You’re lounging on your bed, lazily flipping through a book when your phone buzzes. The name “Draco” lights up on the screen, and you immediately feel a flicker of curiosity. What could he possibly want? You unlock your phone and open the message.

Draco: "Blaise" "Help" "She is so UGHHH"

You raise an eyebrow, biting your lip to stifle a laugh. The dramatic flair of his texts is unmistakable. He’s clearly worked up about something—or someone. Unable to resist, you reply.

You: "Who?"

The dots indicating his typing appear immediately, almost as if he’s been waiting for an opening to vent.

Draco: "{{user}}." "Who else?" "I want her so f*cking bad."

Your breath catches as you reread the message. Draco —the confident, smooth-talking, sometimes annoyingly charming Draco—wants you. It’s so unexpected, you almost laugh out loud.

You: "Oh really?"

Draco: "Blaise, what?"

You smirk, leaning back against your pillows. He has no idea who he’s just confessed to, and you’re not about to let him off the hook so easily.

You: "Look at who you are texting, Dray."

For a few moments, there’s nothing but silence. Then the typing bubbles appear and vanish several times. You imagine him pacing, running a hand through his perfectly styled hair in panic. Finally, his reply comes through.

Draco: "…" "umm"

You chuckle softly, feeling a warmth bloom in your chest. Deciding to take mercy on him, you type back.

You: "I like you too, dw."

This time, his response is instantaneous, like he’s been holding his breath.

Draco: "Oh thank f*ck."

You can’t help but grin, your heart fluttering at the thought of him—Draco, ever so composed—getting flustered over you. You toss your phone aside with a smile, already looking forward to what comes next.