The snake’s den

Draco Apparated home after what he could only describe as an exhausting, emotionally draining, and vaguely sexually frustrating tea-and-argument session with his soon-to-be beautiful wife, the bane of his existence, the goddess of his wet dreams—Hermione Jean Granger.

Merlin help him.

As soon as he stepped into his high-end, tastefully decorated penthouse, he was met with the sight of three of his oldest friends lounging in his den like they owned the place.

"Bloody hell, Draco," Pansy drawled from where she lay spread across his velvet sofa like a lounging cat, swirling a drink in one hand, her dark eyes gleaming with mischief. "Congratulations on your forced marriage."

Draco let out a long-suffering sigh, running a hand through his hair before stalking to his bar cart to pour himself a very necessary drink. "Thanks, Pans," he replied dryly, pouring a generous amount of Firewhisky into a crystal glass. "I'm sure the Ministry's letter was just as charming for you to read as it was for me to receive."

"Oh, utterly delightful," she said, waving a dismissive hand. "Just another lovely reminder that we are government-owned livestock meant to breed for the future of wizardkind."

"Sounds like a kink," Theo muttered from his armchair, flipping through one of Draco's expensive Arithmancy journals as if he actually understood numbers.

Blaise leaned back in an armchair across from Pansy, swirling his own drink with a lazy flick of his wrist. "So, how did it go with Granger?" he asked, raising a knowing brow. "Any chance she'll refrain from hexing you into oblivion, or should we be preparing your funeral now?"

Draco took a long, slow sip, letting the burn of the whisky settle into his bones before responding. "It was… intense."

Pansy perked up immediately. "Oh?"

"She's understandably furious," he continued, grimacing at the memory of her sharp words. "And doesn't trust me at all."

Blaise let out a low chuckle, clearly entertained. "I mean, can you blame her?"

"Not at all," Draco admitted.

But damn it all, if he wasn't obsessed with the way she looked at him like she wanted to murder him, the way her voice dripped with fire, the way her hair—Merlin, her hair—was just as wild as she was.

He was fucked.

"Porca di quella grandissima puttana troia della Madonna di merda cristo iddio inculato da Geppetto e da tutti i santi in colonna," Blaise sighed dramatically in his fluent, devastatingly attractive Italian, before taking a long sip of his drink.

Draco stared at him. "What the fuck did you just say?"

Blaise smirked, tilting his glass in a mock toast. "It basically means, 'I disagree with you'—but who's to say I wasn't right?"

Theo, who had been suspiciously quiet, finally looked up from his journal, fixing Draco with an unimpressed stare. "You know this is going to be the hardest thing you've ever done, right?"

Draco exhaled. "I'm well aware, Nott, thanks."

Theo leaned forward, resting an elbow on his knee, expression entirely too smug. "Convincing Granger to see you as anything other than the enemy and her personal bitch is going to take an act of divine intervention."

Pansy hummed in agreement. "And also to drop her knickers."

Draco shot her a flat look. "Really? That's where your mind goes?"

Pansy shrugged, unbothered. "It's where your mind is going, too, Malfoy. Don't even try to lie."

Draco dragged a hand down his face, exhaling heavily. "Putain de merde," he muttered under his breath. "I know it's going to be difficult. But I have to try. This is my chance to prove that I can be different, that I'm not just the sum of my family's mistakes."

For the first time that evening, the room fell into brief silence.

Pansy rolled her eyes so hard she nearly fell backwards onto Draco's obscenely expensive couch, but there was a small, knowing smirk tugging at her lips. "Well, we're here for you, Draco. Even if we all think this whole thing is a tragic dumpster fire, and you're setting yourself up for the most humiliating downfall of your life." She took a long sip of her wine, then added with a saccharine smile, "But hey, anything is better than a family reunion at Azkaban with Daddy Dearest, I suppose."

Draco groaned loudly and collapsed into his chair, rubbing at his temples like he was already on the verge of an aneurysm. "Pans, could we not bring up my father while I'm having a crisis? It's already bad enough that my fiancée thinks I'm a walking embodiment of everything wrong with the wizarding world. I don't need to be reminded of Lucius' bold attempt at playing Wizarding Hitler."

"Fair enough," Pansy said breezily, before tossing a cushion at his face.

Draco caught it just in time, letting out a pitiful whine before burying his face into it. "I'm losing my mind," he muttered, voice muffled and full of suffering.

