#i mean i saw platinum blond mark too
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Drunken confessions- Lucifer x reader- 100 Followers special! ✨
A/N- Hey everyone! This small one shot is a Luci x reader fic to mark my 100 followers special (It increased to 120 as I was writing this lmfaoaoao💀💀) per the poll I hosted not too long ago. We can't get enough of our favourite boy, can we
Tysm guys <3
Nsfw ahead!
🦢·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·🦢
You swirl the remaining amount of red drink in your cup, facing the only man that you love with all your heart.
“So, Apple Pie, this ain't so bad, right?”
Lucifer and yourself have been together for years.
Today marks the fifth year of such.
You guys have been through thick and thin together, and over the course of those years, his love for you only grew, especially when you saw Charlie as your own and she loved you as a mother in turn.
So much so that she decided to organise a ‘Super romantic, candle lit, heartfelt dinner’ (Her words, not mine) at her hotel.
Nonetheless, she really pulled off all the stops; that quirk just sort of comes with her personality.
Just like her father.
“Your daughter has really outdone herself this time Luci,” you place the glass cup on the table.
“Yeah, sshe's like that,” The demon king chuckles, drinking another glass of wine.
“Careful, you know how tipsy you can get darling,”
Your lover snickers.
“Asss if! Your’rre talking to the King of Hell here,” The rosy-cheeked demon takes your hand.
He hiccups.
“Oh yeah? Well, my king seems to be tripping over his words. Come on love, let's go upstairs,” You grab Lucifer by the arm, but he pulls you back into a hug.
“I love you sooooo much, my Songbird,” Lucifer plants his lips on yours, which you accept.
Kissing him is like eating : you need it to live, and it's exhilarating when you appreciate it, no matter how often you partake in it.
His hands trace up and down your back, reaching for the zipper at the back of your dress.
“Hey now? Cheeky are we?” You tease.
“Come on, my darling King, let's go somewhere more… private,” Seems like the alcohol caught up to you too.
Nonetheless, Lucifer displays a toothy grin and bridal carries you to one of the guest bedrooms upstairs.
The room was decorated with an array of shades of red. The bed was king size with plush pillows and a crimson sheet.
But more about that later.
Lucifer hungrily pounces on you, pinning you on the bed, painting bites and hickeys all over your neck, eliciting moans from you.
You tussle his platinum blond hair and your legs find themselves wrapped around your husband’s waist, as you both continue to make out passionately, rocking back and forth as one.
Things were getting steamy, and lo and behold, a familiar friend appears from Lucifer’s groin.
He pulls you closer, and you grind against him.
“Ugh, Sweetheart,” Lucifer groans from the pressure.
Lucifer’s hands frantically try to take off your dress by all means, pathetically wanting you, needing you.
You tsk.
“Needy, aren't we?” Your fingers drum gently on his flushed face, eyes lidded.
You sit on top of him, pretending to think, continuing to grind on him.
“Now, now, good things don't come fast…. but~,” You pause.
“Good boys deserve a reward, am I right?” You coo, the King of Hell whimpering at the words in agreement.
Even though you've done this countless times, it’s still amusing how you can bring the King of Hell down to a blubbering mess.
The alcohol sure does help though.
“Songbird- please- I can't take this anymore,”
“Ssh, It’s okay honey, just relax, you're a bit drunk right now. Let me take care of you,” you say as you pull down your partner’s trousers, letting his erect cock loose.
Lucifer zips down your dress simultaneously and it falls off of the bed. His lust-filled eyes look at your beautiful figure, truly enamoured by it.
Slowly, you let yourself sit on his throbbing dick, holding Lucifer’s face in your hands, whispering sweet nothings in his ear.
You could practically feel him itching to thrust himself in you, but refraining from doing so.
“My love please,” Lucifer whines as his hips buckle under your body, begging for any stimulation.
Finally (To Lucifer anyway) you start to shift and move around on his member.
When you started, both of you couldn't stop. Despite his position, he manages to pump in and out of you.
“Hng- Ahh, Yes! Right there, ng-” your wet folds expand to his cock, and your arms claw at his back, you moan at each and every thrust that reaches within you.
“Don't stop- Oh God I'm about to-” before you could even sputter the words out, your orgasm makes you shiver and draw heavy breaths along with Lucifer’s cum filling up your hole, thin ropes of it glazing down his manhood.
You feel the demon’s wings wrapping around you in an embrace, closing you both from the world; it's only you and him.
“Angel?” Lucifer mumbles into your shoulder.
“Hm?”
“I love you so much. Thank you for being mine,”
“And the same from me Luci,” You gently peck his beautiful face.
꧁ꕥ❂♕☻☹☻♕❂ꕥ❂♕☻☹☻♕❂ꕥ❂♕☻☹☻♕❂ꕥ❂♕☻☹☻♕❂ꕥ꧂
“Sooo, how was the dinner?” Charlie practically jumping up and down of her seat during breakfast the next morning.
Lucifer wanted to sleep in a bit, so you let him be upstairs.
“Perfect, Charlie,” You respond, sipping a cup of tea.
“Thank you,”
“Yo Charlie,” Angel pipes up.
“Seems like you may have a younger sibling sometime soon- ow!” you kick the porn star under the table.
Charlie flushes at Angel’s remark.
You groan at Angel’s smug grin.
Well, at least Charlie knows that you and her dad love each other.
Right?
🦢·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·🦢
Word count- 913 words~
#fanfiction#hazbin hotel#lucifer morningstar x reader#hazbin lucifer#lucifer magne#hazbin hotel lucifer#lucifer morningstar#fluff#Switch lucifer
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Series Masterlist
WARNING: ⚠️ Coriolanus Snow is his own warning. Strabo Plinth is a horrible father. Cussing. Older man/younger woman relationship implied (not Coriolanus x Reader tho), hints to poisoning/murder
You're in the kitchen helping Ma make some cookies whenever you heard a knock at the door. “I bet it's your Coryo.” Ma knowingly smiled. “Go on, spend some time with your friend.”
