#𓏵 ⋮ 𝘿𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙤 𝙈𝙖𝙡𝙛𝙤𝙮

[theodorenmyth]

can i request a draco x childhood friend reader where they've been obliviously pinning after eachother for years and the others are so tired of it, like for example they think they're talking normally but then one of the boys just shows up and tell them to "get a room already"

Childhood Lovers

Pairings ; Draco Malfoy x M!reader

Summary ; Draco Malfoy has been hopelessly in love with you for years, and everyone—except you—knows it. After endless pining and relentless teasing from your friends, he finally promises to confess on your birthday.

A/N ; I loved writing this so much

warnings ; none

word count ; 3.8K

You were six years old when you first met Draco.

Your parents had taken you to Malfoy Manor for some fancy pureblood gathering, one of those long, tedious events where adults talked about bloodlines while the children were expected to behave.

You had been wandering the vast halls of the manor, exploring, when you heard a frustrated huff from behind a set of large oak doors. Curious, you pushed them open to find a boy around your age sitting cross-legged on the floor, scowling at a small wooden broomstick.

His silver-blond hair was neatly combed, and his grey eyes gleamed with irritation. He looked up at you, frowning.

"What are you staring at?"

You blinked, then pointed at the broom. "What’s wrong with it?"

"It’s stupid," he muttered, poking it like it had personally offended him. "Father got it for me, but I can’t make it hover properly."

You tilted your head. "You’re doing it wrong."

His frown deepened. "I am not doing it wrong."

You stepped closer, shrugging. "Let me try."

Draco narrowed his eyes but reluctantly scooted back, watching as you grabbed the broom’s handle and focused. You had seen older kids practicing with toy brooms before, so you gave it a gentle push—and to both your surprise, it wobbled into the air for a brief second before dropping back down.

Draco gasped. "How did you—?"

You grinned. "I guess I’m better than you."

His eyes flashed. "Excuse me?"

And just like that, a rivalry—and an unbreakable bond—was born.

From that moment on, you were inseparable.

Draco dragged you into every one of his childhood games, from pretending to duel with toy wands to sneaking into the manor library to look at spellbooks you weren’t supposed to touch. He insisted that you sit next to him at every meal when your families had dinners together, and he sulked if you weren’t placed in the same group during playdates.

As you grew older, the bond only deepened.

At Hogwarts, you became Draco’s safe place, the only person he truly trusted beyond his arrogant bravado. He confided in you when things felt overwhelming, when expectations from his father weighed too heavily on his shoulders. And in return, he was fiercely protective of you, standing by your side through everything.

Looking back, maybe everyone was right.

Maybe you had been in love with Draco long before you even knew what love was.

And maybe he had been in love with you too.

──── ୨୧ ──────── ୨୧ ────

The Slytherin common room is quiet, save for the occasional crackle from the fireplace and the soft scratching of quills on parchment. You’re seated on the plush emerald couch, barely paying attention to your Transfiguration textbook as your eyes start to droop. It’s been a long day, and you’re fairly certain you’re running on nothing but sheer willpower and the single cup of tea you had at breakfast.

Draco slides into the seat beside you, close enough that his knee knocks against yours. You don’t move away.

He doesn’t either.

"You look exhausted," he murmurs, grey eyes scanning your face. His voice is quieter than usual, almost gentle. "Did you even sleep last night?"

You sigh, rubbing your temple. "No, Draco, I spent the night ballroom dancing with the house elves. Of course, I slept."

Draco scowls, ignoring your sarcasm completely. "You’re a terrible liar. You have dark circles."

"You have dark circles," you shoot back, playfully nudging him with your shoulder.

He scoffs. "Mine are charming. Yours make you look like a ghost."

"You do realize you’re insulting me while simultaneously trying to care for me, right?" you point out, raising an eyebrow.

Draco clicks his tongue, unimpressed. "I’m not insulting you, I’m stating a fact. You need to take better care of yourself."

