Drarry AI Oneshots

A Date to the Yule Ball (Draco's Version)

Draco Malfoy had always prided himself on his confidence, his ability to say what he meant and mean what he said. But as he sat in the Slytherin common room, staring into the crackling fire, he felt anything but confident.

The upcoming Yule Ball had been the main topic of conversation for weeks, with everyone buzzing about who they would ask, what they would wear, and how magical the night would be. Normally, Draco would have been indifferent to the whole thing-balls and formal events were nothing new for him, after all-but this year was different.

This year, he wanted to ask someone to the ball. Someone who, for the first time in his life, made him feel uncertain. And that someone was Harry Potter.

Draco had spent months pretending that his feelings for Harry were nothing more than lingering tension from their rivalry. They'd fought, they'd saved each other's lives, and now, in their eighth year at Hogwarts, they'd somehow become... something else. Not quite friends, but something far more complicated.

He'd been watching Harry-too much, really-and had started noticing things that made his heart do strange flips in his chest. The way Harry's brow furrowed in concentration during classes, the way his hair was somehow even messier after Quidditch practice, and the way he laughed with his friends, a sound that always seemed to reach Draco's ears no matter how far away he was.

Draco had tried to ignore it, tried to push it away, but now, with the Yule Ball looming and everyone pairing off, he couldn't avoid the truth anymore. He wanted to go to the ball with Harry Potter. And he had no idea how to ask.

Asking anyone else would have been easy. He'd done it a hundred times before, back in his pureblood circles, where every event required a partner, a formal invitation, and a stiff smile. But asking Harry was different. Asking Harry meant putting his feelings out there in a way that felt terrifyingly real.

"What's got you looking so serious, Draco?"

Draco blinked, startled out of his thoughts, and turned to see Blaise Zabini sitting across from him, a knowing smirk on his face. "I can see the wheels turning in your head from here."

Draco scowled, straightening in his chair. "I'm not 'serious.' Just... thinking."

Blaise raised an eyebrow. "About the ball, I assume? You do realize you're running out of time to ask someone, don't you?"

Draco's scowl deepened. "I'm aware, thank you."

Blaise chuckled. "So, who's the lucky witch-or wizard?"

Draco hesitated, his stomach twisting at the thought of saying it out loud. Blaise had always been good at reading him, and Draco knew there was no use lying. Still, admitting it was a whole different matter.

When Draco didn't respond, Blaise's smirk widened. "Wait... don't tell me you're planning to ask Potter."

Draco's silence was answer enough.

Blaise's eyes widened in genuine surprise, but then he burst out laughing. "Merlin, Draco! I didn't actually think you'd do it. I mean, I've seen you staring at him, but I thought you were just being your usual, obsessive self."

Draco's face flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and annoyance. "It's not- I'm not 'obsessive,' I just-"

"You just like him," Blaise finished, grinning. "Don't worry, I'm not judging. It's just... surprising."

Draco groaned, burying his face in his hands. "I'm going mad."

Blaise's laughter died down, and he leaned forward, his tone more serious now. "Look, Draco. If you like him, just ask him. What's the worst that could happen?"