“But Ma-”
“I'll be fine making the cookies by myself, now go on and answer the door.”
You just smiled at your Ma before pulling off your apron and tossing it onto the counter. Quickly, you rushed out of the kitchen and over to the front door.
But instead of being met with Coryo, you were standing face to face with some man your father's age that had a little boy by his side. You noticed that the man has on a peacekeeper’s dress uniform with a General's mark on it. So, you figured it was one of your father's friends coming over to visit.
“My Pa’s in his study.” You informed the man, stepping aside so that him and his son could enter.
“You must be Y/N.” The man said, eying you up and down as if you were an Avox on the auction block. The smarmy look in his brown eyes made your skin crawl. “Strabo’s right, you're quite a beauty.” He grinned.
You felt relieved whenever you saw Coryo in the background, walking down the hall before you could close the door. Deciding to make a quick exit, because your father's friend was making you feel uneasy, you told the general, “Nice to meet you, but I see my friend in the hallway. Gotta go, bye.”
Before the general could stop you, you rushed out of the apartment and slammed the door shut behind you.
“Coryo!” You called out, causing him to flash you a smile, as you ran over to him.
“Darling, I was just coming over to see you.” Coryo grinned, wrapping you into a hug as soon as you two came face to face.
“Can we go to yours?” You asked, looking up at him. His perfectly sculpted brow rose in a silent question, causing you to tell your platinum blonde friend, “My father has a friend of his over, some general with a little kid, and I don't want to be ogled or stuck playing babysitter.”
Pulling back slightly and tilting his head, Coryo asked, “What do you mean ogled at, pretty girl?”
“The General looked at me like I'm an Avox on the auction block whenever I answered the door. I literally rushed out the door when I spotted you to get away from him.”
Breaking your high and grabbing your hand, he said, “Come on, I'm going to have a talk with Strabo and the General about his lecherous actions towards you.”
“Coryo-” You began to protest, since you just wanted to go to his penthouse, but he wasn't having it. Coryo interrupted you with, “I'm not gonna put up with one of your father's friends staring at you like a piece of meat at the market. You're my girl; deserve respect.”
“Your girl? But I thought we just became friends?” You asked the pretty blonde boy, who you've warmed up to in the last few weeks.
“Y/N, my darling, in my quest to make you genuinely like me; to befriend you, I've fallen, dare I say, deeply in love with you.”
Actually, Coriolanus has fallen obsessed with you, but to him obsession is love. And possession is love too. He had a very screwed up view of love, whether that be from the way he was raised or from his experiences in 12, but all that matters is that be believed he's in love with you.
His love confession took you aback; off guard. You weren't expecting Coryo to be in love with you. And, frankly, you didn't know what to think about that. How to feel about it.
“Coryo…” You trailed off, speechless. You just couldn't find the right words to express how you felt, but maybe that's because you’re confused at the moment.
Pausing in his steps, also causing you to stop, Coryo took your chin between his thumb and forefinger; tilting it up so your eyes locked onto his icy ones. “Don't say anything, darling. In time, you'll come to love me.” Removing his hand from your chin, only to gently stroke your cheek bone, he smiled, “You're indifference towards has turned to an affinity for friendship; it's a start to feelings of love.”
“I believe that I'll be able to love you the more we spend time together.” You confessed, truly believing that in time you'd learn to love him. He was your brother's best friend so he couldn't be that bad. Coryo, for Sej to care about him (You also think that Sejanus harbored some feelings for Coryo, but you’ll just keep that for yourself) has to have some goodness in him. Something to make him loveable.
Plus, so since agreeing to be friend, he's been nothing, but kind and charming to you. You've even found yourself excited for his visits, to spend time with him.
Yes, in time you'll fall in love with him.
Taking your hand in his once more, he thinly smiled, “Come on, I'll tell your father that I intend to court you and I'll also make sure that his friend, that General, knows how to act properly around you.”, while leading you the remaining few yards to your front door.
“I'm going to talk with Strabo for a bit, about my intentions of courting your daughter, but I'll pop back in to properly see what you're baking, Ma.” Coriolanus smoothly told your Ma as he escorted you into the kitchen, where Ma was still hard at work baking her biscochitos (a District 2 cookie).
Ma gasped, only to beam happily. Waving Coriolanus off with her hand, clutching a home sewn bird shaped potholder, she warmly said, “Go, go on. We'll be right here waiting for you.”
Coryo pecked you on the cheek before leaving you alone with Ma.
And it only took 2.5 seconds for your Ma to rush over to you. Pulling you into a warm, motherly embrace. “Oh, I'm so happy for you, sweetheart.” She told you, pulling away from the embrace and grabbing your hands. “Coryo will be a very good match for you; he'll be a husband that you'll be able to love.”
“You really think so, Ma?” You asked, a hopeful look on your face.
Having someone court you was no small thing. It meant that marriage was a certainty; it was the desired outcome. Courting was different from dating. With dating marriage wasn't an end goal set in stone, but with courting it was.
Coryo asking your Pa for permission to court you was, more or less, him asking for your hand. You knew that all you're good for in Strabo Plinth 's eyes is match, so you always expected to be married off and young. Especially after Sejanus' death and Coryo taking his place as the Plinth heir. You just never thought that the man asking to court you would be somebody you’d like.
Honestly, you never thought in your wildest dreams that Coriolanus Snow would be the one asking for your hand; to court you. But he is and you're actually happy about it.
“Oh, I know so, Y/N.” Ma assured you with a warm smile. “The way he looks at you- oh, sweetheart, he already loves you.” Your Ma swooned.
