Draco Malfoy x Reader One Shots

Finally

You could feel Draco's eyes on you as you worked, leafing through books and jotting down notes as you prepared for the upcoming exams, but you were doing your best to pretend otherwise. If you looked up, if you saw the way those grey orbs stared into your own, or how that soft, slight smirk never seemed to leave his lips, you weren't sure you'd be able to keep that foolish sense of hope at bay.

The feelings you harboured for your friend had crept up on you without warning some time during the years you'd known him, and though you had struggled with them greatly at first, there was no denying it - you were head over heels for Draco Malfoy.

But telling him wasn't an option. Not only would you make a fool of yourself, but there was no way he felt the same, so you stood only to screw things up.

And although that didn't stop the occasional bout of optimism - soon shut down by one side comment or another from the Slytherin Prince - it was what you had to tell yourself.

Yes, talking to him and looking at him and existing in the same space as him was seemingly impossible when every single thing the very fibre of your being was telling you that you needed to do was unacceptable. Having to pretend that everything you were wasn't his - that your heart wasn't bare and bleeding in his hands - was exhausting. But he was your friend, and having him in your life meant so much to you, you couldn't risk losing him over 'how'.

So you kept your eyes on the pages in front of you.

~ ~ ~ ~

Draco couldn't tear his gaze away from you. His eyes caught on every detail, drinking in the way your hair fell, and how it caught the light streaming in from the windows; how your brows furrowed slightly in concentration as you stressed your lower lip; how you smelt sweet, like honeysuckle, with a faint yet sharp undertone of green apples. The reason for this was, of course, the fact that you were donned in one of his robes - a matter that turned heads in every room you entered. To see a Gryffindor student in the green and black robes of Slytherin was rather baffling to the masses, and most certainly something for the Prince himself.

The feelings he had for you were not an easy matter to deal with, and seeing you dressed in his clothes, the robes falling over your hands and trailing the floor, did not help. That much he could safely say.

Loving someone whom you're sure doesn't feel the same way is hell. Draco didn't think there was any other way to say it. It's being a man in the desert, dying of thirst, forever chasing after an oasis. It's deep and strong, and so painfully real, despite the fact that no one knows it exists. No one except you.


And looking into their eyes and having to pretend you don't see your future is impossible.

So really, Draco wasn't to blame when all these feelings rose to the surface, overwhelming and impossible to ignore. He wasn't to blame for reaching across the table and pushing your book closed, causing you to glance up at him with a look of confusion. He wasn't to blame for blurting out an incoherent mess that meant he loved you. And he most certainly wasn't to blame for threading his fingers into your soft (y/h/c) hair and pulling you into a kiss.

There was a wonderful moment that quickly turned terrible, in which his lips were against yours and his body was close to yours and he was finally holding you, and yet you were still, and then it was gone.

Arms wound around his shoulders and the second pair of lips began to move in sync with his own, and you were smiling into the kiss. There was the taste of Butterbeer and the scent of honeysuckle and apples, mingling in the air as you and Draco made up for what felt like all too much lost time.

When the blond finally pulled back, you were panting softly but glowing. Your eyes held a look Draco never wanted to fade, and your cheeks were flushed a pale pink.

There were so many things he wanted to tell you in that moment, so many things he wanted to say, but he had no idea how he could possibly convey the emotions he felt then in words.

So, as he leaned back in to recapture your lips, all he murmured was, "finally." But that was enough.