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thegryffindorprincess · 4 years

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Unforgettable//Draco Malfoy x Reader (SMUT)

A/N: Hi Lovelies! Working through my requests and stuff one at a time and love this one! Draco’s a little OOC, but it’s saucy and smutty and that’s all you Draco whores are here for, also including some platonic hermione x reader, enjoy x

Set: Golden Trio Era

Word Count: 2,002

Warnings: smut, drinking, swearing, choking

“It’s not good enough for me, since I’ve been with you”

“One fire whiskey on ice for you my love.” Draco grinned, passing Astoria the plastic cup from the table he’d just filled with her favourite drink, producing the ice from the tip of his wand. She giggled and settled into his side, letting his arm fall around her shoulders lazily. He would’ve like to say the way they stood, pressed together felt right, but it didn’t. Her bones didn’t quite slot into his properly and he stood a little awkwardly under her touch. Never the less, Draco placed a kiss to her forehead and observed the scene. Slytherin always held the best parties, that was common knowledge, especially for celebrations like OWLs. The room was decorated in silver, the streamers and balloons glistening in the pale light that always glowed from the chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. Every student from the fifth and fourth year was attending, not wanting to miss out on a chance to celebrate properly before school and life became much more serious. As Draco and Astoria took their seats on one of the emerald green sofa’s, students began to dance, Blaise tapping his wand to the speaker positioned above the fire place, letting muggle music boom around the room. He attempted to shake off the longing looks coming from some other girls in the room, Pansy attempting to catch his gaze from the dance floor, Sally-Ann twirling her fingers in her hair at the drinks table and Tracy who was trying hard, too hard, to make eye contact with him from the sofa opposite. Draco simply kept his eyes pinned to the entrance way to the common room, as a distraction. Astoria was pining over him at his side, drawing his eyes away from the door to pull him into a kiss. As she did so, he heard the door open and most of the chat that had been filling the room stop suddenly. He glanced up to see Y/N, Hermione, Harry and Ron enter the common room, laughing amungst themselves. Everyone began to whisper or discuss in hushed voices how incredible Y/N Y/L/N looked tonight, as the four of them stepped in confidently, smiling at each other at their impression.

“Wow.” Tracy Davis exclaimed spinning back round in her seat to face Draco and his gang who were all looking over at her, “she looks incredible.” Draco simply hummed through his lips, face blank. He watched closely as the golden foursome walked over to the drinks table, pouring their chosen beverage into plastic cups, Hermione making the ice swirl into intricate patterns in their drinks. The chat soon returned to normal, giggles errupting from corners of the room every few minutes. Draco sat with his hands pressed together, finger tips resting on his chin, watching Y/N’s every move. You see, the reason all of this was pissing him off, causing his face to knit into a scowl was because it had only been two months since they’d stopped seeing eachother, Y/N spinning him some bullshit about how she needed to focus on the golden trio and not him. And well, nobody rejects Draco Malfoy. He’d tried in the beginning to win her back, leaving her expensive gifts outside her door, persuading some first year minions to send her letters on his behalf, all of which she’d rejected. Then it turned nasty. Draco ended up fucking half of the girls in slytherin, attempting to make her come and talk to him, even if it turned into an argument. But she didn’t, she simply scoffed when Goyle would shout about loud Draco and Pansy’s sex was in their dorm room, roll at eyes at the hickeys adorning Sally-Ann’s neck and laugh with Hermione about his persuit of Tracy. What pissed him off the most though was how completely unbothered Y/N was acting, as if they’d never even spoken before.

“Draco what’re you staring at?” Astoria asked, Draco suddenly becoming aware that his eyes were burning holes in Y/N, his gaze unbreaking.

“Nothing.” He responded blankly. “Nothing important at all.”

XXX

Y/N held Hermione’s hands in hers as they danced on the floor together, being some of the only students who recognised the muggle songs that were playing. She loved when Hermione got drunk, her usual up-tight personality disappearing revealing a very care free one instead. Y/N herself could feel the alcohol rushing to her head as she twirled her best friend round in a circle below her, Hermione bursting into a fit of giggles when their hands became twisted and got stuck in an awkward position.

“I am going to go to the toilet.” Hermione suddenly announced, unlinking her arms from Y/N’s and staggering away towards the stairs.

“Hang on a minute,” Y/N said, following her giggling, “I’ll accompany you.” Hermione nodded quickly, holding Y/N’s hand as they climbed the marble staircase up towards the girls toilets.

“Such a good friend to me.” Hermione slurred as Y/N opened the toilet door for her, promising to hold it closed from outside for her. She laughed at Hermione’s drunk clinginess, listening to her babbling’s from the hallway. Just as she got comfortable a hand holding the door firmly shut, she heard footsteps coming in her direction.

“Sorry, the toilets occupied, you might have to wait.” She called out. To her slight shock, Draco appeared at the top of the stair case, gaze magnetic, jaw clenched. “Oh.” Y/N murmmered, awkwardly looking down towards her feet, the music from the common room still pounding the walls of the hallway.

“That’s not a very polite way to greet me Y/L/N” Draco smirked, watching how Y/N still crumbled a little under his stare. “Problem?”

“Not at all, just wondering what you want with me.” Y/N shrugged her shoulders, unbothered. He stepped closer.

“Just wanted a chat.” She swallowed as he moved increasingly closer, his cologne already making her throat close.

“Thought you were a bit busy for a chat.” Y/N grimaced, moving closer to the wall and further from him. “You know, you look a bit busy chatting with Astoria,” She sent him a warning look “and Pansy and Tracy and Sally-Ann.” Draco chuckled at her feisty tone.

“Jealous?” He teased, twirling his family ring around on his finger, looking darkly at her through his eyelashes.

“Hardly.” She scoffed. But he could tell she was lying from the way she couldn’t meet his eyes.

“Well you might be pleased to know,” Draco began closing the gap between them with a few large strides, one of his pale hands coming up to stroke her cheek, “It’s not good enough for me, since I’ve been with you.” Just as Y/N went to respond, Hermione ermerged from the bathroom. She awkwardly glanced at the situation, mouth opening and closing like a fish before walking back wards towards the stairs.

“I-I’m gonna go,” She stammered, turning and running down the staircase, “I think I heard Ron calling for me.” Both Draco and Y/N watched her leave, Y/N cursing her best friend for not taking her with her.

“Where were we?” Draco began again, his hand returning to her cheek. “Oh yes,” He moved his head closer towards hers, her breath getting caught in her throat, “and it’s not going to work for you either, this stupid arrangement.” Y/N scoffed again, this time rolling her eyes.

“Oh yeah? And why’s that?” This time, Draco’s hand trailed it’s way from her cheek to her throat, squeezing just gently enough that she began to squirm.

“Because nobody can equal me.” Then he closed the gap, his lips pushing against hers, causing her to moan slightly as his teeth bit on her bottom lip. “No more games princess,” he cooed, “tell me what you want.” Y/N grabbed onto his back needily, moving closer to his ear so that she could whisper in it.

“Just fuck me Malfoy, you know it’s what we both need.” He growled then, attacking her neck with his mouth, carrying her on his front down the hallway to his dorm room, opening the door effortlessly with his free hand. He barged into the room, striding straight to his bed, laying her down roughly, so that her legs were dangling off of the edge and she was on her back. Draco growled again when her dress rode up just high enough so that her panties poked out underneath, his dick hardening with every new inch of flesh he got to see.

“Fuck.” He breathed out, watching how she squirmed every time his finger tip touched a new part of her body. He took off her dress, discarding it carelessly to the floor, unbothered about where it went. Then, he hooked his fingers in her thong and yanked it down, watching how she gasped when the cold air from the room hit her. He grinned as he stroked her slit with his fingers, making her let out a string of profantities and his name. “God, say my name again princess.” He hissed as he inserted a finger inside of her, pumping it in and out roughly.

“Draco!” Y/N exclaimed, eyes squished closed as he inserted a second finger into her pussy, She moaned loudly as he sped up, his other hand coming up to her clit, rubbing it in a way that made her hands shoot to his hair, pulling at it. “Don’t stop,” She cooed, making eye contact with him finally, “please don’t let it stop.” He grinned at her pleading but complied, continuing his movements until her shaking legs gave way, her cum wetting his fingers. He pulled them out after her climax before placing them into his mouth, sucking them clean.

“Sweeter than honey.” He announced, standing up and pulling her so that he was above her. She simply whined as he undid his belt swiftly, pulling out his cock, letting it spring free. “God,” He whispered as he lined himself up with her entrance, “nobody takes this cock like you do.” Draco pushed himself in, making her hiss with pleasure as she took him. He began to thrust into her, the slight curve of his dick hitting the spot inside of her that made her writhe in pure pleasure. “None of those stupid little whores take this cock as good as you princess.” He muttered into her ear as one of his hands came up to snake around her throat, his mouth peppering kisses on her forehead. “Whose my best girl?”

“Me!” Y/N moaned out, feeling his dick reach places that nobody else could, no matter how hard they tried. “I’m yours Draco, I’m yours.” He grunted out at her words, never so pleased to hear the phrase. He continued to hit her G spot over and over again causing her legs to start shaking again. “Dray I’m gonna-”

“I know, I know, let it princess.” He cooed at her gently, moving a strand of hair out of her face as it contorted into an “O” shape. Her legs began to vigorously shake then and Draco could feel her walls tightening around him. “Oh shit, I love you Dray, I love you.” She cried as he felt her cum. He growled into her ear at her tightness, letting his thrusts become sloppy inside of her.

“I love you too.” He moaned into her ear as she felt his cum release inside of her all at once, causing him to collapse on top of her in exhaustion. Y/N sighed happily as he moved off of her to fall at her side. “Can’t believe you spent two months ignoring me just to tell me you love me.” He smirked, fake gasping when she began swatting his arm.

“You said it back after fucking half of slytherin.” Y/N replied defensively, melting into his arms as Draco pulled the covers over them, snaking his arms around her waist, pulling her into him, kissing her neck gently.

“Yes but nobody compares to you Y/N, never will.” Draco whispered gently, feeling any tension in Y/N’s body melt underneath him. “You are absolutely unforgettable.”

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slytherinwh0re · 3 years

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Black suits and little black dresses

Draco Malfoy x Female Reader

Warnings: SMUT (18+ minors dni) and swearing

Summary: Where you and Draco attend a fancy dinner party and can’t seem to keep your eyes off each other.

Masterlist

Suits.

You love suits, more specifically you love your boyfriend in his signature all black fitted suits. The contrast of the dark material against his pale skin was such a striking sight it had every woman and even some men in the room turning to look. Not that you could blame them, Draco Malfoy in a suit was something you wouldn’t want to miss.

The slytherin looked expensive.

Handsome and rich, everything the Malfoy heir should be. The cufflinks on his dress shirt were worth more than half the people in this room. His hands were adorned with rings that could feed all of the Weasley’s for the rest of their lives, the one with his family crest truly was an eye catcher, or maybe they just love how his hands look as much as you do.

The difference between you and them is that they’ll never know how his long fingers feel stretched across their throats.

Everything about Draco is attractive to you, his silky hair and strong jawline would have you dropping to your knees for him in seconds but that damn suit did things to you. That’s why you’re wearing the little black dress you know drives him just as crazy, it’s no wonder you’d caught each other staring quite a few times already.

That’s how these things would always go, you’d both be forced into these fancy dinner parties, you’d have to talk to the snobby guests, and you’d barely see each other because these people are like vultures for attention. All they see when they look at either of you is rich and beautiful, the perfect candidates for a marriage contract.

That’s why you love each other so much, you see Draco for who he is, and he see’s you for who you are.

“You know how much I love you in that dress,” you instantly recognize his voice, the deep drawl of it makes you shiver as you turn to face him.

“And you know how much I love this suit,” his smirk only grew bigger when he noticed the goosebumps on your skin from the light touch of his finger drawing mindless patterns on your arm.

“Why’d you think I had 10 of the same one made?”

The blonde scanned the room quickly, making sure no one was looking before dragging you into an empty corridor, and apparating you both straight to his bedroom in the manor.

Your lips found each other’s immediately. That’s how these nights always ended, in his bedroom, or anywhere private really, while your parents try to make up excuses for your disappearances. This was the best part of the evening.

Hands were everywhere, yours in his hair and clutching his previously perfectly pressed dress shirt and his were under your dress, dragging down the panties that’ve been ruined for most the night. Everything about this was needy, you craved each other and you both knew it because no matter what you told yourselves, these parties were hard on you. The need to be perfect was lifted as soon as you were in each other’s arms.

“Draco, fuck!” He slid his fingers around your clit, rubbing slowly and with the perfect amount of pressure. You moved quickly, unbuttoning his shirt and loosening his tie. Oh how you love that tie.

He shook off the shirt but grabbed the black tie before it could fall to the ground, his fingers working you to the point where it was hard to stand. As soon as you got his belt undone he was turning you around to face his bed, the front of his body was pressed against your back, he nipped at your neck as you grinded back into him.

“Bend over darling, I’m gonna fuck you in that pretty little dress,” Draco whispers in your ear, gently biting down on the lobe before letting go so you can do as your told. The mirror on the other side of the bed allows you to watch him as you bend over, ass in the air, and face on the mattress.

He moans at the sight, running both hands over the curve of your ass before flipping the skirt of your dress up, exposing your wet cunt to him. The slytherin looks at you through the mirror as he slowly steps out of his dress pants and boxers.

“Give me your hands,” once again you do as your told, watching in fascination as he takes the tie he had hanging around his neck and uses it to tie your wrist together behind your back, God you fucking love that tie “you look so pretty like this, all tied up and ready for me.”

“Draco, please,” you beg. That sexy smirk is back on his face, loving how desperate you are to feel him as you grind yourself against him, begging him to fuck you.

He takes his time teasing your entrance, sliding through your wet folds before dipping the tip of his cock into you only to pull back out and slap your ass. You’re a mess at this point, the boy has you begging but your pleas only seem to egg him on, when you try burying your face into the mattress his fingers grab your hair, forcing you to watch what he’s doing to you.

“If you look away I won’t let you finish, be a good girl for me darling,” you nod your head vigorously, following his eyes as he slides into you. He starts out slow, his thrusts deep, pulling all the way out before pushing back in.

The first moan of his name with his cock in you has him picking up the pace, one hands slapping your ass and the other’s holding your tied wrists as you push yourself back onto him, the desire you feel for him needing to be sated. You don’t let your eyes leaves Draco’s face, the pleasure etched on it makes you clench around him.

“So fucking tight.”

“Faster Draco! I need it faster, please!”

He goes faster, your skin slaps together with every deep thrust of his hips, your name leaving his mouth. When his hand pushes down on your lower back you know you won’t last much longer, the angle makes you scream and he’s telling you how sexy you look.

“Cum on my cock, let me see your pretty face when you cum darling.” His hand reaches around, rubbing your clit and the other hold your wrists as you look at each other through the mirror.

Your legs shake as you clamp around him, feeling your body tremble as he keeps wrecking you, searching for his own high. Your ears are ringing and you watch him tense behind you before he spills into you leaving both of you satisfied for the night.

He unties your wrists before turning you around to leave sweet kisses on your lips and whispering words of admiration in your ear.

“You know those parties aren’t too bad when I have this to look forward to.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

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l0vegl0wsinthedark · 3 years

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Holding Hands

Just dipping my toe into the "faking a relationship for a holiday party" trope. (And blame @shealwaysreads for this cause she was like do it and so I did it.)

This is unbeta’d. Please be gentle with me.

Draco waited. The silence that had fallen a couple of minutes ago was still loud. The fire in the hearth kept spitting threateningly instead of just crackling quietly and sweetly like it should. The fairy lights around the tree twinkled gently, slowly, throwing golden patterns over Potter's skin, his dark hair.

They were sat across from each other in front of the hearth, Draco in his armchair upholstered in silver-grey velvet, and Potter in the plushy green armchair he had conjured when he'd arrived. Their drinks were sitting on the spindly-legged table between them.

Potter looked very politely confused, a tiny smile on his face, a thin line between his brows. He was leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees, his long, strong fingers clasped together neatly, his full attention focused on Draco. He looked...like he was waiting for Draco to finish speaking, to...explain.

Draco licked his lips and tilted his head a bit. "Erm...?"

Potter's smile widened a bit. "Yes?" he said eagerly. Draco blinked and shook his head imperceptibly. Potter's confusion deepened. "I'm...waiting for you to...you know--" he waved his hand vaguely and then grinned, "--laugh," he finally said, a tad lamely.

Draco frowned. "What's funny?"

Potter's mouth fell open on a stupid gape. "I mean... I thought..." He pushed his glasses up his nose and then scratched the back of his neck. "So, what was it you were saying? What are you asking me?"

"Did you not hear me, or are you feigning stupidity?" Draco asked coldly.

Potter frowned, bristling a bit. "I heard you, Draco, and I feel like you're taking the mickey."

"I'm doing no such thing. I explained my predicament and asked you a simple yes or no question. Would you be so kind as to grace me with an answer?"

Potter shook his head irritably. "Stop talking like that!"

"Like what?"

"Like... Like a fucking ponce. That's how you used to speak to me." Draco just looked at him. "Can you just be normal, please?" Potter snapped.

Draco spread his hands out. "I am being normal."

"Uh huh." Potter was still frowning. "So, you're saying--" He broke off and shifted in his seat, straightening up. "So, you're saying..." Trailing off, he just sat there looking like a fucking idiot. "What are you saying?" he finally asked.

Draco picked up his brandy and took a sip before leaning back in his chair and crossing his legs, lifting his chin high. "Fine. I will ask you again. Since you're a bloody troglodyte, apparently." He had to gather the will and courage all over again to repeat himself. "Will you accompany me to my parents' Christmas party as my boyf- partner? Meaning, they'll think you're my partner. We’ll just have to pretend."

"You...said something before that earlier."

"Oh. Yes. Well, when my mother asked me if you and I are lovers, after she read that article about us in the Prophet, I simply said yes." He'd managed to say it without displaying any emotion the first time. Now, however, Draco could feel heat rising up his neck and face.

Potter was looking particularly stupid as he stared with his mouth open. "Your parents think we're dating?" Draco nodded. "And they want to...meet me?"

Draco brushed imaginary lint off his trousers. "If you consent."

Potter leaned back, slumping in his chair, knees spreading, his arms hanging over the sides of the chair. He blew out a long breath with a whooshing sound, his lips very pink as they formed an 'o'. Then, rather abruptly, he chuckled, rubbing his face and making his glasses jump onto his forehead.

"Which bit did you find amusing?" asked Draco with feigned politeness.

"The whole thing."

"Oh?"

"Draco," Potter said on a laugh, "can you stop talking like that, please? It's fucking hilarious right now. Especially because that's not how one talks to their 'lover'."

Draco knew he was probably purple in the face by now. It was embarrassing. He ought to have told Potter right after he'd confirmed the rumours to his parents. They'd have laughed about it, and then asking him to go to this fucking party now wouldn't be such a fucking task.

Because they're friends. Close friends even. And Potter was probably going to say yes. He never denied Draco anything. He was always indulging Draco; taking care of Draco. Siding with Draco when that fucking Weasel ragged him. Always promoting Draco's label in his interviews, endorsing his little boutique. Trusting Draco enough let him dress him for important events even though Draco knew Potter had the most basic, unadventurous sense of fashion.

Draco wanted to roll his eyes. Potter was the softest, most indulgent person and he was probably going to say yes. But that didn't make any of this any easier. Because obviously Potter thought it was funny that the two of them might be lovers. He found this whole thing really amusing.

There was a thin strain of hurt somewhere in Draco's chest but he ignored it.

"So how long before you say yes like we both know you're going to?" Draco drawled.

Potter grinned widely. "What am I going to be wearing?"

The Manor was an absolute wonder to behold. Draco was sure even Hogwarts was never this heavily decorated for the holidays. Fairy lights, glittering icicles, ice sculptures, wreaths, ostentatiously decorated Christmas trees, more lights - the whole house, inside and out, was dripping in red, green, gold and white.

Potter stared around in silence, his expression very serious. He was dutifully holding Draco's hand (just like a lover might) and was taking in the sight of the gigantic ballroom they were in, guests milling about sipping golden champagne from crystal flutes, house-elves trotting around between people's knees holding up trays of hors d'oeuvres; the four gigantic, glittering Christmas trees in each corner of the room, the ice sculpture of a delicately carved fairy, her wings spread, in the centre of the room, sparkling fairy dust falling from her hand and disappearing mid-air.

To Draco this was just about normal, if a tad bit overdone (for the enjoyment of the guest of honour he'd brought along with him, he supposed), but he still blushed in embarrassment when he looked around with Potter's eyes; he was probably convinced now that his parents were pretentious or something. Feeling a bit timid, he glanced sideways at Potter.

He was looking very, very handsome tonight. He had on robes of deep, royal violet - dark enough to nearly pass off as black - with intricate gold embroidery that Draco had spent hours working on himself. He'd let Draco clip a matching cape, embroidered and lined along the hem with fur, onto his shoulders with matching brooches that glittered under the light of what had to be at least a thousand candles hovering above them. He'd made a decent attempt at taming his hair - not a successful attempt, but Draco gave him credit for trying anyway. He'd switched his usual clunky glasses out for the vision correcting spells that Draco knew he hated but it meant his eyes were shining so bright and green that it made Draco's stomach clench a bit with something he’d always staunchly ignored.

Then, his parents spotted them. Lucius was in black as usual - the material expensive, but still black - and Narcissa looked decades younger than she was in robes of pale lavender and silver. Draco smiled as she beamed at them, gliding over alongside her husband.

"Darling." She feathered her lips over Draco's cheek. "Fashionably late, I see. And fashionably dressed," she added, turning to Potter and holding out her hand, her smile small but her eyes warm.

Potter bent over her hand and brushed his lips over the back of her hand briefly - just like Draco had instructed him to - before straightening up and smiling politely. "Thank you for inviting me to your wonderful party, Mrs. Malfoy."

"You are very welcome - literally. And please call me Narcissa."

Lucius had watched and listened in silence, his hands clasped behind his back, his serious gaze fixed on Potter. When Narcissa stepped back, he slowly extended a hand to Potter.

Draco held his breath. They hadn't discussed this. He had no idea how Potter was about to behave with his father but he knew he wouldn't blame him for anything he said or did. Potter was a much better man than his father. This was fact.

But Potter simply shook hands with Lucius and nodded. Draco felt his shoulders relax.

