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Talking to people you found attractive wasn’t exactly your area of expertise. Despite being in Ravenclaw, this simple task was one of the only things you couldn’t wrap your head around (besides advanced calculus). Pretty people always managed to turn your normally eloquent words into incoherent nonsense, your typically sharp brain to jelly, and your heart into an unfortunately loud and erratic percussionist.
Hence, on one particular weekend when you and Draco Malfoy reached for the last box of Bertie Bott’s Beans in Honeydukes at the same time, you thought you would die right on the spot.
Draco Malfoy was a complete and utter twat. You had witnessed this approximately 30 seconds after you met him. You remember watching as he bore his smug little grin, moments after being sorted into Slytherin all those years ago.
He was arrogant, pompous, and unbelievably irritating. This was widely considered as fact, and known to Hogwarts’ entire student body. Hermione had cautioned you against him during your first year, and the two still exchanged sneers each time they passed in the corridor.
You, however, never fell for his “bad boy” front. Maybe it had something to do with the sadness you saw behind his grey eyes, or the way he had always been kind to you in Potions class, sharing candy with you when Snape wasn’t looking. Or perhaps it had something to do with all of the times he held the library door for you. Maybe it had something to do with the way his face made you struggle to catch your breath.
You had liked to consider yourselves friends, and secretly hoped to consider yourselves more. But in the last couple of years, Draco had become cold, distant, and irritable (more so than normal). Now in your sixth year, you often found yourself wanting him to look at you again.
You blinked at him, your arm still outstretched towards the candy. He cocked an eyebrow, and you gulped upon remembering how much taller than you he stood. His hair was slightly tousled, his collared shirt disheveled. The boy looked like he hadn’t gotten any sleep in weeks. Suddenly, you realized you’d been staring a bit too long. You quickly put your arm down and began fidgeting with the strap of your bag.
“Malfoy. Hello.”
“Y/L/N. Been quite a while.”
You felt your face turning crimson.
“Oh. You remember me, then?” You replied, anxiously picking at your nails.
“What kind of bloody question is that? Of course I do,” he said, leaning against the shelf. His brows furrowed slightly, and you could have sworn he was offended.
“Y/N. My fourth year Potions partner. Couldn’t brew one potion without needing my help.”
Your cheeks warmed at the sound of him saying your first name. “That’s not true,” you scoffed.
He rolled his eyes. “That’s not how I remember it, Y/L/N.”
You huffed.
“Alright. Draco Malfoy. My fourth year Potions partner. Got turned into a ferret for being an arse that same year. Notorious daddy’s boy .”
Draco’s eyes widened, and you noted that the skin under them was tinted a deep purple hue. His jaw clenched, and you immediately regretted your brashness. There was a moment of silence, save for the chatter of other customers, and you quietly wished for the turquoise walls of Honeydukes to close in and swallow you whole.
“I’m sorry.”
To your surprise, Draco’s jaw unclenched.
“It’s alright,” he muttered, looking nervously at his watch. It made you sad, for a moment. The way he seemed so far away now.
“I rarely see you around anymore, Malfoy,” you say, staring down at your boots. “Is everything- okay with you?”
Draco glanced at you, obviously caught off guard. He breathed deeply, running his fingers through his platinum waves as his eyes met yours. Pretty color, he mused before pushing the thought away.
“Nothing I'd want you knowing about.”
You frowned. “Well, that’s incredibly vague.”
“Yes, it was intended to be.”
“When’s the last time you slept?”
“Stop.”
“You’re not in any danger, are you?”
“Y/L/N, enough. ”
“Malfoy, I’m serious,” you insisted, “ I feel like I don’t know you anymore. Maybe if you-”
“Why do you care ?” Draco suddenly spat, taking a step towards you. His voice was strained. “We are not friends , Y/L/N, so why are you acting like it? We haven’t had a real chat in years and now suddenly we meet again in Honeydukes and you expect me to suddenly open up to you? What I do is-”
He paused, as his attention was drawn to your shoulders: they were trembling.
“-my business,” he finished, guilt washing over him.
Your faces were less than a foot apart, and you weren’t sure whether to recoil completely or launch forward, caution and reasoning thrown to the wind. You bit down on your lip, nearly drawing blood as you dared yourself to continue looking directly at him. Even when glowering down at you, his eyes were so very, very sad. It was at this moment that your tongue untied itself, and the incessant beating your chest urged you to muster your courage and speak.
