wanting. (you x Draco)

dinner

You felt him appear behind you. You sigh into the pan you are stirring. Luckily there's enough carbonara for two.

"[Y/N]..."

All he said was your name but your heart skips a beat. You slowly turn around. 

Draco Malfoy stands there in all his glory. You teasingly call him the pureblood prince, and he looks every bit like his namesake in his all-black suit. The shirt, the slacks, the cufflinks, the loafers...they all look regal. His pale blond hair slicked back. 

"You sure you're in the right place? Don't quite know what you look so dapper for."

You know you're being cheeky but the blond can handle it. In fact, he would respond in a cheekier remark. 

When you don't hear a response, you worry. He pulls back the chair of your round dining table and sits himself down. He gathers his face in his hands. 

Tentatively, you approach him. As soon as he senses your presence, he wraps his arms around your hips whilst you're still standing. You sink your fingers into his flaxen hair and massage his head the way you know he likes. 

Tonight wasn't a night for the conversations you usually have, the back-and-forths of "You can't keep coming here" and "You can't tell me what to do." You felt that instinctively. 

You don't know how long it's been since he's started embracing you, but you snap out of the reverie once you hear his stomach rumble. 

You try to softly move away, but he holds you tighter. 

"Draco, have you eaten? I have pasta simmering. Let's eat."

"I'm not hungry. Just stay by my side a little bit longer, please."

You gently nudge him away, successfully this time. 

"Well I'm hungry. And besides, wouldn't it be nice to have a meal together?"

You can see the shadow of a smile on his face. 

"You made enough for me? How did you know I was coming?"

He gets up and starts preparing the dinner table. You're working in the kitchen and he's setting the table. The scene is so heart achingly domestic, you want to laugh until you cry.

And in the blink of an eye, you sit across him. There is a comfortable silence as you twirl your pasta. This is what you liked about being with Draco. You didn't have to fill the space with empty conversations. You notice that he seems distracted. 

The windows catch the dying afternoon's dreamy light, and you look out the window in a hazy daydream, almost not hearing the words that spill from his lips.

"You're beautiful [y/n]."

To say you're shocked is an understatement. "What?" You exclaim, not at all sounding dignified. 

He laughs. It is a beautiful beautiful sound. 

"I didn't mean to say it out loud," He muses, "But it's true."

You don't see what he sees, the golden hour from the sunlight casting your form in shades of soft pinks. You don't see the curve of your cheek, and the softness of your face like he does.

But what you do see is is the setting sun bathing him in similar colors. His white-gold hair looks more gold than white, and his pale skin shines like alabaster and marble and porcelain and every precious thing in the world. 

"You're beautiful too." You didn't mean to say it in a shy tone and for your cheeks to redden which seems to make him smile in amusement. 

He runs a hand through his freshly tousled hair (courtesy of you) , "Men can't be beautiful. They're handsome."