Blaise, ever the picture of effortless indifference, stretched out in his seat, swirling his drink like he was enjoying a show. "Any chance she'll refrain from cursing you into the afterlife?" he asked, raising a single dark brow.

Draco lifted his head just enough to glare at him. "Doubtful. The only reason I'm still alive is probably because she didn't have her wand directly in hand when I showed up." He let out a long, tortured sigh, then flopped back dramatically, throwing an arm over his face. "I think I saw her physically restrain herself from stabbing me with a butter knife."

Pansy snorted. "Can't blame her. If I were forced into holy matrimony with you, I'd be sharpening my cutlery too."

"You wound me, Pansy," Draco muttered, sounding even more pathetic than before. "Do I not exude husband material?"

Blaise and Theo immediately burst into laughter.

"Mate," Theo said between chuckles, "You exude 'please file a restraining order immediately' material."

"Fuck you, Nott." Draco groaned again, rubbing his temples. "Any actual advice would be appreciated."

Blaise smirked, always the smug bastard. "Patience, mate. And perhaps a touch of humility wouldn't hurt."

Draco scowled. "How much humility?"

Theo took a thoughtful sip of his drink, then replied smoothly, "Imagine you've just spilled a goblet of wine on the Dark Lord's robes and he's staring at you like you're a bug under his boot. That much."

Draco actually shuddered. "That's too much humility."

Theo clapped him on the shoulder. "And yet, probably still not enough for Granger."

Pansy snorted again, refilling her drink like she needed alcohol to get through his breakdown. "You're going to need a miracle, Draco. But seriously, just try to be genuine—assuming that's something you're capable of."

Draco narrowed his eyes at her. "I am capable of being genuine."

"Sure. And I'm the Virgin Mary."

Blaise shook his head, amused. "Look, Draco. Hermione is one of the smartest witches of our age. If you show her that you respect her intelligence and values, she might start to see you in a different light. Stop trying to seduce her like some villainous Lothario and actually act like a human being."

Draco nodded thoughtfully, absorbing their words. "Respect, patience, humility. Got it." He paused, then added, "This sounds alarmingly difficult."

"It is," Pansy said sweetly.

Blaise patted him on the back. "And don't forget to listen. Really listen to her, Draco. It'll make a world of difference."

Draco exhaled, trying to seem like he was taking it all to heart, even if every part of him wanted to immediately abandon ship. "I appreciate it. I really do. I just... I don't want to mess this up." He hesitated, then let it slip before he could stop himself. "I waited for her for so long."

The room fell silent for a moment.

Theo's eyes widened slightly, Blaise simply stared at him, and Pansy... Pansy, the actual devil, grinned like she had just won the lottery.

"Oh, you are so in love with her, it's disgusting."

Draco sat up instantly. "I am NOT—"

Blaise held up a hand to stop the pathetic display before it could continue. "Mate, just... accept it. We all know. You have it bad. You've had it bad since the moment she punched you in third year."

Draco opened his mouth to argue but, unfortunately, his traitorous brain reminded him of that punch, of the way she had glared at him, of the way her hair had been a complete mess, and of course...

Of course.

That had been the moment.

"Fucking hell," he whispered, slumping back against the couch, defeated.

Pansy patted his knee like he was a wounded animal. "We're here for you, love. Even though you're embarrassing."

Draco groaned. "I'll take all the advice and prayers I can get." He paused, then chuckled suddenly, a bit of the tension easing from his shoulders. "You know what she said to me?" He ran a hand down his face, a twisted grin creeping onto his lips.

They all leaned in, waiting.

"She said she wants to walk me like a dog," Draco admitted, shaking his head, half embarrassed, half feral, "and that was the hottest thing I ever heard in my life."

Blaise nearly choked on his drink.

Theo actually fell off the couch laughing.

Pansy's eyes widened before she collapsed into a fit of giggles. "Well, that's one way to get things started. I'd pay to see that."

Draco rubbed a hand down his face, but the grin wouldn't leave his lips. "She was furious, of course. But there was something... I don't know, sexy about it."

Theo, wiping tears from his eyes, clapped him on the shoulder. "Just remember, mate, respect her boundaries. You're on thin ice, and Granger is not the type to be charmed into submission."

"I know," Draco said, sobering a bit. "I'll tread carefully. But Merlin, she's something else."