They mingled. Draco had to repeatedly 'introduce' Potter to people as though they all didn't already know who he was, who his fucking parents were. It was laughable. But this was a stupid fucking formal Pureblood soirée and Draco still had his manners. What surprised him was how well-mannered Potter was being.

Potter was also being very loyal to his role as Draco's partner.

"He was such a little terror as a child, bless his heart," said some old crone, patting Draco's cheek with one wrinkled hand. Draco wanted to hiss at her like a cat.

"Aren't we all, at that age?" Potter said calmly, smiling.

"Oh, you're very dedicated to him, I see" she simpered. "Such a pleasure to see. You hardly ever find this in you youngsters these days."

"He doesn't give me much reason not to be dedicated to him."

Potter was still holding his hand.

"Draco doesn't tell us anything about how the two of you put your rather unhappy history aside in order to accept your...softer feelings for each other." Narcissa looked like she'd been bursting to ask Potter this all evening; she'd finally gotten a chance now that she was done making the obligatory rounds amongst her guests.

Potter looked at him, and Draco, his face hot, returned his gaze, trying to apologise wordlessly. But Potter just grinned.

"Well, I don't know about him but," Potter smiled down at Narcissa, looking handsome and charming and, well, fuck, "it was just a natural, automatic thing for me, really. The more I got to know the real Draco Malfoy the deeper I fell in love with him."

Draco felt his eyes widen a bit. He wanted to look at Potter to figure him out, to try and discern just how much he was bullshitting. He wanted to read Potter because Potter was supremely easy to read. The man wore his heart on his sleeve. Draco could always tell, just from one glance, the kind of mood Potter was in.

Trying to appear casual, like Potter hadn't said anything that made Draco's breath catch, Draco looked sideways at him. Potter was smiling, his eyes honest and soft and crinkled at the corners. He was nodding along to something Narcissa was saying.

And he was still holding Draco's hand.

"Very well done," Draco muttered, once his mother had wandered away into the crowd.

Potter smiled and squeezed his hand. "You said you'd give me a tour of the gardens," he said. Draco nodded and led him out.

They strolled in a leisurely manner. It was snowing but there were charms in place which meant that the snow never actually touched them, instead disappearing about a foot over their heads. The gardens were decorated too, lights twinkling everywhere, lighting up the paths.

"This must've been a great place to grow up," Potter eventually said.

They turned the corner and in the distance was the turret-shaped gazebo, hung with white-gold lights. Narcissa, when the weather permitted, loved to paint in the gazebo. Draco smiled.

"It was." Then, guiltily, "I mean... I don't mean to brag or any--"

Potter laughed. It was a low, deep, familiar sound that made Draco break out in gooseflesh.

"Draco," he said gently. "You don't have to feel guilty every time you talk to me about your childhood."

Draco lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "'m not guilty," he mumbled.

"No? You're still that insufferable, obnoxious little shit you were in school?"

Draco actually felt his face fall. He turned to Potter, unbothered about sounding vulnerable. "That's what you thought of me?"

Potter laughed. "Can you blame me? Do you remember you back at school?"

Draco slumped a little. "I suppose." They were nearly at the gazebo now. Together, they turned onto the path that led to the steps leading into it. Then, "That's...not what you think of me now, is it?"

"Draco," Potter's voice was gentle, yet teasing, "Everyone thinks you're a prat. You have to know this."

"Yes, but you?" They climbed the two steps and walked into the gazebo.

"I think you're a prat too." They were still holding hands. "But you're my prat."

Draco turned to look at him but Potter, with a sharp yank, was pulling Draco to himself. With a soft 'oof', Draco hit Potter's chest. Now they were holding both hands.

He quickly pulled himself together although Potter could probably feel his heart galloping in his chest. "Am I, now?"

"Isn't that what we've just spent the last hour and a half proving to people?"

"Well," Draco said slowly, "I was under the impression that it was an act."

"Well," Potter said quietly. "I'd rather it...be real."

They were standing pressed together in the centre of the gazebo, fairy lights surrounding them, Potter's green, green eyes reflecting them as he stared intensely at Draco. He looked like he was challenging Draco, like he was daring Draco to laugh in his face and carelessly brush aside what he'd said. Because that's what Draco Malfoy would do when Harry Potter declared something like that, right? He'd stomp on Harry Potter's proffered heart and revel in it.

Draco couldn't even imagine doing something like that. Especially not when Potter was holding his hands and smelt so good and looked at him like he was promising him so, so many things.

"You were very convincing tonight," said Draco.

"It was really easy," said Potter.

"You held my hand throughout."

"I wasn't about to give up the chance I had."

"Thank you for coming with me tonight."

"I wasn't about to give up the chance I had."

"Potter?"

"Shouldn't you be calling me Harry if we're together?"

"Would you like that?"

"I would love that, Draco."

"You've called me Draco for years now."

"I have."

Draco looked down at the lines of gold thread on Harry's chest, gleaming against the violet silk. "I think I'd like to call you Harry," he admitted.

When his gaze lifted back to Harry's, he was smiling at Draco. Then he looked up above them.

"Mistletoe," Harry said simply.

Draco's ears were ringing as though he'd been struck.

"Oh," he said, his voice quavering.

Harry just smiled again, and slowly let his head drop forward so that their foreheads touched. Then he brought his mouth up to Draco's brow and kissed it.

"Oh," repeated Draco.

They were just gazing at one another now.

Damn it, thought Draco as he broke first and kissed Harry full on the mouth.

They were still holding hands.

#drarry #faking a relationship #for a fucking christmas party #classic trope #that i tried to do justice to #idk *side eyes*#my writing #i feel like this has no shape #or plot #so yes this is basically just like anything else i've ever written #happy holidays!

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gryffindors-weasley · 3 years

Text

A Known Love

Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader

Summary: Draco felt as though his relationship was kept secret, though one person sees everything.

Warnings: angst, anxiety, fluff, kissing

(not my gif)

Dawn was rapidly approaching, the navy hues of the sky beginning to lighten and the stars began to disappear as slivers of orange stretch across the horizon. It was Draco’s least favorite time of day, for it was when he had to say goodbye to you until the following evening. The hours in the day had always passed as if each were an eternity, one longer than the last, agonizing as he thought of nothing else but you.

“You really should be going now, love,” he murmurs softly, his lips ghosting over the skin on your neck. His hand enveloped your own as he pulled you farther behind the shadows of the crumbling stone statue, impossibly closer to him.

“I suppose I will once you let me go, Draco,” you laugh softly. A kiss is pressed just below your ear, another to your cheek, and another to your lips to quiet your very logical reasoning. He hadn’t wanted to let you go yet. He never wanted to let you go.

He pulls back to look at you, still close enough to feel your breath on his lips, gray eyes twinkling under the soft moonlight as a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. His attempts at goodbye were quickly becoming more pitiful with each moment that passed him by, and he knew it. He had the same problem every time the moment arises.

“I’ll be back before you know it,” you say with a smile, your thumb brushing over his slightly pouted lip and he finds himself leaning into your touch. “You’ll have the whole day to miss me.”

For that, he closes any remaining gap once more, delicate kisses pressed to the underside of your jaw. He’s very knowledgeable of the way it makes you squirm, your jovial laughter slipping out into the crisp summer air, unable to be controlled much like his smile. His lips find yours in another attempt to silence you, soft and sweet as he hums lightly, your lips melding in a kiss he hadn’t wanted to end.

He’s reluctant to pull away, but the cooing of the morning doves is too hard to ignore. A sigh is exhaled and the sight of your kiss swollen lips leaves him wanting to do nothing but continue to kiss them, more so with the way you’re beaming up at him.

“Promise you’ll be here tonight?” He murmurs, forehead pressed to yours as his eyes fall closed. A quiet laugh escapes you and fans against his lips.

“I promise.”

“Promise me you’ll be careful?” He asks in a quieter tone, something akin to fear weaving around his words even if he’d tried to hide it.

“I will try, my love,” you murmur.

He pulls away once more and looks at you with narrowed eyes, a frown pulling at his lips. You tilt your head and look at him with a sweet smile, settling your hand on his cheek. He was not happy with your nonchalance. “It is not funny.”

You couldn’t stifle the soft laugh you’d tried to hold, appeasing his grumbling and worry as you brushed the platinum strands of hair out of his eyes.

“I will be here and I will be fine,” you say, kissing the very tip of his nose.

The tension in his embrace lessens considerably at your words, tightening his hold as he rests his face in the crook of your neck. Even with your reassurance, he was still rather scared that this would be the last time he kissed you, the last time he held you. So he relished in every second of it. He memorized the sweet smell of your perfume, the taste of your kisses, the softness of your skin. He took it all in and stored it away in his mind for safe keeping.

He released you with a chaste kiss to your neck, and one to your lips as his arms dropped to his sides. Your fingertips brush over his cheek once more as you smile, and in a matter of moments he’s standing by himself behind the moss covered statue, looking at the spot you’d once been standing in just seconds ago.

—

Draco spent the entirety of the day in his bedroom, pacing around in front of his bed aimlessly. He’d tried to get some sleep, he had been rather busy running around in a secret endeavor the night before. But he only found himself staring at the deep green velvet curtain splayed high above each of his bedposts. He hadn’t wanted to leave his room for a good while, however, there wasn’t reason to and he certainly didn’t want to run into his father. The man had become more insufferable with each passing day it seemed, if that was even possible. Besides, his mind was far too busy to hold any sort of meaningless conversation with him should there be any.

His boredom was near maddening, the Manor wasn’t exactly a place that had been bustling with entertainment. It was a place filled with silence and luxury that was made to be viewed but not touched. He looked at his clock, the hand only inching closer to eight o’clock in the evening much to his dismay; it was as if it was taunting him.

On a more positive note, it had been late enough for him to feel as though he could venture into the halls without chance of running into anyone. So he did. He found himself navigating the gray corridors with a practiced ease, eyes darting around each and every corner he passed. The residence was practically a maze; anyone who hadn’t been familiar with it would surely get lost in a matter of moments, unable to find a door to exit. He’d lived there for nearly eighteen years and still found himself wandering down unfamiliar halls.

In a matter of minutes, he finds himself standing in front of an old mahogany door, intricately carved like most others. He twisted the tarnished metal knob and pushed it open, wincing at the very audible creak it made. The scent of old books had immediately hit him as he closes the door behind him, trickles of sunlight streaming in through the latticed windows. The golden light illuminated the dust particles floating around the unfrequented room, nearly making him sneeze.

He just about jumped out of his skin when a soft voice broke through the silence in the air, his heart racing momentarily as he searched for the source. His mother sat in the corner, a half-read book propped open in her lap.

“I was beginning to wonder where you’d been all day,” she says with a soft laugh, peering at him over the tops of her glasses.

“I was in my room,” he states when he settles, trying to sound believable even though that’s exactly where he’s been.

He smooths his hair behind his ear before spinning on his heel, unable to withstand her stare a moment longer. His hands were growing clammy as he wandered the familiar aisles, lined floor to ceiling with books ranging from the history of magic to even some Shakespeare classics. Those were Narcissa’s favorite.

“Draco, what ever is the matter with you?” Narcissa asks suddenly, her brows furrowing as she looks over at her son and marks her page.

“Nothing, Mother,” he says, plucking a maroon book from its spot on the dust covered shelf, looking over the aged cover briefly and putting it back before moving onto the next.

They were the very shelves he roamed between with you in the late hours of the night, speaking in hushed whispers in the nearly abandoned library. The very shelves you hid behind to share stolen kisses and tight embraces, gently whispered ‘I love you’s’ spoken against flushed skin. They house books of fabricated fiction and tales of forbidden love, stories he finds himself reading and wishing he didn’t understand what it had felt like to be the lovers within them.

Regardless, you loved when he read to you, his voice soft as he spoke each word with ease. You’d lay on his chest, tucked away somewhere private in the Manor, somewhere with enough moonlight streaming in to ensure there was no need for a light to draw any attention. His fingers would absentmindedly tangle through your hair as he read, stopping occasionally to press a kiss to your forehead. He’d stop once you fell asleep, his eyes bouncing around the room for any chance of prying eyes. He was quiet for any chance of listening ears.

“Draco?”

He startled slightly as looks over at his mother as she continues to sit in her black velvet chair, her brow raised curiously and expectantly. His cheeks flush a pale pink as he realizes he’s gotten lost in his thoughts.

“You’re distracted,” she states.

“No I’m not,” he says almost immediately, too fast to be believable.

She chuckles, shaking her head briefly. “Then what have I just told you, darling?”

He averts his gaze and focuses on the tattered book spines stacked in front of him, the heat in his face now burning down his neck as he scrambles to think of a proper answer for her, one that isn’t foolish.

“School has been rather busy. That amongst other things,” he says, tone sharp though she knows precisely what he’s talking about. “I’ve got a lot on my mind, Mother.”

She overlooks the bite to his words as she gestures to the seat just paces away from her own, wordlessly telling him to sit down. His finger stops it’s tracing on the old books and drops to his side, wiping his hand on his blazer and leaving a smear of pale dust behind on the pristine black fabric. He takes a seat, her gaze having him fix a stare on anything but her.

A quiet tension settles over the room, thick and unwavering for a few moments, the only sound being the ticking of the grand clock in the far end of it. He knows his reasoning couldn’t have been any good, at least not half of it. It had been summer break, one that was highly anticipated before the start of seventh year. So his excuse for academic stress didn’t seem to be quite as fitting at this very moment.

“What is her name?” She asks abruptly.

His heart stills in his chest at the question, and he looks at her immediately before narrowing his eyes to contain the flurry of emotions raining down on him. Had he heard her correctly? He had to have, she couldn’t have said anything else.

“I don’t believe I know what you’re talking about,” he dismisses, sitting up a little straighter as he smooths his tie.

She knew about you, of course she did. She’s known about you for far longer than Draco could ever be privy to. In fact, the first time she had ever been made aware of your relationship was last summer. It was dawn, and she was unable to sleep, though she always had been an early riser. She had her morning tea in hand as she made her rounds around the Manor, that’s when it had caught her eye. Narcissa had known the place like the back of her hand, therefore it had been easy to note anything out of place, such as the tracking of mud in a very familiar shoe print leading from the door to her gardens.

Upon closer inspection, she peered out of the windows into the moonlit maze of roses and finely manicured bushes. She had caught glimpse of her son weaving through flowers and statues, hand enveloped with that of a strikingly beautiful girl; and even with such a distance she could see the smile on his face, big and bright.

She had seen you once or twice before, knew enough to know you wouldn’t have been someone her husband would approve of. But technicalities aside, she stayed put and she watched the sight before her for a few moments longer for she hasn’t seen her son quite this happy.

Her eyes fell on Draco, the blush that had spilled from his cheeks to the tips of his ears now a very noticeable shade, one that was very indicative that he did in fact know just who she was talking about. He began to fidget in the grand velvet chair, twirling the ring around his finger in nervous habit. His mind raced with the possibilities of what could happen, panic flooding his chest.

“Your father wouldn’t approve of this, you know,” she says, though there’s a soft laugh in her words. Regardless, the thought makes Draco’s stomach swirl with nausea, anger building and pressing within his chest.

He knows this, he knows you don’t fit his fathers preposterous ideals because he’s too caught up in pleasing the Dark Lord’s wishes to see with even an ounce of rationality. However, he’s always been one for conforming to absurd standards to better his reputation, he supposes.

“You don’t understand,” Draco defends in hushed anger, his jaw tensing as he fights to reign in his temper.

“Then enlighten me, my dear boy.”

He stares at his mother for a few moments, then shifts his gaze to the dark hardwood floors, seconds feeling like hours as his heart hammers in his chest and the heat crawls up his neck. His mind is bombarded with intrusive thoughts, one after another. If he tells her what’s been plaguing his mind, who has been residing there for the better part of a year, he could very well lose you. If he doesn’t, her suspicions will ruin any chance of time spent alone with you in fear of wandering eyes.

“I’m in love with her.”

It tumbled from his lips before he could stop himself from saying it, it’s as though all sense had left his body. You have a habit of doing that to him. Though his words were a bit shaky, the declaration came out clear as day, not a single drop of doubt in his words. He doesn’t know what she’ll say next, and quite honestly he does not care, not entirely. Not enough to hide his feelings for a moment longer, feelings that are so strong he doesn’t quite know how to handle them.

The look on her face is unreadable for the first several moments after he sputtered his confession, and the panic simmering in his chest is beginning to build and boil over. But something softens in her stoic expression, and she nods slightly. He doesn’t know what it means, doesn’t know what to make of the small gesture until she speaks up.

“I see.”

That’s all she says.

He finds the statement hard to interpret, unable to find any sort of relief from those two words as he swallows thickly and tugs at the collar of his black dress shirt, loosening the tie around his neck a fraction. The large room suddenly felt terribly suffocating and he desperately wanted some air. He was quickly beginning to regret ever opening his mouth, even though it seemed it had done so of its own accord. He could never keep anything from her, she could coax his deepest darkest secrets out of him with just a simple look. Right now, he felt it’d be perfectly suitable if the ground opened up and swallowed him whole.

He had to take the statement back somehow.

“Mother, I-”

“What is her name?” She asks once more, effectively cutting his stammering short.

He looks at her cautiously, surprised to find her to be truly interested, and not for malicious reasoning. Hesitancy still clouds his mind as he wonders whether or not he should give her such details, but a part of him feels as though it’s okay if she’s privy to it.

“Y/n,” he says softly, almost too quiet to be heard, his eyes darting around the room in search of anyone who may be listening in. “Her name is Y/n.”

She smiles softly with another nod. “She’s beautiful, Draco.”

He smiles lightly at his hands, his mind wandering to you once more. To the way your lips curve, to the soft freckles smattering across your cheeks that he could spend a ridiculous amount of time kissing. Perhaps his favorite is the way your eyes crinkle when you smile at him, the way you look at him. He will never feel as though he’s worthy of such affection, it doesn’t make sense to him. For that very reason, it worries him everyday that you’ll slip through his fingers. That you’ll realize the person you’ve chosen to love, you’ll come to your senses and you’ll disappear.

It wasn’t easy loving a Malfoy, after all. Anyone who simply hears the name turns their lip up in disgust. He can’t say he blamed them, his family wasn’t known for anything noble or kind. He wasn’t proud of himself either, which was all the more reason he feared your seemingly inevitable epiphany.

“I know,” he chuckles softly, shaking his head. His hands are shaking as he reaches up to swipe at the hair dipping in his eyes. “How…how did you know?”

“I haven’t seen you smile like that in quite some time, Draco. It was rather easy to figure out,” she starts, her words bittersweet the more she allowed herself to think about it. “The smell of perfume had given it away in an instant. It lingers, you know.”

His face reddens, and he reaches up to scratch the back of his neck, his hair falling back in his eyes again.

“Does she treat you well?” She inquires.

He smiles lightly as he nods. “She’s quite wonderful, more than I can say about myself.”

It was true. In his eyes, you were the embodiment of sunshine to put it simply. You were the kindest person he’s ever known, so much so he hadn’t been used to it at first. He had been skeptical. You treated him far better than he could have ever anticipated, though you did not hesitate to correct him when he was wrong.

“Mother?”

“Yes, my dear?”

He gulps, his mind swimming in horrific scenarios he hadn’t ever wanted to think of, possibilities he wished he didn’t have to fear. Each one was worse than the last, and paired with his pounding heart, he wasn’t sure if he could hide his internal conflict from her. It felt as though his throat was impossibly dry and the air had been stolen from his very lungs.

“Please don’t tell him,” he whispers, the lump in his throat becoming hard to ignore. The thought of how his father would react out of spite made his stomach churn and twist in knots. “Please.”

She looks at him with furrowed brows, her crimson nails tapping on the curved wood of the chairs arm. You hadn’t entirely fit the ideals set in place for the only Malfoy heir, and she knew for certain that repercussions would follow such a romance. But the unease and the color draining from her sons face had shown how truly distraught he was, and she couldn’t bring herself to tamper with it. She had never seen him care so deeply for something. She had seen just how much you had been keeping him afloat amidst the troublesome darkness trying to pull him down. Maybe she will warm up to you if he ever decides to introduce you, she would have to. For you kept him happier than could be imagined and she didn’t want to take it from him.

She fought for her love with Lucius, she fought desperately and unrelenting for it. It quickly became apparent to her that it wasn’t her place to stand in the way of it, it would be rather hypocritical if she did.

“As you wish,” she says with a soft smile, one that eased the tension in his body as she grabbed her book again. “Off you go now, Draco. I believe someone is waiting for you.”

She nodded slightly towards the window and he gets up without another word, promptly exiting the quiet library upon her dismissal making quick strides. A soft smile tugged at his lips that he had fought desperately to contain, but the attempts were proving to be pointless every time he caught glimpse of the setting sun. The hues of oranges and yellows painting the somber walls of the Manor only reminded him of you, of how you’d be waiting for him behind the decades old statue in the garden.

His conversation was brief and unexpected, one that offered waves of comfort and lightened some of the weight on his chest. Only some. Because consequences of his love were uncertain, but it hadn’t seemed to matter in that very moment. Maybe it was selfish of him to think that way, and maybe his purposeful walk had given way to the fact that he had something to look forward to. Maybe he shouldn’t have told his mother about you, he did not know.

What was known was the steady pounding of his heart within his chest and the scarlet in his cheeks.

What was known was that he loved you.

—

Tags: @theweasleysredhair @amourtentiaa @hahee154hq

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy angst #draco malfoy one shot #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy fic #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy imagine #harry potter fic

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wreckofawriter · 4 years

Text

Thorns and Roses

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x reader also Blaise Zabini x reader if you squint.

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: Blood, swears twice? Angsty (fluff ending)

Summary: Hanahaki Disease AU! You are despareatly in love with your bestfriend. His unrequainted love causes flowers to grow in your lungs which you are forced to cough up until death overcomes you. The only removal of this sickness is a spell which also takes every memory of the loved one with it.

A/n: look at my dumb ass post late for my own event... this fic is for the first week of Cliche Month. My cliche was Hanahaki Disease. Check out the other writers work. They are amazing!!

Roses used to be your favorite flower. Their delicate petals stained with glaring crimson intrigued you since you reached for one in your mother’s garden and pulled away with a bloodied hand. They could be found around you constantly; arranged in sparkling vases and patterned on your dresses. Bouquets were gifted to you by friends and family during holidays and birthdays, they surrounded you.

