Everlasting (Draco Malfoy x Reader)

My Passion, Your Solace

Christmas dinner had come, and you debated heavily between the Gryffindor or Slytherin table. However, your gut feeling sent you to the Gryffindor table, where you sat and laughed with all your friends, and avoided the sight of the Slytherin table at all costs, simply due to the severe yearning you held for the boy upon it. Simply seeing him would have been enough to make you leave all your friends and go to him; just him. That was not something you wanted to do - you did not wish to be so vulnerable. And thus, you sighed heavily, and kept yourself on the Gryffindor table, engaging in every conversation proposed to avoid thoughts of Draco Malfoy. Yet, he came back. Every thought of him came back. The night before, even.

"Do you think they can hear us?" You whispered under the duvet, giggling with Draco as his arms remained around you and his lips against yours.

"They've probably fallen asleep by now, to be fair," he whispered back, smiling widely. "It's hot under here now."

"Check if they're asleep."

Draco did that; he revealed himself from under the duvet, grabbed his wand and gently lit it to check if Blaise's and Ginny's eyes were closed and their breaths heavy. Indeed - they were asleep. He thus turned out his wand and lowered the duvet off of you, giving you free air, which you gasped for.

"You sure you don't want to?" He asked in a whisper with a gentle laugh, kissing the side of your jaw.

"Oh, don't do that," you pleaded, smiling.

"Why not?" He asked playfully, kissing lower down your jaw and to your neck.

"Because you know ... and they're right next to us!"

"You can be quiet, surely," he smirked.

"We both know I can't."

He laughed and shook his head. "You're funny, [F/n] Potter."

"Thanks, Draco Malfoy."

The two of you lied on your sides, facing each other. Though you could not exactly see your faces, you could feel each others' presences, and that was enough. There's something so artfully beautiful about the presence of a soul without relying on the primal sense. For it relies on your trust that they are really there, and thus having Draco beside, in the darkness, brought comfort and warmth without the requirement of sight. Simply the sound of his shallow breath ... and the feeling of his arms ... it was enough to remind you that he really is there. That he is there, next to you, for you. What else could one dream of? As you said, there's something ever so poetic about the night. The intimacy that follows it. For the greatest relationships, bonds, and the strongest form of love is watered and cared for within the night, when the moon watches and the stars sing; for it makes love a celebration and the universe its guests. Draco Malfoy was your poem; you his poet, as you wrote his words and bore his beauty.

He your passion, you his solace.

"You alright, [F/n]? Sitting there, dazed," Fred laughed, noticing your state of dream.

"Yes." You smiled back. "Just thinking about how good the food is."

"It is!" Ron beamed, agreeing, scoffing his face with every inch of it. "Try this," he said, passing you a bowl of pigs in blankets, "it's great!"

"I've had them," you smiled, "but you can never get enough of them." And so you took the bowl and delighted yourself in more.

When the dinner was over, you wished for Dumbledore to have given his speech. Only, in his position sat the rat Dolores Umbridge, and thus no quality love was exchanged between teachers and students, and the divide remained. So, the rest of the day you spent with your friends, sitting in the Gryffindor common room and all sitting around in a circle on the floor, with the fireplace blazing, singing Christmas songs altogether. It was pleasant to know how many muggle Christmas songs they all knew due to their popularity.