ilovejnk

[ilovejnk]

Only You See Me

Draco Malfoy x Reader

Genre: Romance, Fluff, Tension, Vulnerability

Setting: Post-war

Rain drummed softly against the windowpane, casting silver shadows across the room. You were curled on the velvet sofa, a book resting on your chest, not really reading—just waiting. Waiting for the familiar sound of keys in the lock, for the weight of the day to lift when he walked through the door.

And then, finally, it came. The soft click.

“Draco?” you called, sitting up.

He stepped in, cloak damp, blonde hair a little messy from the wind. His grey eyes found yours—and even in his exhaustion, they softened.

“You waited up.” His voice was quiet, guarded.

“Of course I did,” you smiled, standing up to meet him. “You said the hearing might run late.”

He sighed, toeing off his boots. “Another bloody ministry official grilling me about the past—as if I haven’t already answered the same questions for years.”

You walked over, gently pulling the wet cloak off his shoulders. “You did what you had to. You don’t have to prove anything to them anymore.”

He looked at you then, like you’d said something holy.

“No one says it like you do,” he murmured, touching your cheek. “Everyone still sees me as Malfoy the Death Eater. You just… see me.”

You reached for his hand. “Because I know you. I know the boy who brings tea at 3 a.m. when I can’t sleep. The man who recites poetry in his sleep and pretends he doesn’t. The Draco who helps stray cats and pretends it’s ‘for the image’.

”A chuckle escaped him, the kind he only gave when it was just the two of you. Vulnerable. Real.

He cupped your face with both hands, his thumb brushing your cheek. “It terrifies me, how much I care about you.”

You smiled, leaning into his touch. “Good. Because I’m not going anywhere.”

He kissed you then—slow, deep, a promise in the dark.

And in that small flat with rain tapping the windows, Draco Malfoy wasn’t a disgraced name or a broken past. He was just yours.

Draco’s kiss deepened, one hand sliding into your hair, the other gripping your waist like he needed to feel every inch of you just to stay grounded. The fire crackled in the background, casting golden light across the sharp line of his jaw and the softness in his storm-grey eyes.

“You always do this to me,” he whispered against your lips.

“Do what?” you murmured back, breathless.

“Make me forget the world,” he said, his voice low and thick with want. “Make me forget I ever hated it.”

You tilted your head, your fingers toying with the collar of his shirt. “Then let it go. Just for tonight.”

His answer was a growl deep in his throat as he pulled you flush against him, his mouth claiming yours again—rougher now, needier. His hands found your waist, then your thighs, then your lower back, as if he couldn’t decide where to touch first because he wanted everywhere.

He walked you back, slowly, until your knees hit the edge of the bed. You fell back with a soft gasp, and he followed—hovering over you like a shadow with silver eyes.

“Tell me to stop,” he said, breath ghosting over your skin, lips brushing the sensitive spot just below your jaw.

“Why would I do that?” you whispered, tugging him down to you.

His smirk was wicked, but his eyes were almost desperate. “Because once I start, I’m not going to be able to pretend I don’t need you.”

Your fingers slid up under his shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin, the tension in his muscles. “Then don’t pretend.”

He stared at you for a beat longer, like he was memorizing your face—like if he blinked, he’d lose this moment.

Then he kissed you again.

Slower this time, more deliberate. Like a man savoring something he thought he’d never deserve. His hands roamed—fingertips tracing the curve of your hip, the line of your jaw, the dip at your collarbone—like you were art.

Sacred.

His.

Clothes slipped away between kisses and whispered promises, tossed somewhere into the shadows of the room. His mouth followed—along your shoulder, down your spine—reverent and hungry at once.

“Merlin,” he breathed, forehead pressed to yours. “You ruin me.”

You smiled up at him, eyes shining. “Good.”

And in the quiet that followed—the sighs, the soft gasps, the way your name left his lips like a prayer—there was no Malfoy heir.

No war.

No ghosts.

Just him. Just you. Just this.