princess [draco malfoy]
request: nonexistent! this was directly out of my mind (’:
word count: ~3700
a/n: good jesus christ this one took far too long to write. this is my first post of the blog, though, so color me excited for what’s to come! also i’m so tired. this has drained my energy for some reason. ugh. please do request though i have nothing to write and my ideas sort of go everywhere when i don’t have a solid idea in mind! thanks for reading! <3
summary: in which a sarcastic comment has draco calling you “princess”. he’s also kind of an ass. a very attractive, rude ass. (contains swearing ofc)
It’s only normal for, at this time of the day, the Great Hall to be empty. That’s why when you walk in, you’re utterly surprised by the overflow of students. They’re all adorned in their respective robes - you, on the other hand, are definitely out of order. You’re still in your pajama pants (those green ones Blaise got you for Christmas last year, the ones with the hundred dollar bills on them) and tank top, hair up in a ponytail. Well, it used to be a ponytail - now it’s just kind of… there, hanging in your face, the actual tail aspect of it not on the top of your head, but sunken down to around your right ear.
A couple people glance at you and snort, shaking their heads. It’s mostly Gryffindors. You glare at the table and, hands stuffed in your pockets, grasp your wand. Would it really be that bad to hex an entire table?
You decide to just let karma deal with them, and hold your head high as you stroll to the Slytherin table. As you slide into your seat, Pansy looks up and almost spews her pumpkin juice all over you. Instead, she just chokes a little. Blaise knocks her on the back so hard she nearly faceplants into her bowl of cereal.
“It’s Monday, we have classes in, like, twenty minutes,” Draco shakes his head, looking you up and down. He smirks a little, shaking the blond hair out of his eyes. “Forget what day it is?”
You only clench your fists, your stomach flipping. “Shut up. I totally meant to dress like this.”
“Are you sure you didn’t just think it’s Sunday?”
“I said I meant to do this, Draco,” you point a couple feet down the table to the pitcher of milk. “Get that for me.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Ordering me around now, are you?”
“Aw, Draco, don’t be like that,” Blaise grins, shooting you a wink. You scowl. “She’s fragile right now. Look at her, she’s gonna be late for potions. Imagine showing up to Snape’s class dressed like that, eh? Reckon he’d get a kick out of that?”
You scowl even harder.
Pansy recovers from her coughing fit, and starts laughing instead. “This is my fault. I didn’t wake her up this morning.”
“Yeah, you didn’t,” you point again to the pitcher. “Draco, the milk.”
“Okay, okay-” he leans over Crabbe to get the pitcher. When he hands it to you, he huffs, crossing his arms. “Who do you think you are, bossing me around? Royalty?”
“Yes,” you deadpan. You pour milk into a goblet. Once you’re done with the pitcher, you hand it back to Draco. He takes it, but then just kind of blinks at it, like he doesn’t know why he took it back. When he tries to return it, you ignore him. “I’m a princess.”
All three of them burst into laughter.
“You?” Blaise chokes out a few moments later in between breaths of air. “A princess?”
You fold your arms across your chest, refusing to answer. He’s chuckling like mad. Pansy is giggling behind her hand, and Draco, next to you, is snickering into his goblet. Your face heats up a bit. You purse your lips. You don’t see what’s so funny about that. It was obviously sarcastic. Thinking about it, though, you like the idea. You’re good looking enough to be a princess. Haughty, though you wouldn’t use the term extensively - maybe once or twice. You’re not always arrogant. Just… a lot of the time. Sometimes. Every once in awhile?
“I don’t understand why you lot think it’s so funny,” you pout, looking at the table. “It was a joke.”
“You need to take a lesson in how to convey sarcasm, princess,” Draco muses, rising to his feet. “Now are you coming with me back to the common room, or are you going to show up to Snape’s class in Blaise’s stupid American money pants?”
