In Her Shadow, In His Sight - Draco Malfoy
Inspired by: Emblem3 - Chloe (You're the One I Want) Summary: Y/N feels invisible next to her beautiful sister, unaware that someone sees her as the most beautiful girl in the world. Warnings: None Greengrass!reader, Ravenclaw!reader
. . • ☆ . °.•°:. *₊° .☆. . • ☆ . °.•°:. *₊° .☆ :.
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Being a Greengrass came with a life steeped in luxury, influence, and a name that carried weight in every corner of the wizarding world. It was a name that inspired envy in some and admiration in others. From the moment Y/N and her two sisters were old enough to walk, they were raised in a world far removed from the struggles of the average witch or wizard. Their childhood was a tapestry of polished manners, fine clothes, and an education curated by the best tutors money could buy.
Summers were never spent idly at home. Instead, the Greengrass family traveled the globe—Paris one year, Cairo the next, and the pristine beaches of the Amalfi Coast the summer after that. Each trip was an education in culture and refinement, though it was also an excuse to indulge in the finest that each destination had to offer.
Wealth was measured in more than just Galleons in the Greengrass household; it was in the way their father could open any door, strike any deal, and ensure his daughters never knew the meaning of “no.” Y/N and her sisters were spoiled in the truest sense of the word, their father treating them like precious jewels to be admired, protected, and—more often than not—lavishly gifted. From custom broomsticks to gowns tailored from the rarest fabrics, his little princesses never went without.
Y/N and her twin sister, Daphne, had always shared an unshakable bond. From the moment they could toddle about the Greengrass estate, they were inseparable—two halves of the same whole, always found side by side whether it was in the gardens, on a broom, or sneaking sweets from the kitchens. They shared secrets, laughter, and an unspoken understanding that only twins could truly know.
But Hogwarts changed everything. For the first time in eleven years, the Sorting Hat split them apart. Daphne, with her effortless charm and pure-blood confidence, slipped easily into Slytherin. Y/N, with her curiosity and quick wit, found herself among the Ravenclaws.
Over the years, their paths grew more distinct. Daphne became the very image of a high-society pure-blood beauty—poised, stylish, and always in the spotlight. Y/N was no less polished, but her heart belonged to the quiet corners of the library, her time spent chasing knowledge instead of the latest beauty trend. It wasn’t that she didn’t care about her looks—she was raised to be perfect and proper—it was that her energy went elsewhere.
Still, Y/N couldn’t help but feel like people noticed Daphne more. Her sister’s beauty was the kind that turned heads instantly, while Y/N’s felt… quieter. Subtle. She had been told she was just as pretty—sometimes even more so—but when the room seemed to orbit Daphne, it was hard not to wonder if people preferred the twin who shone brighter in social circles over the one buried in books.
Everything changed in their fifth year, the moment Slytherin and Ravenclaw began sharing double Potions. That particular morning, Y/N was running late—her satchel slung over one shoulder, quill still tucked behind her ear, hair slightly windblown from her hurried walk through the dungeons. By the time she slipped into the classroom, every seat among her fellow Ravenclaws had already been claimed. The remaining tables were occupied by Slytherins, who regarded the other house with a mix of disdain and amusement, their trademark sneers and eye-rolls daring anyone to sit beside them.
From behind his desk, Professor Snape paused mid-sentence. His dark eyes flicked to the doorway, his brow arching ever so slightly at the sight of the tardy Greengrass twin.
“Miss Greengrass,” he drawled, “how generous of you to join us.”
There was no real venom in his tone—just the faintest shadow of sarcasm. And, by some unspoken miracle, he let the matter drop without docking points, returning to his lecture as though her late arrival were hardly worth the trouble.
Daphne and Y/N had discussed this phenomenon before. Their conclusion was simple: Snape had a particular tendency to overlook Y/N’s minor mishaps, whether it was arriving late, speaking out of turn, or forgetting an ingredient because she was a Greengrass. And perhaps, more importantly, because her sister happened to be in Slytherin.
Y/N scanned the room, eyes drifting over the sea of green-trimmed robes until she spotted Daphne’s group. One seat remained unclaimed, right beside Draco Malfoy. With little choice, she crossed the room and slid onto the bench beside him.
She had met Draco a handful of times before—not only through her sister’s friendship with him, but also thanks to the unspoken network of the wizarding world’s wealthiest pure-blood families. In their world, the Greengrass and Malfoy names were bound to cross paths, whether at grand galas, private functions, or the sort of holiday gatherings where politics were discussed in hushed tones over crystal goblets.
Daphne, sitting in front of Draco, turned in her seat, raising a perfectly shaped eyebrow.
Y/N rolled her eyes. “Lost track of time at the library,” she whispered.