“Ma, the cookies!” You exclaimed, smelling a hint of burning in the air.
Ma dropped your hands and rushed over to the stove, rambling about how she forgot all about the cookies- blaming her excitement over you and Coryo's good.news.as the reason for forgetting.
Coriolanus didn't bother knocking when he entered Strabo Plinth's study. What he had to say was important, he didn't have time to knock. Not when your future with him was within reach.
Strabo Plinth and General Prometheus Byzantine were sitting on the large, overstuffed tan leather chairs tucked in the corner of the study- right in front of the large bookcase. They both looked up when the door opened, assuming that it was either Mrs. Plinth or you entering to serve them some tea, like a proper woman of District 2. Seeing Coriolanus walk in unannounced took both men by surprise.
The platinum blonde never came to see Strabo unless he was summoned or it was a night for one of the scheduled family dinners. And the General, well, he recognized Coryo as the boy you slammed a door in his face for. Your little friend that appeared in the hallway, who were all too excited to see.
Your father hand assured Prometheus that you didn't have friends, that the boy you were running off to was most likely just passing by or maybe dropping something off for him; that his heir and his daughter were in no way friendly with each other. That you might be throwing yourself at the boy in some misguided hope that you'll be kept in the Plinth Munitions loop, but that Coriolanus was a very ambitious young man with big dreams; had no time for your schoolgirl crush.
“Coriolanus, is there something you need, boy?” Strabo asked, looking at the platinum blonde as he marched across the study.
“Yea.” Coriolanus nodded. Pointing at General Byzantine, he told Strabo, “I want him to stop looking at Y/N like a piece of meat at the market. He might be your friend, but I won't put up with him making her uncomfortable with his lecherous looks.”
A cocky look appeared on the General's face as he told Coriolanus, “I can look at Miss Plinth anyways I want considering she's to be my wife at the end of the month.”
Coriolanus’ icy eyes burned with anger, his blood ran hit with hate, as he turned to Strabo and barked, “You can't marry her off to him! She belongs to me, I’m supposed to court her; marry her!”
Strabo let out a dark, sarcastic chuckle and shook his head. “I see my daughter's sunk her talons into you. What'd she do, spread her legs and guilt you into a proposal as a desperate attempt to get her hands on my company?”
Your father's remark pisses off Coryo. How could your Pa think so low of you. Think that you'd seduce him like some common whore, just to get a piece of the heirship? You're not that kind of girl. You're good and kind. A bit reserved and offish until you feel safe and comfortable enough to open up. Fuck, only the gods know how hard he's worked to get you to notice him; to trust him and open up.
“Strabo, you assured me that she's a virgin. We'll have to rediscuss the bridal price if she's been ruined.” General Byzantine told his old friend, acting as if Coriolanus wasn't even in the room.
Coryo wanted to strangle that old geezer general for the way he's talking about you. That motherfucker! He's not going to marry you and he's definitely not going to lay a single fucking finger on you. Coryo won't let that happen.
You're his!
His, his, his!
“You're both fucked up, talking about my darling like she's something to be traded. My girl's not for sale.” Coriolanus angrily spat before storming out of the study.
He’s going to get you from the kitchen and bring you home with him. You're not safe here.
And you won't be safe until he gets rid of Strabo; the General too.
But don't worry, he'll get rid of them soon. Because his girl’s not an Avox to be sold at auction. No, you're the girl who smells like blueberries, the girl that stole his heart without even trying, and you deserve nothing but the best. The best just happens to be him, the boy that smells like roses, who will kill with poison to keep you safe.
Tags: @kuroosbby001 @purriteen @poppyflower-22 @meetmeatyourworst @whipwhoops @bxtchopolis @readingthingsonhere @savagenctzen @ryswritingrecord @erikasurfer @tulips2715 @universal-s1ut @thesmutconnoisseur @squidscottjeans @sudek4l @wearemadeofstardust0 @mashiromochi @gracieroxzy @belcalis9503 @shari-berri @aoi-targaryen @whiteoakoak @spear-bearing-bi-witch @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons @qoopeeya @mfnqueen1 @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @v-love @swiftieblyth @joyfulyouthlover @harvey-malfoy @tian-monique @chxrrybomb22 @marvel-hiddles-stark @xjinnix @devils-blackrose @zombicupcake3
#coriolanus snow#tbosas#the ballad of songbirds and snakes#the hunger games#thg#coriolanus snow x reader#tbosas fanfiction#coryo snow#coriolanus snow fanfiction#coriolanus fanfiction#dark!coriolanus snow#dark!coriolanus snow x reader#coryo snow x reader#coryo x reader#coryo x you#coryo#coriolanus imagine#coriolanus snow imagine#coriolanus snow x you#coriolanus snow x plinth!reader#coriolanus snow x female!reader#tbosas fic#thg fanfiction#tom blyth fanfiction
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From best friends to lovers to………
warnings:angst
sumarry: you and draco from bestfriends turn to lovers and then turn to…
13 year old yn pov
draco malfoy, how would i describe draco malfoy?well what can i say he’s my best friend and He’s the best. Yes he can be a complete arsehole sometimes but to me he is sweeter than sugar
every girl says I'm lucky, I know that.His soft platinum blonde hair, soft pale face,preety gray eyes(*sigh*) all of then for me to watch.At not by stalking i can just stare at him and he wont even say anything.
Ok i might have to admit i might have a slight(humongous) crush on him,but i obviously would never risk our friendship just for feelings.You might say I’m a coward, but afterall I’m no bloody griffindor
15 year old self yn pov
I stare at him ohh how could i get sooo lucky. Draco malfoy the must beautiful person ever to exist mine all mine. For two whole years we’ve been dating.No i was not the one to confess, it was him. He had a crush on me all the time to.