You roll your eyes but can’t help the warmth spreading through your chest. It’s a familiar routine by now—Draco nagging, you teasing, him getting even more concerned because you refuse to take things seriously.

"You’re fretting like my mother," you joke, flipping through your textbook half-heartedly. "Should I start calling you Madame Malfoy?"

Draco scoffs, crossing his arms. "Now that's just insulting."

You snicker, shaking your head. "Alright, Madame Malfoy, what’s your medical diagnosis? Should I rest? Or a kiss on the forehead will do the trick?"

For a brief moment, Draco actually falters. His lips part slightly, his usual quick-witted response caught somewhere between his throat.

Then, in classic Draco fashion, he recovers with a scoff, nudging your knee with his. "Don’t be ridiculous. You’d need at least two forehead kisses to even begin functioning properly again."

You laugh, leaning back against the couch. "Oh? So you admit a kiss would help?"

Draco rolls his eyes but doesn’t deny it.

And that’s exactly when Blaise, sitting across the room and trying very hard to focus on his essay, snaps his quill in half.

"For Merlin’s beard, will you two just kiss already?"

The common room goes silent.

You and Draco turn to Blaise in perfect unison, blinking like you’ve just been smacked with a Confundus Charm.

"What?" Draco asks, his tone defensive.

Blaise stares at you both, completely done with this entire situation. "You cannot be serious. Do you actually not hear yourselves?"

You exchange a glance with Draco, then look back at Blaise in utter confusion. "Hear what?" you ask, genuinely puzzled.

Blaise throws his hands up in defeat. "You flirt all the time. All the time. It’s unbearable."

Draco scoffs, crossing his arms. "We do not flirt."

Blaise levels him with a deadpan expression. "You’d need at least two forehead kisses to function properly." He mimics Draco’s voice mockingly. "Oh, Draco, a kiss on the forehead will do the trick, right?"

You frown. "That’s just how we talk."

"That’s just—" Blaise closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, like he’s trying to summon the patience of a saint. "Okay. Alright. Let me ask you something. Have either of you ever spoken to anyone else the way you speak to each other?"

You open your mouth, then hesitate.

Draco does the same.

Blaise smirks. "Exactly."

Draco scoffs again, but this time, there’s a slight pink tinge at the tips of his ears. "You’re being ridiculous."

"You’re being oblivious," Blaise corrects, shaking his head. "And I’m tired of it. Everyone is tired of it. You know Pansy has a bet going? She swears you’ll get together before the end of term. I said it’ll take at least another year because you’re both that dense."

Draco looks mildly offended. "A year?"

"Yes, a year, because you’re both pathetic," Blaise mutters, rubbing his temples like he’s dealing with an unsolvable Arithmancy equation.

You furrow your brows, still struggling to process the accusation. "We’re pathetic?"

Blaise gives you a look. "Painfully."

You scoff, shaking your head. "This is ridiculous. Just because Draco and I are close—"

"You don’t just ‘talk’," Blaise interrupts. "You gaze. You touch. You hover. You say things like ‘Oh, Draco, don’t worry about me, unless you want to tuck me into bed personally,’ and you don’t think that sounds romantic?"

Draco actually chokes on his own breath. "He—he what?"

Blaise sighs. "You two are a nightmare to be around."

Draco turns back to you, still somewhat flustered. "You said that?"

You hesitate, then shrug. "I mean… maybe? I don’t know, Draco, I say a lot of things."

Blaise lets out a strangled groan and buries his face in his hands. "I give up."

Draco exhales sharply, straightening his posture. "This is nonsense. We’re not—"

"Save it, Malfoy," Blaise grumbles, waving him off. "I’m done. You two can stay in your little bubble of delusion. But just know—every single person in Slytherin sees it, and we’re all so tired."

He picks up his books and stalks off, mumbling something about needing a headache potion.

Draco watches him go, frowning. "That was dramatic."

You nod in agreement. "Very dramatic."