You down your milk and stand up. With a final glare to Blaise and Pansy, you fall into step with Draco. This time, more of the Gryffindors laugh, accompanied by a couple Ravenclaws. You point at them from across the room, then slide your finger across your throat. As you leave, you put your hands in your pockets again, nudging Draco with your shoulder. He looks down at you, features softened. You’ve always had a sort of soft spot for each other, you guess. He was never rude to you - and nor you, him. Out of everyone, he’s probably the one you’re closest to.
“Yes, princess?”
You pause. “Are you going to keep calling me that?”
“I think it suits you. You are royalty, after all,” he smirks, nudging you back. You roll your eyes.
“Merlin, you’re obnoxious. Why do I keep you around?”
Draco glances down at you. He keeps his voice cool. “More like why do I keep you around, Your Highness.”
You don’t give him the satisfaction of replying; instead, you sulk the entire way back to the dungeons, stealing glances when you think he isn’t looking so you can see the soft smile that graces his lips.
-
“Good morning, everybody!” You beam to the entire Slytherin table. The younger years eye you warily; they aren’t used to seeing you in such a good mood. The older years snort and roll their eyes. You scoot into the table, bumping into Draco, who is staring at you like you’re a ghost. “Good morning Pansy!” She grunts, three bites into her toast. “Good morning Blaise,” Blaise nods to you and turns the page of The Daily Prophet. “And I’ve saved the best for last! Good morning, Draco!”
Draco looks at you, expression suspicious. “What… is wrong with you?” He doesn’t comment on the ‘best for last’, though you see his cheeks pink some.
You shrug, moving your hand to ruffle his hair. He smacks it away. Instead, you reach for the eggs. “Am I not allowed to be happy and optimistic?”
“No,” Draco decides.
“Well, good, then!” You drop the grin and mask it into a glower. “Because I’m not. I’m pissed the fuck off. I have never been so angry in my entire life. Honestly - I just want to grab this fork and, and - just… shove it up somebody’s arse-”
Blaise rips the fork from your hand. As an afterthought, he takes the knife, too. And then the spoon. When you glare at him, he shrugs and says, “Just in case you get any ideas.”
Draco is smiling a very small smile. He inches his silverware away from you slow enough to where he thought you wouldn’t notice, but you do, anyway. You don’t use the energy to comment on it. “And why is that, princess?”
“You’re still calling her that?” Interrupts Pansy, who has finished her toast by now. She claps away the crumbs from her fingertips and accios a single strip of bacon. “It’s been, like, a week. The joke’s over.”
“It’s a thing now,” Draco explains. “It’s been a thing.”
Pansy mutters something to Blaise, who nods in agreement. She makes eye contact with you and raises her eyebrows, gaze drifting between you and Draco. You very subtly shake your head, biting your lip. “No, I don’t mind it. It’s cute,” you say, tapping Draco’s arm. He lets out a quiet snort. “Anyway, it’s those stupid Gryffindors.”
Blaise nods, deep in thought. “It usually is.”
“I just - I hate them.”
“Tell us something we don’t know.”
“Somebody took a photo of me in my pajamas and it’s all over the school,” you spit, twisting to glare across the hall. Draco whips around as well, following your gaze. When his lands on Potter, he actually growls.
“Of course it’s stupid Potter,” he clenches his fists. “I’m going to go shit in his mouth.”
Pansy all but breathes the bacon at that term. Blaise has to knock her on the back again. “Draco, I didn’t say it was Potter-”
“Of course it was,” Draco goes to stand. You rise with him - Blaise stops trying to perform CPR on Pansy and blanches at the two of you.
“You’re not going over there.” When you nod, he throws his hands in the air. “You don’t even know if it’s Potter or not!”
“Even if it isn’t, there’s never a bad time to antagonize him. C’mon, princess.”
“Good Merlin-” You send a helpless look to the other two, who just shrug.
