Draco Malfoy knew it was wrong. He knew he shouldn't let his magic touch her like that. He knew he should respect her boundaries, her privacy, her friendship. But he couldn't help it. He couldn't resist the temptation of feeling her warm skin under his cold fingers, of seeing his dark magic contrast with her light complexion, of marking her as his own, even if only for a few hours.
He only did it on nights where she stayed over at his flat, after a long day of work at the Ministry. They were partners in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and they often had to deal with dangerous and exhausting cases. Sometimes, they would order takeout and watch a Muggle movie on his couch, or play chess and drink firewhiskey in his living room. Sometimes, they would talk for hours, sharing their thoughts, their fears, their dreams. And sometimes, they would fall asleep in each other's arms, without meaning to, without saying anything.
That's when he would do it. He would wait until she was sound asleep, until her breathing was even and her face was relaxed. He would gently move her hair away from her neck, and press his lips to her pulse point. He would whisper her name, and feel his magic surge through his veins. He would let it flow out of him, and into her. He would watch as black tendrils emerged from his fingertips, and wrapped around her arms, her legs, her waist, her chest. He would feel her heartbeat sync with his, and smile softly. He would hold her tighter, and close his eyes. He would pretend that she was his, and that he was hers. He would pretend that they were more than friends, more than partners, more than colleagues.
He would pretend that they were in love.
He knew it was wrong. He knew he had to stop. He knew he had to tell her the truth, or let her go. He knew he couldn't keep doing this, night after night, without consequences. He knew he was playing with fire, and that he would get burned.
But he couldn't help it. He couldn't resist her. He couldn't resist his magic.
He couldn't resist his heart.
Until one night, everything changed.
He was doing his usual routine, kissing her neck, whispering her name, letting his magic caress her skin. He was holding her close, feeling her warmth, listening to her breath. He was about to drift off to sleep, when he heard her voice.
"Draco..."
He froze. He opened his eyes, and looked at her face. She was awake. She was looking at him, with a mix of confusion, curiosity, and something else. Something he couldn't quite place.
She lifted her hand, and touched his cheek. He felt a jolt of electricity, and his magic flared. He saw the black tendrils tighten around her body, and he panicked. He tried to pull them back, to hide them, to apologize. But she stopped him.
She shook her head, and smiled. She traced his lips with her thumb, and leaned in. She kissed him softly, and whispered in his ear.
"I know, Draco. I know what you've been doing. I know what you feel. I know what you want."
He gasped. He stared at her, incredulous. He searched her eyes, for any sign of anger, of fear, of disgust. He found none. He only found understanding, acceptance, and something else. Something he dared to hope for.
She kissed him again, and wrapped her arms around his neck. She pressed her body against his, and sighed. She spoke again, and he felt his heart skip a beat.
"I feel it too, Draco. I want it too. I want you."
He couldn't believe it. He couldn't believe she felt the same way. He couldn't believe she wanted him, as much as he wanted her. He couldn't believe this was real.
He hugged her tight, and kissed her back. He poured his magic into her, and felt her magic respond. He saw the black tendrils turn into silver, and the silver turn into gold. He felt their bond form, and their souls merge. He felt their love blossom, and their happiness grow.
He knew it was right. He knew he had to start. He knew he had to tell her the truth, and never let her go. He knew he could keep doing this, night after night, with joy. He knew he was playing with fire, and that he would never get burned.
He knew he loved her. He knew she loved him. He knew they were more than friends, more than partners, more than colleagues.
He knew they were in love.