Muggles ✧ Drarry

᥊ꪜ𝓲

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 6.1ᴋ
ᴅᴀᴛᴇ ᴘᴜʙʟɪsʜᴇᴅ: ғᴇʙʀᴜᴀʀʏ 17ᴛʜ, 2021
!!ᴛʜɪs ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴs sᴍᴜᴛ!!
--------------------

"I don't understand why you're mad at Potter," Pansy told Draco. He frowned at her, before refocusing his attention on the plant before him. "He hasn't done anything."

Without responding, Draco had shut the conversation down. Instead, he tapped Frederick on the "snout" and awaited his sentencing. Of course, the plant produced a grey smoke once more.

"Still longing?" Pansy asked, though it was blatantly obvious that that was right. Draco, once again said nothing.

In lieu of responding, he tapped the plant once more. There was no detection of anything other than longing, no happiness, no sadness, no nothing. He wasn't even the slightest bit of anything besides that horrible grey colour.

"It matches your eyes," Pansy told him. He raised an eyebrow at that, and she clarified. "The grey colour, I mean." Draco rolled said grey eyes. "Look at it this way," the talkative designer continued. "If worst comes to worst, your emotions will always go with your physical appearance."

"Why don't you touch the plant, then?" Draco spat out. "If you're so certain that I'm the one in intense longing."

Pansy's jaw tensed, and she leaned forward to give the plant a ginger tap on the snout. Immediately, grey smoke filled the air in a cloud around them. Draco coughed while he swatted at it. "I rest my case." They both cleared the smoke out of the way until it had dissipated enough.

"No one told you to be a bitch," Pansy murmured.

"Then consider my bitchiness a gift."

"You're pants at gift-giving."

Once again, Draco tapped Frederick's snout. Nothing good came of it, and by that, I mean that the smoke was still grey.

"What are you even longing for?" Pansy asked, patting down her skirt. It was short and tight, something that she was experimenting with when it came to designing functional yet titillating clothing. So far she was managing pretty well.

"My magic," Draco proclaimed, though he doubted its authenticity. There was absolutely reason for him to believe that he was longing for other something other than his magic to come back. He wasn't longing for that. He was just hoping for it. Anticipating it.

"Are you sure you're not trying to frustrate Potter into admitting feelings for you so that you don't have to seem desperate?"

Pansy was talking again.

Why wasn't Draco surprised?

"What are you on about?" he asked. His arms crossed over his chest as the blond refrained from tapping the plant again. The results wouldn't be different, no matter how hard he tried.

"I'm on about the fact that you obviously like Potter."

"Like Potter my arse."

Pansy rolled her eyes. "Draco, you idiot. You're totally crushing on Potter!"

Draco furrowed his brow. "No I'm not."

"Yes you are."

"No, I'm not."

Pansy cackled. "Yes you are."

"No I'm not."

Pansy cackled harder. Draco furrowed his brow further.

There was a moment of silence for a while before a knock at the door surprised the dark expression off of Draco's face. Pansy let out a small snort at the way that the blond jumped, and, then, without warning, Disapparated.