Not Yours( Draco Malfoy)( Muggle)

NIGHT SPENT TOGETHER

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As the evening deepened, the café began to empty out, leaving only Draco and Emma. The quiet hum of the city outside made the inside feel even cozier, a small bubble where the tension between them seemed to ease.

Draco leaned back in his chair and glanced toward the counter. “Do you serve anything stronger than coffee?” he asked, surprising even himself with the question. He never drank much, not since the war. But tonight, the weight of his secrets, the magic he had revealed to her—it all felt like too much.

Emma raised an eyebrow, then smirked. “As a matter of fact, I do.” She stood up and moved behind the counter, pulling out a bottle of whiskey from a small shelf below. “Don’t tell anyone. It’s my secret stash.”

Draco chuckled, a little relieved at how easily she was handling everything. “You really don’t get rattled, do you?”

“Not much,” she said with a grin, pouring two glasses and handing one to Draco. “To strange nights and even stranger people,” she said, raising her glass.

“To strange nights,” Draco echoed, clinking his glass against hers before taking a sip. The warmth of the whiskey spread through him, calming the nerves that had been frayed all evening.

They talked for hours, the conversation flowing more freely as the alcohol loosened their tongues. Emma laughed at his dry humor, and Draco found himself relaxing in a way he hadn’t in years. The walls he’d built around himself were slowly coming down, brick by brick, and for the first time, he didn’t mind.

“Another round?” Emma asked with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

Draco smirked. “Why not?”

As the night wore on, the line between right and wrong became blurrier, the drinks dulling their inhibitions. The tension between them shifted into something more palpable, something neither of them addressed directly but both felt growing stronger.

At one point, Emma stood, wobbling slightly from the drinks, and Draco instinctively reached out to steady her. Their hands touched, and for a brief second, the world around them felt like it stopped. Emma looked up at him, her eyes sparkling with something Draco couldn’t quite place.

Without thinking, he leaned in, his lips brushing against hers. The kiss was soft at first, hesitant, but then Emma responded, pulling him closer. The moment felt electric, like nothing else existed but the two of them. The drinks, the confessions, the strange night—it all blurred together into one long, dizzying moment of connection.

“Let’s… let’s go somewhere else,” Emma whispered breathlessly, her hands still gripping the front of Draco’s shirt.

Draco nodded, his heart pounding in his chest. He led her toward the small restroom in the back of the café, the quiet, dimly lit space offering them a brief escape from reality. They stumbled inside, the door clicking shut behind them as they gave in to the heat of the moment, the intensity of their emotions taking over.

They spent the night together, caught up in the rush of it all, lost in a world that seemed to belong only to them.

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The next morning, Draco awoke to the sound of rain pattering against the windows. His head throbbed slightly, the remnants of the whiskey still lingering in his system. For a moment, he couldn’t remember where he was. Then it hit him.

Emma.

He turned and saw her, lying beside him, her breathing slow and steady. Memories from the night before flashed through his mind, but they felt distant, like a dream he couldn’t quite grasp.

Had they really…?

Draco sat up carefully, trying not to wake her. His mind raced, panic beginning to set in. What had he done? How had he let things get this far? Emma stirred beside him, her eyes fluttering open.

“Morning,” she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep. Then, as she sat up and looked around, a confused expression crossed her face. “What… what happened last night?”

Draco swallowed hard. “You don’t remember?”

Emma shook her head slowly, frowning. “Not really. I remember… we were talking, drinking, and then…” Her voice trailed off as realization began to dawn on her. “Oh.”

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The air between them was thick with awkward tension, neither quite knowing what to say.

“Did we…?” Emma started, her cheeks flushing slightly.

Draco nodded, unable to meet her gaze. “Yeah. We did.”

Emma exhaled, rubbing her temples as she tried to piece everything together. “Wow. I… I don’t usually do that.”

“Neither do I,” Draco said quickly, feeling the weight of his own actions press down on him.

They sat in silence for what felt like hours, the gravity of the situation sinking in. Whatever connection they had built the night before felt fragile now, like it could shatter with the wrong word.

“I’m sorry,” Draco muttered, finally breaking the silence. “I shouldn’t have let things go that far.”

Emma looked at him, her expression softening. “I think we were both a little caught up in the moment.” She sighed, running a hand through her hair. “I’m not saying I regret it, but… I don’t know. Everything feels kind of blurry right now.”

Draco nodded, his heart heavy with guilt. He had complicated things, and now he wasn’t sure if they could ever go back to the way things were. The magic he had revealed, the secrets, the night they had shared—it all felt tangled in a way that neither of them could easily unravel.

“Let’s just… take it slow,” Emma said after a moment, her voice gentle. “We don’t have to figure everything out right now.”

Draco glanced at her, relief washing over him. Maybe things weren’t ruined after all. “Yeah,” he agreed quietly. “Slow sounds good.”

But even as they sat there, awkward and uncertain, Draco couldn’t shake the feeling that the world outside the café was waiting for him—waiting to tear them apart.