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Draco watches with curiosity as you titter about his study; touching several books on his expansive shelf, spinning his globe, then standing on your tiptoes to marvel at his old Quidditch uniform framed on the wall.

“The uniforms haven’t changed much it seems,” you chuckle to yourself and sink back down into the seat at the head of his desk.

He hums in agreement and returns his attention to grading papers. “Speaking of, shouldn’t you be out with the team? I thought it was customary to party before the first match of the season.”

You scoff, “Yeah, if you want be tired and slow during the game.”

“I’m sure Scorpius wishes you were with him.” Draco jabs and you frown. Casting your gaze aside and muttering a quiet ‘He’s fine’.

A moment of silence passes and he worries that he has pushed too far. He's no stranger to making jokes about you and his son’s relationship. But it seems that implying you had chosen your boyfriend’s father over said boyfriend, was crossing a line.

He clears his throat, “How have you been doing together?”

“You sure ask that a lot,” You laugh, rolling your eyes. “But if you must know, I think we’re getting along pretty well. He’s a great guy, and he makes me very happy.”

Something ugly swells in Draco’s chest at your last remark. Why does he even care?

“His mother asks often about your guys’ situation. Scorpius isn’t too keen on giving her details, so she hounds me for answers instead.”

It's brief, but a certain look passes over your face when you lock eyes. He feels guilty for bringing up Astoria, which also appears to be a sore subject. Similarly, he should be in his quarters calling his wife, rather than pretending to grade papers in order to spend more time with his son’s girlfriend.

This had become a routine for them every Friday night. His last class ends at four, and you’re knocking on his study door by five sharp. Scorpius knows about it, and occasionally he tags along. His son has never expressed any problem with it, if anything, Draco thinks he finds it endearing. However, when it’s the two of you alone, not much transpires. Sometimes you’ll do your homework and seek out Draco for answers, other times you’ll lay on his office sofa, swinging your feet in the air as you read. But a majority of the time, you just keep each other company in comfortable silence. Embarrassingly enough, it’s a form of relaxation that Draco eagerly anticipates every week.

“How is your wife?” You counter and Draco stiffens a little in his chair. He shrugs it off and dips his pen in ink before continuing.

“Astoria is wonderful. Quite busy at the ministry these days though.”

In his peripheral, he can see you biting at your cheeks, a habit when you’re nervous.

Aare you guys…you know Scorpius is pretty old,” you begin and Draco quirks an eyebrow, not understanding. “I mean, he’s an only child. and- he’s already sixteen.” You fidget with a loose string of your sweater, keeping your gaze lowered.

The unspoken question dawns on Draco. “Are you asking me if we aim to have more children?”

Your face flushes red and he can tell you regret asking. By your stumbled phrases, he knows it was blurted out rather than thought through. You shrug and shift in the seat.

“Well, the answer is no, not presently. I suppose Astoria is too late in age to comfortably…carry a child again. besides, Scorpius doesn’t seem to be bothered.” Draco’s mind runs wild with taboo. That you’re really asking because you’re jealous, rather than out of concern for his son’s potential loneliness. He quickly reigns it in.

“I see.” You remain quiet after that and Draco curses himself mentally.

He clears his throat, “Are you excited for the match tomorrow?”

You sigh and shake your head. “I’m more nervous than anything. The team already isn’t too fond of a new seeker in year five. Let alone it going to the foreigner.” This makes Draco a little miffed.

“I've watched you at practice, and take it from the greatest seeker Slytherin has seen in a century, you’re bloody good.” He offers a comforting smile to you and praises himself when your lips quirk up.

You absentmindedly tug on a strand of long, platinum blonde hair. Draco is still amazed by its color, but not surprised, as you come from a long line of purebloods as well. That bit of information satisfies a darker part of him he doesn’t wish to name.

“I suppose Scorpius is excited enough for the both of you, though,” he adds.

“Trust me, doesn’t take much to get him excited.” You laugh and stretch in the chair, looking for something to do.

Again, that ugly feeling rises up as Draco determines how he’s supposed to interpret that. Of course, he knows how eager his son can be, truthfully, the smallest things do make him excited. But he can’t help but wonder if you meant it another way.

You stand and approach the front of his desk, running your finger over a glass orb set in a wooden stand. It was an old prophecy orb for the Malfoy family, but Draco simply likes the appearance of it.

