Amortentia: A Draco x Reader Fanfic

Food and Fights

            You squint as you drop the final ingredient into your cauldron only for the whole liquid to solidify into a brown blob that's stronger than concrete. Sighing, you cast a spell to return all the ingredients into their original forms before dragging your hands over your face in frustration. That's the sixth failed amortentia—and the least promising of them all. Maybe I really do need help.

Just as you're about to dice your first root, a new smell distracts you. Amidst the dust and dampness of the dungeons swirls the fresh scent of newly baked dinner rolls. Wow, I really must be hungry. You press your lips together as you glance at the doorway, wondering if the trio would mind if you popped upstairs for a snack. Before you can weigh the pros and cons, the door slams open as Draco Malfoy storms in, his hands filled with dinner rolls and his face overflowing with disdain.

"Is dinner over already?" You ask, eyeing his food as you lick your lips, but when you rip your eyes away from the rolls to glance at Draco's face, you quickly shut your mouth and revert to looking at the ingredients.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Draco dares as he dumps all the bread rolls onto the table, knocking a vial in the process, which you catch mere seconds before it would have shattered on the ground. The dungeon is silent other than the distant dripping of water against the walls and the short, warm puff of Draco's breath against your neck. You hadn't realised how close you are to Draco and whether it be the hunger, the cold, or your breath syncing with his, your skin prickles into goose bumps. You close your eyes and inhale slowly as you stand back up and place the vial to a safer place on the counter. Turning back to face Draco, you're mere inches from his face, the scent of candle wax from the dining hall dripping from his hair.

"Let's not waste any more vials, Draco. If you something to say, get on with it." You snap, daring yourself to be the last to break eye contact this time. His eyes flicker from your left eye, to your right then to your lips where he pauses to swallow. Mere inches away from each other, you can't help but notice his pale hair fall in front of his face and you want nothing more to swipe it aside. Draco clears his throat and stiffens as he looks at his shoes, his hair swooping further in front of his face. There really must be something off about the lighting because there's no way Draco Malfoy blush again—if he ever did, that is.

"Right. Why don't you ask that Weasley boy you're so found of what I have to say?" Draco scowls, mentioning Ron as if he were a fly in his amortentia potion.

"Draco, I don't have time for riddles...." You sigh as you turn away from Draco and start slicing the first ingredient again.

"Why? Are you too busy scheming against me? Did you think I wouldn't come find you after your little friends kept berating me with your plans to one-up me? After they ridiculed me in front of everyone? After I did all this to help you?" He shouts, motioning to the dungeon before pausing, and you swear for a moment you catch a glimpse of sadness in his eyes. The moment passes just as quickly as it came when he sighs and presses his palms against his temples. "You didn't even try." He whispers, shaking his head, and looking down. "After all this time in the dungeons, you didn't even try to make an amortentia. You thought I was so easy to use—to fool—that you put off making your potion until the last minute."

"Draco." You whisper, waiting for his reaction, but when he remains still, you grab his arm that's blocking his face until he looks at you. "Draco, I didn't mean for that to happen. I just didn't want to be in your debt or to have to update my friends every time we meet only for them to gossip about you later." You confess, your eyes darting across his face, trying to find a sign that he understands—forgives you, even. To your dismay, hints of the hurt that made you explain as much as you have still lurk in his eyes. As he presses his lips together you move your grasp from his wrist to his hand, hoping that he'll understand you're sincere.