As much as it pains me to admit it."
A scowl formed on your brow.
"We should try to be friends."
You weren't sure what to make of the way he said the last word, but you were soon distracted by Nott and your friend returning, the latter announcing that she did not feel too well and was going to retire for the night.
***
"Girl, are you ready yet? We're about to leave," you knocked on her door the next day, dressed up in your ski gear.
Her reply was meek, "I'm sorry, I've gotten worse. Go have fun without me."
"Are you sure? You don't need anything?" you asked worriedly.
"I'm sure. Don't let me ruin the holiday, please."
Apprehensively, you left her alone, just as Riddle said, "Theo, you alright? You look like you've seen a ghost."
"I'm— I'll stay back and look after her," he replied stiffly.
And even though she had specifically requested that she not ruin the holiday for anyone else, you knew that Slytherin boys were stubborn dickheads whose minds could rarely be changed on a matter, so you made no protest. His friends did, but even they knew it was to no avail, so you soon left the cabin two members down.
"What the fuck is going on between them?" Berkshire scoffed as you walked.
"They were out on the decking alone last night," Malfoy said, "I don't know, maybe something happened."
One of your friends chuckled, "And maybe she's not actually sick."
"She sounded sick," you noted, "And she really did look feverish last night."
"Yeah, feverish for Theo," Riddle joked.
Not to name any names, but a certain friend of yours laughed a little too hard at that.
Upon arrival at the ski decking, most of the boys almost instantly shot off the edge, clearly equipping years of experience. After all, they were all from wealthy families. Your own friends, more confident than they had been yesterday, looked to you for a nod of encouragement, before following. It felt natural for you to go behind them, so you could assist if anything went awry.
Only, you hesitated, as you had been left alone with your betrothed.
"You or me first, Malfoy?"
"Ladies first," he said dryly, "And you should probably start calling me Draco."
"Wow, first name basis? What's next, walking down the aisle?"
You were surprised that he actually laughed at your joke, and a tiny part of you suddenly registered Malfoy— Draco— as an attractive man. He had been for years, you realised, you had just refused to pay attention.
Pulling yourself back together, you said, "Well, if you insist, Draco," and launched yourself off from the decking.
He followed suit.
***
The eight of you returned sooner than expected, after one of your friends sustained an injury. It was nothing magic couldn't quickly fix, but everyone agreed that it was best to head back for the day. Zabini helped support her on the walk back, which she seemed very annoyed about, but you brushed it off as a typical distaste for the Slytherin boys.
You entered the dubbed "girls' cabin" to find Nott in the kitchen— shirtless. Recalling Riddle's joke from earlier, you found yourself wondering if the cocky prick had been correct.
"Where is she?" your author friend asked Nott.
"She's sleeping," he answered, seemingly trying to sound nonchalant.
As more of the group entered the kitchen, they all appeared to share your lingering suspicions as to why Nott was shirtless.
"I'll go check on her," you said.
Nott's eyes widened, "That's probably not a good idea."
"Why?" you eyed him curiously.
For some totally not suspicious reason, he was struggling to answer.
Then, a door creaked open in the distance, and your friend pattered into the kitchen wearing nothing but knee socks and Nott's jumper, stunning everyone.
She paused when she saw all of you.
You looked between the two of them.
"Did you pretend to be sick just to fuck all day?" Riddle asked, the exact same question you had been thinking.
She said nothing.
"She's like me," Nott spoke gently, a vague sentence that meant absolutely nothing to you.
You turned to gage the guys' reactions, and saw that their eyes had all widened. "Oh, is she, like, in—?" Berkshire piped up.
"Yes."
"What the fuck is going on?" one of your friends asked.
Your "sick" friend hesitated for a moment, avoiding eye contact as she seemed to contemplate something. Eventually, she spoke, "I'm... a werewolf."
You stared at her, shocked. But then you remembered the scars all over her body, and things started to make sense.
"Okay... but... it's not a full moon, so, like...?"
You glanced at the friend who said that.
"She's in heat," Riddle laughed, "Guess Theo here has been providing some... assistance..." He wiggled his eyebrows.
"Fuck off," Nott grumbled.
"You're also a werewolf?" you questioned.
He nodded.
And after a long, awkward conversation of explaining why she did not tell you all sooner, how heats and ruts worked, and also the fact that her and Nott were now mated for life... she suddenly looked as if she were about to faint. You were left speechless as the two of them excused themselves and rushed off to her bedroom.
Well, at least you weren't the only one who had been keeping a secret.
And that was why you couldn't reasonably be upset with her for hiding it.
"Fuckin' plot twist," you mumbled, only loud enough for Draco, who had been stood near you, to hear.
He chuckled, "What's with your friend group and keeping secrets?"
"That only makes two of us," you replied harshly, but still quietly.
"That you know of."
Well, he had a point there, but as you looked at your three other friends, you couldn't imagine what kind of secret any of them could keep.
***
Having the bedroom right next door to a newly mated werewolf couple was not for the weak, as you came to learn. You understood that they did not particularly have a choice when it came to heats and ruts, but you did not understand why a silencing charm was out of the question. The moans and creaks were becoming unbearable, especially as you were really tired and in dire need of some sleep.
Was there a spell to temporarily make yourself deaf?
Not one that you knew of.
So, you crawled out of bed and grumpily left your bedroom, heading to the kitchen to hopefully get some peace and quiet. Thankfully, the sound of the roughest sex you had ever heard was less audible there, and you started considering the possibility of sleeping on the sofa.
That was when you saw the light from the other cabin's kitchen was on, and you curiously approached the window to get a better look at the figure moving around. A glance at the clock told you it was nearly 4am, so you half-expected to see Riddle, since he had always had a fucked up sleeping schedule as a result of his love for partying. The streak of blond that flashed in the distance told you that it was not.
