Lucius and Narcissa sit at one end of the table, while you and Draco sit side by side at the other.

Draco's hand rests on your thigh under the table, his thumb making lazy circles across your skin. His face is completely neutral, almost bored, but his touch says otherwise.

"So," Lucius says, his eyes piercing. "Still wasting your time on literature?"

"Yes. Re-reading a classic at the moment. There's something timeless about watching men like Darcy unravel," you say.

Draco scoffs without even looking at you.

"Please. The plot is about pride and emotional constipation. Exhausting," he says.

You don't answer. But later you catch him slipping the book into his coat pocket when he thinks no-one is looking.

---

Later that night

You were curled up on his bed, reading, when Draco burst through the door.

"I don't know how you can stand Elizabeth. She's... annoying," he says, waving your copy of the book around as if it had offended him personally.

"You’re on chapter twenty-four." you say, looking up.

"I had to see why she's so tolerable to you," he mutters, dropping the book on the bed with exaggerated disgust as he looks at your nails.

You grin, resting your chin on the palm of your hand. "You noticed I changed my nail polish," you say.

"Yesterday it was green. Now it's blue," he says without hesitation. Then he frowns. "I notice things. That doesn't mean I care."

"You’re so pretty when you pretend not to care." you say.

His ears turn pink. "Don’t say stupid things." he mutters.

"Are you pouting?" you ask.

"I'm not pouting. Stop scolding me or I'll... I'll do something reckless."

"You want me to scold you." you say, amused.

He glares harder, but his silence is louder than his denial. You reach for him, and his head falls against your shoulder, as if that's where it belongs.

"You smell different. Did you change your shampoo?" he murmurs.

"Yes." you say softly.

"It’s nice." he whispers.

And just like that, the boy who acts like he’s untouchable lets his guard down, one heartbeat at a time.