Now as you coughed into the toilet of the girl’s lavatory you wished to never see a rose again. You could feel the thorns tearing you apart, your throat sliced to ribbons as you clutched the stark white porcelain. You heaved a final time, petals falling into the clear water, the blood upon them staining it pink. You felt dizzy, copper thick in your mouth. You choked out a sob, tears spilling down your cheeks and dripping off your chin. You brought your hand to your face, whipping your mouth with its back and blinking back a fresh wave of cries. You pushed yourself to your feet, knees sore from resting on cold tile too long. You flushed, watching as the red and white petals spiraled from view.

You stepped from the stall going to the mirror and dabbing away melting makeup, a few practice smiles at your reflection flashed before you exited the secluded room.

Hanahaki disease had been glorified around you for years. The aesthetic and purity of its cause and symptoms making it seem like some dream or fairytale. You had learned quite quickly it was anything but. While everyone talked of the beauty of growing flowers within you they never talked about the pain of thorns piercing you with every breath or the blood which lingered on your taste blood because of never-ending cuts and tears of skin. They never talked about the stab you felt each time the person you loved looked your way or the times you had to swallow petals to keep your quickening death a secret.

Blood and roses painted a pretty picture but they stopped being so charming as you choked them out every few hours.

You walked quickly to class, each step you took emitting pain in your chest, pain which you had gotten phenomenal at ignoring. Snape didn’t bat an eyelash, despite the fact that you were six minutes late. The stabs grew searing as you took a seat next to the scowling blonde who had unintentionally bloomed flowers in your chest.

“Where the hell were you?” Draco scoffed his tone cold.

“Bathroom.” You replied plainly, eyes tracing the slope of his nose as he turned away from you. Your eyes continued to follow his profile, creating trails on his jawline and under his light grey eyes.

Draco turned back to you, “Is there something on my face?”

You shook your head, feeling petals flutter in your stomach, thorns following.

He said nothing, eyes flicking around your profile, looking for clues of your strange behavior. “Are you sick?” He asked, “You look pale.”

You shook your head yet again, “I feel fine.” Lies came so easily recently.

Draco didn’t give in easily, his gaze searching your own as if he could read through your words to your failing heart. “You’ve seemed off recently,” he stated turning back to the lesson.

“I don’t know what you mean.” You replied. Lying really had become effortless.

Draco didn’t like your sudden disappearances and untrustworthy excuses. You had been distant and unfamiliar in recent days. Your schedule seemed skewed, jokes, and laughter seeming to die as you rushed to unexplained meetings with no one before reappearing thirty minutes later with blood on your sleeves. You always smelled of the liquid, copper had replaced your floral shampoo and tropical perfumes. Everything about you simply felt wrong, like an invisible switch had been flipped leaving you as an imposter.

You forced a thin smile at the girl across from you as she said her greetings. Pansy dug into her plate of eggs, glaring up at you suspiciously. Your relationship with the girl had always rested on the edge of a knife. She despised your relationship with Draco, her eyes going green whenever you were seen together. You wish you could tell her there was really nothing to worry about.

“You’re hiding something.” She satiated plainly.

You scrunched your nose in mock confusion, “What?”

A scoff rose from her lips, “I’m not stupid y/l/n. Something is up with you, everyone can see it.”

“I have no clue what you’re talking about.” You huffed rolling your eyes, hoping she didn’t notice the goosebumps that rose on your arms, fear of being discovered chilling you to the bone.

Blaise sat down next to you sensing the tense atmosphere and glancing between you both, “This about Draco?” He asked cautiously.

You shook your head quickly, a stab of agony shooting through you at his mention.

The boy shrugged, snatching a bagel and beginning to dress it with jam, “Anyway, you guys are coming to Hogsmeade right?”

Pansy answered excitedly her high pitch making you wish you’d stayed in bed. The conversation droned for a moment and you focused on your breathing. You knew the time which you would be able to do such a necessary act was limited. It was only a matter of time before thorns punctured a lung or pushed through your heart.

“You’re going right y/n?” Blaise asked, drawing you into the words spoken between them.

You bit your cheek, “I don’t think so.”

Blaise groaned, “Come on, we always go! It’s like a tradition.”

You frowned, “You didn’t go last week.”

The trap he had fallen into struck quickly, “Well doesn’t matter, you need to go.” he recovered.

“And why’s that?” You hummed nursing an orange juice that tasted of copper.

“Draco gets pissy when you don’t come.” He explained. The words would have made your heart soar if vines weren’t threaded through your veins. “Especially after quidditch practices.”

You sighed, “Draco isn’t my responsibi-” you were cut off by a spear thrust into your chest. The glass you held fell from your grip and shattered on the table. Eyes darted towards you in confusion as you bent over in agony.

A muffled voice broke through your momentary disconnection from the conscious world.

“Y/n are you okay?”

Your eyes fluttered open as you gasped for air, tears pooling in your eyes, “I’m fine.” you rasped standing quickly from your seat as you felt petals push up your throat. You sprint from the room without another word, hand clasping over your lips as you desperately tried to swallow the floral arrangement crawling up towards your lips. You managed to make it three corridors before collapsing to the ground, heads turned, eyes locking with you as let out a rattling set of coughs.

You didn’t hear the words of concern or cries for help as your mouth filled with blood. You felt something push from your mouth landing on your hands lightly. A rose blossom stared back at you as you opened your eyes. Its white petals unfurled stunningly, deep crimson puddles pooled between them. Red dripped lazily down your hands and you began to cough again. Thorns tore through your flesh escaping into the light of the world drenched in red, petals floated in the small puddle of blood around you like tiny boats in a lake of fire.

You hiccuped twice, the pain the action caused forcing tears down your cheeks. Your ears rang with shouts and gasps, your hands tightening around the flowers you held, only then noticing the cuts which littered your palms.

Blaise thundered around the corner, shoving people out of the way to see what they had gathered around. His eyes widened when he saw you, blood drenching the front of your uniform, tears mixing with crimson as they dripped off your chin. But the most alarming thing which sat in that hallway where the roses. Four of them, in full bloom, were littered around you, their meaning sinking terror into Blaise’s head. He dropped to his knees in front of you, hands coming to your shoulders.

“Shit y/n,” he mumbled feeling his eyes prick.

You were sobbing, wincing with every shake your body gave, “I can’t forget.” You whimpered, “Please, I don’t wanna die but I can’t forget him.” Your begs were cut off as you began to cough again.

You felt numb. The potions you had been given driving away not only pain but every other feeling your body had manifested. Moving felt like wading through thick mud, the weight of the blankets adding to the confusion of your nerves.

The ceiling of the hospital wing had become boring hours before, the dark of the night staining the white a deep blue. Your brain ran through memory after memory, thinking that if they replayed through your consciousness enough they would be stuck there, even after they were cut from your body with the flowers within you. You could hear his voice, smell his cologne, and feel his hair. The pain of your body had left but that of your mind had been so deeply engraved it was hard to distinguish from the former.

The ache you felt from the image of his angry tears and hoarse screams were far worse than the occasional stab of a thorn. Maybe it would be better to forget. Forget the pain, the love, all of it. To forget him. Yet every time you thought of the idea your eyes welled with tears and that unsettling ache of your chest worsened.

Memories became more and more recent as the melody of the platinum blonde continued to play. Those of a few hours ago were the freshest, still crisp around the edges, full of brilliant colors.

You didn't want him to find out, let alone find out from someone who wasn't you. Yet Blasie had told him the second after he had dropped you where you now lay, betraying everything within you.

He had come into the wing still dressed in his quidditch robes, broom in his left hand as he stormed through the previously quiet area.

"How dare you." He had seethed, broom hitting the ground with a clatter.

Your eyes had become focused solely on him the second his voice had graced you.

"How fucking DARE you!" His eyes were glossy with fury.

"Mr. Malfoy!" Pompfery shouted behind him

You were in a confused daze, dull pain shooting through you as Draco neared. "What?"

He was in front of you now tears sliding down his flushed cheeks as he gripped the metal of the bed frame.

"You can't just fall in love with me!" He shouted, "You can't just, j-just," his voice faltered and fell and he slumped forward.

You sat up wanting to move towards him, "I'm sorry." You whimpered a hand coming to rest on his own.

He snatched himself away from you, "You were just going to let yourself die?"

You paused another stab of pain dulled by medication sending white to your vision. Were you going to let yourself die? Die for the memories of this boy? It seemed a bit pitiful as you thought about it. "I don’t know."

Draco was appalled, his mind reeling as you stared up at him, eyes wide and glistening, "Don't put your blood on my hands." He hissed turning and storming from the room.

You called after him, voice straining, throat burning. He didn't spare a single glance back and you were left staring at his disregard broom as blossoms bubbled in your throat.

Draco had always had an easy way out when he was younger. His mother loved to spoil him and his father would keep him out of trouble with little effort. He had easy choices that were made for him. But recently things have been different. The expectations of his parents raised as he wanted to do nothing but flee from the life they had given him.

You had been safety for him. Your lack of questions and secret intent made you a safe haven. He didn't have to worry about your thoughts of him because he knew they were positive. He didn't have to be concerned with his reputation or his future or his family. He could just exist with you. Exist freely. The bonds which held him to the earth disappeared in your presence and he could float amongst the pink clouds which you lived.

You were his best friend. And now you were going to be ripped away from him. And there was no one to blame but himself. His unreturned feelings were killing you, this was all his fault. And now your memories would be pulled from you and you would become nothing more than a stranger.

It hurt to know you may have died for him. Died to keep him in your mind. It hurt to know all the blood you had spilled stained his palms.

The dorm rooms were darkened, the murky waters of the lake filtering soft moonlight through their depths. Sleep seemed like a faraway friend to Draco as he stared out at nothing. His thoughts were washed together like paint doused in water. A strange dream-like haze had rested over his life since he saw you on that bed. His thumb ran over the bumps of his knuckles, where your hand had rested hours before.

"You shouldn't have blamed her."

Draco didn't look up, his eyes locked into the dark waters, "I know."

Blaise sat down next to him, legs crossed, "You should apologize."

"I know."

There was a long pause. Neither boy knew what they were supposed to say.

Draco felt his eyes sting, resent bubbling in his stomach, and having nowhere to go, "I don't want to lose her."

Blaise sighed, "You are either going to have to lose her or love her. It's up to you."

But it wasn't up to him. He couldn't choose to love you.

The next day was unsure like a scene that was cut from a movie. Draco spent his time lingering in his hazy consciousness. The thoughts of losing you slowly driving him insane. His vision swam with your image in hallways, eyes falling through him. He would be a stranger to you. And he would have to keep it that way for your own safety. He would be forced to watch his best friend live her life without the memories they shared. The sting of realization grew with each moment.

Your pain had begun to fade. You weren't sure if it was because of the medication or if your body was simply shutting down. The latest you could get McGonagall to cast the spell was tomorrow night. Then every moment you and Draco had shared would be flushed away.

At least the coughing fits had stopped, thorns no longer tearing your throat to pieces. No more roses covered in blood. You felt a sense of peace.

Your far away mind was drawn back by Madam Pompfery's shrill voice.

"You may absolutely not visit her!"

"I just want to apologize!" Another tone retorted.

You sat up quickly, blankets shoved to the side as your bare feet made contact with the ground.

The argument grew louder as you neared, words turning harsh.

"Draco?" You called, peeking around the corner to see Madame Pomfrey standing with her back to you blocking the doorway, the blonde just in front of her.

"You should be in bed." The nurse scolded me, turning to look at you.

"I want to see him." You stated firmly.

She had now turned to face you fully, "Go back to bed y/l/n."

You glared back at the woman, "Let him in."

There was silence, you're gaze unwavering as the older woman slowly caved.

"Make it quick Malfoy."

You wanted to choke on the awkward silence that followed after the woman departed. Dracos eyes were glued to you as your own darted between your feet and the nearby wall.

“She’s right. You should be in bed.” he spoke.

You shrugged, “I was feeling better. The medication helps.”

“You shouldn’t be standing regardless.” He huffed walking past you towards the bed you had been in a few minutes before.

You rolled your eyes but followed him, knowing he was right didn’t make you feel any better.

“I'm sorry about before,” Draco mumbled as you set yourself against the headboard. You tilted your head in a silent question, “I shouldn't have yelled at you yesterday. It's not your fault.”

You cracked a small smile, head tilting back until it hit the wall. “Of course it's my fault.”

Draco was silent and you gazed at him from the corner of your eye. His eyes were cast at his feet, the melancholy look on his face making you sour.

“Please don’t be sad.” You muttered, “I can't have my last memory of you be sad.”

Despite your plea, his eyes grew misty, the weight on his chest so heavy he thought it might crush him.

Your feet felt light and for a moment you thought you might be dying. Your head felt so clear, you wouldn't have been surprised if Draco started saying you were floating off your bed. Your chest felt warm and fuzzy, like hot chocolate after hours in the snow.

“I can’t lose you.” Draco sobbed, tears finally spilling from his eyes. “I can’t lose you, y/n. Please don’t leave me.”

Part of you wanted to slap him, “It's not a choice.” You swallowed thickly, “I didn’t choose to fall in love with you.” It was the truth. You didn’t choose to plunge into the deep waters of absolute devotion. You were pushed. Pushed by each smile and laugh. By each joke and eye roll. He had pushed you into the whirlpool of love and you had been sucked deep under. And now you couldn’t breathe.

“I can’t watch you forget me.” He croaked his head held in his hands, “I love you y/n, you can't become a stranger to me. I couldn’t watch you live without me. I couldn't live with these memories knowing you don't have them.”

Suddenly the lack of pain made sense. The light, fuzzy feeling overwhelming your body was comprehensible, “Say it again.”

Draco met your eyes, “What?”

“Say you love me again.”

His eyes widened, momentary surprise taking him before it was pushed aside by a rush of relief, “I love you.”

It was like a drug drawn from his lips, it burnt like whiskey down your throat, warmth filling you. You sat forward quickly, hands coming to cup his cheeks, damp and sticky with tears. Droplets of your own gathered, rivers of relief dripping off your chin.

Your lips met hastily. The taste of salt mixed with the bitterness of blood was unsavory but neither of you seemed to care as you pulled him closer. Kiss deepening as his hands fell to your waist. You found yourself sinking deeper into the water you had fallen into, oxygen suddenly filling your thirsting lungs.

You were unaware of the thorns that filled Blaise’s. Yellow petals spilled from his lips, his throat filled with blood. As you tucked your head into Draco's chest, his was buried into his hands, tears filling his eyes. He was hopeless, the thorns would tear him apart and you would put roses on his grave

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@accio-rogers @roslea @k3nz-doodl3 @theseuscmander @sleepingalaska @chloe-geoghegan1

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hpdabbles · 3 years

Text

Love Limit: Seven years

Harry thought he was ready for his parents to present the wizard he could be marrying, he really did, up until said wizard strutted into the room. Sitting across an impassive Draco Malfoy, as the adults discuss the benefits of their houses unifying under the banner of marriage, the young boy tried not to sweat through his dress robes.

Something about the pureblood heir made him nervous, in a strangely good way. It was like he wanted all of Malfoy's attention on him but every time their eyes meet, Harry looked away, desperate to disappear feeling excited and embarrassed all at once.

Malfoy quickly grew bored, turning his attention to the garden outside the fancy magical french restaurant the adults choose to meet in. He remained disinterested in the room at large, staring blankly at the birds flying around the flouting feeding areas. He folded one leg over the other, his royal blue robes falling in waves over his shoulders as Malfoy claps his hands in his lap.

The sunlight streamed in from the large window and with the lovely bright white and blue of the walls, it brought out the pale blonde of his hair, lighting up his facial features as if though they were contour by sunlight itself.

He looked like a painting, perfect in every stroke of a brush, come to life. So beautiful Malfoy almost seemed fictional, despite the fact he was sitting right in front of Harry.

Harry kept his eyes on his feet, face feeling hot as if though he stood in the sun for too long but every so often would peak up at the blond. He wanted his parents to finish the marriage meeting as quickly as possible. This one seems to drag on longer than any of the previous ones did.

It was a tradition in the Potter family for the parents to pick a spouse for their children but one that skip a generation. His father, James, had been free to choose his mother, Lily, but Harry's grandfather had been engaged to his grandmother since before they were sent to Hogwarts.

Most purebloods had the same tradition but the Potters were more lenient in the fact they allowed a few of their bloodline to choose for themselves.

Harry had been raised with the knowledge that the various marriage meetings were to carefully select a good spouse and more importantly someone who would bring honor and something of value to the Potter name.

He had been tested for his magical compatibility at age two, as all magical kids have, and through it, his parents were made aware his magic could bond with both males and females which gave the more wiggle room to find someone for him.

Witches and Wizards' magic had a certain level of Compatibility that allowed them to have strong, powerful, and good-looking children the higher their compatibility was. The Compatibility could indicate if the child in question would grow to fancy males or females, should the pair be the same sex then they could blood adopt.

By blood adopting, they would be given a Squib toddler who best matched their own magic. Through a ritual as old as Merlin, their compatible magic would mix in the child changing them to be the pair's by blood and by magic.

Not all Squib children matched an eager childless couple before they reach five years old- the cut of the ritual working- which is why a few grew into adults without ever accessing magic but the lucky ones who were blood adopted became a regular witch wizard able to use their core.

According to Malfoy's profile, the one sent to his parents to review, Malfoy's magic only matched with males with a high Potion and Runes magic. It went well with Harry's high Defense and Herbology magic, to the point their Compatibility was an astounding ninety-seven percent.

It was the only reason his Dad had been willing to meet the Malfoys as Lucius and he never got along back at Hogwarts.

"Thank you for meeting us today, Lord Malfoy, Lady Malfoy, and Heir Malfoy" Mom suddenly say her voice smooth and sweet, though her smile was strained.

"It was a pleasure, Lady Potter." Lady Malfoy replied, dipping her head respectfully as she stood, "I do hope we can continue this discussion in the near future. An owl will be in contact with you soon."

"We look forward to its arrival," Dad says in a tone that promises the poor bird will be shot down if it enters the Potter's air space. "Good day, Lord Malfoy, Lady Malfoy, and Heir Malfoy."

"Good day," The blond boy says his voice sending goosebumps all over Harry's skin. He never knew a voice could sound like honey before.

Realizing they were leaving and that he hadn't seen a single word, Harry hastily rose. He meant to say "Good day" or "Thank you for considering me for your son" or something along those lines. But all that came out of his mouth was a choking squeal.

Malfoy's frown and odd look made Harry so red he actually hid behind his mother. The blond child rolled his eyes, tilted his chin up in dismissal while strutting out of the room after his parents.

Harry watched him go with wonder never before had a seen someone his own age look so regal.

"What did you think Harry?" Mom asks after they leave crouching down to look into his very same pair of emerald eyes. "Did Mr. Malfoy seem-"

"He's so pretty!" Harry blurts taking the woman by surprise. "He so pretty, and elegant and Mom, did you see how soft his hair looked? Did you notice how amazing his sitting was? He looked like a Disney Prince!"

"W-well if you think so, I suppose he is," Mom says hesitantly shooting a look at Dad. The man in question had put his head into his hands, looking dismayed. Harry understands, he was nearly too overwhelmed by how pretty Malfoy is too.

"Do you think Mr. Malfoy is prettier than Leo?" Dad's voice is muffled by his palms but Harry hears it all the same.

"Much prettier!" He has known Leo all his life and while he was not ugly he was nowhere near Malfoy's league. He is the son of his Godfather, Sirius, and his husband Remus, both of which were Dad's best friends through all of Hogwarts.

Leo was Harry's best friend too since their parents saw each other so often, they shared everything even being compatible with both witches and wizards. Of course, their dads had them tested to see their Compatibility and the two were at a seventy-nine. Up until Malfoy, that was the highest he ever match with someone.

Harry had overheard Uncle Sirius proclaim they would wed one day if no other match could be found to which all the adults toasted to. Leo had wrinkled his nose when Harry told him later about it that night during their sleepover.

"Don't get me wrong Harry, but I like you as a best friend, not someone I want to marry" Leo had said tucking him in because Leo liked to make sure Harry was warm. He liked to care for people in a way Harry liked to too, but more so when he was the one doing it. "I just think it is like Dad and Uncle James getting married."

"Gross they're brothers."

"And we're cousins."

"I won't have to marry Leo, will I?" Harry asks his Dad, who has yet to raise his head. A cold sense of dread settled in his chest. He knew that some kids didn't get a choice, that they would marry who was selected for them but his parents weren't like that, were they?

"Harry....you are almost eleven." Mom starts looking pained. "All witches and Wizards have to be engaged before entering Hogwarts if they aren't muggle-borns. It's the law."

"I know"

"Malfoy is one of the last wizards unclaimed, it would have been rude not to meet them so we organized this marriage meeting even if we never....both sides didn't take it seriously Harry. Leo has already been made your fiancee and I suspect the Malfoys are going to go with Theodore Nott."

Harry gasps outraged. "Nott!? Malfoy has been promised to Nott!? He's so boring! All he did at our marriage meeting was read!"

Dad raised his hands to give him a sheepish smile. "Sometimes someone who reads is the better choice for a boy like Mr. Malfoy. I'm sure you will like your life with Leo once your older-"

"I don't want Leo!" Harry protested hotely. How could his parents do this to him? "I want Malfoy!"

"Harry please understand, Leo is much better-"

"No!"

Mom steps forward biting her lip. She never liked this part of the tradition she married into, as a muggle-born she hated the idea of pairing off her child. It was something he heard his parents argue at night but in the end, there was nothing she could do. Harry is a Half-blood and by law, he must be engaged. "Is there really nothing that can be done, James?"

"If you can convince Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Nott, and Leo to break the arrangements before you turn seventeen then yes," Dad said after a long pause. "But that will be very difficult to do and if you can not succeed then you must marry at seventeen. You will be on a time limit."

"It's okay! I know Leo won't mind. He fancies Nott" Harry brightens then slaps a hand over his mouth once he realized he accidentally exposed Leo's secret. "Please don't tell Uncle Sirius or Uncle Remus, Leo doesn't want them to know he fancies Nott."

Mom shakes her head looking oddly shocked. Harry had no idea why. Leo wouldn't stop talking about Nott for nearly three weeks straight after their marriage meeting, gushing about the fact the other boy had read him a story while their parents spoke.

"I can convince Nott and Malfoy! I solemnly swear it!"

Dad threw his head into his hands and screamed but Harry knows he supports him either way.