‘What you staring at darling’ his melodious voice asked. I just smiled and went over to sit in his lap,he instantly wrapped his arms around me and kissed my cheek ‘you still didnt answer my question. I smiled and replied ‘just admiring my boyfriend ,cant i do that?’ ’of course you can anytime you want, I’m all yours’.
Life seemed amazing me and draco were happy, and life was perfect ….a bit too perfect
20 year old self pov
Crash!!! shit! there goes my tea. Oh god this the 4th teacup i’ve broken this week.Now why would a witch need care if she broke a teacup she could just repair it.But the thing is right now I’m not a witch,I’m a normal ‘muggle’ who lives in a normal house.
I left the wizarding world after the war. I wanted to free myself.So i went away from wizards/witches, away from magic, away from…
Draco
We were a perfect couple……until …….. draco got his mark
‘Draco show me i’ll help you’ ‘no yn it will only put you in danger’.He was crying now ‘ Draco please we’re in this together’ ‘no yn we aren’t, I’ve got to keep you safe so please i beg you to forgive me’ ‘Draco there’s nothing to forgive u about I still love you’ ‘But i dont!!!!’
‘I have this mark yn i can’t love you, you will be safer withought me’, and just like that he left walked out of my life, I begged him to stay but no he didnt. Even after the war ended i tried to get his attention but he just shoved me off.thats when it hurt so this time I left, not only away from his life but from everyone and everything that reminded me of him
CRASH!!!! 5th cup of the week.It still makes my heart breaks whenever i think about him.These muggles say everybody will move on and time heals but in my case… i’m stuck. I’m stuck on the feeling of his soft kisses,his angelic laugh, his protective hugs. I just want to feel them again,I want to feel him again.
Nevermind now, I looked outside and saw my plants, they were the only thing that reminded me of magic,basically because they were magical plants.Talking about plants I need to go buy a few things.well guess that means i await a trip to diagon ally.
DIAGON ALLY
I exited the store and started to make my way back home.That was until i bumped into someone.I looked up and god i saw those oh so famillar and patronising grey eyes.yes i had bumped into the one and only DRACO MALFOY.
He looked at me sadness washed over my face 'yn' he wispered. I Knew that of i stayed a secong longer i would break so i shoved past him and didn't looke back.Neither did he call back.
I cried my self to sleep that night
Draco pov
I saw her today, beutiful as before.How was i supposed to tell her that i left for her safety,she didnt deserve a pathetic deatheater like me!It broke my heart when she left but i guess its my fault.If only she knew I would give her the world if she'd give me a chance.
Both pov
I cant belive what we became,we were best friends to lovers to.......
Nobody
#draco malfoy#draco angst#draco imagine#malfoy#draco lucius malfoy#draco x reader#best friends to lovers#sad#angst#best friend#fluff#draco fanfiction#draco x oc#draco x y/n#draco x you#hp fanart#draco malfoy fanart
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Smaugust 2022, Day 6 - Mochi
Characters: Ozzie Shepherd, Chris (the POV character)
Prompt list: Found here
Mochi - Another treat I haven’t tried, but I would like to. Apparently, they’re squishy and soft, and the different possible flavours means there’s something to fit everyone’s tastes.
“Uh, hi. I was told I could come here for a, um, special thesis? And I’ve ‘Come to join the shepherd’...?”
“Right. You’re going to want to go down those stairs there, right to the bottom. Ask for Ozzie.”
“Thank you.” Chris nodded to the receptionist, wringing his hands as he followed her directions to a staircase down the hall. His eyes darted around, in case he was being watched, but he realised that might have looked too suspicious and fixed his eyes firmly forward instead, walking with a stiff gait down the staircase. Chris didn’t know if this was a good idea. He was only turned recently; for all he knew, there was an ambush waiting for him at the bottom of these stairs. But he was so hungry, and he was desperate for options at this point.
The spiral down the staircase took him down several floors, each step driving his nerves even higher. When he finally reached the bottom, all Chris found was a door, marked with a dull bronze plate: ‘Records Storage B’. Chris looked up, back up and through the gap in the middle of the staircase. He could barely see the top from here, but it was like an offer to go back upstairs, to walk out of the building and forget he was ever here. But his stomach churned, so Chris took a deep breath through the lump in his throat and walked through the door to Records Storage B.
Chris didn’t know what he expected. A torture dungeon, maybe. A dozen men holding stakes. Some mould in the corners, at least. But what he saw before him was underwhelmingly normal. Just a room full of filing boxes and shelves, with a metal partition built-in to keep visitors separate from those working inside. Chris’s brow furrowed and he approached the opening built into the partition, a tiny lip of a wooden desk bolted into the top. It was big enough for a bell to sit on though. Chris reached a hand out, stopped, and then rang it. A lady slid away the box of papers she’d been rifling through and came to the desk. She had long ginger curls, pinned back around her shoulder and out of her face, and was wearing jeans and a blouse.
“Hi. How can I help you?” She asked.
“I’m supposed to ask for Ozzie?” Chris replied. He rested his hands on the desk’s end, curling and uncurling his fingers around it in an effort to stop squirming so much. Every instruction he’d been given was so vague, but when he’d mentioned the name, the lady nodded instantly.
“I’ll go get him for you.” She gave him a wink and disappeared into the rows of storage. Left alone on his side of the partition again, Chris shifted from foot to foot. He gave a wave and a tight smile to another employee, who was fiddling with their keys trying to find the right fit to a cabinet, and then mentally scolded himself for doing so. His attempts to be inconspicuous felt more embarrassing than covert.
Someone else approached the partition, and Chris’s attention snapped to them. He then blinked, twice in quick succession, because the person coming towards the desk was the most peculiar man Chris had ever seen. He had short and fluffy platinum blond hair, bangs falling into his eyes. Makeup was applied graciously in dark shades, and a gaggle of necklaces of different materials, colours and lengths hung around his neck. He wore a vest hanging open over a baby blue shirt, the same colour as his eyes.