You jog after a stalking Draco over to the other side of the Great Hall. You approach Potter, Weasley and Granger, who all swivel in their seats to glare at you two. If you’re being honest, you’ve never had a major personal bone with any of them. You just find it amusing to play up the ‘Slytherins hate Gryffindors’ card. Although, Weasley is a bit annoying, and it’s comical, the grudge that Draco has against Potter. Granger - well, you actually admire her for dealing with the two boys, and for her intelligence. You guess you’re hated by association. It isn’t a hard feat when you’re friends with the biggest assholes of Hogwarts. You don’t agree with what they say by any means, but they’re okay company. Blaise is pretty cool, Pansy is funny, especially when she doesn’t mean to be, and Draco isn’t a dick to you. That’s what matters, right?
“Potter!” Draco snarls. He gets straight to the point. “Did you and Weasel take a photo of her and put it all over the school?”
Granger makes eye contact with you. She purses her lips, looking in between you two.
“Malfoy, why would we do that?” Potter sighs, exasperated. “Believe it or not, we have better things to do than bully your girlfriend.”
“I’m not-” you stuff your hands into the pockets of your robes, holding your wand. “Oh, whatever. Just, if you know who did it-”
“Tell us, now.”
“Draco-” you yank on his arm, hissing. “Stop being a prat. Let me handle this now.”
“But, princess-”
“Draco, seriously. Shut up,” You step out into their line of sight. All three of them are staring at you in what looks like… bewilderment? Shock? Regardless, you shake it off and continue. “If you know who did it, can you ask them to take it down?” Draco’s already turned around, leaving the Great Hall. You rush out a quick, “Sorry about him, he’s a prick sometimes. See you in, uh, potions.”
When you finally catch up with him, he’s scowling, arms crossed. He acknowledges your presence, but doesn’t say anything. He keeps walking. You don’t know where he’s going, but you follow him anyway. “Draco-” you start after a few minutes of silent walking.
“So you can hate them behind their backs, but not to their faces?”
You blink. “Hey. What? You’re seriously mad at me for not hating Potter and his friends?”
Draco’s scowl contorts to a pout. “You’re supposed to be on my side, not Potter’s!”
Your shoulders droop. “I wasn’t on Potter’s side. I just needed a civil conversation. You’re the one who wanted to shit in their mouths, or whatever.”
“It’s Potter. I don’t need to be civil to him,” he huffs. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter. I’m going to class.”
“I… guess I’m going, too,” you frown, trailing after him. On the way to the dungeons, you see a couple pictures of you from a week ago hanging on the walls. Draco points his wand at all of them and incendios them, the only reaction when you thank him, a grunt. You give up on making amends, content (if you can even use that term) with being ignored. As soon as you enter Snape’s classroom, he walks immediately to the other side of the room and stands near his cauldron. You stand in the doorway for a moment, then roll your eyes and go to the opposite side, near where the Gryffindors usually stand. From across the room, as the rest of the students file in, you notice him looking at you out of the corner of his eye. You hold your chin high, trying not to let his slightly offended expression affect you.
Class begins. It’s a bit odd to be so far away from your friends, but if Draco’s going to be childish about this, then you are, too.
Snape pairs the class off to make Draught of Peace. Because you’re standing so far away, you aren’t partners with Draco, as usual - instead, Draco and Blaise are together, leaving Pansy with Daphne Greengrass. When Snape announces you together with Granger, you let yourself peek at Draco. He’s staring straight ahead. Taking a deep breath, you walk over to the cauldron where Granger is, neighboring Potter and Weasley.
“Hello,” you pull your bottom lip in between your teeth and grab at your wand in your pocket. Granger glances up at you, unbothered. “What do we need?”
“I’ve got the ingredients right here,” she motions to the table. You let go of your wand and peer at the pile on the table. You have to admit, you’re a little impressed with how prepared she is. “Let’s begin. Here, it says to add the powdered moonstone until it becomes a light green…”
The two of you work at it. Every couple minutes, Granger has to point something out to Potter and Weasley when they are about to do something wrong. It’s quite amusing, actually, and after the fifth or so time, you find yourself giggling whenever she almost shouts, “No, Ron! You stir counter-clockwise, not clockwise, would you like to fall into a coma?”