"Just be yourself, but like... the best version of yourself," Blaise advised. "Show her that you're willing to change, to be better. Not a Death Eater wannabe. Not a coward. Actions, like she said, will speak louder than any words."

Draco let out a long breath, nodding.

"Fuuuck me, thanks, lads. I needed this."

Pansy grinned. "Of course, darling. Now, when do we get to meet our future sister-in-law?"

Draco sighed. "Not until she stops fantasizing about my death."

"So... never?" Theo smirked.

Draco groaned.

As the evening dragged on, filled with questionable levels of alcohol consumption and an increasingly concerning number of existential crises, Draco found that, for the first time since receiving that cursed Ministry letter, he wasn't actively contemplating his own demise.

Which was progress.

Even if his friends were utterly useless and spent 90% of their time roasting him instead of actually helping.

"You're going to need more than luck, Draco," Theo was saying, sipping his drink like some well-paid therapist. "Show her you've changed through actions. Words won't be enough, although diamonds might help."

Pansy snorted, shaking her head as she leaned back against the plush armchair. "Aaaand maybe, don't open with, 'By the way, I've been obsessed with you since we were teenagers and wanked to the thought of your hair on a near-nightly basis.' She might hex your dick off for that."

Draco groaned, covering his face with both hands. "For Salazar's sake, I wasn't going to tell her that!"

Pansy smirked. "Oh, you will."

Blaise, ever the unhelpful but devastatingly attractive bastard, lifted his drink in agreement. "You absolutely will. In some desperate, fevered, Malfoy-brand moment of emotional turmoil, you'll blurt it out, and we'll all read about your untimely death in the Prophet."

Draco exhaled sharply, muttering French obscenities under his breath. "I hate all of you."

Theo chuckled, throwing an arm lazily over the couch. "Not as much as Granger hates you."

"Which is both fair and valid," Pansy added, completely unsympathetic.

Draco threw a cushion at her head, which she expertly dodged without even flinching.

Despite the abuse, there was a certain comfort in their banter, and Draco found himself feeling—not hopeful, exactly—but less like he was plummeting towards inevitable doom.

Merlin, he needed a real plan.

And possibly a restraining order against his own brain.

Eventually—after Theo had finished his third drink, Pansy had stolen another one of Draco's silk robes, and Blaise had started waxing poetic about the artistry of Italian wine, the conversation turned to their own impending death sentences.

"Alright, Theo, who's the unfortunate soul condemned to tolerate you for eternity?" Draco asked, swirling his drink.

Theo, for the first time all evening, shifted uncomfortably.

"Luna Lovegood."

There was a full five seconds of silence.

Then, as if on cue, Draco, Pansy, and Blaise all immediately burst into laughter.

He scowled, gripping his drink like he was debating throwing it at someone's head. "You lot are absolute cunts."

Draco wiped a mock tear from his eye, grinning. "Mate, I'm sorry, but Lovegood? The woman who believes in invisible creatures and wears radishes in her ears?"

Theo's scowl deepened, his grip on his glass tightening ever so slightly. "She's—" He hesitated, then muttered darkly, "—not as weird as people think."

Draco blinked.

Pansy tilted her head, watching Theo far too intently. "Oh? Do go on."

Theo exhaled, running a hand through his hair, clearly already regretting every life choice that had led him to this moment. "She's... interesting."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Interesting how? The same way a fire-breathing manticore is interesting?"

Theo ignored him, instead taking a slow sip of his drink, before adding, "She's got this... aura. Something almost... mythical."

Draco snorted. "Or maybe that's just the experimental hallucinogens she probably brews in her cauldron."

Theo bristled. "She's not like that," he snapped, a little too defensively.

Draco, Blaise, and Pansy all exchanged glances.

Theo, realizing what he'd done, immediately backtracked.

"I just mean—" He cleared his throat. "She's... intriguing, alright? She sees the world differently. She's smart—smarter than people give her credit for. And she's got this—I don't know—way of making everything seem a little less… heavy."

Silence.

Pansy's smirk widened. "Oh, this is adorable. Theo, you're in love."

Theo scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Don't be ridiculous."

Draco leaned in, watching him closely. "You defended her, mate. Vehemently."

Blaise, who had been watching this exchange with great amusement, finally spoke. "Admit it. You're secretly obsessed."

Theo scoffed again, but his ears had turned noticeably pink.

