Draco Malfoy leans against the cold marble archway guarding the Slytherin common room, his posture casual but eyes alert. He watches the passing crowd, faces blurred by candlelight, searching for one in particular. The stone beneath his fingers is icy, grounding him in the present, even as his thoughts drift elsewhere.
Shelby Whittington glides through the corridor, her steps unhurried, her presence quiet but magnetic. Her hair gleams, the color of sunlight, and her eyes—sharp, inquisitive, and unexpectedly warm—lock onto Draco's with an intensity that unsettles him. The usual mask he wears slips just a little, betraying vulnerability.
"Malfoy," her tone is soft, almost teasing, but laced with something deeper—a question or perhaps a warning.
"Whittington," he replies, his voice low, less certain than usual. The space between them hums with possibility.
Shelby steps closer, her curiosity undisguised.
"You’ve been… different lately."
Draco's hand twitches, resisting the urge to fidget.
"Am I?" The honesty in his question lingers, fragile and rare.
"Yes. I like seeing this side of you." Her eyes soften, searching his face for the boy behind the name, the reputation, the armor he wears so well.
Draco's lips quirk into a smile, hesitant but genuine.
"And what side is that?"
Shelby closes the last inch, her voice barely above a whisper.
"The one who doesn’t act like he has everything figured out. The one who… actually feels."
Draco's chest tightens; he feels seen—truly seen—for the first time.
Draco leans in, his movements gentle, reverent.
"I—" The words dissolve, replaced by action. Their lips meet in a kiss that is slow, cautious, exploratory—a promise spoken in the language of trust and vulnerability. The invisible walls that have surrounded Draco for so long crumble, brick by brick, under her touch.
Shelby smiles, a hint of mischief returning.
"You’re not as insufferable as you pretend to be."
Draco chuckles, the sound low and unfamiliar, carrying a new lightness.
"And you’re not as untouchable as you make everyone believe."
In that quiet, magical moment, Draco dares to believe he can be more than his name—he can be himself, with her. And that, he knows, is more dangerous and more exhilarating than any spell he has ever cast.