Daphne smirked knowingly. “Of course you did.” She turned back around, immediately leaning toward Pansy to whisper something that made them both laugh softly—probably gossip about some boy in their year.
Draco glanced sideways at Y/N, quill tapping idly against his parchment. He’d known her for years through pure-blood circles, though never as well as he’d liked. She wasn’t like her sister—Daphne’s beauty was obvious, but Y/N’s was the kind that crept up on you and stayed. To him, she wasn’t just as pretty as Daphne; she was breathtaking. The way her sharp mind paired with that quiet confidence made her… dangerous, in the best way. She was the only girl he knew who could match him—challenge him—and he liked it.
Chloe, I know your sister turns everyone on,
But you’re the one I want
A thought crossed his mind, one he’d never dare say aloud: Daphne might turn heads, but you’re the one I want.
He smirked faintly and leaned closer. “You really ought to stop tormenting Granger by being the best at every subject in Hogwarts.”
Y/N arched a brow, opening her Potions notes. “That is never going to happen. Granger needs to learn she can’t academically beat me.”
Draco chuckled, the sound low and warm. Merlin, he thought, watching her scribble down notes. She doesn’t even realise she’s the most beautiful girl in the room.
After a while, Snape finished outlining the day’s assignment, and a list of ingredients appeared on the board in his neat, angular script. The room shifted into quiet motion, cauldrons set aflame, pages turned, and the faint sound of vials clinking together.
Draco stood, moving with an easy confidence toward the ingredient shelves. “Stay here,” he said over his shoulder, as though it were obvious she wouldn’t dare follow.
“Bossy,” Y/N murmured under her breath, pulling her hair back with a ribbon and setting her notes in precise order.
When he returned, he set the ingredients down between them, sliding the lacewing flies toward her with a flourish. “Thought I’d let you handle the delicate work,” he said. “You’re better with the fine details.”
Y/N smirked, measuring them out without missing a beat. “Or you just don’t trust yourself not to ruin it.”
Draco’s lips twitched upward. “Maybe I just like watching you work.”
She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, unsure whether to roll her eyes or call him out, ultimately choosing neither. “Stir counter-clockwise,” she instructed instead, passing him the wooden spoon.
Their movements fell into an unspoken rhythm—her measuring and slicing, him stirring and adding in precise amounts when she gestured. Occasionally, their hands brushed in the exchange, and each time, Draco felt the faintest jolt in his chest.
“Careful,” she warned as he leaned over to add the next ingredient. “You’re about to spill it.”
He gave her a slow smirk. “What, you don’t trust me?”
“I trust you to be good at plenty of things,” she said, meeting his gaze evenly. “Potions just isn’t one of them.”
Daphne, still turned halfway toward Pansy, glanced over her shoulder with a knowing little smirk at the sound of their banter.
Draco, unfazed, continued stirring with almost irritating precision. “You wound me, Greengrass. And here I was thinking we made quite the team.”
Her quill scratched across the page as she noted the potion’s changing color. “We’ll see how you feel about that when I get top marks for this.”
“When we get top marks,” he corrected, a touch too quickly.
Y/N’s lips curved slightly. “Right. We.”
Snape drifted past their table, his eyes sweeping over their nearly perfect potion before moving on without a word.
Draco allowed himself the smallest smile. She didn’t know it, but he had no interest in the potion’s grade. The only victory he cared about was getting her to look at him the way she looked at her books—like he was something worth her full attention.
But if you're with me, you know I can
guarantee that
(But you're the one) 'cause I'm attracted to you passion, be yourself
forget the fashion
By the time their potion had reached the perfect shade of shimmering teal, the rest of the class was still catching up. Y/N allowed herself a small, satisfied nod, jotting down the final instructions in her neat script.
From the table ahead, Daphne glanced over her shoulder with a knowing grin. “Well, look at that. Ravenclaw and Slytherin—perfect marks and not a single explosion.”
Pansy, who had been leaning in to whisper something to Daphne, turned as well, her smirk sharp. “I suppose you do make a good pair.”
Y/N’s quill froze mid-stroke. “We’re just working together,” she said quickly, keeping her eyes on her notes.
“Oh, of course,” Pansy replied sweetly, though her tone dripped with amusement. “You just seem… in sync.”
Draco’s mouth curved into that slow, deliberate smirk she had learned to be wary of. “In sync, hmm? I’d say that’s accurate.”
Y/N glanced at him, narrowing her eyes. “Don’t start.”
“What?” he asked innocently, leaning just close enough for his voice to drop so only she could hear. “We make a good team. And you can’t deny you enjoy working with me.”
She gave a small huff, turning back to bottle their finished potion. “You’re tolerable in small doses.”
He let out a soft chuckle, lowering his voice even more. “Funny… you’re the only person I never get tired of.”
