the boy who had no choice [d.m]

𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖗𝖙𝖞 𝖙𝖜𝖔

ELARA FELT AS IF THE ENTIRE WORLD RESTED ON HER SHOULDERS.

But it was just Draco's - and somehow, that was everything.

She knew if she brushed him off now, he'd crumble. He'd retreat inwards and lock himself up in that cage of ice and indifference and never show himself to her again.

But she didn't want to even think about what would happen if she told him the truth.

How much she thought about him. How much she wanted him. How everything he'd just said had awakened something in her that she'd been forcing down since that cold night in Hogsmeade.

The fact that she may be falling for him.

But she couldn't tell him that - even when he'd been so open and so vulnerabe with her.

Half of her was sure he'd backtrack immediately, laugh in her face once she admitted it, call her a whore again -

So instead, she said, "It wasn't Harry."

Draco blinked, his hand slowly unfurling from the fist it'd been in. He flexed his knuckles, as if realising for the first time that they were bruised and bloody. "What?"

"It wasn't Harry in the..." She swallowed hard, shivered as the breeze drifted by. "Corridor. You know, kissing -"

"I really don't need to be reminded," Draco cut her off, dryly. "Then who the fuck was it?"

Elara flushed pink. "Paul - Paul Flint."

Draco stared at her. "You were going to fuck the Head Boy of my house?"

"I didn't even know he was Head Boy!" Elara protested, indignantly. "Also - is he even any good?"

Draco made a strangled sound in the back of his throat and Elara smiled. "I'm kidding."

She cleared her throat, wondering what to say. She didn't think she would be able to get the words out, even if she tried.

Draco seemed to see her dilemma. "You don't have to say anything," he said, softly, and she marveled at how much strength that must have taken for him. For him to be so vulnerable and not expect anything back.

Elara nodded, slowly, wrapping her arms around herself and Draco's eyes dimmed. He looked ready to leave.

Elara didn't want him to. She'd always thought he'd been the one terrible at expressing his feelings but here she was, unable to get a serious word out, after he had launched into a whole monologue about her.

"Draco," she started, dropping her arms away from herself and stepping towards him, carefully.

"Why are you not at the Ball?" He was retreating into his shell again - all emotion wiped from his face.

Elara's stomach sank. "Why don't you take a guess?" she asked, gently, moving another step forward. "Why am I here, freezing my arse off in the cold, instead of back in the ballroom, warm and drinking punch and dancing?"