Draco smirked, making a mental note to thoroughly investigate this later.

He sipped his drink, then turned toward Pansy with the casual smugness of someone who already knew he was about to witness someone else's suffering. "And you, dear Parkinson? Who's your lucky victim in this government-sanctioned disaster?"

She let out the most dramatic sigh humanly possible, throwing her head back as if she were a tragic heroine in a gothic novel, fainting over the cruel hand fate had dealt her.

"The Herbology king."

Draco frowned. "The what now?"

She inhaled deeply, as if preparing herself for battle, then uttered, as if it pained her to do so,

"Neville fucking Longbottom."

Draco nearly dropped his glass.

Blaise, who had been lounging comfortably, sat up so fast he nearly dislocated something. "Neville Longbottom?" he repeated, looking somewhere between horrified and intrigued.

Theo, who had been nursing his drink with the detached amusement of a man watching a slow-motion train wreck, suddenly looked entirely too entertained.

Pansy nodded grimly, like she was discussing her own death sentence. "He's fit and everything, but he's so—awkward."

Draco let out a bark of laughter, clutching his chest dramatically. "You? Stuck with Longbottom? The Gryffindor golden boy with a penchant for dirt and a face too honest for its own good? Oh, this is delicious."

Pansy shot him a withering glare, but it lacked its usual venom.

Theo raised an eyebrow, smirking. "I didn't think you were into the awkward type."

Pansy huffed, scowling at the ceiling like she was debating hexing herself. "I'm not. But there's something about him. He's… different."

Blaise leaned forward, far too interested in her suffering. "Different how?"

She groaned, throwing back the rest of her drink like it was a potion meant to purge her of feelings. "I don't know. He's brave, and kind, and he doesn't give a shit what anyone thinks of him." She scowled, as if those qualities offended her personally. "It's… infuriating."

Draco let out an unhinged cackle, shaking his head. "Oh, this is so much worse than I thought."

"Sounds like you've got it bad, Pansy," Theo added, looking obnoxiously pleased with himself.

Pansy whipped her head toward him with a glare, finger pointed like she was about to unleash a hex. "Shut. Your mouth."

Theo grinned, completely unbothered. "I'm just saying, this is hilarious. You, fancying Neville Longbottom." He shook his head, exhaling dramatically. "Merlin truly works in mysterious, deeply amusing ways."

Pansy groaned again, flopping onto the couch and throwing an arm over her eyes.

Draco smirked, enjoying this far too much. "Just imagine it, Pans. You, at Longbottom's side, tending to a lovely, peaceful greenhouse full of little plants that won't survive your rage issues."

Pansy sat up immediately, looking horrified. "Absolutely not. I am not—NOT—becoming some sweet little greenhouse wife. I will not be married off to a walking Hufflepuff masquerading as a Gryffindor, tending plants and discussing the ethics of magical fertilization."

Blaise, with a shit-eating grin, leaned back. "And yet…"

She growled, shoving both hands through her hair in frustration. "It's not like that. It's just… UGH. He's so bloody nice."

Draco fake-gasped. "Did you just say nice like it's an insult?"

She threw a pillow at his face.

Theo, clearly delighted by her suffering, leaned forward. "But you've thought about it, haven't you?"

"What?" she snapped.

Theo grinned knowingly. "You, in his greenhouse. Him showing you some rare magical plant. You pretending not to be impressed. Him smiling at you with that hopelessly genuine face he has."

Pansy froze, her expression twisting into something dangerously close to panic.

Draco's smirk widened. "Oh. My. God. You HAVE thought about it."

Pansy grabbed the nearest cushion and screamed into it.

Theo, looking far too amused, took another sip of his drink. "Yeah. That's called having feelings, Pans. It's disgusting, truly."

She groaned. "I hate this. I hate HIM."

Draco snorted. "Do you, though?"

She scowled at him, but it was weak, almost reluctant.

Blaise, who had been watching her with increasing amusement, tilted his head. "He got under your skin, huh?"

Pansy let out another pained groan, collapsing backward. "It's confusing. He's not even my type, but he doesn't give a single fuck about what people think. He just… does whatever he wants. He's genuinely brave, not posturing brave. And he—"

She clamped her mouth shut.

Draco grinned like a Cheshire cat. "Finish the sentence, Pans."

"No."

Theo mock-pouted. "Come on. You were so close."