“G’day possum! How ya going?” The man - Ozzie? - was shorter compared to the lady Chris had just spoken to. Chris shook himself out of his brief awe, and summoned his voice again to actually respond to the person standing across from him.
“F-Fine. Are you Ozzie?”
“Yes, that’s me.” The lipstick drew further attention to his smile as Ozzie gestured to Chris himself, “Now is there anything in particular you’re looking for, love? Something fancy, something a little more rugged and experienced? I do have a selection.” Chris blinked again, staring at Ozzie blankly. He worried for a second that he’d been misunderstood somehow, he didn’t think that what he was looking for had a ‘selection’.
“Anything’s fine.” Chris replied.
“I got you. Stay right there.” Ozzie pointed to Chris and then turned on his heel, walking further into the records. Chris once more was left standing there, but this time he was too focused on the events transpiring to feel nervous. Had his friend been messing with him? Was he about to be given some obscure brand of wine? Wouldn’t a person dressed as loudly as Ozzie want to be seen on the surface, not hiding away in a sub-basement?
Ozzie returned after a few minutes, carrying an object in each arm; a cloth shopping bag, draped over the forearm, and a portable cooler.
“Here you are, possum.” Ozzie placed both items on the partition’s desk, and spun around the cooler to open it to Chris. Chris looked into the cooler, and his eyes widened. Inside sat a sealed bag, filled with a dark red liquid. Chris leant forward, his grip tightening on the edge of the desk. He could almost smell it, even from here. His stomach churned again, not a grumble, but like nausea rising in his throat, shrinking his entire focus to the bag of blood in the cooler.
“Gotten much to eat lately, love? Keeping yourself fed?” Ozzie asked, tone light and conversational, as if there wasn’t a human body part in the container between them. Chris shook his head, still staring at the blood bag. He reached for the cooler, but Ozzie flipped the lid closed, the hard plastic barely missing Chris’s outstretched fingers with a hard smack. He recoiled, his senses returning to him and realising that he may have been rude. Ozzie’s hand remained on the cooler’s lid, his lips pulled into a tight curve. His head cocked slightly, soft baby-blue gaze fixed on Chris.
“Are you aware of the price?” He asked. Chris frowned, but the realisation hit him late, and he quickly dug through his pockets. The friend that had mentioned the ‘food service’ down here had mentioned the cost, and Chris fished out the stack of folded bills and laid them on the desk. It wasn’t cheap, but Chris needed to eat. Ozzie removed his hand from the cooler and took the payment.
“So, were you turned recently?” Ozzie chirped, counting the bills to make sure the amount was correct. Chris nodded.
“A couple weeks ago, yeah.” He felt too aware of his hands again, and didn’t know where to put them, so he crossed his arms. Ozzie glanced towards Chris as he pocketed the money and turned the cooler back around to himself.
“You’re a fresh one, aren’t you mate.” Ozzie unfolded the cloth shopping bag, laying it out on the desk. “Do you have your sire to give you some help?” Chris didn’t know what that was, so he shook his head. Ozzie tutted, shaking his own head as he transferred the blood bag from the cooler to the cloth shopping bag. “The state of sires lately, it’s shocking. You wouldn’t believe the shit job they do at explaining how Kindred things work.”
“Right.” Chris answered slowly. He still wasn’t exactly sure what Ozzie was referring to, but the guy’s attitude was cheerful and felt warm, like he cared a great deal about Chris and what was going on in his life. It was peculiar, but Chris appreciated it.
Chris felt rising restlessness as Ozzie made sure the blood bag was settled in the bottom of the shopping bag, and then handed it to him. He took it, though eagerness may have caused him to snatch too harshly. “Sorry.”
“No worries.” Ozzie dismissed the blunder, and instead gestured to the bag in Chris’s hands, “Now be careful, the bag in there is absolutely chockers. If you knock it too much it’ll spill everywhere, and you don’t want to explain what you planned to have for dinner.” Chris wrung the handles of the shopping bag in his hands, twisting the material. His brow furrowed again.
“Chockers?”
“Full, love.” Ozzie elaborated.
“Ah.” Chris nodded. He stood there, unsure if he was supposed to leave now. He had paid, and he’d received the product. There was a voice somewhere within him that was urging him to bite into it, right here, right now, to tear it apart and feed as fast as possible. He didn’t usually have that kind of violence in him, so the thought was somewhat distressing.
“Oh, and you’re new, so I’ll give you another tip then.” Ozzie piped up, drawing Chris’s attention back to him. He gestured once more to the bag in Chris’s hands, and leant forward on the desk with a slight grimace. “If you want to start eating before you get home, don’t do it where someone could see you. You’re probably better off waiting until you do get home.”
“Oh. Okay.” Chris’s voice felt hollow to his own ears, echoing the socially required acknowledgement. Whatever that other voice was, he trusted Ozzie’s judgement in this area more than his own, so he pushed down the urge within himself. Ozzie smiled again and rose from the desk, watching Chris expectantly. Chris glanced at the bag in his hands and began to turn, each step stiff and pending approval. “Um. Bye.”
“See you later possum. Come back any time.” Ozzie chuckled. He walked away from the opening in the partition, and Chris took that as an invitation to leave. He passed back through the door and made his way up the lengthy staircase, eager to get home with his prize in hand.
#OC#original character#my writing#Smaugust 2022#Ozzie Shepherd (OC)#blood tw#not as in injury but blood is mentioned quite a bit
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Thoughts with each pairing/different plot lines
I had to turn in my final portfolio for my creative writing class so I’m so over writing full stories right now for like two or three days but the new series keeps having blurb ideas in my head so I figured I’d write them down and y’all can think a bit better about which plots/pairings you like
Harry and plot 2:
“I’m sorry, it what?”