There’s a beat of silence before you turn to Draco, smirking. "So… you’d give me at least two forehead kisses, huh?"

Draco groans, dragging a hand down his face. "Shut up."

You grin, nudging his knee with yours again. "You love me."

He scoffs. "I tolerate you."

"Sure, Madame Malfoy."

Draco throws a pillow at your head.

──── ୨୧ ──────── ୨୧ ────

Walking down the hallway with Draco has always been part of your daily routine. It’s comfortable—natural. The two of you are so in sync that you don’t even realize how close you walk, your shoulders brushing, his hand occasionally hovering near yours as if he’s debating whether or not to take it.

You’re mid-argument about the best dueling strategies when Draco suddenly stops walking.

"Hold still," he mutters, stepping in front of you.

You blink in surprise as he reaches towards your face, his fingers brushing gently against your cheek. Your breath catches slightly, your mind blanking entirely.

Draco, completely oblivious to the way your heart is racing, hums in concentration as he carefully tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "There," he says with satisfaction. "It was bothering me."

You stare at him. He stares back, completely unaware of how much he just melted your brain.

"Right," you manage to say, swallowing. "Thanks."

He smirks. "You’d be lost without me."

You roll your eyes, trying to regain your composure. "I somehow survived for years before Hogwarts without your constant nitpicking, Malfoy."

"Yes, but those were dark times," Draco replies smoothly. "You’ve improved under my guidance."

Before you can argue back, a familiar voice interrupts.

"For Salazar’s sake."

You both turn to see Lorenzo standing a few feet away, looking utterly exhausted. His hands are on his hips, and he’s staring at you two like he’s debating throwing himself off the Astronomy Tower just to escape this moment.

"What?" Draco asks, frowning.

Lorenzo pinches the bridge of his nose. "I can’t do this anymore. I cannot keep watching you two act like you aren’t in love with each other."

You blink, startled. "We—what?"

"You heard me," Lorenzo deadpans. "Every single person in Slytherin—no, Hogwarts—knows you two are basically a couple except you."

Draco scoffs. "That’s ridiculous."

Lorenzo crosses his arms. "Oh really? Let’s review the evidence."

He holds up a finger. "One, you stare at each other like you’ve been separated by a tragic war and only just reunited."

Draco makes an offended noise. "We do not—"

"You do," Lorenzo says, raising a second finger. "Two, you hover around him like a lovesick puppy. If someone so much as breathes in his direction, you’re glaring at them like you’re about to duel them on the spot."

Draco narrows his eyes. "That’s just basic awareness of my surroundings."

Lorenzo doesn’t even dignify that with a response. Instead, he raises a third finger. "Three, the whole hair thing just now? What was that?"

Draco blinks. "His hair was out of place."

"You tucked it behind his ear, Draco." Lorenzo’s voice is nearly hysterical now. "Like some sort of dramatic romance novel protagonist. Do you even hear yourselves?"

You shift uncomfortably, heat creeping up your neck. "I mean, that doesn’t necessarily mean—"

Lorenzo groans loudly, running a hand down his face. "I give up. You two are a lost cause."

Draco scoffs again, crossing his arms. "Just because we’re close doesn’t mean we—"

"Get a room already," Lorenzo interrupts, exasperated.

You and Draco freeze.

The words seem to hang in the air for a long moment, and suddenly, you’re hyperaware of just how close you’re standing. Draco’s shoulder is still brushing against yours. His fingers are only inches from yours.

Your face heats up, and you quickly look away. "Lorenzo, you’re being dramatic."

"Am I?" Lorenzo raises an eyebrow. "Because I’m fairly certain if I left you two alone for five minutes, you’d just stare at each other longingly instead of actually doing something about it."

Draco rolls his eyes. "You’re being ridiculous."

Lorenzo sighs and just starts walking away, waving a hand over his shoulder. "Right. Sure. Whatever you say. But when you finally admit you’re in love, I will be collecting my ‘I told you so’ payment in full."

