You and Draco Malfoy have hated each other for years. So when someone drugs you at a party and follows you home, running to his door makes absolutely no sense—except you know exactly what kind of bastard he is, and what kind he isn’t. You trust Draco Malfoy with one thing: he hates you enough not to hurt you. Unfortunately, surviving the night might be the easy part.
After a traumatic night leaves Y/N unable to sleep alone, she calls the one person she trusts most: her best friend, Draco Malfoy. One night on the sofa becomes two, then three, then a habit neither questions. After all, they’re just best friends. Until sharing the night starts feeling a little too much like coming home.
Years after the war, you and Draco Malfoy have grown into very different people. He’s an Auror. You work with magical creatures. You share friends, occasionally cross paths through work, and have finally reached the point where being in the same room doesn’t automatically become an argument. One night, that room happens to be a crowded party. There’s drinking, music, mutual friends and considerably more flirting between you and Draco than either of you intends to acknowledge. Nothing happens. You leave first. Draco stays. A few hours later, after he’s finally left the party himself, your phone lights up. You awake? You are. And Draco has absolutely no innocent reason for asking. What starts as attraction quickly becomes a series of questionable late-night decisions. Messages. Drinks. Kissing. Hands where they probably shouldn’t be. The occasional morning-after coffee neither of you considers significant. It’s uncomplicated. You’re hot. He’s hot. The chemistry is ridiculous. You’re both adults. Nobody needs to make it deeper than that. So you don’t. Until Draco starts coming over without expecting anything. Until you discover he’s actually fucking fun to be around when you’re not arguing. Until late nights become daylight messages, hookups become inside jokes, and somewhere between takeaway containers, work stories, cigarettes and Argie stealing Draco’s seat, the man you once couldn’t stand becomes your friend. That’s when things get complicated. Not because Draco has secretly loved you all along. He hasn’t. Not because sex was secretly romance. It wasn’t. Something simply begins changing. Slowly. She’s hot. She’s actually fun to hang out with We’re friends, apparently. And much, much later: Oh. Fuck.
A covert mission is already going to shit when Security catches something the field team missed. Six Aurors are undercover, you’re running security from Operations, and Draco Malfoy refuses to fucking evacuate. Again. Keeping him alive is your job. Wanting to strangle him is becoming a hobby. Falling for him was never part of the operation.
Draco is your best friend, and helping him plan his wedding to Astoria should be easy. Then one suit fitting changes something. What begins as an unwanted flicker of attraction slowly becomes love—at the worst possible time. Draco marries Astoria, you try to move on, and years of friendship, marriage and impossible timing begin to unravel without anyone becoming the villain.