Her hand hesitated for the briefest second, but she recovered quickly, sealing the cork on their vial without looking at him. “Save your lines for someone who believes them, Malfoy.”
“Oh, I don’t need lines with you, Greengrass,” he murmured, eyes glinting. “Just time.”
Daphne, catching the faint exchange, smirked knowingly to herself before turning back around, deciding not to meddle further—for now.
As Snape collected their work, his eyes flicked over the perfect potion before moving on without comment. But Draco noticed the faintest pink creeping into Y/N’s cheeks, and for him, that was the only grade that mattered.
The end of Potions brought the usual symphony of shuffling feet, the clink of glass vials, and chairs scraping against stone. The air still carried the sharp scent of crushed lacewing flies and faint steam from simmering cauldrons. Y/N was tucking her parchment into her satchel when a familiar shadow fell over her desk.
Daphne appeared beside her, Pansy hovering just behind.
“That was flawless,” Daphne said lightly, eyeing the perfect bottle of potion still on the table. “Almost makes me wish we’d been paired together.”
Pansy smirked. “Almost? Please. You wouldn’t have had half as much fun.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “I still think you and Draco make a good team.”
Y/N gave them both a flat look. “I’m not even going to dignify that with a response.”
“You don’t have to,” Daphne said, her lips curling in a knowing smile.
Before Y/N could fire back, Draco strolled over, dropping his notes into his bag with an infuriating lack of urgency. “Come on, Greengrass. You’re going to the library, aren’t you? I’ll walk you.”
“You don’t have to—” she began.
“I know,” he said smoothly. “But I’m going to anyway.”
With a final glance at her sister—who looked far too smug—Y/N followed Draco out into the corridor.
The flickering light from the dungeon torches cast shadows along the stone walls, the air thick with the earthy scent of damp rock. Their footsteps echoed softly, the only sound between them until Draco spoke.
“So,” he began casually, “how does it feel to be carried to a perfect mark by my superior potion-making skills?”
Her laugh rang lightly in the narrow space. “Carried? Please. If it weren’t for me, you’d have charred lacewing flies fused to the bottom of your cauldron.”
“I’ll have you know,” he said, a smirk tugging at his lips, “I’m very good with my hands.” He put his hand in the air and wiggled his fingers.
She cut him a pointed look. “I’m ignoring that.”
“Shame,” he murmured, the smirk deepening.
They passed a group of third-years who instantly fell into giggles as Draco swept by, his stride confident, head high, every bit the Malfoy heir. Y/N quickened her pace to keep up.
“Do you always have to walk like you own the castle?” Y/N asked, her tone flat but her eyes glinting with amusement.
“I do own part of it,” he replied, not missing a beat.
“Oh, Merlin, here we go—”
“—The Malfoy name is synonymous with class, status, and—”
“—an ego the size of the Astronomy Tower,” she finished for him.
His laugh was low, genuine. “See? This is why we’re perfectly in sync.”
By the time they reached the library doors, her lips were twitching despite herself.
Just keep that smile on, that
you're flashing
You and I deserve to be forever ever
lasting
The familiar hush of the library wrapped around her like a soft blanket—the scent of aged parchment and polished wood, the faint dust motes drifting lazily in the afternoon light spilling through high, arched windows. Y/N made her way to her favorite table by the tall windows, the one tucked just far enough into the corner to be out of the main path.
Draco didn’t leave. Instead, he leaned one shoulder against a nearby bookshelf, idly flipping through a book he clearly wasn’t reading, his pale eyes flicking toward her now and then.
A tall Ravenclaw boy approached, his parchment clutched to his chest like a flimsy excuse. “Hey, Y/N,” he began, flashing a smile just shy of a smirk. “I was wondering if I could borrow your notes from today… maybe we could go over them together later?”
She opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, Draco was at her side, the air around him cooling like a sudden shadow.
“She’s busy,” he said, his voice calm but with a quiet steel that made the Ravenclaw falter.
The boy blinked. “I was just—”
“Leaving,” Draco finished, tilting his head just enough to make the challenge clear. “And if you want Potions notes, try making your own.”
The Ravenclaw’s eyes darted between them before he muttered something under his breath and walked away.
Y/N turned toward Draco, crossing her arms. “Was that really necessary?”
“Yes,” he replied, his tone smooth and entirely unapologetic. His gaze lingered a fraction longer before he added, “You’re welcome.”
She exhaled slowly, pulling her notes from her bag. “One of these days, Malfoy, your overprotective streak is going to get you hexed.”
He smirked, already turning to leave. “Maybe. But not today.”
And with that, he strolled out, leaving her staring after him—annoyed, confused, and, to her own dismay, just a little flustered.
You got my heart and that's the only
thing that matters
