The manor is quiet at this hour. Scorpius has been asleep for hours, and the grandfather clock has just announced that it’s well past midnight. You stand in the dimly lit kitchen, barefoot, hair a little tousled from the long day, sorting the dishes halfheartedly as you hum softly to yourself. It’s been a little over a year since you’ve been as a nanny for Scorpius.
The sudden sound of the front door clicking open makes you turn, your heart skipping for just a moment. And there he is—Draco Malfoy, in all his midnight glory.
His white button-up is partially untucked and his tie is gone. He looks exhausted… and yet still somehow devastatingly handsome.
“Sorry I’m late,” he says as he steps inside, undoing his cufflinks and rolling up his sleeves. The Dark Mark is still there, like a ghost clinging to his skin, a mark of who he used to be—of the boy who didn’t have a choice. He catches you glancing at it and shifts his arm slightly, not to hide it, but to acknowledge the weight of it without words. His voice is lower this late, almost gravelly.
“It doesn’t mean what it used to,” he murmurs.
“I know,” you reply quietly, “but it’s still a part of you.”
His silver gaze lifts to meet yours. “Not the part that matters.”
A moment of silence passes between the two of you.
“So, uh…long night,” you reply gently.
He gives a tired smile. “The price of chasing dark wizards. Not all of us get to spend our evenings building pillow forts and battling invisible dragons.”
You laugh softly and lean against the counter. “Scorpius asked for you three times before bedtime.”
Draco’s smile falters just a little. “I’ll make it up to him tomorrow.”
A soft smile tugs at your lips. Even though Draco is always insanely busy, he makes every single effort to take time out for his son. His gaze flickers down to your lips for a moment, then he clears his throat. “It’s too late to send you back. Let me make up the guest room—you shouldn’t have to apparate at this hour.”
You nod, but then tilt your head. “Let me heat up something for you first?” you offer.
He shakes his head. “Not in the mood for dinner.”
You raise a brow. “Dessert?”
Draco’s gaze flicks up, lips tugging at the corner. “Dessert?”
Without answering, you move to the freezer and pull out a small tub of vanilla bean ice cream, setting it on the counter between you. “Scorpius insisted we top it with fudge and sprinkles. He called it ‘bravery fuel’ before bedtime.”
Draco lets out a soft, genuine laugh, one of those rare sounds you’ve come to love.
You build the sundae with care, humming as you go. When you top it with a cloud of whipped cream, a stray dollop lands on your finger. Without thinking, you bring it to your mouth and lick it off.
That’s when you hear a soft, barely audible groan.
You freeze, your eyes widening as you slowly look up. Draco is standing there, his jaw tight, gaze fixed not on the sundae…but on you.
You blink. “I—sorry. That was—”
He doesn’t say anything. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, silver eyes flickering between your lips and your eyes. The air is suddenly thick, electric even.
“Mr. MaIfoy…” you murmur, unsure whether to apologize again or break the tension.
He shakes his head slightly, his voice slightly husky. “Don’t.”
The silence stretches as your heartbeat thuds in your ears. And then,
“You have no idea what you do to me.”