“Do you guys have plans for Christmas break?” you ask and he glances at you, setting his pen down and sitting up in his chair.

It’s an odd question, especially seeing that they don’t go on holiday for another two months.

“Not particularly. I like to spend break at home, it's too troublesome to go out. We just open gifts, have a nice supper, sit in front of the fire.” Draco removes his glasses and rubs the bridge of his nose, he can feel a headache coming on. “And yourself?”

Your demeanor crumbles a bit. already, you seemed pretty out of it tonight, not as happy and bubbly as usual. “My parents are going to Spain for holiday, so my siblings are getting put up with Sister Lena while they’re gone. Instead of being babysat, I’ve decided to just stay put.”

Draco frowns, he’s angry with your parents for not considering you. They shipped their eldest daughter off to a foreign country and won’t even make time to see her for the holidays? He feels bad for you, remembering all the holidays he spent alone in the common room to avoid his family. How lonely he felt. He doesn’t want that for you.

“But that’s okay,” you pipe up with a half smile. “I’ve heard the decorations here are darling come Christmas time. Not to mention, I'll get some peace and quiet for once.”

After a pause, he can’t help but ask. “Does it bother you?”

Your head snaps up, confused. the gold shine of your rosary glints in the candlelight. He remembers you mentioned how you pray in the old prophecy classroom on Sundays. The mental image of you on your knees physically pains him.

“Does it bother you that your parents aren’t going to see you?” he reiterates.

Solemnly, you slump back into the chair. “No…well maybe a little bit. I just figured they’d be excited to see me, this is the longest I’ve been away from home. Not to mention how important Christmas is back home. I'm going to miss out on all of our traditions.”

Draco stands and makes his way to the front of your chair. He leans back on his desk and folds his arms across his chest.

“I’m sorry then. Not quite fair is it?” you shake your head. “Maybe…you could spend the holiday with Scorpius and us? We’d love to have you.'' The words come out before he can think. He’s definitely overstepping, but it's too late now.

You look up at him and his chest tightens. Your eyes are so beautiful, so expressive. And when you look at him like that, it’s easy to forget how to act appropriately.

“Really?” you ask softly, only to look down again. “I- I don’t know how that would go with my parents. They’re strict when it comes to who I can be around. My father is already livid with me about Scorpius. The only reason he hasn’t dragged me home yet is because my mother stood up for it.”

“I'm fairly certain I could win them over.” He tilts his head and gives you a small smirk. “Besides, it’s not like Astoria and I would promote…promiscuity. You’d be safe with us.”

Satisfied, he watches as your cheeks flame red and a smile grows on your face. You nod at him before checking your watch and groaning.

“It’s getting late, I should go before Scor comes looking for me again and pummels some poor Hufflepuff in the process,” you giggle and stand.

Draco swallows hard, gaze fixed on your skirt that has ridden up and shows entirely too much of those plush thighs. At your full height, you barely reach his chest and you have to tip your head back a bit to look up at him.

“Sorry if I've overstayed my welcome again. Have a good night, sir.” You fold your hands behind your back.

“Nothing to apologize for. Goodnight, dear. Hurry on now.” He waves you off, not without missing your tiny shiver at the endearment.

When you’re gone, he collapses into his chair and sighs deeply. The guilt of it all is almost too much. Almost. He knows he shouldn’t look at a student in this way, let alone the student dating his son, his only son. Christ, he shouldn’t be looking at another woman period, not with Astoria waiting dutifully for him at home. But somehow, that all melts away. It ceases to matter when you look up at him with that innocent gaze, eyelashes long and fluttering. How could it matter when you practically skip into his class every day, eager to ask him questions and be his volunteer? Why should he care when you curl up on his sofa and nap, legs draped so prettily over the cushions?

That's his justification as he reaches down to unlatch his belt, pulls open the zipper of his trousers, and tugs his aching cock out.

He hisses when the cold air hits and tentatively wraps a hand around the base. His head falls back against his chair and he closes his eyes. He knows he shouldn’t be doing this, but it’s become a habit every night after you leave his study.

It came about when he went back to his quarters absolutely deprived. Astoria had called to check up on him, things escalating until they were both moaning over the phone for each other. Draco tried to keep his mind on his wife. His pretty, loyal wife that always knew how to please him. But his mind couldn’t help but wander to the platinum-haired girl who was leaning over his shoulder not an hour earlier. That night he came to the thought of you bent over his desk, not his wife.

