💕 #dhr 💕
“Who was your first love?” Hermione asked one evening, curled up against Draco’s chest, her fingers idly tracing patterns on his shirt.
“My first love?” he scoffed, running his fingers through her hair. “Let me think…”
He hummed thoughtfully, then—rather suddenly—his cheeks turned pink.
“Who was your first love?” Hermione asked one evening, curled up against Draco’s chest, her fingers idly tracing patterns on his shirt.
“My first love?” he scoffed, running his fingers through her hair. “Let me think…”
He hummed thoughtfully, then—rather suddenly—his cheeks turned pink.
Reposted from
HP Lovehearts '25 ♡
Day 12 🩷 #hplvhrts
Comments
“I swear on my life,” she giggled, only to burst into laughter when he raised his pinky.
“Pinky promises are sacred, love,” he chided. “You told me that.”
She rolled her eyes playfully. “Alright, go on, then.”
“Narcissa?” Hermione blinked.
Draco smirked. “Unless there’s another mother I don’t know about, then yes, Narcissa.” He sighed dramatically. “I was a little boy, and I was convinced I was going to marry her. To my father’s absolute horror.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled. “Anyway, my second love was Daphne. I was, what, seven or eight? And she had blonde hair…” He paused, then groaned. “Like my mum. I know.”
Draco swatted her hands away. “Don’t ever do that again, Hermione,” he warned, feigning indignation.
She grinned. “No promises.”
That made her sit up straight. “Theo, as in Theodore Nott?”
He pulled her back down, pressing a kiss to her temple. “But then I met you, my perfect fiancée.”