promise

the parents

"Stop fidgeting."

"I'm not fidgeting."

"Yes, you are. You're making me nervous."

"I always make you nervous."

"That's not—" Elara stops and rolls her eyes, planting her hands on her hips as she glares at him. "You do not. I happen to be calm and composed all the time."

Draco scoffs as he squints down the little street, trying to see in the dim light of the lampposts. "Might I remind you, you jumped me like an Omega in heat just last night. Barely made it past the door and you were all over me."

Elara's cheeks heat as she scowls at him and his eyes slide back to her, a chuckle escaping his lips a moment later. "Don't glare, darling. I enjoyed it as much as you did."

"That was a—" She fumbles for the words, trying to save some of her dignity. "It was a long day, okay?"

He tugs her closer by her waist, dipping his head to kiss her head. "Believe me, I know. All I could think about today was the way you'd looked at me. Waiting for you to come home is torture — and to add to that, I couldn't even ravage you."

"You can ravage me after dinner," she purrs back, interlocking her fingers behind his neck before kissing the corner of his lips. He smells like expensive cologne — but she can still scent the familiar peppermint and teakwood underneath. "If you survive it. I'm starting to think you'll give yourself a heart attack even before we step into my parents' house."

He scowls and she has to laugh as they stand underneath the lamppost, snow flakes drifting down around them. "It's not just your parents."

"So?"

"Your siblings will be there."

"You're worried about Isaac?" Elara snorts in disbelief, sliding her hands down to adjust the collar of Draco's coat. "He's literally a puppy—"

"I'm worried about Freya."

Elara stares at him, brown meeting silver and then bursts into laughter — so strong, Draco has to steady her with an arm around her waist when she sags against him.

She can practically hear his eye roll and annoyed scoff — but all she can think about is Draco Malfoy, ex-Death Eater and right hand to Voldemort, six foot three and lean muscle, quivering in his boots at the thought of plump, golden-haired Freya glaring up at him with rosy cheeks and Alfie on her hip.

"I'm sorry—" She can't stop giggling, one hand pressed over her lips to try and stifle it as she wobbles on her heels, steadying herself again. "It's just—Freya?"

"Are you forgetting she hates me?" His scowl deepens and she shakes her head, biting back her smile.

"Mum will protect you if she tries to strangle you across the dining table."

"Laugh at me all you want but considering that three out of four women in the Jacobs family have the capacity to kill me with just a look, I'm not too excited about meeting your mother either."

Elara nearly bursts into a fit of laughter all over again and only Draco's warning look has her holding back. "Alright, alright — Okay, sorry. Sorry."

He only huffs and looks away down the quiet, snowy street. Elara recognises the bruised ego look on his face and it becomes ten times harder to restrain her smile.

"I'll make it up to you," she says, sweetly, curling her fingers around the lapels of his coat and tugging him down to her. Draping her arms around his neck, she finally gets him to meet her eyes and gives him an innocent smile. "After dinner."