#hpdabbles #Love Limit: Seven years #Part 1 #Leo Black Lupin #Drarry #Wolfstar #Little Harry falls in love #Now he races against time to get Draco's heart

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ashes-and-ashes · 4 years

Text

Lightning and Marauders

Draco stares out of the window.

He’s still furious, with Harry and with Dumbledore and the entire fucking Order. He can feel it, rage coiling around his bones, the anger making him feel light-headed. He’d always had an explosive temper, the type that ended up with shattered glasses and holes in walls.

It didn’t work when his father attempted to beat it out of him, but then again, rarely anything worked. He learnt though, over the years, learnt to keep everything contained inside of him, because at least he didn’t cut anyone when he shattered.

With a sigh, Draco stares down at his arm, the ugly brand that couldn’t cover the scars on his wrist. He couldn’t even remember what the fight was about - something small, he was sure, something inconsequential and pathetic. Stress had blown it up, turned it into something so much bigger then it should have been, made him keep pushing, keep arguing until him and Harry were both screaming at each other from opposite sides of the kitchen table.

Of course, he had spat, anger making him feel like he was on fire. Of course you would say that. You’ve always had it easy, being the fucking savior.

Don’t you ever say that again, Harry replied, all hissed words and cold fury. Don’t you ever say that I had it easy. You’re the one on your Malfoy throne, all high and mighty -

You don’t know what they did to me.

What? Harry sneered. Bought you a broomstick and held your hand? Is it to your advantage to switch your side?

Fuck you.

Harry laughed. What did I expect? You’re the son of a Death Eater. Why did I ever think that we could trust you?

Draco had stormed off before he could say those damning words spinning around in the back of his head, echoing the cold words spoken by his father so long ago. You’ll never be enough. You’ve doomed us all.

He couldn’t though, couldn’t bring himself to say the words. It would destroy them, that already fragile bond he had with Harry, the small hope of something more. Even he wasn’t stupid enough to risk that.

Draco leans his head against the window, the glass cool against his cheek. The rain cast patterns over his face; he watches the shadows trace against his skin.

He doesn’t know where he is - some tower room in Grimmauld Place. The house was huge, larger then the Manor, all stone and dark wood and huge green drapes. There are tapestries all over the walls, symbols embroidered on them in heavy gold thread; he recognizes a few of them. Whom ever owned this house must have been rich - Charmed Marks were expensive and there were hundreds of them all over the walls.

He sighs, turning his attention back to the scene outside. His head pounds; he lets it drop back against the window frame.

“Done being all melodramatic?”

He can see the barest hint of a reflection in the window, all darkened shapes and blurred lines. He doesn’t bother to turn around though, just shrugs. “It’s my forté. I should go into acting.”

The person lets out a dry chuckle. “Aren’t you a spy? It’s close enough.”

Draco stiffens. “Who told you that?”

“You’re not the only Drama Queen here.”

Draco turns slightly in his seat, just so that he could see the figure standing by the door. He’s tall, hair down to his shoulders and covered with tattoos. There’s a casual sort of elegance to him, the type that Draco had spent most of his life trying to perfect, all careless arrogance and stunning grace.

Charcoal eyes met his; grey, he thinks, just like mine. Draco gets to his feet quickly, leaning back against the wall. He’s learnt that appearing casual made others lower their guard. The man’s quiet chuckle lets him know that his action had not been missed.

“God,” he says, giving him a small smirk. It’s the grin of a younger man, the ghost of something that had long died. “You remind me so much of - “

“Don’t,” Draco says, cutting him off. “Don’t say that I remind you of my father. Do you know how many times I’ve heard that? As if I wanted to be some egotistical fanatic - “

The man laughs. “No. I wasn’t going to say that. I get the sense that you aren’t fond of your father though. He was an asshole. A brilliant, conniving asshole but an asshole all the same.”

Draco looks up, startled. “You know him?”

“Doesn’t everyone? Everyone who knows about Death Eaters, that is.”

Draco flinches. “I - I’m not - “

“Like them? Family bonds can be hard to sever. Just take me for an instance.”

“What do you know?” Draco fires back. “Don’t pretend like you know anything about Pure Blood families. You don’t know what it’s like to be suffocated, to be forced into a mold that doesn’t fit you - “

The man throws back his head and laughs; bitter and amused. “Oh I don’t know, do I? I probably know better then anyone else here, I Draco.”

Draco turns away, willing the tears not to come. “Oh, really?”

The man smirks. “I’m Sirius,” he says. “Sirius Black.”

“Harry’s Godfather.”

“It’s been a long time since I’ve been known as anything but Traitor.”

Draco folds his arms across his chest. “I’m a Malfoy,” he says. “Your name was synonymous with Hero back at home.”

“Nice to know I’m still worshipped.” Sirius leans back against the wall. He’s covered in scars, hundreds of them; up his arms and wrapped around his fingers, disappearing under his shirt. Draco thinks of his own back, the smooth, pale skin and shudders. His father was careful - and even Voldemort’s Crucio’s didn’t leave any scars. He didn’t want to think about how bad the pain was to leave so many scars across Sirius’ flesh.

“What do you want?” Draco says, keeping his voice even. “I assume you don’t just want to chat.”

Sirius shrugs. “Harry. You had a fight with him.”

“Why don’t you check in with him?”

“I already did.”

“Did he tell you about how much of a manipulative, lying bastard I was?”

Sirius shakes his head. Draco stares at his forearms, the silver moon tattoos inked onto the skin. They seemed to shimmer, even in the dark room, the edges rippling and fading into the next shape. “He told me all about you, actually. How brave you were. How you’re only 17 and yet you’re spying for a side that will try and execute you if they win this war.”

“What do I have to lose?” Draco whispers. “There’s nothing left for me in this world. I might as well try and - “

“Make it better?”

“Yeah.”

Sirius smiles. “I was actually going to say, before you interrupted me earlier that you remind me a lot of myself. Back when I was younger. You have the same...complete disregard for yourself. Self-destructive tendencies, almost. Because who cares if you burn as long as you’re warming those you love?”

“I - “

Sirius fixes him with that piercing gaze, the one that saw into his soul and stripped him bare. “Jesus, you’re young. I fought in the first War, back when I was 19. I still have nightmares. To do that to innocent kids - I don’t - you’re so - “

“Young?” Draco’s voice was a near-breath. “I’ve already killed 8 people, Sirius. I’m a little too damned to be innocent, don’t you think?”

He stared at his hands, palms up, the light dancing off his fingertips. “I’ve tortured people and been tortured myself. Spying is nothing.”

“True.” Sirius’ voice is light. “But I never knew Lucius would lay a hand on his son.”

Draco’s breath hitched. “What?”

“Don’t what me. My mother was the one hurting me. I know those marks.”

Draco stares down at Sirius’ hands, the tiny scars that flecked his skin. “What are those?”

Sirius’ grin was savage, brutal and cutting and painful. “Crucio.”

“Crucio doesn’t leave marks.”

“When you use it enough it does.”

“I’ve never met someone who knows what it feels like. Besides Harry and myself.”

Sirius blanches at the sound of Harry’s name. “He’s been...”

“Yeah.”

“God.” Sirius drops his head in his hands. “12 years. 12 fucking years I’ll never get back. God, I missed so much.”

“He loves you,” Draco says quietly. “He adores you.”

Sirius looks up. “You love him.”

It wasn’t a question. Draco feels the blood drain from his face, his heart falling to the floor. He takes a deep breathes, holds it, waits until he knew his voice wouldn’t shake. “He’s one of my closest friends.”

Sirius studies him for a minute, then lets out a low whistle. “God, you are practically a carbon copy of me.”

“What do you mean?” Draco demands.

Sirius just studies him, his head tilted, those piercing eyes shredding him slowly apart. Draco just grit his teeth, met his gaze.

Finally, Sirius speaks. “I was in love with a boy,” he says, and Draco flinches. “For ages, actually. Since I was 12. He was my best friend.”

“How did you know?” Draco breathes. “That it was love?”

Sirius smiles. “You just know.”

“I don’t though.” Draco looks down, at his feet. “I always hear things, about how love makes you soft, makes you happy, lifts you up and turns you lighter. And I always think what bullshit. Because that’s not what I feel. Not at all.”

“It’s fire,” Sirius says quietly.

“God, it’s more then that. It’s consuming. It scares me, because I’m in a war, and if something happened to him...There’s nothing I wouldn’t do - I’ve switched sides for God’s sake. I’ve damned my soul because of him, I love him that much.”

Sirius just shrugs, head propped up against his han, and Draco thinks again that he looks very, very young. “The only monster made are ones that are in love.”

“And he doesn’t - I don’t even know if he loves me.”

Sirius laughs. “Oh Merlin. Harry most definitely does, Draco.”

“No - “

Sirius cuts him off. “Yes. He does.”

Draco looks down, at his feet. He can feel the weight of Sirius’ gaze against his back, burning into his soul. “Tell me about him,” he says.

Sirius closes his eyes. “I don’t know. He was...beautful. All full of light - the steady kind. A candle, compared to the raging flames inside of me - inside of both of us,” he adds. “He never thought he was good enough, but he was better then I ever could be.”

Draco nods. He thinks about Harry - his smiles, his eyes, the way his hair felt when Draco let his hands brush through. The harsh set of his mouth when he was concentrating, the way he laughs, all quicksilver and molten metal, the way Draco’s heart stopped every time they touched. He thinks about how he dropped everything - his family, his title, his home, how he was willing to die just to give Harry a chance and he wonders if he’ll ever have anything like this again.

“Do you regret it?” he asks. “Telling...telling whoever it was?”

Sirius’ holds Draco’s gaze.

“No,” he says, and Draco believes him.

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breadyyyy · 4 years

Text

Fanart - Running On Air

Harry just wants to go home.

* * *

So he does. Deep in the golden light of autumn, he goes to the manor. A house-elf answers his hesitant knock, peering at Harry with its large eyes before bowing and ushering him into the reception hall.

"Please be waiting here. I will fetch Mistress — "

"No, I'm — I'm here for Draco, actually."

The house-elf frowns, then nods and disappears. It's gone for so long that Harry begins to wonder if it died on the way. He turns and surveys the hallway, with the uncomfortable chaise and spindly hall-tables lined with photographs, and picks up one of the framed pictures. Draco smiles up at him and Harry returns the smile.

Footsteps. Harry glances up.

Draco is very good at schooling his face into a blank expression, Harry thinks. When he wants to, he hides his emotions so easily. Still, Harry gathers his courage, refusing to back down now.

"Come for a drive?" he asks casually.

Draco looks at him.

* * *

Autumn has well and truly arrived in Wiltshire. The fields are a pale gold; the trees seem ablaze in the afternoon sunlight, their scarlet leaves lit richly. Draco drives along a narrow country road, the same sort of road on which Harry spent hours learning to drive. An oak tree curves overhead, sending dappled shade dancing over the car for a fleeting moment, and Harry's reminded of the ancient Welsh oaks of Snowdonia. The narrow lane soon joins a wider road. A map of arteries, leading to the heart of nowhere.

All rivers lead to the sea.

The far-off ring of a warning bell; Draco slows down at the level crossing and waits.

Harry looks at him.

"I was wrong, you know."

"Wrong about what?" Draco rests both hands on the steering wheel, gazing at the road on the other side of the crossing.

"I think we could have been friends," Harry says quietly.

Draco doesn't move his gaze. "Really?" he asks, sounding disbelieving. "You seemed to think otherwise earlier."

The train is nearly at the crossing now.

Now or never.

He reaches across and takes Draco's hand. Draco looks startled, but he doesn't resist.

"Yes, well," Harry says, "going away is easy. Coming home is hard."

He lifts Draco's hand, bringing his wrist higher, and kisses the soft skin just beneath the inky tail of the Dark Mark.

The train rushes through.

(Running On Air by eleventy7)

God I’m too high for this, such as the most beautiful drarry fanfiction I’ve read!!! 😭

(I accidentally deleted the last post so I decide to post it again ;-;)

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harrysweasleys · 4 years

Text

Lost

Request: Hii could you do a Draco x reader where she's the super perfect student, really kind and happy girl but one day he finds her drinking and smoking and crying because she's so sad and like, lost?thank youu💗

Warnings: language, underaged drinking

Word Count: 3k

A/N: so this is a little ooc but i tried my best! also, my requests are still open but i’ve got a long line so it might be a while, sorry to those still waiting! xxx (gif is not mine.)

“I mean did you see the look on Bell’s face when I knocked the Bludger at her face?” Pansy grinned, flopping down on the couch next to you, her hair still wind-swept from the Quidditch match she had won with Slytherin that afternoon.

“I did see her face, you did a good job,” you replied, grinning, “It’s always nice to get a win.”

“I’m still surprised you didn’t come back to the Quidditch team this year. We miss our Keeper,” she playfully nudged your shoulder, knocking you over to the side slightly.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry, Pans,” you sighed, “I’m really trying to focus on my NEWTs so I didn’t want the distraction. But I still love watching!”

“Psh, it’s not the same,” she rolled her eyes, “Besides, I could talk to you about how our stupid captain likes to inflate his ego.” You giggled lightly, remembering all the good gossip sessions the two of you shared while you were on the team.

“Wouldn’t be talking about me, now would you?” Draco asked, sitting on the couch opposite of you, his hair tousled and his nose still pink from the brisk outdoor air.

“Never,” you smiled, lifting your legs to place your toes closer to the fire. Despite the fireplace that raged on every hour of the day, the common room always had a chill in the air — being in the dungeons and under the Black Lake probably had something to do with it. It didn’t help that you got cold easily.

“How’d you like the game?” he nudged his head in your direction, placing his hands behind his head and leaning back, closing his eyes in exhaustion. His jawline stuck out and his eyelashes fluttered shut, brushing against the pale skin of his cheeks.

You shook your head, clearing your thoughts, “Good. You all did really well. Nice job catching the Snitch too.”

He opened his eyes once more and grinned at you, “Always love your positivity. See, Pansy, this is how true friends behave. They don’t hit each other with broomsticks.”

You hid your giggle, watching as Pansy leaned forwards with her eyes wide, “You were being an arse, Malfoy.”

“C’mon, Pans, did you actually hit him with a broom?” you asked, still containing your giggles. The two of them had a bantering friendship, never really seeing eye-to-eye, but they didn’t exactly hate each other either. You were often stuck playing mediator.

“Yes, she did, I have a bruise on my eyebrow,” Draco leaned forwards, pointing to his eyebrow. You couldn’t see much considering the fire was the only light source, but you pretended to see it.

“What did he do to deserve a broomstick whack?” you turned to Pansy, a light smile on your lips as Draco leaned back into the couch cushion with a scowl on his face, directed straight at the girl sitting next to you.

“He let his ego get in the way. When we were celebrating the win, he said we wouldn’t have won if he didn’t catch the Snitch,” she glared at him, arms crossed, “So — like I said, he was an arse.”

You nodded, feeling like you were in the middle of a fight between two children who were arguing about who hit who first.

“Aw, and how did that make you feel?” you placed a hand on her shoulder condescendingly, making her scoff and whack your arm away. You started laughing, ignoring the way she stood up and flipped Malfoy off before going towards the dorm rooms and disappearing behind the door.

“Drama Queen,” Draco mumbled, getting up from his spot on the couch and coming to sit next to you, taking the seat that was previously Pansy’s.

“Says you,” you retaliated, a smirk on your face. You turned to face him, noticing the bruise above his eyebrow now that the fire light was hitting it directly. Despite the little mark, he still looked really good.

Now, you and Draco weren’t exactly dating, but it was clear that there was some sort of connection between you two. From the moment you had met, you picked up on how different he was. Entitled, yes, but he had a certain intriguing air about him that drew you in, and he found the same about you.

He was tough, while you were kind. He was rebellious and hard, while you were focused and passionate. There was a fire in his eyes, ready to burn through whatever stood in his way, while you used the road that didn’t exactly require demolition.

Long story short, you were polar opposites, and that’s exactly what drew you to each other. You had a soft spot for each other and despite the flirting and the touching, you stayed friends and your other friends stayed oblivious.

“I’m not dramatic,” he mumbled, bringing you back to reality, “I’m just — shall we say determined?”

“Keep telling yourself that,” you grinned, pushing your shoulder up against his like Pansy had done to you beforehand.

“I will,” he grinned softly, gazing down at you with tired eyes, “Also, I saw you wore my sweater to the game.”

Your cheeks flushed, “Oh, sorry, I just saw it since you left it on the back of the chair last night and—,”

“No, I liked it,” he cut you off, chuckling, “It was cute.”

You sat back silently, grinning to yourself like a bit of an idiot, but trying your best to keep cool. After a good moment of comfortable silence, you peeled your eyes away from the cozy fireplace and turned to face Draco, who was mid-yawn.

“I’m off to bed then,” he stood up abruptly and smiled down at you, “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” you smiled back, watching his retreating form take off towards the boys dormitory, only to disappear seconds later with a silent shutting of the door.

You sulked back into the couch, noticing for the first time that you were indeed alone in the common room. The clock on the wall pointed at 12:13am — you had no idea it was this late. Where had the time gone?

A part of you was overwhelmed with sudden loneliness, tiredness, and fatigue, while the other part of you felt incredibly awake and aware of how currently small you felt in the entire world around you.

It didn’t make much sense, but your mind was prone to drifting away while you were tired. You’d think about how your parents hadn’t contacted you since you were told you got accepted to Hogwarts — you were a muggleborn — and they felt as if your ‘abnormality’ was too big to overcome. You’d think about how you had no idea why the magical world had picked you. You’d think about what you even wanted to do in the future.

You had spoken to Snape last year about working in Magical Law Enforcement, but you weren’t so sure anymore. Things had changed now that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had returned, and you weren’t sure if you were ready to face it.

There were so, so many things that you kept bottled up, not watching to spill your deepest darkest emotions to your friends and scare them away. So, you put up the constant facade of a girl who wore a smile and held her head high.

After all, that’s the only side of you people saw anyways.

— —

The corridors are night were almost more magical than they were during the day. The lanterns lit up the walls and cast looming shadows over the intricate stone. The stars were clear from the mountainside and the moon’s light shone down upon the castle like that was its entire purpose.

You thought it was gorgeous.

Which is often why you found yourself wandering the halls in the hours before curfew, finding deserted halls and empty chambers to explore and discover. Luckily, due to the colder weather out, other students would rush back to the warmth of their dorms after dinner time, so you got to lurk around in privacy.

You found an open hallway overlooking the lake and decided to climb through the opening and sit on the ledge, admiring the way the moon’s light shone down on the ripples to look like dancing stars. And the way that the actual stars reflected off as well, as if the night sky had been placed into the lake.

The cool breeze passed through your hair, goosebumps rising in its wake. You could feel the way you entire body was ready to collapse, ready to fall over and stay there, but you held yourself up enough to reach into your thick jacket and pull out a flask.

Yes, you were underaged. No, you hadn’t stolen this.

Well, not technically.

You had stayed with your aunt and uncle over the last summer holidays and they had given you a flask for your birthday gift. A strange gift, if you had to admit, but it came in much handier than you expected.

So, you got rebellious. One day when they were out, you had filled the flask with an old bottle of Whiskey which hadn’t been touched in ages. And now, you carried the full flask around in case you found yourself at a low point.

Like now.

The day had been great up until now. Classes passed by smoothly, Draco and Pansy had kept their bickering to a minimum, and you had even been spoken to by Snape — your head of House — about being promoted to Prefect next term. You were more excited about it than you wanted to let on. Being Prefect meant you’d get to spend more time with Draco, who was of course, already one.

But as supper time came around, it was as if all of your good feelings were too good to be true. You couldn’t pinpoint exactly where your mood started to plummet, but after your cat — Mister Flufferson — got sick, and your period came on strong as well as a migraine headache and an overwhelming feeling of longing to have a break, you found yourself wanting to be alone for a good amount of time.

So that’s how you ended up sitting over the lake, silent tears pouring down your eyes and the flask gripped tightly in your right hand, lifting every so often just enough for you to take another sip.

The fiery liquid burned your throat, leaving it feeling like it was being scorched, but you kept on. The pain felt number by the second, and the fluttery feeling in your belly kept growing.

The tears didn’t stop, but you weren’t sobbing. You weren’t curled up on the floor with your head in your knees. You were just crying. Crying because you didn’t know how to deal with the feeling of being sad. Crying because you felt helpless, like there was nothing you could do to even help yourself. Crying because although you gave your time and energy to comfort your friends, none of them ever checked up on you because you just seemed happy.

So you kept drinking sip by sip until the dancing lights on the lake were more amusing than they had ever been.

“I don’t know, usually she’s out but something about her seemed different tonight,” a voice echoed down the corridor, making you close the flask quickly and widen your eyes.

Shit.

If it was a teacher, you’d be in deep trouble.

“Well, I don’t know what to tell you,” a second voice spoke, “She’s always fine so she’s probably still fine.”

“Can you shut up, Parkinson?” the first voice snapped back. Your mind, although fuzzy, could make out the voices of Pansy and Draco, their heavy footsteps moving closer to you by the second.

You hopped over the ledge, hiding behind the stone wall and placing the flask back in your coat pocket. The sudden jump made your body suddenly nauseous, and you had to place your hand over your mouth to keep your dinner in.

“Did you hear that?” Draco’s voice seemed much closer.

“No. I’m going back to the common room, I’m freezing,” Pansy’s teeth were clattering, “when she comes back safe and sound I’ll be able to say I told you so.”

And with that, her footsteps retreated down the hall around around the corner.

You knew Draco was still standing there, so you continued trying to be quiet. But, to your extreme misfortune, you let out an incredibly loud hiccough.

“Is someone there?” Draco’s voice was louder, he was no longer trying to be quiet.

“No,” you replied back just as loud, smacking your forehead as you realized you gave yourself away.

His head immediately peered over the ledge, seeing you crouched down in the grass.

“Y/N! I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” he spoke sternly, his face trying to be strict but his eyes showing clear signs of concern, “Why are you hiding down here in the grass?” He stuck out his hand for you to grab, which you did.

“No reason,” you let him pull you up, but you stumbled as you made your way over the ledge, his hands steadying you by grabbing your waist.

“Wait — were you crying?” his eyes noticed yours, the red puffiness giving you away.

“Of course not,” you sniffed, pulling away from him and using the wall to steady yourself. You had either stood up way too fast or the whiskey was getting to your head, but dizziness was very much present.

“Yes you were, don’t lie to me,” he walked closer to you, “Are you drunk?”

His tone made you wince, “No. I just had some whimsey.”

He crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow, “Whimsey? You mean whiskey? Merlin, Y/N, what were you thinking?”

You stood up taller, squaring your shoulders so you didn’t look so weak and pathetic.

“I wasn’t thinking, Draco,” you replied softly, “Just let me be.”

Of course, you didn’t want him to leave you alone. If anything you wanted his company more than anything, but you hated the fact that now he’d seen you at your lowest.

“I’m not leaving you,” he placed a hand on your shoulder. You weren’t sure what caused it, but next thing you know, you let out a sob and leaned against his shoulder, your body shaking and your tears soaking his robes.

“Woah, what’s wrong?” he placed his arms around you, pulling you even closer to him so that he could be your support. He was the last person you wanted to show signs of weakness too, but at the same time, the only person you’d want comforting you.

“I’m just... I don’t know. Sad,” you tried speaking through your sobs, your words muffled against his clothing.

“Hey, talk to me, I’m here,” he coaxed soothingly, hands slowly rubbing circles on your back. You continued to cry, but brought your face away from his shoulder to look at him, nodding slightly.

So you told him everything. Maybe it was the whiskey still in your system that made you braver, but you told him about every dark, hollow feeling that was lurking in your chest. Every worry that you had, every insecurity. Every problem. Everything.

And he sat there and listened to every single word.

After you finished rambling — what felt like two hours later — he pulled you into the tightest hug you had ever felt.

“I’m so sorry,” he mumbled against your hair, “I had no idea you felt that way. I’m the worst friend. I didn’t even notice you were at your low. I’m so sorry, I was selfish.” He rubbed your back once more, “I’m sorry you felt alone but you’re not. I’m here. I’m always here for you. To listen, to vent, to help, to give advice, to reassure. Whatever you need, I’m here.”

“Thanks, Draco,” you muttered, letting out a deep sigh now that a massive weight felt lifted off your shoulders. Your tears had slowed down, but Draco didn’t pull away from the embrace.

“Always here,” he repeated, “Always here.”

Eventually, you pulled away to be able to breathe. His hug was practically bone crushing. Comforting, but your ribs were hurting.

Your confession sobered you up, and you gazed into his eyes to thank him for everything.

“You’re really beautiful, you know?” he asked softly, his hand making its way up and resting against your cheek, “It’s a bad time, I know but you really are.”

All the coldness left your body and was replaced by warmth. Your cheeks turned pink and you felt your insides bubble in joy.

“T-Thanks,” you grinned, trying to hide the creeping redness on your face, “You’re pretty cute too.”

“I know,” he smirked, shrugging. You giggled, whacking his arm softly, “I’m just joking. I appreciate it, Y/N.”

He leaned closer to you once more and pressed a delicate kiss on your forehead. Most people had never known Draco Malfoy to be soft or delicate in any way, but that was the only side of him you really knew. To you, he was a totally different person than everyone else believed.

“Also a bad time, I don’t want to take advantage of you or anything, but do you — uh — wanna go to Hogsmeade with me? Next weekend?” he asked hopefully, his hand pulling away from you.

You couldn’t fight the smile that rose to your mouth. For months you had imagined what it would be like to go on a date with him, and here he was. Finally asking you.

“Of course,” you grinned like an idiot, biting your lip to stop yourself looking crazy.

“Good,” he nodded his head, a smile on his face as well, “Good, good.”

“Should we head back to the common room?” you asked, lacing your fingers with his. He nodded, still smiling at you, and the two of you started walking slowly back down to the dungeons. The cold air no longer really a problem as his hand was still linked with yours, the happy warmth replacing every bad feeling you had felt that night. You felt as if now that Draco was on your side, everything would end up being so much better, so much easier to deal with.

As the two of you walked into the common room, both still smiling with your hands locked, a squeal startled you both.

Pansy, unaware of the situation you had both just been through, looked down at your intertwined hands with a massive grin.

“Finally!”

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy imagines #draco malfoy fic #draco malfoy fics #draco malfoy one shot #draco malfoy one shots #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy reader insert

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celestialvoid-fanfiction · 4 years

Text

Dance the Night Away

In the spur of the moment, Harry asks Draco to the Yule Ball. It turns out to be a night he’ll never forget.

Commission for @loveyprophet

(You can also read it on AO3, here)

Maybe it was the high of winning the quidditch match, maybe it was the stress of the Triwizard Tournament, maybe it was just sheer stupidity and blind courage, but it didn’t take any convincing from Ron for Harry to walk over to Draco and ask him to the Yule Ball.

Draco seemed stunned, looking a Harry with a shocked expression. He regained his composure quickly though and sneered, “Very funny, Potter.”

“I’m serious,” Harry insisted. “Will you go to the Yule Ball with me?”

The same confused expression returned to Draco’s face.

Harry’s heart hammered against his ribs as he waited for Draco’s response.

“Alright,” Draco agreed. “I’ll meet you out the front of the Great Hall.”

Without another word, he turned and walked away, leaving Harry in shock as he realised what he’d done.

-------------------------------------------------------

Harry and Ron stood outside the Great Hall, waiting for their dates.

A short moment later, Ginny and Luna came over.

Ginny had convinced Ron to ask Luna to the Ball because she didn’t want to be the only third year there since she said yes to Neville. Ron had agreed; he and Luna were friends after all, and both of them were there to just have fun.

Luna wore a high-low dress that sat around her knees at the front and reached the floor at the back, the fabric a light blue at the top before fading to lilac and then to a soft orange, like a sunset. The dress was covered in the black silhouettes of embroidered flowers and light beading. She wore a delicate black beaded necklace that one of the other Ravenclaws had given her for the night. Her long blonde hair was tied up and decorated with flowers that matched the colours of her dress.

Ron offered her a friendly smile.

“You look lovely,” he said.

Luna smiled back at him.

“You look nice too,” she said. “So do you, Harry.”

Harry snapped out of his daze, tearing his eyes away from where he’d been anxiously watching the stairs.

“Oh, uh… thank you,” he stammered looking down at himself.

He wore a simple black suit jacket, dress pants and a smoky-grey shirt. A silver pocket square with a white trim brightened the look a little. He had intended to wear a tie, but it kept choking him. So instead, he’d buttoned up the top of his dress shirt and pinned a collar chain across the front of his shirt. The studs that were pinned to his collar were silver stag heads with a turquoise gemstone in each of them. The chain was his father’s; a gift from an old friend apparently.

He cleaned up nice, despite the tousled mess of his untameable brown hair.

“Did you really ask Draco Malfoy to the Ball?” Luna asked, a hint of confusion in her voice.

“Yeah, I did,” Harry replied.

“Why?”

“Because I, um…” His voice trailed off as he struggled to come up with a reason.

Why did he ask Draco to the Ball? Because he wanted to—the reason was as simple as that. And yet, he couldn’t put it into words.

He looked back over to the stairs, his heart skipping a beat and his breath catching in his throat as he looked at the young man who slowly made his way down the staircase.

Draco wore a pale blue suit; the jacket fitted to his body, complimenting his slim figure. The suit was completed by matching pants and a vest in the same colour. Underneath it, he wore a white shirt. The look was finished off by a black tie and a boutonnière made of a white rose and a sprig of baby’s breath was pinned to his lapel.

His silvery blonde hair had been sleeked back, drawing attention to his grey eyes.

Harry couldn’t take his eyes off of him. He watched, breathless as Draco walked over to their side.

“Oh,” Luna said quietly, looking at Harry’s bewitched expression. “That’s why.”

“Potter,” Draco greeted.

“Malfoy,” Harry replied by instinct.

“There you are,” Professor McGonagall’s voice rang out as she wove her way through the gathered students and over to them. “Mr Potter, I need you and your partner to accompany me to where the champions are gathered.”

Harry nodded. He turned to look at Draco.

The corner of Draco’s lips turned up in a coy smile as he nodded his head towards the direction in which Professor McGonagall was heading. “Shall we?”

-------------------------------------------------------

The Great Hall was filled with students, all watching as the champions and their partners entered; Cedric Diggory and Cho Chang, Fleur Delacour and Roger Davies, Viktor Krum and Hermione, and Harry and Draco.

Harry’s eyes drifted around the large Hall, taking in the sight.

The decorations were beautiful: the Hall looked as if it were made of ice, the pillars shimmering in the light. Chandeliers hung overhead, decorated with strings of glass beads that looked like crystal and hung like icicles. The illusion of snowflakes fell around them, but it wasn’t cold.

The magical wonder of the moment quickly disappeared as he realised everyone’s eyes were on him.

As they passed, people turned to look at them, the room filling with a buzz of hushed whispers as people watched them.

Harry swallowed hard against the lump in his throat, his heart pounding in his chest. He drew in steady breaths, trying to calm his racing heart, but it didn’t work.

He felt a gentle squeeze on his arm and turned his head to look at Draco who walked beside him with his arm looped through Harry’s.

“Breathe,” he whispered softly, his voice quiet enough that only Harry could hear.

“Everyone’s looking,” Harry whispered, his voiced scratching at his dry throat as the champions stepped into the cleared space of the dance floor, taking their places.

Draco stepped in front of him, taking his place to dance. His stormy grey eyes were kind as he said, “Ignore them. Just keep your eyes on me.”

“But they’re all watching."

“Just look at me,” Draco encouraged. “Right now, it’s you and me. No one else is here. Just us.”

Harry took a step forward, settling his hand on Draco’s waist and the other on his shoulder—the way they had been taught in the dance classes.

“I don’t know how to dance,” Harry admitted.

Draco let out a quiet chuckle. He pulled Harry close against him and Harry didn’t resist, feeling secure in Draco’s hold.

“Follow my lead,” Draco said.

The music began and he took a step back, one to the side, one step forward and to the side again; just like they were taught. The movements were a little stiff at first, but slowly, they became more fluid. Harry followed Draco’s lead, slowly turning in circles as Draco guided him across the dance floor. They fell into a rhythm, moving as the melody guided them.

The lights that shimmered on the glass decorations reflected in their eyes, lighting up Draco’s eyes like glass, revealing soft hues of blue and green.

Harry didn’t look away; he didn’t look at his feet or at the faces in the crowd, all he could look at was Draco.

The gazes of all those around them melted away as Harry stared into Draco’s eyes.

It was just the two of them.

Draco guided him across the dance floor, moving swiftly and elegantly. When the others lifted their female partners, Harry and Draco spun quickly on the spot, twirling each other around and laughing at how ridiculous it must have looked.

As the melody slowed and the song began to fade into the next, they slowed to a halt, ending the dance as the song did.

The stepped back from each other and bowed politely.

The Great Hall filled with the sound of applause.

“There,” Draco whispered. “That wasn’t so bad.”

Harry chuckled breathlessly, bowing his head slightly to hide his bashful smile.

“Care for another dance?” Draco asked as the music began to play again.

“Sure,” Harry replied, stepping back into Draco’s arms.

One by one, others began to filter onto the dance floor: Ginny and Neville, Ron and Luna, Fred and Angelina, even Dumbledore and McGonagall.

The dance floor began to fill up, setting Harry at ease; he felt sheltered, lost among those dancing.

Draco guided Harry’s hand to his waist, settling his hand on Harry’s shoulders as they began to dance to the melody of the music.

Harry noticed a few others step onto the dance floor and start dancing, but many others hesitated; lingering and watching on. Only, this time, the hiss of their whispers didn’t reach Harry.

It was just him and Draco.

He doesn’t know how long they danced for, but during one song, Draco rested his forehead against Harry’s and Harry wanted nothing more than to kiss him, but he didn’t want to break that moment.

They danced for most of the night.

Harry took in little bits of what was happening – Fred had switched dance partners several times, eve dancing with his little sister; Ron and Luna were having fun, dancing in their own way. But it all seemed so distant; all Harry could focus on was Draco.

As the evening began to wind down, Harry suddenly realised that his feet ached from dancing so much.

“I could use some fresh air,” Draco said.

“I’ll walk with you,” Harry offered.

The two of them snuck out of the Ball, making their way down the hallways and out into the castle grounds.

The cool air was a welcome relief, filling their lungs with the sweet smell of the damp earth.

The full moon hung overhead, illuminating everything with a silvery glow. Lanterns and candles hung along the walls and outdoor hallways of the castle, keeping the darkness at bay as they slowly wandered across the dew-dampened grass.

“Are you worried?” Draco asked after a while, his voice breaking the silence.

“About what?”

“The tournament.”

“Oh… yeah,” Harry admitted, dropping his gaze.

Draco turned and took a step closer, standing in front of Harry.

He reached forward, cupping Harry’s cheeks in his gentle hands and tilting the young man’s head up. He met Harry’s gaze, looking deep into the dark brown depths. He leant forward, closing the space between them and bringing his lips to Harry’s in a deep kiss.

Harry’s eyes fluttered shut as he weakened in Draco’s hold.

He reached up and gently cupped Draco’s face in his hands, encouraging him.

Draco set his hand on Harry’s hip, pinning the young man back against the counter and pressing his body against Harry’s. He tilted his head slightly, deepening the kiss.

Harry let his breath fall from his lungs as his shoulders dropped, feeling himself melt into Draco’s warmth.

Draco drew back slowly, resting his forehead against Harry’s.

And for a moment, Harry wanted o apologise, to say ‘sorry’ for making Draco uncomfortable, but his thoughts were interrupted by Draco’s soft voice.

“You’re going to do fine,” Draco whispered as if he were willing the words to be true. “You’re going to be alright.”

Harry slowly opened his eyes, meeting Draco’s gaze. He could see the swirling emotions in his grey irises rolling in like dark storm clouds.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” Harry admitted. “I don’t think I can win the tournament.”

“Then promise me you’ll do everything you can to survive,” Draco pleaded.

Harry couldn’t help but smile. “I promise.”

A small smirk turned up the corners of Draco’s lips. He leant forward, bringing their lips together again.

This time, the kiss was more tender, more meaningful. It was as if he were trying to hold onto this moment, and Harry couldn’t blame him; he didn’t want to let go either.

Draco drew back slowly.

“You should get some rest before the Tournament begins tomorrow,” Draco said quietly. He stepped back, heading back towards the stone archway that led back inside the castle. He paused for a moment, turning back to Harry. “Potter?”

Harry turned to face him. “Yeah?”

“I had a nice time tonight.”

Harry smiled. “So did I.”

#drarry #drarry fanfiction #drarry fanfic #drarry fic #drarry yule ball au #canon divergence #yule ball #drarry fluff #drarry first kiss #drarry one shot #drarry short one shot #loveyprophet #for loveyprophet

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thegryffindorprincess · 4 years

Text

Too Hasty//Draco Malfoy x Reader

A/N: OKAY I’M SO SORRY I JUST LEFT THE WHOLE PLATFORM FOR LIKE A MONTH! Basically, I caught covid-19 (lmao) and have been dying for a few weeks, but today was my first day out of my uni halls and first day back in lessons so I’m back for now. Here’s a cute ass little story for you all, I will be back x

Word Count: 1,818

Set: Post War

Warnings: Literally none, just cute

Harry Potter stood in the door way of the dining room at the back of Grimmauld Place fondly, looking at the people sitting around the table. Hermione and Ron were sat together reading, him noticing her grinning slightly when Ron needed to read a passage of text out loud to understand what it was he was reading. His eyes shifted to George, Luna and Neville who were attempting to balance as many goblets on top of each other as possible, erupting into a fit of giggles when it fell, Luna casually flicking her wand before they made a large bang on the table. He also watched his fiance, Ginny coo at Teddy Tonks who was babbling away in his high chair, using the few words he knew to communicate that he was demanding more pumpkin juice. And finally, Harry smiled as Draco Malfoy attempted to spoon feed Teddy some very odd looking green paste that he’d read encourages toddlers motor skills. When their eyes met they shared a very understanding glance. Teddy giggled as the goop touched his nose, spraying some of it onto Draco, causing the blonde man to grimace slightly but smile at the small boy instead. Harry moved towards the table and began to stack the plates onto one another, moving them into the kitchen.

“Hey Harry, let me help you.” Draco said, wiping Teddy’s dribbling mouth, going to stand, starting to pick up a few of the plates. Harry smiled at him thankfully and the two of them began to wash up the dishes in the kitchen. Harry Potter liked this Draco Malfoy and was amazed at the man he had grown up to be. Since the war- and since Harry had saved him from a stint in Azkaban, Draco had devoted himself to things that brought the world good. He’d trained long and hard to become a Healer, helping to care for vunerable people who were affected by the war, he’d taken on Teddy as his own son, moving in with the Order of the Pheonix to not only care for his second cousin every day but to help his new found friends with their fight against dark magic. Everything about his new life appeared to be perfect, except one thing. As Draco and Harry finished off drying Teddy’s “Chudley Cannon’s” bowl, brought for him by Ron, the shrill sound of the door bell sounded throughout the hall. Harry jumped a little, excusing himself from the others and walked towards the door, right hand resting on his wand that was stuck out of his pocket. He flung the door open. The cool air from the evening night hit his face and a figure that had been waiting patiently away from the door turned to face him.

“Harry!” She exclaimed, throwing her hands into the air before wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him in. Y/N Y/L/N was stood in the weak evening sunlight, her skin glowing. Her features were so gentle that they seemed painted, her hair was done up, wand stuck through it. She was grinning from ear to ear, skin tanned.

“Y/N! Come in, come in. You must tell us where you’ve been!” Harry helped her in, taking her suitcases and resting them by the staircase. Y/N entered Grimmauld Place, taking in how much it had brightened up and changed since the last time she’d visited. She wondered into the dining room, exchanging hugs and greetings with her friends, all of them exclaiming how amazing she looked and how much they’d missed her. She smiled back at them all, thanking them for their kindness.

“Oh it’s been amazing! Paris was just beautiful I am so glad I went. I feel like I’ve finally got over-” Y/N stopped suddenly, looking over to the figure who’d just emerged from the kitchen. Draco had been hiding in the darkness of the kitchen, but now was stood awkwardly in the dining room’s light. “Draco.” She breathed, finishing her sentence. He waved a little, throwing her a tiny smile. She didn’t respond. Pretending she hadn’t seen it, she continued with her anecdote, animatedly telling the group about her world traveling, her visit to most of the wizarding Ministries of Magic and her new career editing the Daily Prophet. The group listened intensely, hanging on her every word, Hermione keeping her eye on Draco as he stared nervously at his feet, remaining at the door. Y/N also told Teddy about the creatures she’d met from other countries, taking pride in the way he glowed. The conversation came to an end.

“Will you be staying Y/N?” Ginny asked grinning, “please say you’re staying!” Y/N laughed at her best friend.

“If it’s not any trouble, I can always go to the Leaky Caul-”

“No way.” Hermione said firmly, “you must stay here.” With that, Hermione took Y/N’s hand and led her up the stairs, Ginny and Luna following behind. Hermione took them into one of the spare bedrooms, where Luna’s bed was already set up and waved her wand, creating a new blow-up style bed on the floor. Y/N thanked her gently, throwing her heavy bags down by the dresser. The girls stayed for a while, making themselves comfortable in the room. They sat in silence.

“I didn’t know Draco was living with you now.” Y/N said quietly, making sure her face remained neutral.

“Yeah,” Hermione said, fidgiting with her sleeves, “he’s lived with us ever since his charges were dropped.” Y/N nodded quickly, going back to unpacking her bags.

“I’m sure Y/N doesn’t want to be bored by chat of her ex fiance.” Ginny slightly snapped, pulling Hermione with her, nearing the door. “We’ll let you sleep now, goodnight girls.”

Once they left, Y/N and Luna got ready for bed, exchanging slight chat as they did so, Luna very interested in Y/N’s travels.

“You know,” said Luna quietly as they both snuggled up into the covers, “Draco really is quite different now.” Before turning over and closing her eyes dreamily. Y/N huffed a little, turning over herself.

“Let’s not be too hasty.” Y/N mumbled, huffing again before going to sleep.

XXXX

The morning came quickly for Y/N who’d spent most of the night awake. At five in the morning, she slipped out of bed, putting on her dressing gown and gently plopping down the stairs. She wandered into the kitchen quietly, trying not to disturb the sleeping house. As she went towards the kettle, a figure moved out into the light, causing her to jump slightly.

“Draco!” She whispered, clutching her chest. He smiled at her softly, a small baby bottle in his hand, which he was shaking.

“How are you?” Draco asked, running a pale hand through his platinum hair, letting it hang messily in front of his eyes. “I feel like yesterday was a bit of a um shock for us both.” Y/N looked awkwardly, filling the kettle up with water, tapping it with her wand.

“Yeah it was a little odd, I mean last time I saw you you were a death eater and now you’re some kind of fucking saint.” As the words left her mouth, she watched his face fall. Her hands shot up to her mouth. “I’m sorry....I-”

“I can hear Teddy crying for his bottle,” Draco whispered horsely, pushing past her as he left the kitchen, “I’ll see you later.” Y/N watched him leave, unsure of what to say. She continued to make her tea, eyes threatening to spill tears as she sat at the table. Her owl flew in through the window, dropping the Daily Prophet onto the table top. She thanked it, before settling down to read in the morning sunlight.

XXXX

When the rest of the house arose, they were rushing around getting ready for work. Knowing Draco would be staying home all day with Teddy, some of the gangs attempted to haul her to work with them, George explaining how much he’d love to have her at the shop, Ginny saying that Y/N would be more than welcome to help referee, but she politely rejected all of them. They left one after another, all looking very important and busy. As Ron shut the door behind him, the last one to leave, the house fell into a sudden silence. Y/N watched from the dining room as Draco played with Teddy, teaching him letters from a small leather bound book. His face was painted in a gentle happiness as he watched the small boy fondly, running his hands through his dark locks. She watched closely as Teddy’s eyes began to flutter close, Draco hauling him up onto the sofa and covering him in a blanket from the chest on the floor. As Draco placed a small kiss on his forehead, Y/N entered, settling on the living room floor and tidying some of Teddy’s toys away.

“Leave that,” Draco said, swatting her away, “I’ve got it.” Y/N shuffled awkwardly from him, letting him squish past to grab the toys.

“I wanted to say sorry.” Y/N began, looking Draco in the eyes for the first time since last night, “You didn’t deserve that. I shouldn’t have spoken to you in that way.” Draco nodded, continuing to tidy up the floor.

“I’ve not stopped thinking about you.” He slightly whispered. Y/N felt like she’d stopped breathing for a moment. “Not dated, not kissed, not,” he lowered his voice, looking over to Teddy to ensure he was asleep, “fucked anybody else.”