“Explodes? The quaffle explodes.”
Harry’s mouth gaped before closing it again and shaking his head. “Well the quaffle here is perfectly normal. What position did you play? Let’s start from there.”
“I doubled. Seeker and Chaser, quick hands.”
“Well, seeker’s my position.”
A smirk graced your face. “Are you worried I might take your position, Mr. Potter?”
Harry huffed. “Fine, catch the snitch and I’ll share the position with you.”
Hermione pairing:
You rested your head on your arm that was draped across the table. Hermione was insistent on checking your work. You had to give her props, she was nothing if not thorough.
“Mione, I told you that we learned all this already. That’s why it only took me thirty minutes to write the whole thing.”
“Still, what if there’s something in our textbook that isn’t in yours. Flitwick shouldn’t mark you down for difference in education styles.”
You reached for one of the red ropes that you guys bought earlier at Honeydukes and started chewing on it. Your free hand that wasn’t being held hostage by your head grabbed another red rope, holding up to the other girl’s mouth. Hermione took it with an absentminded thank you. You chuckled as she moved to the third paragraph of your essay. The red rope slowly disappeared as she kept chewing it up.
“Anyone ever tell you how pretty you are?”
Hermione looked at you before her eyes suddenly flitted to elsewhere in the library. You watched a blush creep up her neck. So she was into girls. You sat up, stretching your arms towards the ceiling.
“Because you are really pretty. Do you want to go to the Yule Ball with me? This is an actual date by the way.”
“I’d like that,” she said barely above a whisper.
You surprised her with a peck on the cheek before standing up. “Great! When you figure out your dress, let me know. We can’t be matching that’s a total fashion faux pas.”
Draco pairing with plot 1:
“I hate the fact that I fancy you.”
You weren’t sure if Draco was sneering at you so you would walk away or to convince himself that he wasn’t into you. If he wanted you to walk away then he needed to remove his arms from either side of your head.
“Draco, why would I go out with you?” you asked gently, making him look off to the side because he knew you would say something like that. “You’re mean to everyone.”
“I know... I know, just pl—” He straightened up. “I’m going to change that. I’ll change that starting now and then I’ll ask you out again.”
You just stared dumbfounded as the platinum blond boy walked off before you could even give him another answer. Even though he wasn’t there, you agreed. If Draco Malfoy could learn to not be an asshole to everyone that wasn’t a pureblood Slytherin then you would give him one date.
Cedric and plot 6:
“Is it weird that I care?” you said as the boy sat down. “I mean, pretty much everyone told me that he and Ginny were probably going to be a thing. I have letters all about her crush back in second year.”
“I mean, you liked him,” Cedric offered.
You just sighed. “So does Ginny and we talked about it and came to an agreement but it still stings. I guess I should be glad he didn’t get my hopes up... How many people do you think saw me ask him to the dance?”
“Eh, a lot of people.”
You groaned. “Awesome... Weren’t you taking the chair to go sit with your friends?”
He looked over at the table where everyone was waiting for him. Cedric shook his head at some gesture that they were making. His friends gave up rather easily and proceeded to look over the menus. Cedric just grabbed the menu at your table.
“I think I’ll just stay here instead, too much hassle just to move a chair.”
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do u know about the new members ??
how could i not 😭
#i mean i saw platinum blond mark too#he’s been aging just fine recently#wonder how he’s doing....hmm
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okay, but I just saw the part 2 for the Draco x Grindelwald reader, and I audibly squealed - my pups looked like I've gone mad lol. This is just so awesome - can you like, maybe do a third part? that's fluffy and funny with the reader hanging with Narcissa and Lucius, and her parents get there, and they're also pleased with her choice of husband? and like, reader just smirks and goes along with it, much to both parents' pleasure, and Draco nearly chokes at the thought? they've just ben through too much pain in this part lol, a little fluff and fun wouldn't hurt. Thank you so much!
so i acknowledge that you asked for fluff but... we can't let him be too happy, can we? he gets better at the end lol don't worry
part two / masterlist
Draco Malfoy can’t go. Not yet. For one thing, Hogwarts is still full of students and professors who are expecting everyone to stay here, and by leaving, he’ll seem like he’s running, further confirming the belief in everyone’s minds that he’s a traitor. For another thing, Draco feels as if he owes it to stay. He did this, didn’t he? No matter what anyone says, he was a part of the plan to get Death Eaters in the school.
He’s not alone, though. Y/N stays, thank Merlin, and everyone’s in a strong enough state of chaos that they don’t really notice an additional student. Draco can’t believe this himself- he’d notice Y/N in a crowd of thousands, so how is it that the other young witches and wizards scarcely bat an eye? Can’t they tell that she’s someone far more worth seeing than the rest of them?
Still, he’s glad to have her. Draco can sense the hateful glares radiating off of his back from almost every corner of the room. Harry Potter knows the truth, Draco can practically feel it, which means he must have told Hermione and Ron or mentioned as much to half of the other Gryffindors. Besides, the Slytherin table has always been in the spotlight, and after a Death Eater attack, they’re plunged back into the rumors again. Draco has always been proud to be the worst of the lot, but the constant judgment is wearing on him now.
That’s when he’s glad to look to his side and see Y/N still there, feeling her hand wrapped around his. Even when things get hard, when the weight of all his guilt threatens to bury him alive, Y/N is there to pull him out.
He needs her now, especially so. The day of Dumbledore’s funeral arrives like a low-slung thundercloud crackling across the heavens, refusing to leave Draco’s sight until he acknowledges its presence. Dumbledore is dead because of him; even if Draco wasn’t the one to fire off the killing spell, he was supposed to, and that’s good enough for his conscience. No matter if he had no choice, or if You Know Who would have killed Draco if he stumbled, Draco can’t shake the guilt.