What was Draco doing up?
When he moved closer to the window, he seemed to notice the light on in your cabin, and consequently you. He didn't wave, or smile, or anything to the effect of politeness— instead, he disappeared, which made you frown. Had you not both agreed that you should try to be friends?
Shaking your head in disbelief, you turned around to begin assessing the sofa's suitability for a night of sleep: it was leather, which was unfortunate, but maybe with enough blankets you could make it work. Just as you were about to go to your room to retrieve your bedding, the cabin door slid open, making you jump. Spinning around, you were faced with the man you had just seen through the window.
"Can't sleep?" he asked.
"Not with those rabid dogs going at it next door."
He snorted.
"Why can't you sleep?"
Draco shrugged, "Can't stop thinking."
"About...?" you sat down on the settee, and he took that as a hint to sit down as well.
"Us. Marriage," he sighed, "Family."
"Oh, you mean the fact we'll have to produce an heir at some point?" you chuckled.
He rolled his eyes, "I mean in general."
You thought for a moment, trying to scrape together an idea of what life together would look like, what it would mean when your families became one. Living in the same home, attending events as a couple, eating dinner together every night. You took the time to look at Draco, and attempted to assess how he thought things would pan out, but instead found yourself enjoying how messy his hair looked in that moment, and how nice it was to see him in casual clothing as opposed to an ironed suit.
"You're better like this," you said without thinking.
"What?"
"Well, not to say you're bad other times," you clarified, "But it's nice to see you more relaxed, and less worried about your reputation."
"Our whole engagement is built on the premise of reputation," he reminded, "And that's exactly what I'm worrying about right now."
You sighed, knowing that he had a point, "What if we built it on something else?"
He arched an eyebrow, "What do you mean?"
With a non-committal shrug, you explained, "I don't know, maybe we could just— pretend it was never planned for us, and act like it was our choice."
"Why?"
"Isn't part of you upset that you'll never experience organic love?"
"My parents love each other," he said quietly, "And they were arranged."
"I didn't mean there'd be no love— I just mean, falling in love as two strangers who happened to meet."
Draco's eyes scanned you curiously, "We happened to meet here."
"Then maybe this is our chance."
His expression was sceptical, if nothing else, and it saddened you slightly.
"Well, it's not that important, I guess," you shook your head, "I'm just being fanciful."
***
The next day, Draco was nowhere to be found. You went on the slopes with everyone else— still excluding the werewolves— but nearly crashed due to your distracted thoughts. The boys were of no assistance, only being able to inform you that he had left a note saying that he would be gone for the day.
So, when you returned to the cabins, oblivious to the way your friends were interacting with the boys, you were surprised to see that Draco was still absent. As you pondered the possibilities, you entered your bedroom to change for dinner, only to find a brand new designer dress laid out on your bed, accompanied by an envelope. Upon closer inspection, you recognised the Malfoy wax seal, which made you rush to open it.
"Meet me at the lookout point. Wear this.
D.M."
What was this feeling of giddy excitement coursing through you? Were those butterflies?
You changed hurriedly, applying some makeup before tugging on a coat and boots. While you did not like to rely on apparition, you also did not want your friends to ask questions, so braced yourself for the relocation to the scenic viewpoint that was separated from the skiing slopes. It featured a built up shelter with a blazing fire pit, along with a picnic bench which was laden with steaming food.
And there was Draco, dressed in a smart ironed suit, and holding a bouquet of roses.
A smile lit up your face, and you pulled your coat off to reveal the dress he had picked out for you, that admittedly flattered your figure. "What's the meaning of this?" you asked bashfully.
"To use our chance," he said simply, presenting the flowers to you. You accepted them, beaming at the arrangement.
"Thank you."
He nodded, gesturing for you to sit down as he took your coat.
"How did you do all of this?"
"Telling you would ruin the charm," he smirked, popping open a bottle of wine. After pouring you both a glass, he said, "Let's propose a toast."
"To what?"
"Our future."
Once the meal was completed, and you had learned all sorts of things about your fiancé, he stood up suddenly.
"You wished for organic love, so this is my attempt to build the foundations for it," he spoke calmly, his hand reaching into his pocket. Your jaw dropped when he dropped to one knee and presented you with a velvet green box. "My mother gave me this ring not too long ago, and told me it was time to formally give it to you," he took a deep breath, "Admittedly, I had not intended to be romantic about it."
Your open mouth morphed into a small smile.
"But, in the interest of your— and my— happiness, here I am, down on one knee— which I will never be doing again, by the way— asking you if you will be my wife of your own volition and desire."
Your smile widened, and your jaw was beginning to ache.
"So, Miss Y/N L/N, will you do me the honour of marrying me and blessing me with an intelligent and gorgeous wife?"
And, even though he was arranged to be your husband, and you hardly knew him, your body and mind alike was screaming for you to say yes, as if it were your own choice. As if this was not predestined, and you instead had written it in the stars with your own quill.
"Yes, Draco, I will marry you," you hurriedly stood up, crushing him with a hug.
He was taken by surprise, but awkwardly returned the embrace.
Then, he placed the ring on your finger, and with tears streaming down your face, you mumbled, "Thank you."
***
The two of you walked through the boys' cabin door not long later, attached at the hip— the glint of your large engagement ring catching everyone's attention.
There was stunned silence for a few paces, until Riddle made the move to break it.
"What the actual fuck?"
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part 3: the tortured poets department (mattheo riddle)
isolated series masterlist
main masterlist
written; 01/08/2025 —> 25/08/2025 published;28/08/2025 edited; —/—/——
