Not Yours( Draco Malfoy)( Muggle)

COFFEE?!

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Draco Malfoy never expected to fall for a Muggle.

It started like any other day. He walked into the small café on the corner of a quiet London street, the bell above the door chiming softly. He had been coming here for weeks now, ever since he’d stumbled upon it during one of his many escapes from the wizarding world. He kept his head down, hood up, but even that couldn’t stop what was coming next.

“Back again, are we?” came a voice from behind the counter, filled with playful warmth.

Draco looked up. There she was again—Emma Pierce. Her bright eyes met his, a smirk playing at the corner of her lips. “Same as always? Black coffee, no sugar?”

He hesitated, then gave a small nod. “Yeah,” he muttered, keeping his voice low, trying not to give too much away.

Emma poured the coffee, sliding the cup across the counter toward him. “You know, for someone who comes in here so often, you don’t say much,” she teased lightly, leaning her elbows on the counter. “Are you always this mysterious?”

Draco raised an eyebrow, caught off guard by her boldness. “I prefer to keep to myself,” he replied simply, though his tone lacked the usual coldness he had once perfected.

“Well, you’re in the wrong café for that,” Emma chuckled, standing upright again. “This place is all about friendly conversation. Besides, if you’re going to be my regular customer, we should at least know each other’s names. I’m Emma.”

Draco paused, staring at her outstretched hand, before reluctantly shaking it. “Draco.”

“Draco?” she repeated, tilting her head. “That’s an interesting name. Not one you hear every day. What’s the story behind it?”

“There’s no story,” Draco said quickly, averting his eyes. He had no intention of explaining his pureblood heritage to a Muggle.

Emma raised her hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright, Mr. Mysterious. No need to spill your secrets today.” She grinned, then pointed at his cup. “But next time, I want to know more than just your coffee order.”

Draco smirked despite himself. “We’ll see.”

---

Days turned into weeks, and Draco found himself returning to the café more often than he planned. Every time he walked in, Emma was there, ready with a smile and more questions. She was persistent, in a way that was almost endearing. It wasn’t long before their conversations began to stretch beyond coffee orders.

One evening, as the café was about to close, Emma sat down across from him with two cups of tea instead of coffee.

“You’re not leaving until we have an actual conversation, Draco,” she said with a grin, sliding one of the cups toward him.

Draco raised an eyebrow but took the cup. “Is this how you treat all your customers?”

“Only the ones who try to hide,” she said playfully. “So, what do you do? Besides brooding in cafés.”

Draco hesitated. How much could he really tell her? He couldn’t exactly say, *I was a Death Eater, and my family followed the darkest wizard of all time.*