Pansy grabbed another pillow and threw it at his head. "Shut the fuck up, Theodore."

They all cackled.

Theo ducked the second pillow thrown at him, grinning. "Fine, fine. But just so you know—we're never letting this go."

Pansy groaned again. "I swear to Merlin, I will hex all of you into oblivion."

Draco smirked, already planning the next two decades of teasing material.

This was the best thing that had ever happened.

Pansy Parkinson Was, In Fact, Down Bad for Neville Fucking Longbottom.

Draco turned to Blaise, who had been suspiciously quiet throughout the last twenty minutes of absolute fucking chaos—which was always a bad sign.

Blaise Zabini was never quiet unless he was either:

Committing a felony.Actively plotting to seduce someone.Already in the process of seducing someone.

So, naturally, Draco was deeply proud.

"And you, lover boy?" he asked, swirling his drink as he eyed Blaise warily. "Who's your red-string-of-fate in this romantic dystopia we now call our reality?"

Blaise paused for dramatic effect—because of course he did—before saying, in a ridiculously smooth, annoyingly smug voice:

"Ginevra."

Pansy's eyebrows shot up so fast they nearly left her face entirely.

Draco nearly spat out his drink, slamming his glass down onto the table like he'd just been hit with a Confundus Charm.

"You're telling me you—Blaise Zabini, the suavest fucker in existence—are legally bound to GINNY WEASLEY?" Draco demanded, his entire worldview shattering into a million pieces.

Blaise shrugged, looking far too pleased with himself for someone who had essentially been handed a one-way ticket to war crimes.

"I'm really happy that we'll see each other more frequently at the Sunday brunches, Draco."

Draco just stared at him, because—

What. The. Fuck.

Blaise Zabini, the man who once dumped a pureblood heiress because she used the wrong fork for salad, was now casually talking about brunches with the most aggressive Weasley of them all like it was a perfectly normal conversation.

The sheer audacity.

Draco placed his hands on the table and leaned forward as if explaining something to a toddler.

"Blaise. Do you understand what you're saying?" He gestured wildly. "She's a Weasley."

Blaise, ever the unbothered enigma, simply took a slow sip of his wine before responding in that godforsaken smooth voice of his, "She's also stunning, powerful, and has hexed more people than I can count."

Draco's jaw dropped.

Theo, who had been thoroughly enjoying the absolute circus unfolding before him, chuckled, shaking his head. "Sounds like he's in love."

"Oh, he absolutely is," she added gleefully, leaning in like she was watching her favorite drama unfold in real-time.

Blaise just smirked, looking as unbothered as if he had just ordered a nice bottle of wine, not admitted to being absolutely doomed.

Draco dragged a hand down his face, exhaling deeply.

"You lot are hopeless."

Pansy cackled. "And yet, you're stuck with us."

Blaise, still looking obnoxiously at peace with his life choices, clinked his glass against Draco's.

"And yet, here we are."

Draco leaned back, sighing dramatically, already mentally preparing for whatever absolute shitstorm Blaise was about to get himself into.

"Alright, Zabini, explain yourself." He gestured vaguely. "What could possibly possess you to want to spend the rest of your life legally bound to Weaslett?"

Blaise smirked. "You say that like I had a choice."

Draco narrowed his eyes. "That doesn't explain why you look like you're pleased about it."

Blaise took another slow sip of his drink, enjoying himself far too much.

"Because, my dear Draco, she's… interesting."

Draco groaned.

Theo snorted. "Oh, this is hilarious. Zabini, you do realize she's probably going to punch you in the face at least once a month?"

Blaise shrugged. "It's part of the charm."

Draco looked at him like he had lost his goddamn mind. "Blaise, do you even remember how many times she's hexed people for breathing wrong?"

Blaise grinned. "Yeah. It's sexy."

Pansy let out a delighted shriek. "Oh, this is fantastic. The perfect match—one serial flirt and one fiery, hex-happy ginger."

Theo leaned forward, grinning like a fox. "Does she even like you, or is she planning to kill you in your sleep?"

Blaise smirked. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

Draco groaned again, massaging his temples. "I cannot believe this. I'm surrounded by lunatics."

As the night dragged on, Draco found himself feeling strangely lighter. Maybe, just maybe, this whole forced marriage thing wouldn't be the worst thing to happen.

…Until, of course, he went to bed and, indeed, wanked to the thought of Granger's hair. Again.