Draco Malfoy x Reader One Shots

Under The Mistletoe

Just a quick note: (y/h/n) is going to stand for 'your house name', okay? Okay.

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*Your POV*

There was animated chatter all around you as the fifth to seventh year students moved in a constant stream towards the party currently being held in the Great Hall, but you just couldn't share in their excitement. See, you didn't want to be here. You really, really didn't want to be here. Parties weren't your thing. They never had been, and you doubted they ever would be. Your plan for this evening had actually been to sit by the fire with a mug of hot cocoa and read the book your best friend had given you as an early Christmas present, but when (he/she/they) heard about this, (he/she/they) turned on you and gave you a lecture on how it was your obligation as a person and a student of Hogwarts to attend what would surely be the best Christmas party to ever be held within these walls. Neither your declination nor your comment on how (he/she/they) was exaggerating more than a little bit was appreciated or taken into account, and somehow you had been swept against your will into this tidal wave of Christmas clad chaos.

You were roused from your brooding thoughts by a confident and articulate voice that sounded somewhere to your right, and a look of apprehension made its way onto your face. Oh no. It was Draco Malfoy, you know that without having to turn your head. The platinum blond Slytherin Prince was an infamous git, who never passed up the opportunity to pick on other students, yourself included, and yet he was also the object of your affections. You didn't know how or when you fell head over heels for him, but by now that skip your heart did when you heard his voice was commonplace. It wasn't normal; you didn't think it ever would be. It felt too much like a flow of electricity surging through your bloodstream to ever be normal, but it was something you were used to now.

You cast a subtle glance over to the Malfoy heir as he sauntered past you and (b/f/n) with his chin up and his entourage at his heels, and bit your lip softly. He looked so cool and confident, like he owned every room he walked into, and it greatly contrasted your timid and easily flustered self. You were happy with who you were, but you couldn't help but wish now and then that you were more like the Slytherin Prince in terms of self-assurance. You were sure that he would have noticed you already if you were. Refusing to allow yourself to venture any further down that road, you looked away. And then promptly panicked.

Where was (b/f/n)? (He/she/they) wasn't in front of you anymore. In fact, (he/she/they) wasn't anywhere to be seen. Terrified by the thought that (he/she/they) had been whisked (I'm sorry phandom) away into the sea of students and therefore left you alone, you glanced around desperately in an attempt to find (him/her/them). Your efforts were disrupted quite quickly though, as it seemed the teens around you weren't about to stop for anyone, not even a freaked out (y/h/n) like yourself. You were herded towards the entrance to the Great Hall steadily, despite your attempts to turn back. You did not want to go into that party without (b/f/n), but evidently nobody cared about that.

As soon as you stepped into the Great Hall, you froze to look around. You didn't want to be here, but you had to admit that it was breathtaking in a way that rivalled even the Yule Ball. The crowd had lessened considerably upon entering, but your best friend was still nowhere to be seen amongst the dispersing students. Hoping that (he/she/they) might have fallen behind and was yet to come in, you turned around to face the now empty entryway, just in time to see Fred Weasley flick his wand. A sprig of Mistletoe unfurled above the doors, and he grinned and high-fived his twin brother before retreating, presumably to observe his handiwork from afar.

Rolling your eyes at his antics, you slipped swiftly out into the corridor and looked up and down. If (b/f/n) had pulled this on purpose, you would be very annoyed. (He/she/they) was always trying to get you to 'lighten up', but it just wasn't who you were. You had no problem raving about books or a cool spell, but you would never be a party animal like (he/she/they) was. When you had paced the corridor several times to no avail, you accepted death and started back to the Great Hall.

As you strode through the door, so did someone else, and you somehow managed to trip and fall, a yelp escaping your lips. This of course drew the attention of not only your assailant, but everyone in earshot, and people began to gather around, trapping you where you sat, though the reason why alluded you for several moments.

When you realized it was because of Fred Weasley and his stupid Mistletoe, you cussed under your breath and hazarded a glance towards the person you were undoubtedly going to be pressured to kiss.

And, much to your horror, it was the Slytherin Prince.

When he noticed you sat there on the floor, gaping at him in trepidation and red in the face, a smirk curled his lips up.

"You alright there, (y/l/n)?" He drawled, kneeling down to be eye level with you. "You look a little flustered."

You pressed your lips together in a thin line and turned your face away, hoping that if you couldn't see him, he wouldn't be there any longer. Draco, apparently not pleased with this, gripped your chin and tilted it towards him once more, foiling your plans.

"Look at me when I speak to you." He said sharply, though you could see that there was no real irritation behind his words. In fact, he seemed rather apathetic.

Nevertheless, you lowered your eyes and nodded softly. "I'm sorry." You mumbled. You could hear the crowd chanting something now, but over the pounding of your heart, it was difficult to decipher.

Draco's fingers were soft against your skin, which didn't particularly come as a surprise, given the fact that he didn't seem like the type to work with his hands (I'm sure he can, though 😉), and his hold on you wasn't as harsh as you had expected it might be, nor was the tingling sensation it sent across your skin. His touch was completely alien, and yet simultaneously familiar in a way you couldn't describe, and it instantly made you crave more.

"What do you think?" He asked suddenly.

You jumped, startled, and looked up at him. What was he talking about? "Pardon?" You squeaked.

The Slytherin Prince gestured to the crowd gathered around you. "About what they're saying."

You swallowed and nodded, before shifting uneasily and speaking again. "What are they saying?" You questioned him.

He rolled his eyes in response, but leaned closer, making your eyes widen a fraction. What was he doing? "They want us to kiss." He whispered.

"...Oh." You said. "Yeah, um. I think - erm, I think..."

You trailed off and stared up at him in embarrassment, and his smirk grew. "You want to know what I think?" He said.

Did you? It was probably going to be something horrible, as his opinion normally was, but somehow you found yourself nodding anyway.

Draco's hand trailed up, moving to cup your cheek, and then he leaned forward, closing the distance between you and him until it disappeared. His lips were warm and soft as they moved slowly against yours, and you couldn't help the quiet moan that escaped you unbidden. Your cheeks felt hot, and you were quite certain that all of the blood that had once been flowing through your whole body was now located solely in your head, but in that moment, you didn't care.

When the two of you eventually broke away, Draco got to his feet before extending his hand to you. You gave him a shy smile and accepted it, allowing him to help you up. You stood there for a moment, watching him through your lashes as the people started to wander off, clearly no longer entertained.

After a few beats of silence, you gave him another smile, this one now tinged with awkwardness, and started to step away. "Bye." You murmured, thinking that was it.

"Hey, (y/l/n)!" He called after you, making you freeze instantly. "Do you want to dance?"

You turned back around slowly and met his eyes. Was he serious? Of course you wanted to dance with him! When you realized you should probably tell him this, you nodded and started back towards him.

"I'd love to." You told him.

The blond boy took your hand and led you out onto the dance floor, ignoring the people who stopped to stare at the confident Slytherin Prince and the diffident (y/h/n) with a mix of curiosity and confusion. Suddenly it didn't matter who was watching, because you were in his arms and swaying to the slow music, and nothing else existed but Draco Malfoy.

Maybe parties could be your thing, after all.