Dramione One Shots

4. my boy

This one shot was inspired by the song "my boy" by Billie Eilish (linked above!)

[My boy's being sus, he was shady enough
But now he's just a shadow]

Draco enters the bedroom, humming to himself, he freezes when he sees me. "I wasn't expecting you." He closes the distance and presses a chaste kiss to my cheek.

"Your mother let me in." I am sprawled across deep green Egyptian cotton. I'd expected to nap while I waited for him but he's arrived earlier than anticipated. I roll onto my belly to watch him.

He removes his single-breasted coat with shoulders that make him appear more muscular than he is and unwinds his pale silk tie. I grin because I taught him how to tie that Half Windsor knot. His hair still looks whipped even after an entire workday. "Are you tired? Want to take a nap with me?" I rest my chin on my hands and gaze at him through my lashes, they're visible after three coats of mascara. 

He's barely paying attention as he strips out of his trousers and begins to head towards his ensuite bath. "Can't love, I have another meeting in less than an hour."

"Another meeting? But it's past office hours."

"DRCMC meeting for the Winter Charity Gala. You're welcome to stay as long as you'd like. I picked up a new Dylan Marwood book if you're interested, it's on the shelf."

By DRCMC he means the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Hermione Granger created a new charity program this year and Narcissa, who's always on Draco's case about philanthropy, was adamant Draco contributed. She's intent on associating the Malfoy name with good deeds but I doubt she meant for him to waste so much of his time there. "Can't you write them a check and be done with it?"

He pauses in the doorway. The drapes in the bedroom are shuttered but the toilet is bursting with natural daylight and half of his body is illuminated by the afternoon glow. Healed lacerations litter his torso from a duel with Harry Potter back in their school days. I've touched them before and they're barely discernible in the dark. "I could but that would mean relinquishing control of my money and I don't like that."

He's a carbon copy of his father, only younger without wrinkles and shorter hair. Draco is lean with some muscle but he's too busy for quidditch these days and he's not as fit as he used to be. Although if he's going to look like Lucius in thirty years, I'm not complaining. "I'm sure the brightest witch her age can handle it without you snooping into the details." 

He smiles gently. I don't know if I like it when he looks at me like that, as if he's amused by my youth even though I'm barely younger than him. Draco exudes a cold air of authority, he's cunning, no-nonsense and relentless when he wants something and someone is standing in his way, but he's tender with me and there's something exhilarating about being a ruthless man's Achilles' heel.

"The charity was an extra undertaking and she's spread too thin."

"Aren't there others who can help her?"

"She doesn't delegate. Stubborn witch has always been that way. You probably don't remember. Besides, Ministry employees all have their heads shoved up their arses. Can't expect real results from them."

It baffles me that Draco even cares about her time management. "Is she poor?"

"Poor?" He blinks. "Not at the Weasley scale but she certainly doesn't have our kind of wealth."

I like the way he says our reminding me that these buttery sheets, and this monstrous bed, and the overwhelming manor and all of the flowers, peacocks, elves, and belongings will be mine someday. "Why does she work so much if she's not poverty-stricken?"