blurred lines [draco x reader]

18 ౨ৎ | breaking point

As he dragged you through the dim, empty corridor, your pleas for him to slow down fell on deaf ears. The lingering effects of the firewhiskey made the nausea and dizziness almost unbearable as you struggled to keep up. You kept your eyes glued to the floor, not daring to meet his expression again.

When you finally reached your dorm, Draco guided your unsteady frame inside and plopped you on the bed. Hermione rushed over, cupping your cheeks and scanning your face with worry.

"She's fine," Draco muttered dismissively.

Hermione shot him a glare. "She's clearly not fine!" She helped you sit up, grabbing a glass of water from your bedside and pressing it into your hands. You sipped slowly, grateful for the brief reprieve as her worried expression softened. But Draco's stone cold face remained unmoved.

He cleared his throat, a sharp and deliberate sound. Hermione caught the unspoken demand and hesitated for a moment. With one last glance to make sure you were all right, she grabbed a book and made her way to the door. "I'll check on you later," she murmured, slipping out and pulling the door closed behind her with a quiet click.

The moment she was gone, the storm broke. Draco turned to you, his anger crackling in the air between you. His voice cut through the silence, sharp and accusing. "What the fuck were you thinking? I've told you before—stop dragging my name through the mud! First, Hogsmeade, and now you're off getting drunk with him?"

His voice reverberated through the room, intensifying the throbbing in your head. "Draco, it was just a celebration!" you shot back, your tone rising to meet his. "That's all it was. And unlike Hogsmeade, I wasn't alone with him—there were plenty of people there!"

You let out a frustrated sigh and dropped your head into your hands, pressing your fingers against your temples in an attempt to ease the pounding. His shouting wasn't helping, but what unsettled you more was the creeping guilt that twisted in your chest. You shouldn't feel guilty, yet here it was, eating away at you.

Draco huffed sharply and dropped into the chair at your desk, his movements sharp and agitated. For a moment, he didn't speak, just glared at you with those penetrating eyes that always made it hard to think straight. Finally, he broke the silence. "If it was just a celebration, why did Hermione think you were on a date with me? Why all the secrecy?

The question sent a chill down your spine. You felt your stomach churn as you shifted your gaze to the flickering candlelight, grasping at anything to ground yourself. "How did you know?" you murmured, your voice softer now.

"I came looking for you after dinner," he replied flatly. His eyes didn't leave your face, watching for every flicker of emotion you tried to hide. When you stayed silent, he leaned forward. "Don't dodge the question. Why would you even tell her that?"

Straightening your posture, you forced yourself to meet his gaze, though your palms felt clammy. "So what if I told her that? I don't see why it's such a big deal."

His lip curled, his frustration clear. "It matters because you're acting like there's something to hide."

"You know what, Draco? I'm starting to think you're just jealous." The words slipped out before you could stop them, firewhiskey igniting a boldness you wouldn't have dared otherwise.

Draco shot to his feet, his expression darkening. His sharp gaze locked onto yours as he grabbed your collar, pulling you close enough that you couldn't look away. "Me? Jealous?" he sneered. "Don't flatter yourself. I'm only worried about my reputation. Do you think I want people assuming my girlfriend is a—"

"A what?" you challenged, cutting him off.

His jaw clenched, his grip loosening before he let go entirely. "Nothing. Just forget it." He turned sharply, pacing across the room.

"No, don't stop now! Say it!" you shot back, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and frustration. "What am I, Draco? Because if I recall correctly, you agreed to this whole setup knowing full well I wasn't over Cedric."

He halted mid-step, raking a hand through his hair in exasperation. "You're impossible," he muttered, turning back to face you. "We kiss, and yet you're still hung up on Diggory, like he's some flawless saint. He's not. Don't forget he left you in the first place."

You could feel the lump growing in your throat as tears began to blur your vision.

Still, you continued to hold your ground. "You're the one who said that night didn't mean anything, Malfoy. If this 'relationship' is damaging your precious reputation so badly, then do us both a favor and end it!"

Draco's gaze darkened, his anger boiling just beneath the surface. Without another word, he turned on his heel, grabbed the doorknob, and yanked the door open. The resounding slam as it shut behind him sent a shudder through the room. You flinched, the tension finally breaking, and suddenly, the tears began to fall.

The closed door stared back at you. The silence was suffocating, broken only by the muffled hum of voices from the common room far below.

You pressed your palms to your face, trying to stifle the sobs as they spilled out. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was something deeper, but the ache in your chest refused to go away. Why did you care so much? This arrangement was always going to be temporary. Plus, Cedric seemed to be coming back around, didn't he? All should have been well. Maybe it really was time to end things with Draco.

The room felt heavier without him, his absence more tangible than his anger had been.

A soft knock at the door jolted you upright.

"Not now, Hermione. Please," you called hoarsely, your voice trembling. You wiped your cheeks roughly with your sleeve, trying to compose yourself. "Just... just sleep in Ron's dorm tonight, okay? I'll be fine."

Another knock. Firmer this time.

With a groan, you whipped the door open, "I said not—"

When you pulled it open, the words died on your lips.

Draco stood there, his chest rising and falling as though he'd been running. His expression was no longer furious, but intense, determined.

He pulled you in roughly and kissed you. You shoved him away, fuming. "You can't just kiss me and act like everything is fine!"

"Shut up", he muttered, pulling you in again to meet his lips.

Your mind spun, caught between fury and something deeper, something you didn't want to name. But for a fleeting moment, the anger melted into something else entirely. Something terrifyingly real.

"This doesn't feel fake anymore," you murmured against his lips.

He tightened his hold on your waist. "I know."

The guilt, the tears, the sadness—everything you'd fought so hard to push down—was now undeniable. It was real, and it left you more conflicted than ever. Cedric had tried to kiss you, and part of you knew he might be falling for you, yet every time Malfoy stood in front of you, all you wanted was him. The more you resisted, the louder it seemed to call back. The more time you spent with Cedric, the heavier the guilt weighed, knowing you weren't with Malfoy. And as each day passed, you grew sadder, knowing that the three months were slipping away faster than you wanted to admit.