“Really?” She asked. “Neither have I for the record I couldn’t.” Draco swallowed, looking down at her, where she sat on the floor.

“I kept my promise to you.” Y/N cocked her head a little confused. He rolled up his sleeve, showing her the nearly faded dark mark that still lay in his skin. “I will counter act my evil until my mark disappears for you.” Her mouth fell open as she watched how he flinched at the sight of his arm. She leant up, Draco allowing her gentle fingers to stroke the mark.

“For me?” She repeated.

“You.” Draco watched her carefully as she stood from where she was standing, moving closer to him. He automatically pulled her into him, just like he always had.

“Kiss me idiot.” She said grinning, allowing him to grab her jaw softly, pulling her into a glowing kiss. She felt her skin heat up as her pressed closer to her bringing her closer and closer.

“Uncle Dray?” A tiny voice squeaked from the sofa. The two shot round just in time to watch Teddy looking confused at them.

“Yes Ted?” Draco quickly said, regaining his composure.

“Is that your new wife?” Teddy asked innocently, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. Y/N began to giggle a little, covering her mouth with her hand. Draco began to laugh to, walking over to Teddy and pulling him into a cuddle.

“Let’s not be too hasty hey Ted.”

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writingismyhappytime · 4 years

Text

Draco Malfoy and the Hopeless Situation

Warnings: Language, Angst

(Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7) Aesthetic

Something is terribly wrong this year.

You're not sure how to describe it, but it's as if the very air is different, like it's heavy and thick, weighing on everyone. Your parents almost didn't want you returning to Hogwarts this year with the rumors, but you scoffed at them and came back anyway.

Now you kind of wish you hadn't.

You'd noticed your mother hasn't been speaking with Narcissa Malfoy, you've heard her whispering to your father that she doesn't dare get involved. You're not exactly sure what that means, they refuse to ever tell you anything, or just wave you off when you ask.

According to Harry, however, You-Know-Who is back, but he's also been claiming that for years. You've always been skeptical, someone just doesn't come back from the dead, but after the end of last year, with his godfather dying and everyone suddenly saying they saw the Dark Lord --- well, you're just uncertain now.

It's kind of frightening, actually. You're worried for your parents, you know that Voldemort actually targeted the pure blood families to recruit them into his Death Eaters, Lucius Malfoy being one of them; you're not sure how your parents managed to wiggle out of it, but you're glad they didn't get involved.

You wonder how Draco is fairing, what's going on at Malfoy manor. Is it really true that his family is part of the Death Eaters that are supporting the Dark Lord's return? Is that why he was so weird last year, joining that horrid toad-like woman, stating that he was trying to keep you safe, that you didn't know everything that was happening?

Maybe you didn't.

You feel almost foolish now, like someone has lifted a veil from in front of your eyes and you suddenly realize that you've been ignoring obvious signs. Now the papers are even talking about the random attacks on muggle born wizards, the gatherings, and it's very concerning.

Fred and George don't seem bothered, their joke shop is flourishing, just like Fred said it would. You saw him many times over the summer, you actually really like his shop, but it's not the same between either one of you now. You thought maybe it could be once you got out of school, but... it's not. He's basically independent, he and his brother, and he's loving it.

You just... wish things didn't have to end the way they did last year.

You're both writing letters to each other, more so now than before actually, especially over the summer. Your owl has been constantly going back and forth much to your mother's consternation, sometimes she needs to use the owl sometimes and you shouldn't be so greedy, apparently.

It's not like it matters, most of her friends are high society gossip queens, it's not like she has anything actually important to talk about. Your father has been gone a lot though, but you don't really think he's been at the Ministry like he claims; he's up to something, him and your mother both, but you're not sure what.

No one will talk to you.

It's so frustrating!

Even if they avoid telling you about it, you hear about it at school. The dark vibe is intense, and Dumbledore has been so absent this year, although he's still miraculously the headmaster despite that circus last semester. You're not sure how he managed that, but you noticed that he isn't looking like he feels that well, either.

Neither is Draco.

He's not acting his usual haughty self, he's very pale, and you've noticed the black rings beneath his eyes. He has his underlings following him around of course, and he still has his boastful appearance and looks down his nose at others, but it just... well, it seems like it's a facade, it's not genuine like before.

You're actually worried about him too.

You know the rumors, and if He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is really back, the Malfoys are right in the middle of it. Draco and his mother at least, since his father is currently in Azkaban for breaking into the Ministry --- on the Dark Lord's behalf.

Which means he must be back, doesn't it? You keep trying to find excuses, ways to pretend that it's not true, because why should it be? That was something that happened when you were just a baby, it doesn't even seem real to you, it's just history, right?

Well, apparently not, because now it's happening again.

You frown down at your school books where you sit in the library at one of the tables, tapping the tip of your feathered quill nervously against your paper. You've been staring at this page for a few minutes, but you're not really reading anything.

You're listening.

There's a few Slytherins sitting a couple seats down, whispering as they lean over the table towards each other. Pansy is one of them, she's always in the middle of chaos, but she's also the perfect source of gossip. She looks pleased as she talks about the Malfoy's, still praising them for being loyal to their blood even in the darkest of circumstances. She comments on how hard it must be for Draco with his father being gone, his mother stuck at the manor with all her "guests."

By guests does she mean Death Eaters? Is Malfoy manor like their home base?

She should really watch what she's saying when so many people are around.

You hear a slight huff of vague laughter, and you look up, seeing Draco walking through the library, white blonde hair messed, a smile on his face that's not genuine and actually looks more like a grimace. Crabbe and Goyle are flanking him as they move with purpose, and you frown, watching them.

Is he okay?

His eyes flick over as he passes your table, his gray eyes catching yours for just the briefest of moments before away, his attention returning to his task. You watch as he disappears into the rows of books in the library, almost feeling disappointed. He's not spoken to you once this year, not tried to pick on you, be smooth with you, absolutely nothing!

It's not characteristic of him at all.

Not that you mind, of course, he's a jerk, and he's rude, and snobbish. You want him to be a better person but you're not sure if he actually is, and the only reason he's ever nice to you is because of your family name, your House; if you'd been anyone else, you would be treated like you were below him, especially since you don't think muggles are complete dirt.

Still, you've spent time with Draco outside of school, you know he can be decent, it's why you like him. You just know he can be better, but you're not going to pretend that you can make him be better or make him change, it's his choice to be who he is and to act the way he does.

It's just disappointing because he has a good heart.

Or maybe that's just what you want to believe.

He saved you last year, made sure you weren't in trouble when it came to the D.A. getting caught; he actually made sure you didn't make it to that last meeting, and you'd said some horrible things to him because of it. You sort of regret being so mean, but, well, he had no business interfering! You should have been there, you are one of them!

Maybe you should have believed Harry more, instead of being so skeptical. You're grateful for all the defensive spells you learned thanks to him, at least if everything does go bad you'll be able to defend yourself --- against Death Eaters, of all things.

People you know, which is what makes it worse.

You sigh, and finally close the book you've been pretending to read with a final thunk. You can't concentrate, and you're tired of trying too. There's too much on your mind, this year is getting to you and you're barely into it!

Stupid Draco and his ignoring you, you're not sure why you find it so annoying. It's so unlike him, he always at least acknowledges you! Sure, you don't care, not really, it's just... worrisome. He's changed so much these few months, it's like he's not even himself.

When you first saw him this year, he was still pale, wearing his traditional dark green robes that complimented his color and white-blond hair. Now he has sch terrible dark shadows beneath his eyes, and looks almost gray sometimes, as if he's exhausted and becoming ill.

You've noticed Snape watching him pretty closely as well, but you know about his reputation. Snape was a Death Eater, loyal to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and how he became a teacher for Dumbledore is beyond you; why Dumbledore let him become a teacher is a mystery! The man obviously hates children, and this year since he's been teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts, it's been... interesting.

Everyone always says that position is cursed, you've had a new one every single year that you've been at Hogwarts... well, since Harry Potter has been at Hogwarts. You can't say Snape has been a terrible teacher, for as long as you've known him he's wanted that class. He takes it very seriously, more so than anyone else --- especially that horrid woman Umbridge, who you hope is somewhere as awful as she is.

At least Snape treats the class for what it is; dangerous.

He wants to make sure that all of the students have a firm understanding of the suffering the Dark Arts can bring, so far as to even make the lights dimmer and hang up some very morbid photos. His teachings, as much as no one would dare admit, were very similar to Harry's, in your unasked opinion. Snape wants everyone to not simply just memorize the spells, but how to use them and what situations call for them.

Even the theories he assigns for homework at least interesting. Lupin was the only other teacher who you found to be so practical, except he was much friendlier and personable, whereas Snape is sort of loomy and intimidating.

"What is it, (Y/N)? You're looking moodier than usual," Someone comments snidely, and you cut your eyes at Pansy Parkinson where she and Millicient sit; you're not fond of Millicent, at all, and you don't pretend you are either. She was part of Umbridge's Inquisitorial squad last year, and would use her... you want to say larger, more broad build to intimidate other students and anyone smaller than her. Right now her black hair is loose around her jutting jaw, and it's not flattering in the least.

"What do you want, Pansy?" You frown at her, your chin propped on your hand. "Don't you have something to gossip about?"

"No." Pansy shifts, and you scowl at her as she puts herself right across from you, looking like the cat who ate the canary. Your mind unfortunately flicks to the night of the Yule Ball, when she went with Draco dressed in such pink frills, so gaudy. Her style hasn't changed much since than either, although you've noticed her and Draco are together, just the two of them more often.

You're not bothered by it or anything, after all these years it's no surprise to see them together. She's just a horrid girl, who likes to torment others and has a mean streak --- but she's from a pureblood family, so it's no surprise.

You gaze at her with a bored expression, not even going to entertain her. Is she trying to snap at you, get you riled up for some reason?

You're fairly certain you hate this girl, although you know it's a strong term. You know her and Draco are cosier than usual this year, you heard about their little snuggle on the train ride to Hogwarts. His head in her lap, her smirk as she caressed his hair --- it does make your blood boil just a little at the thought.

You know his hair is soft, you've run your fingers through it numerous times. You wonder if he's kissed her yet, like he has you --- he certainly knows how to kiss very well, so maybe she's who he's practiced with.

Oh now that's a sickening thought.

You don't like that at all.

You brush your hair behind your ear, raising your brows at Pansy when she just sits across from you, studying you.

You're all growing up now, all around sixteen to seventeen years old. Before where you would typically keep your hair in a braid of sorts, you've started leaving it down, and it's longer now than it was before. You've found a lot of your classmates are losing their childish round faces, are becoming taller and filling out, and you're no different.

You're taller now, though not as tall as Draco, and your mother keeps fussing at you to wear a little makeup around your eyes, they're so pretty and they should stand out. You have to concede that she's right, and hasn't Draco complimented you now and than about how nice they are?

You wonder if he compliments Pansy about how she looks, if he really does like her that way. Is he finally done with you, even being friends? Did you hissing at him the end of last year finally finish off the shred of whatever it was between the two of you?

He's always been such a constant, you almost admit that you kind of miss him. You don't miss his belittling people or tantrums, but the good moments, like when he stayed the summer with your parents, or how kind he was to you that one Christmas --- that's the Draco you like, and believe he would be were his father not such a bloody jerk.

"So, I heard Blaise Zabini was talking about you this morning in the commons room," Pansy suddenly states, earning your attention. "He was talking to Theodore Nott about how tall you've gotten over the summer."

"Theodore just likes to talk about plants, and Blaise is too vain to notice anyone but himself." You reply shortly, not interested. You highly doubt Blaise Zabini is interested in you, you've never even had a conversation your entire time at school. He's usually pretty quiet and reserved, and though he sits with Draco and the others during lunch, he doesn't seem to care much for them. You know he's incredibly prejudiced against anyone who isn't a pureblood, but he comes from a woman who's been widowed seven times, her husbands dying under suspicious circumstances.

"Oh, come on, (Y/N), you're pretty enough to have someone interested in you." Pansy replies, but it's the way she says it you know she's not sincere. You just look at her, refusing to rise to the bait; is she taunting you because she's insecure about her relationship?

That's not your problem.

"I have to get to class," you say, making your tone as disinterested as possible. You rise to your feet, gathering your books together. Pansy looks annoyed for just the briefest moment before plastering a smirk on her face, getting to her feet so she can be on the same level as you.

"Going a little early, aren't you? Want to make sure you get there ahead of everyone else? It's just Snape, he already caters to us as Slytherins. No need to suck up to him."

You roll your eyes blatantly, turning away from her and taking your time leaving the library; you don't want her to think you're running away from her either. You don't care for her stupid attitude towards you, and you're not going to let her think you can bully you either.

Stupid Pansy Parkinson.

~~~~~~

Draco is exhausted.

He can barely keep his eyes open as he sits in Transfiguration class, his chin propped on his fist. He's trying to pay attention, but there's much more pressing matters than worrying about homework or what McGonagall is teaching. She's already given him detention for forgetting two assignments already, much to his consternation.

Griffyndors.

He exhales heavily in irritation, hair moving out of his eyes. There's so much going on, and he's so tired. He just wants to sleep, but if he's resting he's losing time, and time is precious right now. He has to protect his family, he can't fail in his objective this year, in the mission he was given.

If he messes up, something could happen to his mother, and she's all he has left now. His father in Azkaban, it's thrown his family inot disarray, and his mother is barely keeping control of Malfory Manor since they've fallen out of favor with the Dark Lord.

His eyes rove the classroom, and they settle on you as you answer a question a few rows down from him. He's tried to avoid you this year, to ignore your very existence; the less you're involved with him, the better off you're going to be. You chose the mudbloods, despite your pureblood status, and the Dark Lord is concerned that your family may not be... loyal, in a sense.

He's worried.

Narcissa Malfory defended your mother, and your father since he works with the ministry. He hopes that means, despite their fall from grace, something in your family's defense. There's been so many attacks on muggles and other mudblood supporting wizards, it causes his stomach to clench.

He hopes that if he avoids you, no one will think anything of you, that you'll be left alone. You'll be safe. Draco can't give anyone ammunition that can be used against him, plus if you knew his plans for the year --- you'd hate him. You'd never speak to him again, and for some reason he cares about that.

He's even kept a distance between his friends, Crabbe and Goyle, Theodore and Pansy. They know he's planning something and would help him no matter what, but he can't give them details; and damned Snape, always sticking his nose where it doesn't belong. He's not going to steal Draco's glory, the boy can do it himself!

He'll figure it out, somehow, without anyone's help! Snape would ruin everything, and he doesn't have to keep such tabs on him, either!

Draco's fingers curl tightly where they rest on the table in front of him, and he swallows hard. He has to be careful, he knows that. He's still a prefect, not that it really matters to him as much as it did last year. The summer changed everything, it's like his entire life has been tilted and he's struggling to keep it righted.

He thought being a Death Eater, working for the Dark Lord, would be great. He wanted to be like his father, wear his Dark Mark proudly and help keep the muggles separate from the wizarding world. Keep the bloodlines strong and pure, and yet...

The Dark Lord doesn't really seem to care who gets hurt in the meantime. If you're a bloodtraitor, or just simply someone who doesn't think muggles are lowly, you're the enemy. Anyone who doesn't comply will be punished, and if you fall out of favor, like the Malfoys --- Draco knows he was only assigned to kill Dumbledore so that he would fail.

It's not a punishment for him, but for his father in failing his attack on Harry Potter last year, on getting caught and being sent away.

So, Draco can't be around you, not this year. He's going to pretend he doesn't care about you at all, it's his only tactic. You're safer being out of the way, he just has to keep Pansy away from you. He's noticed she's been aiming for you lately, although he's not sure why. He can tell you're annoyed but you're not a very confrontational person.

He shifts, absently flipping the page of his book when he notices everyone else does. He's not paying attention to anything being said, he'll figure that out later.

"And what does Reparifarge do?" McGonagall asks the class, her beady eyes flicking across the students.

Your hand and that of Hermione Granger's both raise quickly, and you cut your eyes at her. You half expect McGonagall to let her answer, considering she's a Griffyndor --- you suppose you're a little used to the preferential treatment Snape used to give during Potions and now in Defense Against the Dark Arts.

"(Y/L/N)." McGonagall addresses you, apparently deciding to not less miss-know-it-all give her answer for once.

"It undoes the Transifiguration of the object," you say, brushing your long hair behind your ears. You've never let it go so long before, but it looks good on you. In fact, you're filling out nicely, with your height, it's like you're becoming prettier the older you get. Draco lets his gaze linger on you as you elaborate on your answer when prompted, answering until McGonagall looks pleased, nodding her head.

"Very good, (Y/L/N.)" McGonagall compliments, slowly pacing in front of her desk, hands clasped in front of her. "At least one of you has been paying attention during class. Isn't that right, Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco blinks, ripping his gaze off of you and to the teacher staring him down.

"Tell me, Mr. Malfoy, what is the most important thing to do when casting a transfiguration spell?" she asks, glaring at him from beneath the hem of her hat; he doens't take it personally, she glares at all of her students --- or perhaps it's more that her face is just always set in a stern manner.

"... Concentrate." he manages after a moment, scrambling for an answer. He's quite sure she mentioned something like that earlier in the class.

"Correct. So let's make sure we're all concentrating on our studies, shall we?" she replies, and he frowns as she turns away, gesturing at the board behind her. The chalk rises, elegantly beginning to write a new spell upon the blackboard. "Now, everyone take out your wands."

He huffs as he slouches back in his chair, Pansy patting his arm reassuringly where she sits beside him. Her hand lingers on his sleeve, fingers casually brushing against the black material in a soothing manner.

She shares the same views as him, is loyal to him and hasn't left his side all year, and he appreciates that. At least he knows he can rely on her if it comes down to it, and she's one of the Twenty-Eight pureblood famillies as well --- not a bad option, as far as dating goes.

He just doesn't have time for it right now.

~~~~~~~

Dear (Y/N),

George and I have a new prank coming out, and I want you to try it first! When you get time, head on down to our shop, and I'll give you a sample to take back to Hogwarts come vacation. I know it must be dreadfully boring without George and me there, no one else has the good humor we do, eh?

Tell Ron that Mum's awful mad at him again, if you see him. She's not, but it puts him in a fluster and it's funny to watch. Did you get the parcel I sent you last week? Hope you liked the sweets from Honeydukes, I made sure that I didn't send anything with Errol, especially after his fiasco with Hagrid.

I actually wanted to make sure you got the candies before they were too old!

Anyhow, like I said, come by the shop, would you? It's been since summer we've seen you, you know how George asks after you constantly. Sometimes me thinks he has a crush on you, but can't say my brother doesn't have good taste.

Fred

You smile as you read the letter Fred sent you. He sends you one at least every few weeks, along with some silly care package of a sorts. You're pleased that he still communicates with you, even if it's not like it was before. He's funny, he teases you, but it's casual between you now, there's not really any romance left.

At least you can still be friends, and you treasure that.

You glance at the box of candies he's sent you, and they're the expensive ones that you always like as well. His joke shop must be doing pretty well considering, but he and his brother are natural pranksters.

You stifle a yawn behind your hand, knowing it's getting late. You're still sitting in the commons room whereas everyone else has left for the night, the fire crackling in the elaborately carved fireplace casting a dim glow about the long, dungeon-like room. The lamps above that hang on their chains are turned low for the night, and that's typically the unofficial sign for going to bed.

You just... didn't want to have to deal with the clatter of the other girls, and liked the peacefulness of the room when there wasn't anyone else around.

The room has lots of low backed black and dark green leather sofas, wooden tables with a set of Wizard's Chess on it and other books or belongings of students they've forgotten. The room has a grand atmosphere, despite it being quite a cold one, and the large window looking out into the lake always gives the room a green tinge that you've come to like over the years.

It's familiar to you, comforting, and though you've never understood how you ended up in Slytherin, it's your house, and you wear the green and silver colors proudly. Slytherins aren't all bad, and though you hate to compliment Professor Slughorn, the new potions teacher, he's not terrible at all --- he's just a quirky old man that means no harm.

Slytherins are cunning, ambitious --- but at least they look after their own. They care about the members of their House, admittedly; sure, Pansy Parkinson would tease you and try to get under your skin, but if a Griffyndor or a Ravenclaw said something out of the way to you, she'd snarl and rip them apart.

Well, maybe she wouldn't, perhaps that's a bad example.

Your eyes flick up as you hear the commonsroom door opening, and you blink as Draco Malfoy slips inside. Your eyes flick to the grandclock against the wall, seeing the late hour as the Slytherin boy stumbles towards the stairs.

What is Draco doing out so late? What in the world could he have been doing?

He's not noticed you on the sofa, and won't unless you say something. You shouldn't, it's none of your concern what he's been up too, but ---.

"Draco?" You find yourself asking, your soft voice catching him off guard in the otherwise quiet room. He half jerks around, gray eyes darkly shadowed but wide as he recognizes you. You see him look at the clock before back at you, obviously wondering what you're doing up at such a late hour.

"(Y/N)? Why are you awake?" He asks raspily, before clearing his throat. His hands slip casually into his trouser pockets, his black sweater wrinkled and worn looking, out of character for him. He has always prided himself on having the best clothing, looking his best --- his hair, which typically he kept smoothed back, falls around his eyes, completely unkempt.

"I could ask the same of you." You reply, absently folding the letter Fred sent you and letting it rest on the table with the candies. You're curled up on the sofa, a few pillows around you, legs tucked beneath them. "Where are you coming from?"

"I'm a prefect, just checking to make sure everyone was to bed."

"You're a terrible liar, Draco," You sigh, frowning at him. He might be a prefect but he's basically ignored every single duty of one all year; no one's brave enough to complain about it, but you've heard the irritated whispers.

He sends you an annoyed look, shrugging his sweater clad shoulders. He's tall, but he looks slimmer to you than before, and you wonder what's stressing him so. He's so absent minded this year, so out of the loop...

"Are you okay?" You ask suddenly, starting to get to your feet. It has to do with that whole Death Eater business, doesn't it? You think they're just thugs, bullies who follow a bigger bully just so they can be cruel, they don't care about any cause. He could be stressed about his father being in prison, or that mess going on with Harry, who's been so angry towards everything this year, but he's had it hard too.

This year is just --- difficult.

"I'm fine," Draco averts his gaze from you, his eyes focusing on the stairs leading up to the boys quarters. He just wants a few hours of rest, to swallow the fear that tightens his throat and forget the world for a bit. He's spent so long working on that stupid cabinet that his eyes were blurring, and it's still not fixed!

