𝐒𝐥𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧 𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭 | One Shots |

𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐃.𝐌

Draco catches you feeling insecure

ℰ𝓃ℯ𝓂𝒾ℯ𝓈
𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐨. 𝐌

You sat in Potions class, absentmindedly stirring your cauldron, your thoughts far from the bubbling brew in front of you. Over the weekend, you had gone to Hogsmeade, treating yourself to some new jewelry—a delicate bracelet and matching necklace, which now shimmered faintly under the dim light of the dungeon. This morning, you had spent extra time fussing over your appearance, determined to feel confident. But instead, as the day went on, your insecurity seemed to gnaw at you more than ever. The effort felt pointless now, leaving you questioning whether you'd ever truly feel comfortable in your own skin.

A few desks away, Draco Malfoy stood, his presence impossible to ignore. His uniform was immaculate, as always. Every detail, from the perfectly pressed shirt to the way his Slytherin tie hung just right, made him look effortlessly polished. Even his hair, which was slightly tousled in that deliberately messy way, somehow made him look more put together. He seemed so... untouchable, so self-assured, and for reasons you couldn't quite explain, that only added to your frustration. You huffed quietly, sinking deeper into your seat, wondering why you couldn't seem to carry that same air of confidence.

Several minutes passed, and Pansy Parkinson, who had slipped into the seat next to you, leaned over with a mischievous smirk. She whispered a joke under her breath, one so outrageous that you couldn't hold back a genuine laugh. For a brief moment, you forgot your insecurities, your smile widening as your laughter echoed softly in the quiet class. But then, in the corner of your eye, you caught Draco's gaze—a sneer on his face. His pale grey eyes, usually unreadable, looked at you with an unmistakable expression of disgust. Your smile faltered immediately, and self-consciousness surged through you like ice water. You quickly covered your mouth with your hand, trying to hide the laughter that had now died on your lips.

Class dragged on, and you couldn't focus, your mind replaying the moment over and over. His look, the sneer—it cut deeper than you thought it would. By the time the lesson ended, you were ready to disappear, retreating into the hallways of the castle as quickly as you could. There were no more classes today, but the freedom didn't feel like a relief. Instead, you were left alone with your thoughts, replaying the image of Draco's disgusted face in your mind, over and over.

You found yourself in an empty corridor, the cold stone walls offering little comfort. The weight of the day pressed heavily on your chest, and before you could stop it, tears welled up in your eyes. Embarrassment and hurt mixed together until you couldn't hold it in anymore. You wiped at your eyes hastily, hoping to stem the flow of tears, but it was too late. The feeling of shame twisted painfully inside you. How could someone make you feel so small with just a single look?

Suddenly, the soft echo of footsteps caught your attention, pulling you from your thoughts. You froze, hoping whoever it was would pass by without noticing you. But then, a familiar voice broke the silence.

"Y/N?"

You didn't have to turn to know who it was. Draco's voice was unmistakable. Your heart pounded in your chest, and you wiped at your eyes again, trying to hide the fact that you had been crying. You didn't trust yourself to speak, knowing your voice would come out shaky. Maybe if you stayed quiet, he'd leave.

But the footsteps grew closer, and before you could react, you felt a gentle hand on your shoulder. The touch sent a shock through you, so unlike the Draco you had imagined. His voice, which was usually so sharp and cold, softened as he asked, "Y/N, are you crying?"

You shook your head, still refusing to look at him, but the betrayal of your shaking shoulders made it clear that you were. His grip on your shoulder tightened slightly, and then, without warning, he turned you around to face him. You could barely meet his eyes, the weight of your embarrassment making you want to disappear on the spot.

"Piss off, Draco," you snapped weakly, your voice betraying you as it trembled with emotion. You pushed at his chest, but it was more of a feeble shove than anything else, barely moving him an inch.

"What happened?" he asked, his head tilting to the side as he studied you closely, concern flashing in his eyes. It was a look you didn't expect—couldn't have expected.

"I felt like shit today, and you—" The words rushed out before you could stop them, your frustration and hurt spilling over. "You've made it worse! Do I really disgust you that much? That even when I'm just laughing with Pansy, I get dirty looks from you? Am I that ugly to you, or do you just despise me so much you can't even stand to look at me?"

Your voice broke, and you hated yourself for it. The vulnerability, the rawness of your words hung in the air between you, and for a long moment, Draco said nothing. His gaze didn't waver, though, his attention solely focused on you.

Then, something in his expression changed. His grip on your shoulder loosened, and in a movement so subtle, yet intimate, he stepped closer, his hand sliding around your waist and pulling you in. The proximity left you breathless, his warmth contrasting against the coolness of the hallway.

"No," he whispered, his voice uncharacteristically soft. "I'm disgusted with myself."

You blinked, confused, the meaning of his words taking a moment to sink in.

"I'm disgusted," he continued, "that I find you so bloody appealing... that I think about you constantly. You're beautiful, Y/N. It drives me mad. I look at you, and I feel things I can't control—things that scare me. But I swear, there's nothing about you that I could ever hate."

He lifted his hand, brushing a thumb gently across your cheek, wiping away the remnants of your tears. His eyes, which had always seemed so guarded, now held something raw and open, something vulnerable. You could hardly believe this was Draco Malfoy standing in front of you, pouring out words you never thought you'd hear from him.

The pain in your chest slowly unraveled, replaced by a warmth that spread through you as you stood there, wrapped in each other's arms in the middle of the empty hallway. His embrace was firm yet gentle, and for the first time that day, you allowed yourself to believe his words. In that moment, nothing else mattered—just the two of you, finding solace in one another.

And maybe, just maybe, today wasn't as bad as it had first seemed.

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