You and Draco watch him disappear around the corner before awkwardly glancing at each other.

Draco clears his throat. "That was... strange."

"Yeah," you agree quickly.

A beat of silence.

"So... what were we talking about?" Draco asks, as if Lorenzo hadn’t just laid out the obvious truth in front of you both.

You jump at the opportunity to ignore the conversation entirely. "Dueling strategies!"

"Right, right," Draco nods, completely dismissing the past five minutes like they never happened. "Now, as I was saying—"

And just like that, you both continue walking, completely and utterly oblivious.

From around the corner, Lorenzo watches with pure disbelief.

"They’re actually hopeless," he mutters to himself before stalking off to complain to the others.

──── ୨୧ ──────── ୨୧ ────

Draco Malfoy was a disgrace.

At least, that’s what Theodore, Mattheo, and Lorenzo had decided as they sat at the Slytherin table, watching him stare at you like some tragic, love-struck fool in a romance novel.

It wasn’t just staring—no, no, that would be tolerable.

Draco was gazing at you like you were a celestial being who had graced the mortal world with your presence. His chin rested lazily on his palm, his usually sharp grey eyes softened to the point of resembling molten silver. His lips twitched with the ghost of a smile, and if one looked closely, they might even notice a dreamy sigh escape him.

And the worst part? You weren’t even talking to him.

You were sitting across the Great Hall, deep in conversation with some random Ravenclaw student. Whatever you were saying must have been interesting, because you were grinning, your eyes bright with amusement.

Draco, meanwhile, looked like a man on the verge of composing poetry.

Theodore finally snapped. He groaned, stabbing his fork into his food with unnecessary aggression. "I cannot do this anymore."

Mattheo, slouched beside him, tilted his head dramatically. "How many years has it been, exactly? Since first year?"

"Longer," Lorenzo muttered, rubbing his temples. "They grew up together. This has been happening since childhood. Childhood, Mattheo."

Mattheo let out a long whistle. "Merlin’s beard, that’s tragic."

Draco blinked, barely registering their conversation. "What are you lot muttering about?"

The three of them turned to him at once, looking at him like he was the stupidest man alive.

"You," Theodore said, pointing his fork at him. "You absolute idiot."

Draco frowned, straightening in his seat. "Excuse me?"

"Draco," Lorenzo said tiredly. "You’re staring again."

Draco scoffed, crossing his arms. "I do not stare."

"Oh, sure," Mattheo drawled, mimicking Draco’s dreamy expression. He fluttered his eyelashes dramatically. "'Oh, Y/N, your laughter is sweeter than honey. Your eyes shine like the stars, and your smile could end wars—'"

Draco kicked him under the table. "Shut up."

Theodore ignored them, leaning forward with an unimpressed stare. "You do realize you’re looking at them like they’re the last glass of wine on a stressful day, right?"

Lorenzo snorted. "More like a man lost in the desert staring at an oasis. With heart eyes."

Draco bristled, his ears turning pink. "That’s ridiculous."

Mattheo grinned. "Oh, is it? Because you practically look like you’re writing your wedding vows in your head."

Lorenzo shook his head. "No, no, he’s planning their entire future. House, marriage, family, pet names—"

Theodore gasped dramatically. "Draco Malfoy-Y/N! Has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?"

Draco choked on his pumpkin juice.

"Alright, that’s enough," he coughed, glaring.

The trio ignored his protests.

Mattheo tilted his head in mock curiosity. "What do you think their pet name would be? Darling? Love? Oh, no—starshine. That’s dramatic enough for Malfoy."

Lorenzo nodded in agreement. "I bet he writes 'Mr. and Mr. Malfoy' in his notebooks when no one’s looking."

Draco clenched his jaw. "I will hex you all."

Theodore smirked. "Oh, please. You’re too busy mentally composing Shakespearean sonnets about Y/N’s hair to actually do it."

Mattheo sighed loudly. "You know what? I can’t keep watching this. Just confess already."

