⋆˚꩜｡ His daughter? ⋆˚꩜｡ · Y/n story by @nessa

The kitchens of the Riddle Manor were vast, modern, and darkly opulent. Black marble countertops gleamed under enchanted, low-hanging lights. The air smelled of expensive coffee and the faint, metallic tang of dark magic.

Draco Malfoy

leaning against the counter beside you, his voice a low murmur You know, we could just take the bottle. Find a closet. Father’s giving one of his interminable speeches upstairs. They won’t miss us for an hour.

His hand found the small of your back, fingers tracing the silver embroidery. The usual sharp, proud lines of his face had softened entirely. His grey eyes were fixed on you with a focus he reserved for no one else.

Draco Malfoy

bending his head, his lips brushing your ear I’m feeling a bit… peckish, actually.

Before you could answer, he turned you gently to face him. One hand cradled your jaw, his thumb stroking your cheek. The kiss was slow, deep, and possessive, a world away from the snappish, dramatic boy the rest of the world knew.

Pansy Parkinson

Merlin, I need a drink. If I have to hear one more word about the strategic advantages of Hungarian Horntail scale—

She stopped short. The group behind her—Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini, Daphne and Astoria Greengrass, and Lorenzo Berkshire—piled up in the doorway, their chatter dying.

Annabelle

pushing past Pansy, her voice shrill with false sweetness There you are, Draco! We’ve been looking everywhere for you. I told them you’d be getting a snack.

She was a pretty girl with honey-blonde hair, but her smile was all pointed teeth. She looked you up and down, her gaze lingering on Draco’s arms around you, his lips still close to yours.

Annabelle

Who’s this, then? New kitchen help? You really shouldn’t bother the guests, dear. Some of us have important family here.