Golden Girl (reader x Draco x Cedric)

♡ 00 | Prologue

Several minutes of uncomfortable silence pass before you muster the courage to do it. You lift your gaze from your shoes and steal a glance at the boy sitting cross-legged beside you. His silky, satin-like platinum blonde hair, skin as pale as the moon, silver eyes, small build, and childish round face draw your attention. You could stare at him indefinitely, finding solace in the silence that envelops you both.

A clash of glasses resonates from the  dining room as they make a toast. To what? You couldn't discern. Perhaps some obscure house-elf law? You never bother to keep track. All you know is that whatever is being celebrated will undoubtedly bring wealth to your parents, just as it would to the Malfoys.

Money is the adhesive binding your families together, a fact that seems both peculiar and inevitable. Even as a ten-year-old girl, you grasp one fundamental truth about the wizarding world: it operates on the currency of blood, on lineage.

And your lineage is a stain. Your father, the buoyant businessman, is a Muggle, while your mother, the corrupted head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, is a half-blood and a Squib—the lowest of the low. Despite the smiles and cordiality extended to your family on account of its riches, you feel it—the whispers, the icy glares piercing your back.

The Malfoys are no different. They associate exclusively with the purest of wizards. Yet your parents wield substantial control over the Ministry of Magic and possess immense wealth—two assets the Malfoys desperately need after narrowly escaping imprisonment following Voldemort's downfall at the hands of Harry Potter seven years prior. Their business ties have flourished ever since.

But, on that day, as they celebrate a victory, you manage to slip away and run straight into the scrawny ghost boy peeping into the celebrations. You both stare wordlessly at each other for several seconds before resorting to peeping into the dinner party together. Well, Draco Malfoy is the one doing the peeping at the dinner while you are busy stealing glances at him.

But then the soothing Snow White of his hair is replaced by sparkling silver, and you quickly look away when you realize he's looking you dead in the eye.

'S-Sorry,' you mutter. 'I'll find another spot to hide-'

Just as you are about to get up from your hunched knees, you feel a warm hand grab your arm gently and pull you back down just as Dobby the house elf passes the door. You would have been spotted if not for Malfoy. You look at the pale skin and the prominent bones on the arm. How could it be so warm?

'Thanks,'

Malfoy simply nods in response, not looking at you as he keeps his arm raised ever so slightly, beckoning you to keep hiding behind him. It's surprising how strong his grip is, given his appearance. And... The nape of his neck... It's kinda cute.

'Whoa,' he leans backwards, right into you, as Dobby crosses the door again. 'That was a close one.'

You bite your lip to keep yourself from making any noise as the soft ends of his hair tickle your nose. The smell of lavender shampoo hits you like a wave. Is that how all boys smell? You've never been around kids your age. Certainly not, because your parents' business partners' sons, whom you observe from your bedroom window playing in the labyrinth of a garden of your manor, look nothing like Draco Malfoy. They are loud, scruffy, and violent and do not care for hygiene or grooming. Malfoy, however, in his well-combed hair and sweater vests of green and gold, looks like a little Minister for Magic.

The thought makes you giggle.

Malfoy turns to look at you, his eyebrow perked. The tips of your noses brush against each other, and you stumble backward, face bright red, having to work very hard to suppress a squeal. But Malfoy does not look away from your eyes, as if he were searching. Hungrily.