Draco rolled his eyes, face still slightly pink. "Oh, don’t be absurd."

"Absurd? No, what’s absurd is that you still haven’t told them after all these years," Theodore shot back.

"You make it sound so easy," Draco muttered, suddenly very interested in his untouched food.

Lorenzo groaned. "Because it is easy! You walk up to them and say, 'Hey, Y/N, I’ve been in love with you since we were kids, let’s snog about it.'"

Draco gave him an unamused look. "Oh, very romantic, Berkshire."

Mattheo smirked. "Malfoy, I promise you, Y/N likes you back. If you don’t confess soon, someone else will, and then where will you be?"

Draco stiffened at that.

Theodore pounced on his hesitation. "Oh? Struck a nerve, have we?"

Draco exhaled sharply. "Fine. I’ll confess."

Silence.

Lorenzo blinked. "Wait, seriously?"

Draco nodded, reluctantly. "Yes."

Mattheo leaned forward eagerly. "When?"

Draco hesitated before muttering, "On their birthday."

A beat of silence.

Theodore’s jaw dropped. "Which is a week from now!"

"Yes," Draco said, as if that was a perfectly reasonable time frame.

Lorenzo groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "Draco, I swear to Merlin, if you don’t go through with this—"

Mattheo threw his hands in the air. "A week, Malfoy? A whole week? That’s seven more days of you being insufferable!"

Draco glared. "It’s my confession, and I’ll do it when I want to."

Theodore shook his head, looking at the others. "Fine. One week. But if he backs out—"

"We intervene," Lorenzo finished.

Mattheo grinned. "And make it public."

Draco’s eyes widened. "You wouldn’t."

Mattheo smirked. "Try us."

Draco exhaled slowly, rubbing his temples. "Merlin, you’re all infuriating."

Theodore clapped a hand on his shoulder. "And yet, we’re still right."

As the trio continued their relentless teasing, Draco could only sigh in exasperation.

One week.

How hard could it be?

──── ୨୧ ──────── ୨୧ ────

Your birthday started normally enough.

A few gifts from your dormmates, some enthusiastic birthday wishes, and an especially delicious breakfast. You had expected the day to be fun, but nothing out of the ordinary.

That was before Draco decided that today was his personal mission to spoil you into oblivion.

It started with a small, elegant box left on your bed. Inside were gloves made of the softest dragon-hide, perfectly fitted to your hands, with your initials embroidered in silver thread.

You smiled, admiring the craftsmanship, when an owl swooped into the Great Hall during breakfast, dropping another gift right onto your lap. A limited-edition enchanted quill set—one that changed ink colors with a simple touch.

"Draco," you sighed, already knowing who was behind it.

Across the table, Draco smirked, propping his chin on his hand. "What? You don’t like it?"

You rolled your eyes. "I love it, but—"

"Then it’s settled." He waved his hand dismissively. "Don’t argue with the gifts, Y/N."

You didn’t even have time to recover before lunch arrived, and with it—another present.

This time, a beautiful custom-made silver bracelet. You stared at it, mouth slightly open.

"Draco—"

"It suits you," he interrupted, his tone casual, but his eyes were anything but.

You hesitated before slipping it onto your wrist. It was perfect.

By the time dinner rolled around, everyone at the Slytherin table was blatantly watching the spectacle unfold.

Draco then slid yet another box in front of you.

"Draco Malfoy." Your voice was dangerously close to scolding.

He only smirked. "Yes, birthday star?"

You glared at him before cautiously unwrapping it. Inside was a bottle of outrageously expensive cologne, the kind you’d admired in passing but never even considered owning.

Your jaw nearly dropped. "Draco, what the fuck?"

"Language," he chided, far too smug for his own good. "I thought you’d like it."

"Like it? I love it, but this is—Draco, you’ve already given me so much!"

"Exactly." He shrugged. "And?"

You groaned. "This is too much."

slightly, voice lower. "Nothing is too much for you."