Weasley raises his eyes at you, glaring. “What’s she laughing for?” He complains. “Stop laughing at me!”
You obey, but a smile still lingers on your face. “Sorry. It’s funny.”
“You know, you’re different than the people you hang out with,” Potter mumbles out of the blue, leaning over the cauldron to waft the smell. “Not as obnoxious as your boyfriend and his cronies.”
You do the same. As soon as the scent of daisies, vanilla, and that smell after it rains hits your nose, your tense body relaxes. “Oh, Draco isn’t my boyfriend.”
“He’s not?” All three of them say at the same time.
You shake your head. “No, he’s not,” you murmur, straightening your body out. You face them, shrugging. “We’re just really good friends.”
“Obviously. I’ve never seen him let anyone else talk to him like you did. I heard him call you princess,” points out Granger.
You laugh, hand raising to cover your mouth. “Oh, that’s just an inside joke. I said something about my being a princess the other day and he hasn’t let it go. He’s being a prick right now,” as if to prove your point, you nod to him. He’s already looking at you, expressionless; when you meet his gaze, you both flush, looking away. Okay, you need to stop. You need to look anywhere but him. Your stomach flips, and you feel yourself becoming irritated again.
“Right,” you hear Weasley mutter to the other two. “They totally aren’t a thing.”
There’s a resounding, satisfying smack! and then Weasley is whining again.
A moment later, Granger murmurs to you, “I found out who put the pictures up.”
“Oh?”
“Mm,” she nods to Weasley. “Fred and George. Ron’s brothers. They’ll take them down if Harry asks. I’ll get him to do it during lunch, okay? Sorry about that.”
You blush a bit. “Oh, no, it’s fine. Um, thank you, Granger.”
She nods, smiling. “Mhm.”
After that, you don’t speak much the rest of class; instead, you focus on the potion. After time ends, Snape tests out each potion and deems you and Granger the winner. In turn, you both get a small vial of the potion. You tuck it away in your pocket to put it with the others later.
Once you’re dismissed, you hurry to leave the room. You have a free period, so you think about either going to read in a courtyard or heading to the library to get a head start on the essay Snape assigned the class (10 ways to maximize the Draught of Peace). After a moment’s hesitation, you decide on the courtyard. You’re about halfway there when somebody nudges your side.
“Princess.”
You turn your head, seeing Draco. His appearance is one you don’t know well: begrudgingly apologetic. It’s like his sulk face and his guilty face, but at the same time. It’s not one he wears often, but when he does, you know things are going to be interesting.
“Draco,” you say, keeping your tone cool, words blunt. “What?”
“I’m…” he pauses. Draco runs his hand through his platinum hair. It’s messy, like he’s been playing with it a lot. You get the sudden urge to do the same. “I’m…”
“Good Merlin,” you roll your eyes. “Is it really this hard to apologize?”
“No!” Draco scowls. “Fine. I’m sorry, okay? I was being an arse.”
“You can say that again,” you mutter, clearing your throat. “Fine. I accept your apology.”
“Thank you,” Draco wraps his fingers around your wrist, pulling you to the side of the hallway. “Princess, I need to speak with you. Alone.”
“We are alone.”
“Out of this crowded hallway, Merlin-”
“Okay, okay. Follow me, I guess,” Your heart stops as his fingers travels down from your wrist to your hand, then ever-so-slightly brush your own. Your stomach lurches at the touch. Gently, you lace your hands together, squeezing. As you lead him down a different, smaller hallway branch, you’re all too aware of the skin-on-skin contact. Inside your chest, your heart is thumping, wild, and it’s all you can do not to dig your nails into his palm.
