Draco Malfoy x Reader One Shots

Of Pugfaces and Longbottoms

It was a week before the Christmas Ball, and you were sat in the Slytherin Common Room with Draco.

There was a silence resting between the two of you, comfortable, familiar, and broken only by the soft crackle of the lime green flames flickering in the stone fireplace.

All of the other Slytherins had long since retired for the night; You didn't know when exactly the last few had slunk off, as everything else seemed to fade from existence when you conversed with the platinum blonde male, but if you had to guess, you would say some point during your exchanging of theories about Mrs Norris. It was too silly and long winded to get into once again, but to sum it up briefly, you were sure that Mrs Norris had been an Animagus who was in love with Filch, while Draco was certain that the caretaker was just a sad, lonely man that was obsessed with his cat.

After that interesting but pointless debate, the conversation had fizzled out slowly, leading to the silence you sat in now.

During these quiet moments, you liked to take the opportunity to admire Draco unnoticed. He was a cynical and stuck up wizard, you had a feeling that would never change, but he was also so much more. He had a sharp and dry sense of humour, he was more interesting than the most elaborate riddle any Ravenclaw could think up, and you were willing to bet that his knowledge exceeded those of all the other students, even Hermione Granger.

He was quite something to look at, as well. He had such smooth, pale skin that he seemed to have been carved from ivory, and his jawline was sharp enough that you wouldn't be surprised if that turned out to be so. His hair, which he had stopped slicking back at the beginning of forth year, was such a pale blonde that it was nearly white. It seemed to be soft and feathery, and you yearned to reach out and touch it, to slide your fingers through it tenderly, to feel the locks against your skin, but you resisted.

He had grown up drastically over the years, going from a short and cute boy of eleven, to the tall and desirable young man of sixteen that sat before you now.

Through all of the natural and inevitable changes that came to play, his eyes stayed the same.

They were the most gorgeous features set upon his face by far, the shimmering pools of liquid silver far exceeding even his luscious hair and pale pink lips in terms of beauty.

If you could stare into his eyes forever, then you would. They seemed to always shift and swirl in a mesmerizing array of silvers and greys, enticing you to peer further into their depths.

But you never could, because Draco would notice, and then you would have to look away and pretend that his very presence didn't make your stomach roil or your heart clench in a way that had confused you for a painstakingly long time. You had come to terms with these feelings now, but that didn't seem to help. You wished desperately that they would go away, as they only served to make things difficult, but they refused to, and the fact remained that though Draco Malfoy was your best friend, you wanted something more.

There was a lot more on your mind that you would have delved into had your muse not spoken, breaking the almost hypnotic silence unceremoniously.

"Do you have a date to the ball yet?"

You stirred, and refocused your eyes on the Slytherin Prince. "I was asked, but I declined." You said simply.

"By whom?" He asked you, gently closing the book he'd been previously examining.

"That's not important." You responded, not particularly eager to share that the only boy to have asked you to the Christmas Ball was none other than Neville Longbottom. "How about you? Got the ladies lining up?"

"Naturally." He said with a soft smirk. "But you aren't going to distract me that easily. Who asked you? Was it Scarhead?"

You wished it had been the boy who lived - not that you cared for the title he had, or even particularly Harry himself.

"No." You turned slightly in the chair to stretch out a little, trying to ease the stiffness ebbing into your bones in response to staying still for so long.

Even though you were intentionally not looking at the blonde boy, you could feel him studying you.

"You're the colour of a strawberry and refusing to admit who it was, so it must be someone pathetic. If it was anyone impressive, you'd be bragging about it." He noted. "Who is it, then? Which student is particularly lame? Let's see... There's that Hufflepuff kid who stares at you all the time, Justin Something Or Other... " You knew he was watching you as he continued to list different names, obviously trying to deduce the answer by judging your responses, which is why you tried your best not to provide him with one. "... Longbottom's always an option as-" he broke off, and a sound of amusement left his lips. You guessed that you gave him a reaction after all. Damn it. "It's Longbottom?!" He exclaimed, sounding delighted. "Merlin, that's hilarious. The only guy you could pull was the herbology klutz."

You watched him snicker for a little longer, then rolled your eyes, deciding enough was enough. "Who are you going to take, then?" You asked.

As usual, you did a quick prayer of 'please be me'.

Draco sobered up but remained smirking. "Trying to deflect the attention, are you, (y/l/n)?" He quipped.

"Just answer the question, Malfoy." You said lightly, sliding a hand into your pocket to withdraw your wand. You began to play with it idly as you conversed.

"Well, if you must know, I was considering asking Pansy." He told you.

The soft smirk that had beginning to play on your lips fell away at the mention of your enemy's name. You knew that people didn't really have enemies as such in this day and age, but if you did, then Pansy Pugface Parkinson would definitely be yours.

Not only was she smug and obnoxious, but she totally wanted Draco, and made it irritatingly obvious, always touching his arm and simpering.

Yes, maybe you were a little jealous, but you couldn't help it.

It wasn't even so much Pansy's behaviour that bugged you, as a lot of girls acted like her. It was the fact that Draco noticed when Pugface flirted. It was the way he'd smirk and pretend not to realize, while secretly enjoying it.

You wanted to be the one to compliment him and touch him. The only one.

"(Y/n)?" Draco asked, sounding a little worried. "What is it? Do you not think I should go for it?"

You blinked, resurfacing from your thoughts. "Oh, uh, no. You should totally go for it. She's obsessed with you. There's no way she's say no."

Once again, that smirk came back. "I know."

God, he didn't need to sound so smug about it. You fought down a wave of jealousy and irritation as you rolled your eyes, commenting lightly on his behavior.

"You're just bitter, (Mr/Mrs) Longbottom." He said, shooting you a teasing look.

You made a totally dignified noise of indignation, and he began to laugh, silver eyes glittering with amusement. His infamous sneer was nowhere to be seen, and really, in moments like these, you struggled to understand how anyone thought him loathsome.

You suppressed your own small smile as you leaned across to shove him.

"Oh, fuck off, Mr Parkinson."