The Hogwarts student body is sitting in rows of chairs out on a hill in the grounds, watching the white marble tomb ahead of them. Draco has thought about this day a lot, especially in the past couple months, but he never thought he’d be this affected by it. Seeing all of the grieving students and professors reminds Draco of memories he’d long since forgotten, all of the moments Draco had witnessed with the headmaster that are now dragged before his eyes once more.
As much as Draco would like to pretend otherwise, Dumbledore wasn’t just some aged target of the Dark Lord. He was an iconic character in wizarding hero to the young, platinum blond boy who couldn’t wait to make his mark in the world, he was a silent guardian of the entire school and therefore Draco’s rise through it. Draco can remember a time in the second year, when his father had been called to the school to deal with something about the family house elf.
Draco had been nervous, certain that it was all his fault, and even if it wasn’t, his father would find a way to blame it on him. Draco had hovered outside the entrance to Dumbledore’s office for quite some time, trying to figure out how to convince himself to go inside and see what was the matter, but he had scarcely made up his mind to knock when Dumbledore came out. The old man had smiled once at Draco, said something comforting about how everything had been taken care of and there was nothing to worry about it.
Although Draco has always clung to his pretense that he couldn’t care less about it anyway, he still remembers the way Dumbledore had made him feel- afloat and swimming in a sea that wanted nothing more than to drag him under. Even when Draco was ready to end the headmaster’s life, Dumbledore still had forgiveness in his eyes. It’s a shame, then, that Draco can’t seem to forgive himself.
Y/N waits with Draco until the crowds empty, standing on a hill nearby so they can watch the ebb and flow of mourners. “It’s not your fault, you know. Dumbledore knew someone was coming for him. If it wasn’t you, it would have been Blaise Zabini or Marcus Flint or Theodore Nott or any number of other Slytherins, and I doubt they would have been able to have as strong a conscience as you do now.”
Draco’s lips flatten into a thin line. “I still did it, though.”
Y/N squeezes his hand. “There was a time about a year ago when I was told to kill somebody, back at Durmstrang. This time, it was Karkaroff telling me to do it. No one thought twice about the whole matter- I was Grindelwald’s descendant, so I should have had no problem with getting my hands bloody. They never thought twice about asking anyone else.”
This gets Draco’s attention. He’s long had the feeling that Y/N has a great number of dark secrets in her past, most of which she keeps tucked away. Learning at least one of them is a miracle.
“And did you do it?”
Y/N inclines her head, although the gesture seems painful as she remembers the night of the crime. “I didn’t know how to back down, and I was afraid to do anything except kill him. I can still remember the exact look in the man’s eyes when I did it. I see it most nights, too. The point is, Draco, as someone who’s had to go through with this kind of thing, I couldn’t be happier that you didn’t do it. Walking away is a blessing. Trust me on that.”
Draco exhales slowly, letting the last of his worries leave him like smoke from a still-hot wick. It’s as if he can see every trouble dissipating into the sky, melting away into the breeze to leave him utterly whole once more.
“Let’s make good of that blessing, then. Both of us.”
Y/N’s smile is radiant. “I think that sounds good to me.”
The school year is almost over, and it feels like no time has passed before Draco is getting on the Hogwarts Express. However, when the train docks, he doesn’t head to Malfoy Manor, but seeks out a girl waiting for him at the platform. It’s been accepted by now that the safest place for Draco and his family will be at Y/N’s home, so he’ll be portkeying there with her.
Just for fun, though, they don’t head back immediately. Instead, they make a few errant trips across the countryside, dashing in crowded pubs and finding ancient ruins full of spells that Draco doesn’t think have been spoken aloud in centuries. In the end, when Draco’s lungs feel lighter than the very air they breathe, and the name ‘Dumbledore’ hasn’t crossed his head in a very long time, they allow themselves to go back to the manor.
Draco has been to a great number of magical houses, but he has never found one to match Malfoy Manor in grandeur. This place, however, might manage a tie. Draco’s home is all dark wood carvings, deep emerald walls papered over with rumors, and wrought iron tying up all kinds of loose ends. The L/N family manor, however, is pure in a way that cuts to the bone, white marble that whispers of blood long spilt, roaring fires that burn more than wood, and ancient portraits of people who have been missing for almost as long as the world has been alive.
It’s a different kind of fear, he thinks, the fear that comes with knowing power for all of your life. His home and Y/N’s are two sides of the same coin, alike in cunning but different in the manner of how to get one’s will done. It’s fascinating, and Draco can tell at once that he could never hope to uncover all the secrets hiding in a place like this if he tried.
He does try, though. Y/N spent quite a great deal of her childhood in this hall, amongst others, and she and Draco rediscover most of the things the manor has attempted to keep secret. Draco still does his best to win over her parents, of course, and assuage the worries of his, but he can’t deny that his favorite memories from that summer are spent with Y/N.
Speaking of Y/N’s parents, Draco was terrified to meet the elder L/Ns at first, but he is proud to admit that he’s quickly won them over. Apparently, they were just as thrilled to hear that their daughter was corresponding with a Malfoy as Narcissa and Lucius were to discover Y/N’s connection to Grindelwald.
Soon, Draco finds himself having long, earnest discussions with both families over glasses of shining amber liquid, debating the merits of wizarding laws and how they can best be circumvented. He still feels a spark of pride whenever he manages to impress Y/N’s parents, especially because it means seeing the same happiness on Y/N’s face whenever he looks over at her, which is quite often.
Draco doesn’t know when he realized that he’d gladly sink the rest of his mornings and evenings into a place like this, but the knowledge comforts him, in a way. Wouldn’t it be something, to stay here, keep making memories that mean more than any other experience Draco’s ever had?