Across the table, Theodore, Mattheo, and Lorenzo watched in pure agony.

Mattheo leaned toward Theodore, whispering dramatically, "This is sickening."

Theodore nodded. "Disgusting."

Lorenzo let out a long sigh. "This has gone too far."

Blaise, who had been listening in, smirked. "Oh, now you three have had enough? After years of watching these two pine for each other?"

Pansy, sipping her pumpkin juice, casually added, "Honestly, I think it’s sweet."

Theodore turned to her with a look of betrayal. "Sweet? Pansy, Draco is out here funding their entire existence. He’s like a walking, talking sugar daddy."

Mattheo snorted. "Simp behavior."

Lorenzo crossed his arms. "If he doesn’t confess today, I swear I’m hexing him."

"You’ll have to get in line," Blaise muttered.

Astoria, rolling her eyes, chimed in. "Oh, stop being dramatic. He’ll confess."

Blaise scoffed. "When? Next year?"

Theodore suddenly smirked. "Actually, he told us he’d do it today."

Blaise raised an eyebrow. "He said that?"

"Well," Theodore mused, "technically, he said on their birthday, but we all know what that means."

Lorenzo shook his head. "He’s going to overthink it and chicken out."

Mattheo grinned mischievously. "Not if we force his hand."

They exchanged glances.

A plan was forming.

────

After dinner, Draco pulled you aside with a nervous but determined expression.

"Come with me."

You tilted your head. "Draco, what—"

"Just trust me," he murmured.

You sighed but nodded, following him through the castle.

Unbeknownst to you, every single one of your friends immediately exchanged knowing looks and followed—not very discreetly.

Draco led you to the Astronomy Tower, where the night air was crisp, and the stars shimmered above.

There, waiting for you, was another package.

You gawked at him. "Draco—"

"Last one," he promised, lips twitching.

With a sigh, you unwrapped it—and inside was the softest, most elegant velvet cloak you had ever seen. Silver-lined, perfectly tailored. It screamed Malfoy-level luxury.

You stared at it, speechless. "Draco… This must have cost a fortune."

He shrugged, a faint pink dusting his cheeks. "Only the best for you."

Your heart pounded. "Why are you doing all this?"

Draco exhaled sharply, stepping closer. "Because—I’ve been a coward."

You frowned. "What?"

He looked at you, his usual confidence slightly shaken. "I should’ve told you years ago. I’ve loved you since we were kids."

Your breath hitched.

Draco continued, voice softer now. "I tried to pretend I didn’t. But today, I just—I couldn’t hold it in anymore."

Silence.

Draco shifted nervously. "Say something?"

Instead of words, you grabbed his scarf and pulled him in.

Draco barely had time to react before your lips met his.

And then—

"AHHHHHHHHHH!"

The deafening sound of multiple voices screaming in joy startled you both.

Whipping around, you caught sight of your entire friend group stumbling out from behind a nearby wall.

Pansy jumped up and down. "I TOLD YOU HE’D DO IT!"

Mattheo fist-pumped. "ABOUT DAMN TIME!"

Lorenzo collapsed dramatically onto Blaise. "We suffered for years for this moment."

Theodore smirked at Draco. "Took you long enough."

Blaise grinned while holding Lorenzo to steady him. "So, Draco—how does it feel to finally get your head out of your—"

"I hate all of you," Draco groaned, covering his face.

You laughed, pulling him back toward you. "Ignore them."

He peeked through his fingers, still dazed. "You… kissed me."

You grinned. "Yes, Draco."

Draco swallowed. "So does this mean—"

You cut him off with another kiss, slower, deeper.

Pansy screamed. Astoria started clapping. Mattheo actually spun Theodore around in excitement.

Draco groaned, head dropping onto your shoulder. "I really hate them."

You laughed. "You love them."

Draco sighed. "Unfortunately."

And as your friends continued celebrating like you had just won the Quidditch World Cup, Draco decided that, maybe he didn’t mind.

Not when he finally had you.