Falling For You-Draco Malfoy x Y/N

12- 𝑫 𝑰 𝑺 𝑻 𝑨 𝑵 𝑪 𝑬

the crisp chill of winter had crept into the castle, filling the corridors with whispers of snowfall and the soft glow of enchanted icicles strung from the high ceilings. despite the quiet that settled over the school grounds, hogwarts itself seemed to hum with anticipation. the usual buzz of student chatter now carried an edge of excitement, a barely contained energy that pulsed beneath every conversation.

i felt it in the dining hall that morning, where students whispered over their breakfasts, casting glances at the professors as if waiting for an announcement. in the common rooms, groups huddled by the fires, exchanging hopeful glances and low murmurs. even the library, usually so still, seemed charged with a kind of expectant thrill. it wasn't until i overheard two girls in my charms class, giggling as they scribbled down a list of dress colors, that it finally clicked.

the yule ball.

i'd almost forgotten it was approaching so quickly, what with everything else that had been occupying my mind. but now, it was impossible to ignore. the dance was on everyone's mind—especially those already speculating on who would be attending with whom, and who would be brave enough to ask first.

as professor flitwick's voice droned on about the finer points of charm work, my mind drifted to the thought of the ball, and an unexpected flicker of nervousness wound through me. with all that had happened between draco and me, the idea of attending didn't quite hold the same excitement it might have once.

i glanced across the classroom, catching a brief glimpse of him, his gaze fixed on his textbook. i wondered if he'd even thought about the dance, or if he was planning to go—if he would be there, slipping back into the role everyone expected of him, every line of his face hiding the memories we shared and the choices that still lingered between us like ghosts.

but perhaps, i thought, that's exactly what i needed to do as well.

after class ended, professor flitwick instructed us to meet in the study room.

i walked there slowly, people walking past and nudging me as they walked too. i didn't have a care in the world. my head was too focussed on everything that's going on—the ball and him.

people arrived at the study room and i found myself sitting opposite hermione and ginny with a candle in the middle of us.

i kept my gaze steady on the flickering candlelight, trying to still the swirl of emotions inside me.

outside, the hallways buzzed with a strange, electric energy—the kind that only seemed to emerge when bigger things were happening. i never really thought the ball was something so important for people. i could hear snippets of laughter and excited voices drifting in, footsteps echoing as friends made their way into the room, whispering about dress robes, dates, and dance steps.

the yule ball was all anyone could talk about. i'm started to get annoyed...

all day, i tried to tune out the conversations, to focus on my books and potions ingredients, to pretend that the ball wasn't looming over me as much as it was for everyone else. but it was impossible to ignore, especially now that invitations had been extended and the study rooms were filled with talk of going there "with their true loves".

a part of me wanted to feel that same excitement, to let myself imagine what it would be like to dance and laugh the night away without thinking about anything else. but instead, an unusual emotion of pain and sadness swelled upon me, deeper and sharper with every mention of the event. i felt myself pulling away from the talk, curling up somewhere inside myself, shielding away the parts that hurt.

i knew why, of course. the yule ball was a night that would put me—and him—in the same space, surrounded by the words we spoke in our conversation that talked about our relationship. my thoughts drifted, almost instinctively, to draco. i imagined him moving through the crowd, him in his suit, or whatever he would wear, looking effortlessly perfect. i picture him standing –or even dancing–, exuding that calm detachment everyone seemed to expect from him.