Since then, he’s decided to take care of his problem before he retires for the night. At least it saves him a sliver of guilt.

With the first Quidditch matches tomorrow, he’s had all week to think about your gorgeous little body in uniform. He imagines Slytherin winning the match, ready to celebrate their first victory of the season. You lag behind in the locker room, entirely too sore and tired to move at everyone else’s pace. Draco would claim he enters just to check if everyone had left, only to see you pulling down your shorts, left in a jersey and socks. As the seeker, you brandish his old number. It makes his stomach stir.

He groans and drags his hand up slowly, careful around his already sensitive tip. He doesn’t want to finish too fast, lest he’s unable to flesh out his new fantasy.

You would be shocked to see him, embarrassed and trying to cover yourself up. He would pay no mind, just go about congratulating you and creeping closer. Oh, how red in the face you’d be. By the time he gets in front of you, you’d be trembling, biting the inside of your cheeks as always. He'd tilt your chin up, and run his thumb over your soft lips before diving in to claim them with his own. Draco knows you’d be an inexperienced kisser, timid and sloppy, unable to find a good rhythm. The possibility only makes his cock twitch painfully.

They’d spend no time on foreplay, hurrying before someone can come back and catch them. He imagines hoisting you up in his arms and pinning you against the shower wall, grinding against your soaked panties. You would be a mess already, mewling into his mouth and tugging on his collar. He wouldn’t bother to take your panties off, merely pushing them to the side and rubbing the head of his cock over your clit.

Sweat beads in his hairline and drips down his cheek. He stills his hand to hunch over and spit on the tip, shivering as it slides down slowly. He resumes and grunts at the newfound lubrication. With one hand he unbuttons his shirt, accepting the cool air on his clammy skin.

He can only dream about how tight your cunt would feel wrapped about him. How warm and wet, just from kissing him. Your cries and whines would play in his head like the prettiest symphonies. Draco knows he would give it to you good, reward his sweet little student for playing your heart out in the match, for serving his number well.

There’s no way he could last long with you. Everything about you sets his body alight. He's so infatuated with you. His fear that if he ever gets to have you, he’ll cream his pants like a schoolboy. Hell, he basically does already.

He’s getting close, unable to keep his breaths steady. He wants you so badly, craves you. Tomorrow he wonders how he’ll manage to keep his composure watching you play, thinking of all the sick things he wants to do to you afterward.

A dark part of his mind imagines Scorpius wandering into the locker room, anxiously looking for you. Instead, he’ll be greeted by his own father, balls deep in his girlfriend. Poor Scorpius hadn’t even had the chance to fuck you himself yet.

That thought is what pushes Draco over the edge.

“Fuck!” He grits as ropes of white paint his hand and drip onto his unbuttoned trousers.

His body convulses, forcing him to hunch over himself in the aftershocks. His heartbeat is erratic and he has trouble regaining his breath. Grabbing his wand from his desk, he mutters a small cleaning spell, then tucks himself back into his trousers. A wave of clarity hits him as he tidies his study. But it doesn’t linger long.

Once back in his chambers, he breathes a sigh of relief when he sees a message from Astoria. “I hope you had a good day, you seem busy so I’m going to head to sleep, hun. Goodnight, I love you”.

Draco would be a dirty liar if he said his dreams weren’t filled with a particular Slytherin girl wearing his old jersey to sleep next to him.

~

Saturday afternoon, Draco cheers from the stands as the announcer declares Slytherin the winner of Hogwarts’ first season match. It ended with an outstanding catch by his favorite girl, and he can’t help but feel proud of you. And of course, Scorpius performed well too. Draco is happy to watch him play again this year and see how his skills have improved as a chaser. He scored the majority of the team’s points, after all.

The teams dismount their brooms and shake hands, some patting each other on the back. Ravenclaw sulks back to their corner and begins packing their things. Meanwhile, the Slytherin students rush to jump and push each other in their excitement. Draco watches sullenly as Scorpius dashes towards you, scooping you up in his arms with a shout. He leans in and kisses you deeply, their teammates hooting and hollering around them.

jealousy wells up in Draco’s throat. he wishes more than anything he could make last night’s fantasy, a reality. Especially the part where his son catches him ravishing his precious girlfriend.