“Am I not allowed to be worried about you, Malfoy?” you muttered, your words barely audible. “Forgive me.”
Draco opened his mouth to speak, then said nothing. He leaned forward, just the slightest bit, then quickly returned to his previous stance. How long had the two of you been standing there?
“Do you want these damn Bertie Bott’s or not?” he suddenly whispered, gesturing toward the lone box.
“I-it’s fine, you can have them,” you exhaled. “It seems you might need them more than I do.”
Draco nodded, and plucked the box from the shelf. He cleared his throat awkwardly, then glanced at his watch once more.
“Right. Bye, then,” he said, turning towards the cash registers. You clenched your fists as you turned away, your nails digging into your palms until they left indentations. That was not at all how you wanted that to go. You didn’t want to watch him walk away, leaving you teary-eyed amongst the jelly slugs and chocolate frogs. He had looked at you, for the first time in ages, and decided you weren't worthy of knowing him. The real him.
Many minutes later, after much deliberation, you had settled on a small tin of lemon drops. They were no Bertie Bott’s Beans, of course, but they were enough to satisfy the sugar craving that had unfortunately brought you into Honeydukes that day.
Approaching the shop’s exit with open tin in hand, you popped a lemon drop onto your tongue, grimacing at the sourness. After a few moments, the drop dissolved, leaving the sweet yet sticky center in your mouth. You stepped outside, thinking of Draco- his gaunt features and the look on his face that told you his mind was elsewhere. You wished you could go there with him. The lonely Slytherin prince.
Before you could stomach another drop, you felt something small hit the back of your head. A pebble?
You whipped around, only to see that a small green jellybean lay next to your boots.
“Merlin, Y/L/N. Took you long enough.”
A familiar lanky frame emerged, and you fought to hold back a grin.
“Stupid. I’ve been waiting out here forever . Here,” Draco said, extending the box of jellybeans to you. “Didn’t think it was fair that I took the last box.”
Actually, he had left in a manic hurry, but when he had almost reached the castle entrance, he found that for some reason he physically couldn't stomach the sweets without thinking about the color of your eyes and the confusing mixture feelings he had been pushing down for years. He was guilty. Not that he would ever admit these things to you.
“I thought we weren't friends anymore, Malfoy? And don't you have someplace important to be?” You sneered, reaching for a bean.
Draco’s face darkened for a bit, as if he had gone away again, then returned to face you.
“I- had some things to take care of,” he said, suddenly tugging down his left sleeve, “but they can wait until later.”
“Alright. That doesn't answer my first question.”
Draco moved to sit down on a nearby bench, motioning for you to follow. Handing you the box of candy, he buried his face in his hands.
“Y/L/N. I’m sorry. For everything I said. Did. Will do.”
“Malfoy, you’re scaring me now. What’s wrong?”
He lifted his head, and once again, those grey eyes bore into you.
“I can’t tell you anything. But I am sorry.” He gently brushed a stray hair out of your face, and stayed like that for a moment- as if memorizing your every feature. You thought you might implode.
“Why not?” You whispered. He simply shook his head, and you resigned.
Draco’s hand fell away, and soon you allowed your head to fall softly onto his shoulder. You sat there, the two of you. Eating jellybeans on a bench in silence, making up for lost time. If not for the secrets the two of you held, you thought, this image might have looked normal. Funny, even.
“Butter,” Draco said suddenly, and you looked at him, puzzled.
“It’s my favorite Bertie Bott’s flavor.”
You looked up at him in confusion, and realized his face was turning pink.
“ Butter? ”
“Yes.”
“Are you trying to bond with me, Draco Malfoy?”
“Don’t be daft. You wanted to know something about me, so there you go.” He paused. “And I suppose just Draco is fine.”
You smiled. “Making up for lost time, Draco? Mine’s apple.”
By the time Draco walked you to the Ravenclaw dormitories, the sun had gone down, and neither of you had felt as happy in quite a while.
“Thank you, Y/L/N,” he had whispered in your ear, before lightly kissing your forehead.
“Y/N’s fine, I suppose,” you replied softly, and he disappeared down the corridor. You weren't sure what he meant, but you brushed it aside. You were elated. Tomorrow was a new day, and Draco Malfoy was speaking to you again.
Marching through the dark, his hand gripped anxiously at the wand in his pocket. He was due at the Astronomy Tower.