You reach your destination about five minutes later; this small, dimly lit hallway is one you’ve gone to ever since your first year. Whenever you needed to be alone, you came here. You’ve never seen anyone else in your hallway, but whenever you’ve gone, it’s always been in the evening. This is the first time you’ve been here during the late morning.
Draco stops in the middle of it. “Where are we?”
You shrug, turning to face him. “I don’t know. I found this hallway during my first year. It usually only shows up during the evening, but I’ve never tried finding it at this time,” you let go of his hand and clasp it behind your back with the other one. Peering up at him, you raise your eyebrows. “What do you want to talk about?”
“Right, about that...” Draco takes a deep breath, then leans down. You don’t realize he is going to kiss you until his lips are already on yours.
You’re frozen. Your stomach is doing backflips, heart in your throat. After a second, your eyelids flutter shut. You kiss him back. He lets out a little pleased sound and wraps an arm around your waist, pulling your body closer to his, the other hand cupping your cheek. You slide your hands up the front of his body until one is slung over his shoulder, around his neck, and the other tangles in his hair. As your lips move together, he eventually adds tongue, which makes your knees weaken. The only thing keeping you upright is his forearm around your body.
You don’t want to pull away, but after Draco drags your bottom lip through his teeth, you feel faint. You break apart, cheeks hot.
“Draco-” you chew on the inside of your cheek. Searching for something to say, you glance up. Draco is… nervous. You’ve never seen him nervous before. “Fuck,” you say finally, laughing. “I definitely forgive you now.”
The corners of his mouth raise until he’s smirking. “That was the plan, princess.”
The name wakes up the butterflies in your stomach. They dance around for a minute, to your utter annoyance. You swallow, clenching your fists. “Um, hey…”
“Yeah?”
“Can you… kiss me again?”
He breathes, “Yes,” and presses his mouth against yours.
-
Hours later, you reenter the Great Hall, fingers laced with Draco’s. Your lips are (embarrassingly) swollen, cheeks pink and hair a little messy. Draco is the same way - he isn’t laughing, but he isn’t frowning, either, so you take it as a victory.
As usual, Blaise and Pansy are already sitting down. You remember that, since lunch, you haven’t seen a single picture of yourself in the hallway. On the way to the table, you make eye contact with Granger and mouth, ‘Thank you.’ Granger nods. She arches a brow at your hands, but lets a small smile play across her lips. You duck your head, beaming.
Your friends are already in a conversation. Blaise is scoffing into his soup, Pansy cackling at something she must’ve thought was funny. When you walk up to the table, her eyes lift in the middle of a sip of water and the first thing she sees is your intertwined hands.
She starts choking on the water.
Blaise groans, balling his hand into a fist and hitting her repeatedly on the back.
You take your seat with Draco. As soon as you’re sitting, you let go of his hand. You purse your lips at the coughing girl before you. “Pansy,” you sigh, shaking your head as you pick up a roll. “You really need to work on not choking all the time.”
It takes her a minute, but after she stops coughing, she glares at you. “This is the third time you’ve nearly killed me in a week. If I happen to die, ever, I’m blaming it on you.”
“‘Ever’?” Draco snorts. “Are you saying you’re immortal? Because if you are, then bollocks. You’ll be the first one to die out of all of us.”
She glowers, “And it will be your girlfriend’s fault.”
There’s a bit of a lull then. You pause, unsure, before side-eyeing Draco. “I… think I can live with that,” you say.
Draco rolls his eyes. “I’ll be there to support her. I’ll testify in your favor, princess,” he wraps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his side. You scoot closer to Draco, biting the inside of your cheek. Your stomach’s doing flips again. heart pounding, head spinning - but not necessarily in a bad way. This is… actually pretty nice.
Blaise cocks his head, then shrugs. “Well, whatever makes you happy.” You catch the underlying message in the statement.
Pansy growls. She stabs her roast chicken with a fork and lowers her head onto her other hand. “Merlin, I hate couples.”