He's becoming desperate.

"Are you sure? You don't seem like it," you say hesitantly, and he dares to look at you again. "What's going on with you this year?"

"Nothing." He mutters, running pale fingers through his messy hair. "You should be in bed, (Y/N), we have early classes tomorrow."

"I could say the same to you," you retort, miffed. He keeps avoiding answering your questions, you hate that. There's no sense in being evasive, although he does look tired, maybe he just wants some rest? "You've been avoiding me all year."

Oh, you've noticed that? "No I haven't, it's just a busy school year."

"This is the first conversation we've had," you cross your arms against the coolness of the room, refusing to let him get off that easily. You're not sure why you're persuing this, you just --- well, you feel bad about last year.

Guilty, really.

Maybe he's angry at you, maybe you struck a terrible nerve when you lashed out at him for stopping you going to the last D.A. meeting; he knew there was going to be a raid, and he prevented you from being caught in the mess of it. You hadn't known that, and you'd said some horrible things to him, he'd looked insulted, you'd thought, but maybe it was hurt?

"So?" Draco sounds irritated, and he keeps shifitng his weight back and forth, cutting his eyes at you before away. "Look, I'm tired and going to bed."

"Draco, I --- I'm sorry about last year," you suddenly blurt, having to get it off your chest. It's plagued you for a few months, and though you thought nothing of it before, how he's treated you this year, blatantly ignored you --- you can't stand it!

You think about the Christmas you spent with his family, the summer he stayed with yours, the moment in the tower of his manor that he kissed you like no one else ever has --- you adored Fred, but he was sweet, and gentle, it was completely different. There's nothing really romantic left between the two of you now, at least on your behalf, and in some way maybe you're a little relieved that it's passed.

You were always so conflicted.

"Sorry? What about?" The blond boy looks startled, and you finally have his full attention. He'd started to stride past you towards the stairs, but had paused at your words, just a few feet away. The firelight sends a reddish glow across his skin, giving his cheeks just the smallest hint of color.

"When we last spoke," you hesitate, absently twisting a few strands of your hair, nervous. "Last year, you helped me, but I didn't know it, and I was horrible to you. I'm just... I'm sorry about that. I thought you were just being a jerk to me again, but ---."

"I've never done anything to intentionally be a jerk to you, (Y/N)," Draco interrupts you, his voice firm. "You know that."

"Intentionally, no," you agree, seeing his brows furrow. "But I wanted to apologize ---."

"That doesn't matter," he shakes his head, and you blink at him, surprised.

"It doesn't?"

"What? No, I don't even think about that." He dismisses with a wave of his hand. Why are you dwelling on something so inconsequential? He'd completely forgotten about that, last year was a blur to him, the whole thing with Umbridge. It's like that was a completely different time now, some distant past that belongs to a different person.

"Oh." You hesitate, suddenly unsure. He doesn't... well, if he's not upset about it, why is he treating you so coldly?

Why do you care?

Maybe you deserve it, maybe it's for the best. You've been mean to him too, you guess, and your relationship has always been rocky. You should just drop it, gather your things and leave, let him get some rest. People grow apart, and though you were raised together as children, you've gone to school together for years --- sometimes it's best to leave things in the past.

You turn away from him, grabbing your mail and the parcel Fred sent you, hugging them to your chest. You don't know what else to say to him, so you just look away, decide to leave him be. You shouldn't have said anything, shouldn't have confronted him. He's gazing towards the stairs again, and for some rest your chest aches as you look at him, because he looks --- he has such an expression of despair.

What's Draco gotten himself in too?

It's none of your business, you scold yourself. Your parents warned you that if things were too strange at school, that you were to let them know and come straight home. So far nothing was too out of the ordinary, but you tend to be oblivious.

It's better that way.

"Goodnight, Draco," you mumble, only to hear him sigh.

"Wait, (Y/N)," his hand suddenly closes against your sleeve, tugging to keep you from brushing past him. You hesitate, suddenly finding that you're an arms length away, so close you can see how terrible the black circles beneath his eyes are, how pale and almost gray his skin seems. He looks so terrible, and the black sweater does nothing but support that.

"Yes?" You hold your breath as you look up at him, standing perfectly still as his pale fingers suddenly rise, trailing through your long hair absently. He lifts a few strands before letting them fall, his gaze focusing on the necklace that you're wearing.

You can feel the heat start to burn your cheeks; this was his Christmas gift for you, a very pretty necklace that's one of your favorites. You actually wear it fairly often, just usually beneath your robes or sweaters. Only the two of you know it was a gift from him, you've never told anyone, and neither has he.

"You still have that?" He doesn't have to sound so surprised.

"Of course." You look down at it, almost guiltily. "I mean, it's one of my favorites. I wear it all the time."

"Oh." Draco ignores how satisfying your words are. "I just thought... well, I'm glad you like it."

"Mmmhmm." You don't know what else to say. You're starting to get uncomfortable, you don't know... where this is going.

"You should go," Draco says wearily after a moment when there's nothing but the crackling of the fire between you. "You heard about what happened to that Griffyndor Katie Bell, didn't you? You shouldn't be out late."

"Oh, that was horrible." You shudder at the thought of it. "Poor girl is in St. Mungo's now, they don't know when she's getting out. It's lucky Hagrid got her back when he did."

Draco nods in agreement, but he's not looking at you again. "Nothing like that will happen again, don't dwell on it."

"And how do you know that? No one even knows what happened," well, that's one thing you haven't told your parents about. You also know that Ron Weasley was ill some time ago, spent some time in the infirmary, but you're not sure what over. You did find it odd those two events happening, but it's Hogwarts.

You just don't ---.

"You're safe, you have nothing to worry about," Draco repeats, and he squeezes your arm lightly, just enough to attempt to be reassuring. "Of all the people here, you're safest."

"Why would you say that?" What an odd choice of words. You stare at him, off guard. "Do you know something about what happened?"

"What? Of course not," he scoffs, but he's not looking at you again, he does! He always looks away when he lies, it's his tell --- you've known him long enough to pick up on that. You jerk your arm out of his grip, frowning up at him.

"Draco Malfoy, did you have something to do with Katie Bell?" You demand of him, tightening your grip on the parcel in your arms, tensing. "What did you do?"

"What? Nothing!" Draco squawks, but he takes a step back from you. "How could you accuse me of something like that?"

"Well, I --- I don't know, you just look guilty!" Is it a ridiculous idea? You wonder. Draco has never hurt anyone, he's just a jerk, and usually a coward. You remember when he tried to one up Harry in Hagrid's class with Buckbeak, how he'd lamented about an injured arm that he was perfectly fine soon after. He tends to be a big baby about everything, but he was pampered, spoiled.

"I'm just tired, (Y/N)." Draco sounds weary, and you feel guitly immediately. He does look so exhausted, and you know Draco better than most people, he wouldn't hurt someone like that. Maybe socially destroy them, belittle them in every other single way, but not like that, not with magic so horrible.

"I know, I'm sorry. You're right, we should get to bed." You say, clearing your throat nervously. You gaze up at him for just a few more seconds before turning away. "Goodnight, Draco. Sweet dreams."

"Goodnight." Draco watches you walk away from him, disappear up the twisting stairs towards the girls dormitory. The room seems colder when you leave, emptier. He almost wishes you'd stay a few more seconds, just so he's not alone, not ---.

No, he can't worry with you.

Draco presses his hands against his face, inhaling a ragged breath. He hates the burning in his eyes, and he fights back the overwhelming despair of his situation. You just distract him, you're his one weakness in this whole school and he knows it. You can be used against him and that's not acceptable.

He has a mission, to kill Dumbledore for the Dark Lord, to bring his family honor and to be in his good graces again. His father failed in getting the prophecy from the Department of Mysteries, and so his family is suffering for it.

Draco's eyes trail down to his left forearm, where he knows the Dark Mark throbs. He was so excited at first, getting the Mark, becoming a Death Eater like his father despite his Mother's warnings. He wanted the mission, he wanted to help his family, but the weight of this, the heaviness of what he has to do and what happens if he fails --- it's killing him. He feels like he's carrying so much on his shoulders, like he's drowning, choking and he can't breathe!

His chest pinches, and his shaking fingers curl tightly along the back of the sofa you vacated. He tries to keep his breathing even, to not panic, to not let the fear take over him. He knows he's shaking, his eyes are burning and he just wants to sit, curl into a ball and not move for a few hours.

He doesn't want to kill anyone, but he has too. He saw what Voldemort did to the old mugglestudies teacher, what he does to people who he views as useless or threats. He worries constantly about his mother, how she's fairing --- it doesn't matter his Aunt Bellatrix is there, she's loyal to the Dark Lord even over her own family.

He has no one, and he can't trust Snape.

He can't trust anyone.

It's just... just a hopeless situation.

@ariminiria @xaohroa @raven666hale. @thebrookerose. @imthedrappleapple. @scarlet-witch-baby @a-mnda @itsspecial-itsnotforeveryone @maelloute @httpmcrvel @ mayorofzillyhoo @happyhollands

#dracomalfoy #harrypotterfanfiction #draco malfoy fan fiction #draco-fuckingmalfoy #slytherin #dracoxreader #dracoxoc #draco malfoy x y/n #readerinsert #harry potter reader insert #draco malfoy x reader insert

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90slevi · 3 years

Text

Butterflies {Draco Malfoy x Reader} - Pt.2

Wandering down the corridors with nobody in sight was certainly scary. Although it wasn't night-time and you broke the rules often, there was nothing to say you couldn't be ambushed by Filch and Mrs Norris or, even worse, a magical creature that'd broke into the school (which unfortunately happened on multiple occasions). And, worse than all that was Umbridge would know for a fact you were missing, and you'd be given detention immediately. Glancing at your already-scarred hand, you didn't fancy going to another one of her hellish torture clubs.

You'd just have to say you were vomiting in the school toilets. If there was one thing Umbridge didn't like, it was vomit, and there was no way she could prove it, either. Most Slytherins were either the subjects of pranks (by mainly Gryffindors like the Weasley Twins) or dishing out the pranks, so it was highly unlikely you wouldn't be believed.

Almost as soon as you heard footsteps, you ducked into an empty classroom, hiding behind the closing door and holding your breath. It was one of the many Transfiguration classrooms, and there was nobody in there - except for Peeves, who was pushing over books to presumably piss off Mrs McGonagall.

Although it was unlikely that Peeves, of all people, was going to snitch on you, you didn't fancy your chances of being caught and just wanted to find Draco as soon as possible. Or go to the bathrooms to hide it out until class was over. Once the footsteps passed the door, you peered out, watching the creepy Mr Filch walk past with Mrs Norris at his feet as they disappeared around a corner. Sighing with relief, you tiptoed out of the classroom, carefully closed the door, and ran down the corridor to wherever you were going.

Soon, the stairs to the dungeons (and the Slytherin Common Room) appeared, and extremely relieved, you wandered down. There wasn't supposed to be anyone around, since everybody was supposed to be in class, but you were still on high alert with your hand discreetly tucked underneath your cloak and gripped around your wand.

"Y/n," you heard a voice say from behind, and your heart stopped for a split second before realising who it was.

"God, you scared the Hell out of me!" you exclaimed with a laugh, turning around to see Draco at the bottom of the stairs with a smug smile on his face and his arms crossed over his chest.

"My bad," he shrugged, glancing back up the stairs to make sure you hadn't been followed. "That Potter hasn't trailed you, has he?"

"Not that I know of," you chuckled, glancing up too just to make sure. "If so, he'd have been caught by Filch by now."

"That creepy squib threatened me," Draco said in disgust, rolling his eyes with a slightly wrinkled nose. "The bastard."

"Yeah, he almost caught me too," you grimaced, with as much dislike towards Filch as the blonde was. It wasn't because he was a squib; you didn't really care about blood-status and being muggle-born and all that. He was just... creepy. "I hid in an empty classroom. I think Mrs McGonagall is gonna kill Peeves when she sees the mess he's made."

"That little shit threw a book at my head once," Draco grumbled, slumping down the wall as he sat at the bottom of the wall, not wanting to go inside the Common Room in fear of being caught by Snape or another teacher. You sat in front of him, crossing your legs and hoping the floor wasn't too dirty. "If he wasn't a ghost, he'd never see the light of day again."

"I mean, you did insult the Weasleys," you grinned, amused at Draco's distain towards everybody. "And you know Peeves is pretty good friends with Fred and George."

"I have no idea what you see in those Blood-Traitors," he muttered in response.

He was referring to your friendship with Fred and George, whom you'd become good friends with in your first year after helping them pull pranks on their youngest brother and Snape. Of course, it was incredibly strange for a Slytherin to be friends with Gryffindor students, but you didn't really care for the norms. Due to being a half-blood witch (your mother being a muggle and your father being a pure-blood), you found blood-supremacy to be completely ridiculous and as long as you got along with somebody, you didn't care at all about what they were. This made it incredibly surprising that you were put in Slytherin, but hey.

Draco wasn't the most pleased to find out one of his best friends was a half-blood, as you hadn't brought it up in front of him and he'd found out on his own in May of your second year. But, since you were already good friends at that point, he tried to brush it aside (he didn't speak much to you until your third year, but by then he'd at least matured a tiny bit and befriended you again).

Although... your prank on Snape wasn't exactly the best idea, because he hasn't liked you since.

"They're really cool, Draco!" you exclaimed, giving up on trying to convince the blonde that the Weasleys were genuinely nice people. It caused enough arguments, anyway. "You need to give people a chance, y'know? Although, I doubt they'd be willing to give you one..."

"Whatever, I don't care," he shrugged, looking away and at the stone wall that entered into the Slytherin Common Rooms. You pouted, unsure how to continue the conversation but not wanting it to go silent in fear of an awkward tension appearing in the air.

"So, why did you want to meet me here at dinner?" you asked, cocking your head and scratching the back of your head. "And why did you skip Defence Against the Dark Arts? I thought you liked that class."

"With Umbridge in charge, it's boring," Draco sighed, dreading another lesson of just sitting there and flipping through pages of a textbook. Not only was that woman abusive, but she was a terrible professor with no idea of how to teach a class. "I want to learn how to blast Potter out of the building, not read about who created what spell."

"Ah, so even you dislike her," you replied, and his lip curled. "She's absolutely horrific."

"At first, she wasn't too bad," he muttered, and you knew he was trying his best not to admit how bad she was. Mainly because he was one of the few Slytherins trying to find other students breaking her rules. "But then I saw some of her punishments and it made me feel pretty uncomfortable."

He glanced down at your hand. The white lines of scarring were still extremely visible, and although the words had blurred together to just create more of a blob, it was still clear you'd endured something nasty.

"Just wait until you're the victim of it," you laughed softly, tracing the back of your hand with your finger. "It sucked."

Draco took your hand in his and examined it, his eyebrows furrowed. "I can't believe she did that to you."

It was surprising that he was being sympathetic. Whenever you injured yourself, he laughed and teased you. Usually, you never got into serious accidents and were able to laugh it off too, Draco even making fun of you when you fell down the stairs once and broke your elbow. Although, he only did that AFTER he'd taken you to the infirmary, almost too stunned to move at first and only helping when Lucy was freaking the hell out.

"Did it... hurt?" he asked, and you raised your eyebrows at him.

"Of course it did, dumbass," you chuckled, taking your hand away and putting it in your lap, the sleeves of your robes covering it back up. "Lucy didn't suffer as badly, so hers hasn't scarred, but I had about a hundred or so lines to do. I literally had to grab dinner right after in fear of passing out."

"It's surprising you ended up in that position. She was a Slytherin too," Draco stated, and you nodded. "Although... you did curse at her."

"She's a bitch, what did you expect?" you grinned, and he almost snorted. "Fred and George have done worse, though!"

"Potter also got that same punishment," he added, and you cocked your head, wondering how he knew that. "I overheard Weaselbee and Granger talking about it. I would've laughed if I hadn't remembered you'd got the same thing done to you."

"Yeah, like I said, it's not fun," you sighed, knowing for a fact that Draco would never receive any of the punishments you'd get. Due to his high blood-status and his father's position of power (plus Umbridge's obvious bias towards him), there was no way in hell he'd get abused by her. The most he'd get is a slight slap on the wrist, and it frustrated you to the maximum. You'd also overheard the teacher-in-pink's utter dislike to 'half-breeds', including half-bloods such as yourself. "Anyway, you didn't answer my first question. Why did you want to talk to me at dinner?"

"Ah, yeah," he muttered, much quieter than he'd just been talking and a hint of colour appearing in his very pale expression. You cocked your head with your eyebrows furrowed, wondering why the hell he'd suddenly become so timid. "That."

"What's wrong?" you asked, reaching your hand out and putting it on his knee. Clearly something was on his mind, and surprisingly, he didn't swat you away this time. Instead, he placed his hand on top of yours, and he cleared his throat. "Draco?"

"You know how I asked you to the Yule Ball last year?" he asked, and you nodded, beginning to feel a bundle of butterflies appear in your stomach at the thought. You'd worn a stunning blue dress that made you look and feel like a fairy, and Draco had absolutely adored it, talking about how good his date looked for weeks on after (he hadn't planned for you to find out about it though). "Well... there was a reason for that."

"Well, I'd hope there was," you chuckled, and a small smile appeared on his face. "I was hoping you hadn't just gone 'Eh, got nobody to go with, gonna go with Y/n as a last resort'."

"Yeah, that wasn't what was going through my mind," Draco answered, unable to hide his smile from your comment. It was nice to know he found you funny and didn't just raise his eyebrows in distaste. "Look, I'm not exactly... the best at things like this but..."

He took a deep breath, looking up at you with as much confidence as he could muster and trying to maintain eye-contact (which really wasn't going well).

"Y/n, I really like you," he said, scratching the back of his neck and looking back at the ground. For someone who claimed to be so confident and acted like he was all that, he certainly wasn't. Which, of course, you didn't mind. You were glad he wasn't as cocky as he made himself to be. "Y'know, really, really like you. You're funny, cool, easy to get along with and pretty, and you're not a weirdo, which is a bonus."

You were stunned. You'd known for a while that a rumour of Draco liking you was going around, but you'd never believed it, and for him to just confess to you, just like that, was shocking. And it wasn't that you were angry with no feelings back. In fact, ever since the third year, you'd gathered feelings for him. Although small at the time, knowing Pansy absolutely adored him, they'd managed to grow a lot more, especially when he asked you to the Yule Ball.

"F-for how long?" you stammered, unable to keep your composure as your own face went almost as red as a tomato. You would've been more embarrassed if it wasn't for his last comment, which almost made you laugh.

"I dunno, maybe two years now?" he said, raising his eyebrows. "I didn't really mean to. It just happened, y'know."

"What would your father say if you were dating a half-blood?" you asked, half-joking yet half-serious. You knew Draco wasn't the biggest fan of those who weren't pure-blood, and you dreaded what his father would think about you being... well, who you were. "Would he even let you?"

Draco shrugged, a shimmer of hope in his eyes as he realised something. "Wait, we can think about that at a later date. I just need to know, do you like me too? Or, at least, what do you think of me?"

"I like you too," you mumbled, a mix of sudden shyness (that really wasn't like you) and enthusiasm in your voice. "Since our third year. I thought... you liked Pansy, though."

A wide, confident smile appeared on Draco's face, satisfied with that answer, only to pull a face of disgust at the last bit. "Absolutely not. Just because she's obsessed with me, it doesn't mean I feel the same."

You couldn't help but smile, amused by his comments at one of your friends. "Self-absorbed, much?"

"I can't help it," he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "How can I not be self-absorbed when I just found out you like me back?"

You laughed out loud accidentally, making the blonde chuckle too as he watched you. There were so many more things he loved about you, including the way you laughed and the way you weren't cruel but didn't take shit from anybody, but he didn't have the confidence yet to tell you. Maybe he'd tell you another day.

However, the laughter stopped when another voice echoed down the stairs, and Draco put his hand over your mouth. Your eyes widened, noticing how close his face was to yours - he'd jumped up in surprise and done the best thing to shut you up.

"Oi, who's down there?" Filch's obnoxious voice echoed down the stairs, and Draco visibly recoiled. "You can't stay there forever. I heard you, you see, and if it was up to me, any students skipping class would be hanged upside down in my office!"

"Hex me," you whispered, and Draco raised his eyebrows in disbelief, mouthing the word 'no' as if you were insane. "I'm not about to get murdered by Umbridge. Just... I dunno, make me eat slugs or something. I can stomach it. It gives us reason to be out of class."

Draco was conflicted. If it was anyone else, he would've done it straight away. But because it was you, he really didn't have the heart to. However, Filch was coming down the stairs, and he didn't want to watch you get punished AGAIN by Umbridge. So, quietly, he took out his wand, whispered the incantation and watched as you were knocked backward. His eyes widened, and thankfully, the flash disappeared before Filch saw.

"Now, what do you two think you're doing?" he asked, a sick smile on his face as Mrs Norris peered out from behind his legs. Before either of you could answer, he continued, "You're in big trouble now. Professor Umbridge told me two of her students were missing, and I'm sure she'll give me permission to do what I want with you."

"Can't you see, you idiotic squib?" Draco exclaimed, standing up to his full height. He was taller than Filch, and although the older man wasn't intimidated, it still came off as threatening. As if on cue, you vomited up a slug, almost actually being sick at the sight and feeling of the fat thing leaving your mouth. Why the hell had you chosen that curse, out of all things? "She's sick. I was about to take her to the infirmary but due to her stupidity and clumsiness, she fell down the stairs."

"Wow, thanks," you groaned, throwing up a second slug. Draco looked at you with a sympathetic expression, but he didn't want to let down his regular attitude in fear of Filch getting suspicious. The blonde wasn't stupid, and he'd do anything to get out of trouble, which included insulting you. "I got cursed by a stupid second-year brat. When I get my hands on that little shit-"

"Oh dear, you're all going to be in a lot of trouble, aren't you?" Filch said, completely ignoring your story. You glared, only to burp up another slug and gag at how disgusting it was. Your face had gone incredibly pale and sunken, and Draco helped you up off of the floor, putting his arm around your waist as yours went over his shoulders.

"Try not to vomit on me," Draco chuckled quietly, walking straight past Filch and up the stairs. You nodded, giving him a weak smile as you tried to walk as carefully but as quickly as possible. The caretaker simply stared at the two of you, either giving up on giving you punishments or believing the story. "Also, sorry for insulting you."

