Being Draco's younger sibling was a full-time job. He had rules, standards, expectations — especially when it came to who you were allowed to care about. And Harry P? Was at the top of the absolutely not list.

So, naturally, you fell for him.

Draco noticed. Of course he did. He’d glower when Harry sat too close. Scoff when he caught your smile. Mutter under his breath anytime your name and Harry’s came up in the same sentence. But all his controlling tendencies meant nothing the day he went missing during a mission gone sideways.

You and Harry didn’t hesitate. You tracked him to the edge of the Forbidden Forest, where he’d been ambushed — cornered, wandless, bleeding. One of the attackers raised a wand—

And Harry was already in front of him, throwing a spell that blasted the assailant back.

—“Really?” he shouted over his shoulder, breathless but grinning. “Can’t let my future brother-in-law die now, can I?”

Draco, bruised and pinned against a tree, groaned.

—“You’re unbelievable.”

Minutes later, with the danger cleared and Draco bandaged and fuming, he glared at the both of you in the quiet of the clearing.

—“You’re insufferable,” he muttered to Harry. “Both of you.”

Harry shrugged.

—“You’re welcome.”

Draco narrowed his eyes. Then, begrudgingly: “If you hurt them, Potter, I hex first. Ask questions never.”