Drarry AI Oneshots

Practicing Perfection

It happened entirely by accident. One of those rare moments where Draco Malfoy's mask slipped, and Harry Potter caught a glimpse of something unexpected.

They were in the Ministry atrium, having just finished a particularly frustrating day of work. Harry was half-listening to Draco complain about their latest assignment when, out of nowhere, Draco genuinely laughed—his eyes crinkling at the corners, a small dimple forming in his left cheek.

It wasn't the smirk Harry had grown used to. This was different. Softer. Real.

And before he could stop himself, Harry blurted out, "You have a really nice smile."

The words hung awkwardly in the air between them, and Harry felt heat rise to his face the moment he realized what he'd said.

Draco blinked, his smile vanishing as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by an expression of startled confusion. "What?"

Harry scratched the back of his neck, trying to recover. "I just—uh—you smiled. And it was... nice."

Draco stared at him like Harry had grown a second head, then rolled his eyes and muttered, "You're ridiculous, Potter." He turned on his heel and walked away, leaving Harry standing there, heart racing and ears burning.

The incident could have been forgotten—should have been, really. But it stuck with Harry, and before long, he found himself thinking about it at the oddest moments: in meetings, during paperwork, while brushing his teeth. The way Draco had looked when he smiled, free of his usual snark and guarded demeanor.

It was unfair, Harry decided. Someone who spent so much time being infuriating shouldn't be allowed to have a smile that beautiful.

A week later, Harry stayed late at the Ministry, catching up on reports he had neglected. As he walked past an empty office on his way out, he noticed a flicker of movement inside. Curious, he stopped and glanced through the slightly ajar door.

And there, standing in front of the full-length mirror, was Draco Malfoy.

Harry froze, watching as Draco tilted his head, adjusted his posture, and then carefully—hesitantly—smiled at his own reflection.

It wasn't quite right. The smile was stiff, almost awkward. Draco frowned, shaking his head slightly, then tried again. A little wider this time, but still not the easy, genuine grin Harry had seen before.

He tried a third time, this one closer to a smirk, but he sighed, clearly frustrated with himself.

Harry's heart clenched. Draco was practicing his smile. As if it were something that needed rehearsing, like an act. As if that genuine, beautiful smile Harry had seen earlier wasn't something Draco believed he could show the world.

Without thinking, Harry stepped into the room.

Draco startled, spinning around to face him, cheeks immediately flushing pink. "Potter! What the hell—?"

"I wasn't spying!" Harry said quickly, raising his hands in surrender. "I was just—" He hesitated, unsure how to explain himself.

Draco scowled, crossing his arms defensively. "What do you want?"

Harry took a cautious step closer, his voice softer this time. "You don't have to practice."

Draco's brow furrowed. "What are you on about?"

"That smile," Harry said, his heart pounding. "The one from the other day. It was perfect. You don't need to practice it."

Draco's scowl wavered for a moment, uncertainty flickering across his face. "I—" He glanced away, his voice quieter now. "It's just... people always say I look better when I smile. But it never feels... right."

Harry's chest tightened. He hadn't expected this—hadn't expected Draco Malfoy to be so self-conscious about something so simple, so human.

Harry took another step closer, his voice warm and sincere. "It felt right to me."

Draco's eyes flicked back to Harry's, something soft and uncertain lurking beneath his usual guarded expression.

For a moment, they stood there in silence, the weight of unspoken things hanging between them.

And then, slowly—hesitantly—Draco smiled.

It wasn't perfect. It was a little crooked, a little awkward, but it was real. And it was beautiful.

Harry felt his breath catch in his throat. "There," he whispered, a grin spreading across his own face. "That's the one."

Draco huffed a soft laugh, shaking his head. "You're an idiot, Potter."

"Yeah," Harry agreed, his grin widening. "But you like me anyway."

And just like that, Draco's smile grew brighter, more genuine than before. And this time, Harry knew—Draco wasn't going to need any more practice.

4o