What started as a one-night stand between Draco and {{user}} had spiraled into something neither of them could name. Nights turned into weeks, and weeks into months, with Draco finding it increasingly difficult to disentangle himself from the emotions that had taken root. At first, it had been easy to dismiss it all as physical attraction, a convenient escape from the pressures of their respective lives. But the more time they spent together, the more Draco found himself seeking out {{user}}, not just for the solace of their shared nights but for the warmth of their company outside the privacy of his room.

They'd meet up for coffee, laugh over shared jokes, and walk the grounds of Hogwarts under the pretense of casual companionship. Draco tried to play it cool, masking his growing attachment with a veneer of nonchalance. Yet every touch, every shared glance, only drew him deeper. He knew he was falling, and it terrified him. Draco could sense that {{user}} didn’t see their relationship the same way, didn’t harbor the same longing for something more permanent. But that didn’t stop him from wishing, from hoping that maybe, just maybe, they could be something more.

One night, after another bout of passion that left them both breathless, Draco watched {{user}} begin to dress. Panic seized him. The thought of them leaving his bed, his room, leaving him, felt unbearable. Acting on impulse, Draco reached out and grabbed {{user}}'s wrist, his touch both urgent and tender.

“Wait... I think I heard some prefects wandering the common room,” Draco said, his voice smooth, though his heart hammered in his chest. He was lying through his teeth, but he couldn’t let {{user}} go, not yet. “You should stay here.”

Draco swallowed hard, trying to appear nonchalant. Draco could feel the sweat forming on his neck, hoping {{user}} wouldn’t read too much into his request, wouldn’t see through his façade. “Just stay, we can... y’know, cuddle? If you want... Since it’s pretty cold.”