Babygirl (SEQUEL to Fuckboy - Draco Malfoy)

22. fantasy.

"You really don't want me to read it?"

Draco looked down at the letter in her hand, then back up at Evan's face.

"Please don't," he practically begged.

He knew exactly what it was going to say. His mother was going to tell Evan that their relationship was meaningless, or that she couldn't tear him away from the legacy he was owed, or that the Malfoy and Black families had been entirely pureblood for generations, and how dare a muggleborn—his mother would use a different word—ruin centuries worth of family tradition and customs. His mother would tell Evangeline to leave him alone, or she would threaten her with some stupid shit, or she would go on and on about the family lineage and the dangers of mixing blood.

Draco couldn't have that—not today. Not when Evan was so perfectly happy, as he was.

Evan, Merlin bless her, nodded in understanding and placed the letter in a parcel box, still sealed.

Draco let go of a silent breath of relief, setting his box on the coffee table. He turned towards Evan, wanting to return the bliss of their very Happy Christmas.

"Did your parents get you anything?" Draco asked, smiling at her through the tense atmosphere. He found it odd that she didn't open anything from them. But now that he thought about it, he didn't think had ever even heard Evan mention her parents, at all. He didn't even know their names, or where they lived.

"Ha. No," Evan said, rolling her eyes. She shifted closer to Draco. He laid a hand to rest of her hip.

"Why not?" he asked. "Do they hate Christmas, too?"

"I don't hate Christmas," Evan gasped exaggeratedly.

"You're only saying that because I'm here with you this year," Draco scoffed.

"Yes, yes I am," Evan said. "If you weren't here . . . fuck Christmas."

She almost distracted him, but not quite. He beamed at her for a moment, then wrapped an arm around her waist and sighed theatrically.

"Don't think you've gotten out of spilling your family trauma with me. Misery loves company, after all."

"I don't have family trauma."

"Do they ever send you Christmas gifts?" Draco asked in confusion. "Or . . . birthday gifts?"

". . . No," she replied.

"Filthy muggles," Draco teased, attempting to diffuse the look of annoyance on her face, the darkness in her eyes the moment her parents were mentioned.

Evan let out a sigh. "My parents are . . . afraid of me."

"Well, I can see why. I've felt your right-hook."

Evan paused for a moment, narrowing her eyes.

"Okay, that's enough sharing," she said to his teasing. She reached over to the pitcher, pouring two mugs of hot chocolate into it.

"Evan!" Draco exclaimed in objection as she attempted to drink her beverage through a smirk. She handed him the other steaming mug. Draco set it down, rounding on her. "I was just kidding, please tell me." She took another sip. Draco took her cheeks in his hands, squeezing them together a little too hard. "Evan . . . tell me."

Evan sputtered, as he had made her dribble hot chocolate down her chin. She laughed and swatted his hand, but Draco don't let go, even when she leaned back.

"There's nothing to tell," she laughed.

Draco took her mug from her, setting them both down so hard on the coffee table that hot chocolate splashed out onto the tabletop.