"It's fine," you mumbled, more bothered about the slugs coming out of you than being called stupid. It was also quite surprising that he'd apologised; it was a rather... out-of-character thing to do for the boy. "Just get me to the infirmary. Please."

Draco nodded, feeling incredibly guilty for having to hex you, but you kept assuring him it was fine and that you'd asked for it. Although you wished you'd hexed him instead.

"I never thought I'd confess my feelings for someone and then hex them straight after," he chuckled after a while, finally reaching the infirmary. You giggled, watching as Madam Pomfrey rushed out, her expression clearly frustrated with the state you were in. "Madam, she was hit with a slug-vomiting curse from a stupid Gryffindor second-year. Is there anything you can do?"

"Not really," she answered, ushering you to one of the beds. Draco followed, watching as she passed you a large bucket as you sat down. Next to you was a Ravenclaw girl in her fourth year who'd been hit by a bludger and fallen off her broom in a game of Quidditch, and you assumed by the large cast on her leg that she'd broken a few bones. "We'll just have to wait until the effects of the curse wear off. Which should be in about ten minutes."

"Word of warning, there's quite a few slugs wandering the school grounds now," you said with a depressed grin before throwing up again. Draco grimaced, glancing from you to Madam Pomfrey, who was sighing deeply and shaking her head. "Damn, what a shame. I was so excited for Defence Against the Dark Arts too. With Professor Umbridge, as well!"

Madam Pomfrey actually laughed at that, clearly disliking the new teacher as much as you and the other students too. It was obvious that teachers such as McGonagall and Flitwick didn't like her, as Umbridge had been incredibly rude and offensive to the two of them, but for Pomfrey to show extreme distaste towards someone was surprising.

"Shame you were cursed, then," she answered, before wandering off to attend to an older Hufflepuff student who appeared to be suffering from some sort of curse. Draco sat beside you, trying to avoid looking into the bucket of slugs.

"Bad time to ask you this, but do you want to go to Hogsmede next weekend?" he asked after a minute, and you raised your eyebrows at him.

"Really?" you chuckled, vomiting again and groaning. "You decide to ask me on a date while I'm throwing up?"

"Why not?" he asked with a grin, shaking his head and wondering why he'd asked at such a stupid point. "I guess it'd be funny to other people if they asked how we started dating."

"True," you giggled, slime dribbling from your chin. This wasn't exactly the most attractive thing ever, so you were surprised Draco was even asking you out. "So... does that mean we're a thing?"

"If you want it to," he answered, and you smiled.

"Sure!" you beamed, clapping your hands together and watching a slug try to escape the bucket. "I'd love to be your girlfriend, Draco."

And with that, you vomited another slug into the bucket.

#harry potter #draco malfoy #draco fuckingmalfoy #draco x reader #draco x you #harry potter and the goblet of fire #ew slugs #fanfiction #umbridge sucks

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s-n-a-k-e-p-i-t · 3 years

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draco x hermione // love is blind

inspired by @raspberrykiss28 post. I just saw that and I was like wow a beautiful story, I must attempt. I tried what can I say.

ps. sorry for mistakes bc yet again i am tipsy. no one beta’d this, but no one ever does when I drink because I like my raw writing... okay here we go

- - - - - - - - - -

They were on the edge of the forest, someone had attacked her and he had jumped in. It was still. It was calm. Their heaving breathing, from a duel with some wizard far beyond their years, was the only thing filling the gaps of silence. In a small matter of seconds, he had reached for her, begging her to come into his arms, to meld their bodies into the safety of one another, to feel that moment of relief, similar to what they had found in one another in the weeks leading up to this. And just when they thought they had defeated who they thought was the last foe in their wake. And just as they realized it was over. And just as their fingers brushed, desperately grasping for one another, she saw it.

She watched as the curse.... dark, unforgiving, and cold, left a wand and she witnessed the second it hit his cool, dark eyes and in that moment, in that very second, she knew the cold hard truth of the matter. His hand retracted and searched for a hold, for an anchor, for anything that would tether him to this world and confirm it was all in his head.

But it wasn’t. And the realization flooded her face much more quickly than it did his. And she knew. In that moment, despite the glow of the moon, and the lights of the castle, that he would not find her.

She blinked as he fumbled, falling to the ground.

“G-Granger, are you there?”

She panicked and thought the worst. But she was the Golden Girl, able to overcome anything. And despite her emotions flying and the chaos surrounding them, she packed all the negativity away in the depths of her mind. Shoveling those worries under anything she could think of; the years and years of lucky get aways and somehow overcoming the worst. And she hoped for a moment that Harry’s luck had rubbed off on her, and that what was in front of her wasn’t the truth.

His cold hands reached for hers desperately, connecting in a whirlwind of sensations, his pulse racing. She tried not to give her hopes up, that it was just a situational thing, like all the moments they had spent in the towers, losing themselves from the reality of what was coming.

“Granger, I can’t,” his voice cracked as his hand squeezed hers, “I can’t see.”

The pain in his voice hit her like a train, knocking the breath out of her, she had never known him to be so emotional. She gasped and he heard it, his face crumbling along with his body. And he held her there, arms wrapped around her middle, on his knees as his body shook.

“Granger, I-”

“It’s okay,” she said, her voice pulling him back as his head followed the sound of her voice. He fell into her even more, and his legs gave way.

And despite her need to comfort him in that moment, to be there for him, to kiss away the tears on his pale, thin cheeks, she knew she had to act quickly. Whether it was a moment of desperation or not.

“Malfoy, you need to stand up,” she whispered, her voice strong, surprising her. She looked down at Draco Malfoy, on his knees, holding her like she was the last thing that kept him in this world and her heart skipped a beat. But she knew what she had to do.

His shoulders hunched and she could feel the panic in him rising.

“Malfoy, I need you to stand up and make it to the apparition point, I can,” she stumbled over her words, “I think I can help you, but I need you to help me get you somewhere safe.”

His shoulders bobbed against her hips. He shuddered and she could imagine his eyes searching for something, anything that could confirm his sight was intact.

“Draco,” she said lifting his chin, her voice steady, “I need you to trust me.”

He raised his head to hers, but his eyes were shut. But even in his features, she could see his honesty.

“Please, Hermione, I wouldn’t trust anyone else.”

The confession blossomed a strength inside her she hadn’t known, not recently at least, and she pulled him to his feet. They hobbled off into the darkness and with a snap they disappeared.

- - - -

ONE WEEK LATER

- - - -

Hermione had been scouring books for days and Draco had reminded her, but as time went on he let off much to her surprise. His snarky comments had turned into words of encouragement, something she didn’t know she needed from him.

And when she wasn’t looking over potions and counter spells and he wasn’t nagging her to hurry up, she was tending to him in a safe house of the Order that had been long abandoned before the war had started. She had learned his favorite way to take tea; no milk, three sugars. She had learned that he liked when she left the window open, to allow the calming sensations of the sea drift into the cabin. She learned that he had quite the brilliant mind when it came to suggestions for reversals. Not that she hadn’t noticed his mind before, but now, it seemed to awaken something she had never quite seen before. And he had noticed that she liked listening to classic piano melodies at night even though she never spoke to him after ‘work’ was over, that he knew she was always coming into the room based on the way the energy shifted around him, that she liked the morning stillness of being up before the world until he had to stir and disturb her, only to sit peacefully beside her and enjoy it too.

And when things became too much for her, that was when she returned to her books.

Scanning each page three times over, four if she thought she had an inkling of a solution. But nothing had been sufficient. Yet.

But then she began spending evenings with him. A cup of tea in both of their hands, sharing stories about their childhoods, something she never imagined would have come from forbidden kisses in high towers and glances across the classrooms. He was a person who had gone through hell much like she had. And she could see it.. Not in his eyes, but the way his hands shook and the way his brow furrowed as he retold certain events. He also apologized for much of the pain he had inflicted on her and she returned that by not apologizing for nearly knocking his teeth out third year. They had laughed about that.

And sometimes he would ask about her. What her parents did for a living, how she felt her first year at Hogwarts, even how she had felt in the months prior to their secretive meetings.

They were facing one another on the couch, legs crossed, their tea growing cold when he asked.

“Do you ever see me in your future,” he asked one night, as they nibbled on cookies she had whisked up as a companion to their cups.

“Malfoy, I-” she didn’t know how to finish the statement.

“In any capacity,” he added.

“Malfoy...” She started hesitantly, not wanting to crush his spirits nor wanting to give into him. She knew who he was, what he believed in, more so what he had believed in. And for the month or so they had been together, she had known it was always an act of rebellion, a way to feel something. And yet, she had always hoped it was something more. And now, sitting here across from him, spilling their darkest secrets and stories, she thought that maybe, he had felt the same. But she couldn’t risk it. Not now. She had to stay focused.

At her silence, he moved away from her, cowering on the edge of the sofa in a way she might’ve imagined him as a child, but never at the current moment.

“It’s fine.” He snarled.

But despite her will, something in her pushed her forward while also tickling the back of her brain.

“Malfoy, no,” she paused, mustering up the courage, “Draco,” he perked up, “I have alw-”

That’s it.

Her mind lit up, the idea flying to the front of her thoughts, sparks flying from every direction, slamming into her imagination. She darted from the couch, despite the disappointed sigh he released. She threw a book open, searching the index, finding the page, and there it was. A healing potion and a sprinkle of muggle belief.

She grabbed her cauldron and began adding the ingredients.

“Granger,” he moaned, “I swear to literally anyone if you make me drink another nauseating concoction I will hex you into next year.”

“Shut up,” she snapped back. She reached into her bag and pulled out a series of vials. A healing potion, she thought, a healing potion with-

She rushed into the kitchen and Draco sat up, feeling the air shift as she left the cozy living room.

She raced back to the table and began cutting, carving, and finally waving her wand over the thick brew in front of her.

“I’m not positive, but it’s an old Muggle belief,” she whispered, praying to everything that it would work.

She scooped the pale orange potion into a vial and hesitantly brought it to him. She bit her lip and she raised his hand to hers, passing it off before her fingers could linger too much.

“Drink it,” she pleaded.

He slowly brought the vial to his lips, fumbling slightly as he searched for his own mouth. She watched, nervously, as he took it down. He licked his lips and his head turned expectantly to her.

“How do you feel?” She asked, her heart in her throat.

“Like I did two minutes ago, he answered, and her stomach dropped as she waved her hand in front of his face, “Though, this didn’t taste nearly as bad as I thought it would.”

“I’m rolling my eyes,” she said with a scoff and stormed off back to her book, back to the drawing board it was.

“Happy I don’t have to see it!” He called after her.

She continued reading on and on and on and on. Her eyes straining as she struggled to stay awake. She had been so sure that she had found a solution. So positive it would make a difference and yet again she had failed him. She felt her heart sink. She was feeling less and less confident in her skills the more she failed. Her heart began to race and she struggled to control her breathing. When suddenly...

A hand on her shoulder. It made her jump. Draco had been relatively quite making his way over to her, in a way he hadn’t moved since before this. She whipped her head around to see his eyes boring into hers. She was speechless.

“Hermione,” he said, using her first name for the first time since that moment in the forest. “I see you in mine.”

“Draco-” she whispered, her voice cracking and getting the best of her. She quickly stood up, brushing her hair from her face and then grabbing his. His eyes followed her every movement. She gasped.

“Can you-”

“Yes,” he said, brushing a straying hair from her face. He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. Her body shuddered.

“I can see you now,” he nearly cried, his face painted with an emotion she had never seen him wear. Perhaps he even smiled. It must’ve been minutes before she finally gathered the strength to pull away, her doubt getting the best of her that he would leave, now that she had fixed him. That he would run away. Never to be heard from again.

“Draco-”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

A first for Draco Malfoy. He buried his face into her neck and held her.

“Now that I can,” he started, “I can see you in my future, in any capacity.”

She pulled his face to hers.

“So can I.”

#dramione #hell yeah #im super crossed sorry if this sucks #its 4 am and ive been drinking for a while #tw // alcohol #draco x hermione #hermione x draco #hermione granger x draco malfoy #draco malfoy x hermione granger #idk i tried i hope you like it #not my best but not my worst #again i tried #no beta bc i dont really care rn #i just write to write #emilywrites

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gameofdrarry · 3 years

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Wizards Hearts Recs: Cursed Object(s)

Wizards Hearts was a four-month-long Drarry reading fest. Players were given a playing deck of 52 tropes, and were asked to find 52 different fics to read and comment on to fill their decks. To prevent the same few fics from being read, fics were restricted to only being used for the game three times before being considered ineligible for further points. The tropes and submissions list can be found here.

Check out the masterlist of fics for this trope below the cut!

📜 Misdirection by lea_anberlyn Rated: Teen and Up Words: 3764 Tags: Humor, Snarky!Malfoy, Epistolary Summary: Harry buys a new owl after the war – a bird he soon realises is cursed to send letters to the person he hates most. Draco Malfoy finds the whole thing hilarious. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 your heart'll race, hard to sleep by orphan_account Rated: Explicit Words: 3897 Tags: Insomnia, Curse Breaking, grumpy Draco, Humour, please think I'm funny, Blow Jobs, I have no chill and can't take things slow apparently Summary: Draco's bed is cursed. Don't ask him about it. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Sucker by BasiliskCur, lefthandofglory Rated: Explicit Words: 117917 Tags: Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Bottom Harry, Bottom Draco, Dubious Consent, Top Harry, Top Draco Malfoy, Twincest, Sharing a Bed, Contracts, Semi-Public Sex, Negotiations, Service, First Time, Masturbation, Dirty Talk, Brief instance of suicidal behavior, Smut, Eventual Angst with an even more Eventual Happy Ending, Because it's all fun and magic sex contracts until two former enemies, with a shit ton of emotional baggage, fall in love Summary: Fred and George have discovered there used to be a dedicated cocksucker for each dorm. Now there's an interesting tradition that Hogwarts: A History somehow forgot to mention. Anyway. The twins. A magic sex contract. What's the worry? Poor Harry. He's killed Voldemort and is back at Hogwarts studying for NEWTs but he's still got to learn the two most important lessons of his life: 1. How to suck cock. 2. Always read the fine print. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 In Love With the Ferret by Pineau_noir Rated: Explicit Words: 21936 Tags: Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Humor, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Awkward Flirting, Hurt/Comfort, But Mostly Comfort, Bellatrix isn't in the fic but her legacy lives on, Cursed objects, blink and you'll miss it case fic, so many songs from the '00s, Pining, Bad Puns, they all work at the ministry, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, a little girl gets cursed, but she's fine by the time Harry and Draco are called to the scene, NOTHING IS GRAPHIC, Song fic, because Draco loves Muggle music, Banter, giggly sex, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Harry mentions the time Luna gave him organic tea that got him high one time, Bottom Harry Potter, Top Draco Malfoy, sex magic because let's be honest, who wouldn't want to clean up with magic, oh yeah and there's scene where Harry's in the shower, wanking, If that's your thing - Freeform, Domestic Fluff, domestic drarry, SO, Domestic, Set in 2008, So book canon timeline, H/D Wireless 2020 Summary: Harry has never been the most observant bloke. Sometimes to the point of him not realising his feelings for a particular pointy, pale git. And it's not his fault if literally everyone else knows about said feelings except for Harry and the git in question. So it's really not his fault, when faced with the scope of his feelings, he suddenly has a hard time talking to one Draco Malfoy. Or looking him in the eye. Or not being a total weirdo around him. There's nothing to do but take the advice of his friends and try to woo Draco over dinners with friends, Ministry cases, and an unfortunately named Italian restaurant. Harry just can't stop the flutter in his chest when he sees Draco smile. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 slipping through the cracks (of your cold embrace) by swisstae Rated: Mature Words: 14406 Tags: Auror Draco Malfoy, Auror Harry Potter, Auror Partners, Established Relationship, Nightmares, Memory Magic, Cursed objects, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Therapy, Soft sex, Anal Sex, Misunderstandings, Arguments, nightmares being lived out, Heavy Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Feels, all the angst basically, Hopeful Ending, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, H/D Hurt!Fest 2020, Sectumsempra Scene | Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter's Duel in the Bathroom, Self Loathing Draco Malfoy, Spoilery Warning in End Notes, okay so this is just two silly bois who need to have a grown up conversation, considering they ARE grown-ups in this fic, cathartic crying can be found here Summary: Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter. Archenemies at school, on opposite sides of the war that tore the Wizarding world in half -- and yet, lovers who overcame all odds to be together. That's where it all starts. And maybe, that's where it all ends. (in which Draco finds a cursed object, shit goes down, and everyone needs to talk about Feelings.) ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Gossip Boys by mypetelephant Rated: Explicit Words: 24093 Tags: N/A Summary: Confiscated Dark objects have been disappearing from the Ministry, and journalist Harry Potter is on the case. Unfortunately, he has to drag along Draco Malfoy, gossip columnist extraordinaire, whose subject of choice is everyone's favorite desultory hero. Forced to contend with cursed objects, international smugglers, and a lesson on the value of gossip, all Harry wants is to put out a respectable article. Oh, and to forget a night that only Draco knows and will never write about. Written for HD Career Fair 2012. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Paws of Fury by Veritas03 Rated: Explicit Words: 87190 Tags: Male Slash, kitten fic, Mystery, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Complete Summary: "Bellow, bluster… your rage is insignificant. No more than the mewing of a kitten. Do not be afraid. He will save you. Calm you. Love you." Harry has a furry little problem – but Draco’s scent soothes the savage beastie. Will Draco be able to save him when Harry’s world begins to crumble? Bubbles, blowjobs, mystery – and something rotten in the place of Grimmauld. Yes, yes - it's a Kitten!Harry fic. I know what you’re thinking - but it was there and I had to get it out of my system. Give it a chance. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Love It or List It by bangyababy Rated: Explicit Words: 13767 Tags: Grimmauld Place, Renovations, Fuck Or Die, Forced Proximity, bed sharing, Top Draco Malfoy, Bottom Harry Potter, Praise Kink, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Angst, Feelings, carefree Draco Malfoy, Slow Burn, A Time Skip Summary: Draco Malfoy has been mysteriously hired to renovate Grimmauld Place. Harry Potter has nothing better to do since leaving the Aurors. Throw in an ancient ceremonial vase, a neglected (and magical house), loneliness, and you've got the beginnings of a beautiful relationship. That is if they (or the house) don't kill each other first. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Out of the Woods by Janieohio Rated: Teen and Up Words: 34987 Tags: Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Post-Hogwarts, POV Alternating, Eventual Romance, Fluff and Humor, Humor, Background Relationships, supportive friends, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Mind Healer Harry Potter, Shop Owner Draco Malfoy, Draco Malfoy in the Muggle World, Harry Potter Raises Teddy Lupin, Sassy Harry Potter, Sarcastic Draco Malfoy, Minor Violence, Minor Injuries, Mystery, Adventure, Adventure & Romance, Cute Teddy Lupin, Misunderstandings, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Explicit Language, Yoga, Into the Woods References, Therapy, Custody Issues, Minor Character Death, Minor Character Engagement, Dismissive Attitudes about Mental Illness, Childhood Trauma, Fae & Fairies, Brothers Grimm, Fairy Tale Elements - see notes for more details, H/D Erised 2020, Harry Potter Has Long Hair, Kid Fic, Minor Ginny Weasley/Blaise Zabini, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Minor Neville Longbottom/Hannah Abbott/Luna Lovegood, Background Polyamory, Past Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Past Draco Malfoy/Original Male Characters Summary: Teddy closes his eyes, wishing beyond wishes that the two men in his life whom he loves more than anyone would just learn to get along. A light flares. Teddy cries out, and the room falls silent. Harry and Draco struggle to find a way to escape a world of dark fairy tales and get back to Teddy, but the challenges they face are not all hidden in the woods. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Under the Bludgeonings of Chance by spookywoods Rated: Mature Words: 45130 Tags: Case Fic, Aurors, Scotland, Department of Mysteries, Kneazles, Not Epilogue Compliant, Herbology, Greek Mythology - Freeform, Kissing, Pining, Angst, Murder Mystery, Kidnapping, Cockblocking Ficus Summary: After eight months on his first undercover mission, Harry suddenly finds himself caught up in a bizarre mix of events revolving around a red kneazle, the murder of a rich Pureblood, and an unapologetic, acrobatic Draco Malfoy. Featuring Greek Curses, out of season Christmas Jumpers, and Gilderoy Lockhart's sister (or is it?). ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Before the World Was Made by daftfear Rated: Teen and Up Words: 42976 Tags: EWE, magical bonding, Language Summary: Draco has done everything in his power to leave the past behind him. He’s established himself a successful business and built a reputation around the quality of his work and the breadth of his knowledge. But when aurors show up at his shop one afternoon, seeking his expertise on a peculiar item of questionable origins, they completely overthrow the precarious balance in Draco’s life. Trust Potter to bring danger and destruction in his wake, along with a painful reminder of all the things Draco is trying to forget. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Want a Whole Lotta Love by musiclily88 Rated: Not Rated Words: 1762 Tags: Quarantine, Cursed Object, draco is a researcher of cursed objects, Harry is an Auror, This is very niche Summary: Cursed objects and quarantine ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 The Slytherin Urn by ICMezzo Rated: Explicit Words: 4652 Tags: magic kink, Spell-Casting kink, Sexual Fantasy, Redemption, Unspeakable Draco, Auror Harry Summary: Nothing turns Harry on quite like redemption. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 An Auror, A Curse Breaker and a Tea Pot by dracogotgame Rated: General Words: 1572 Tags: Aurors, Curse Breaking, Humour, Fluff, Oneshot, Creatures, injuries Summary: Harry fights a teapot and loses. At least it gets better from there. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Impervius by ravenclawsquill Rated: Explicit Words: 10997 Tags: Humor, Bickering, Case Fic, Forced Proximity, Romance, Drizzle - Freeform, Banter, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Explicit Sexual Content, Curse Breaker Draco Malfoy, Auror Harry Potter, Pink Umbrella - Freeform, Wet Clothing, Competence Kink, pub, Flirting, Hideous Decor, Rain, Kissing in the Rain, Bottom Draco, Top Harry, Rimming, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Begging, Disastrous Transfiguration Summary: Harry and Draco are working together on a case in the beautiful English Lake District. Or, it would be beautiful if only it would stop raining. Fortunately, Harry has an umbrella. Unfortunately, it's pink and frilly, and Draco would rather die than share it with him. Featuring a cursed cave, endless bickering and a pesky flock of sheep. ❤️ Read on AO3

#game of drarry #drarry #drarry recs #wizards hearts #wh masterlist

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