A Girl's Best Friend
fiancé!Draco Malfoy x fem!reader
When you and Draco get into some small argument, Narcissa decides to knock some sense into her son. What? Did you really think she'd take anyone's side but yours?
CW! small couple fight, coarse language, Draco overcomes ego. Let me know if I missed anything!
This is a short one, but I love any fics with great Narcissa-reader relationships.
Narcissa Malfoy loves routines.
She loves pre-set tea-times and punctual gatherings. She loves the certainty it brings to such an uncertain existence. And she simply does not care if the snobbish pureblood ladies call her a rigid scheming bitch for it.
So forgive her for the overwhelming concern that collects in her neck when you don’t show up that weekend. It’s practically a ritual–ever since you started dating Draco. Saturdays mean a day full of shopping and a luxurious evening dinner. Over the years, as you developed from the nervous girl Draco brought home, to his confident fiancée, she’d grown attached to it. In her mind so had you.
It must be serious if you missed it.
So, she storms into her son’s study, voice low as she says, “What did you do?”
“Mother,” Draco startles. But Narcissa is unfazed, her arms crossing over her chest.
“Why isn’t she here yet?”
He remains silent for a long moment. Then he sighs, long and full of suffering. Sounds like an argument. Narcissa is unsure whether to feel bad for her poor son, or hex him for fighting with you.
“We got into a small…disagreement,” Draco says finally. He runs a hand through his hair, eyes averting to his desk.
“A disagreement about what?”
“It’s very petty. I don’t know why she’s gotten into such a toss about it.”
“Now, Draco.” Narcissa loves her son very much. She would die for him, it’s common knowledge. But there are some things she considers unacceptable. Which is disrespecting women, you especially.
“Have I taught you nothing?”
Draco sighs again. Narcissa softens a little. She gently rubs his shoulder, “What happened?”
“I forgot to say ‘I love you’ before leaving the apartment last Friday.”
Narcissa barely stifles a gasp. Draco casts her a look, before sinking into a wing chair.
“You better go apologize to the girl right now.”
“What? It wasn’t that ser-”
“I don’t want any of that ego, Draco.” Her tone rarely hardens around him. He scowls, but it falls flat immediately. Narcissa knows this must be hard on him. For all that pride he’s inherited, there’s only so long he can stay away from you. Only so long until his steel and porcelain crack.
She sighs this time, settling beside him.
“Verbal acknowledgements of love are very gratifying, Draco.”
“It doesn’t take long to say three words.”
“And it’s obvious to anyone with…any senses, truly, that you love her.”
“And I want my best friend back.”
Draco finally meets his mother’s gaze. She sees the baffling combination of emotions ravaging through his head. She reaches over to smooth the hair on his forehead. He leans into the age-old comfort, nodding slowly.
Then he jumps up to his feet, pulling his coat off his hanger, “I’ll go right now.”
Narcissa can’t help but smile. He can’t stay away from you for long, but sometimes, everyone needs a little guiding nudge.
The last thing you expected to see when you opened the door was a very rain soaked Draco Malfoy.
His platinum hair drips all over the fancy wooden floors of the building. His coat is sopping, and despite the very recent argument, you are terrified your Victorian child of a fiancé will catch a cold. You tug him into the warmth of your apartment.
So no welcome. And certainly no kiss.
You don’t respond, disappearing within the depths of the house to fetch warm clothes. You hear his footsteps behind you.
What does he think? He can show up drenched in rain and just expect you to talk to him. You take your goodbyes very seriously.
You don’t know why he didn’t apparate into the building straightaway. There’s no protective spells about it. Or why he didn’t just use your fireplace. He has done so multiple times before, of course. But then again, he’s always been dramatic.
“Y/N.” He catches hold of your wrist. The cold makes you shudder.
You turn slowly. You’re surprised he’s overcome his pride at all.
You free yourself from his grasp. He doesn’t resist. He runs a hand through his hair. A trait you’re so familiar with. He’s frustrated, maybe tired. You huff, annoyed.
“I didn’t think I’d have to force you to say ‘I love you’.”
“Yeah,” you scoff, “Not everytime.”
“Merlin’s sake,” He curses, and you roll your eyes, “You and my mother have dangerously similar ideals.”
“Oh, so she put you up to this? That makes sense.”
“No, wait. Please let me-”
“Get changed, Draco.” You all but toss the clothes at him. A shirt that you had stolen from him a few weeks ago. He catches it, tossing it to the side.
Before you can react, he grabs hold of your waist, spinning you around. You let out a small yelp, but he’s down on his knees, his wet hair pressing against your abdomen. His thumbs rub slow circles over your hips. A shaky breath escapes his lips.
“I love you, Y/N.” His voice makes a shiver run down your spine. It’s soft and low, like the sound of rustling velvet. You love it so, so much. But you force your hands to stay stiff by your side.
“I love you every moment of the day, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you last week. It is utterly my fault, and it is again my fault that it took my mother for me to realise that." His head lifts to meet your gaze, “Do you understand?”
You think you might cry. Your voice trembles when you say, “Yeah. Yeah, I love you too.”
He takes your hand to press a gentle kiss to the inside of your wrist, “Good. Because I do think my mother would kill me if I let you miss another weekend with her.”
You laugh at that, finally ruffling his hair like you’ve been dying to do. He scowls, but it’s playful.
“I don’t think I could live without another weekend with her,” You answer.
He lets out some sound of relief, and you giggle again, “Let’s go then.”
You grin, wild and unrestricted.
Narcissa might just be the bestest friend a girl could ask for.