He brings up a shallow version of the thought when he’s talking with Y/N one day, and she smiles to think of it. “I’m still expecting to see Malfoy Manor, by the way. I’ve shown you my history, I want to see yours.”
Draco smiles, absentmindedly tapping his fingers on the back of her hand. They keep drifting closer, as the days pass by, legs brushing up against each other and heads being leaned up against all too welcome chests. Draco thinks that he’d like to forget the world in her, lose track of where he starts and she ends until there is only them, one collective spirit facing off against everything else.
“I’d like for you to see it too. There are some books I have back at home that I think you’d love.”
Y/N’s eyes dance with mirth. “See, you’ve got my interest now. The surest way to a girl’s heart is to promise her books.”
Draco smirks. “Does this mean I’ve got your heart, then?”
Y/N laughs, and the sound makes the entire room seem a dozen shades brighter. “Oh, you’ve had it a long time. I assumed you knew.”
“Maybe I just like hearing it,” Draco says, and he means it. Listening to Y/N talk about the future of them makes him want to fight to have that future, even if it means taking on the Dark Lord himself.
As it turns out, Draco and Y/N aren’t the only ones thinking about a future. They’re sitting around a crackling fire a few nights later when Y/N’s mother turns to her daughter, a contemplative look on her face.
“I’ve appreciated this visit, you know. You have excellent taste in future husbands.”
Draco chokes and fights the urge to blush like mad, although he’s only mildly sure that he avoided it.
Y/N, on the other hand, just bares a wolf’s fierce grin at the world. “Thank you, I pride myself on it.”
Draco barely manages to pull himself out of an abashed yet thrilled haze. The thought of it is brilliant, he has to admit. Somewhere, maybe years in the future, he could be meeting Y/N down an aisle, reciting vows to never leave her side. He’d make those very promises now, he thinks, if it means they’ll both be fine. There’s a ring Draco has seen before in Malfoy Manor, some ancient heirloom that likely sings of its own magic, that would look stunning compared on Y/N’s finger.
He could give it to her, could call Y/N his in more than just his head. He’s been joking before, or careful not to let himself hope too hard about all the might-have-beens, but the possibilities unfold before Draco like a map. These are dark times, he knows that, but he’ll hold the light himself if it carries him closer to that future with her.
So, he smiles along with the girl he loves. “I think I’d like that too.”
He can see the pleased looks on the faces of Y/N’s parents, as well as the delight on Narcissa and Lucius. Most of all, though, he can see the way Y/N’s expression transfixes into wonder when Draco speaks. It’s more than wonder, though, it’s better. It’s hope, hope that they’ll do better and be able to see the world do better. Draco is willing to gamble on the chance that they’ll make it. Anything to see this through.
harry potter tag list: @rogueanschel, @cameronsails, @neewtmas, @lovesanimals0000, @with-inked-solace, @sher-lokid7
#draco malfoy#draco malfoy imagines#draco malfoy x reader#draco malfoy oneshot#harry potter#harry potter imagines#harry potter oneshot#harry james potter#harry potter draco imagines#harry potter draco x reader#harry potter draco oneshot#draco#draco imagines#draco x reader#draco oneshot
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once mine, always will be. — d.m
ೃ⁀➷ a/n : you ask, I deliver! obv last part. Pretend cedric Is alive and same year as reader and draco, since I can't do Theodore nott, cuz... Its awkward ;-;
ೃ⁀➷ warnings : drinking (of age !),mentions of blind dates , jelly draco , foreplay (lmao i didnt write full smut cuz I'm a pussy ) , nsfw , forgiveness ig.
ೃ⁀➷ read part one here, and part two here!
huge thanks to belly aka @underappreciated-spoon-321 , for the smut idea! [it's foreplay but anyways—]
a year had passed since the two couple broke up, draco hadn't moved on, neither did y/n.
y/n wanted to move on from him, but just the thought of her being with another man that isn't draco made her heart ache.
pansy made her go on blind dates,with men she randomly chose. but as expected y/n declined.
her heart only belonged to one boy.
since she was in her 8th year now, some students decided to throw a party for 8th years since it would be their last year in hogwarts.
every drinks they could secretly get, foods and more were in the room. it was set in the room of requirement.
students talked about the party all week, of course teachers are that dull.
Everything was perfect and ready.
She went to the party wearing a short black dress with strappy heels, her friends already got wasted within an hour.
Students were dancing laughing and talking. “hi gorgeous.” cedrics greeted behind ynʼs back. “hello Diggory.” she greeted back.
She kind of liked cedric, I mean who wouldn't his charming smile will make girls fall for him within a second. But that dosent mean she's Inlove with the hufflepuff.
“will you have this dance with me?” he extended his arm to her, she turned and looked at the room, she could see draco watching them in the shadows.
He looked mad, jealous even.
“sure.” she smirked. This was going to be fun.
Their body moved in usion, they all had fun except the platinum blonde. Then cedric suddenly press his groin into her ass, that set draco off.
“Oi, mate hands off my girlfriend.” draco said calmly, but pulled the two couple away violently. “girlfriend? Didn't you two—” PUNCH! Dracoʼs fist flew to cedricʼs cheek, leaving a red mark.
“now if you excuse me.”
Yn was now being dragged by draco all the way to his private dorm, were she used to share with him. “what the hell was that drac— malfoy!” she corrected herself before saying his name.
“your mine, alright? I don't fucking care if we broke up but still you are mine!” ah as usual, possesive.
“but mmh—” he slammed his lips onto hers harshly, she was shocked by the sudden action, nonetheless she melted into the kiss.
god, his lips felt like heaven I missed this. She thought, “I want you on the bed, face down ass up.” he commanded.
“if that's okay with you.” he asked, we'll atleast she knew he was drunk but still asks for consent. “I want this draco, I want you. ” she puts her arms around his neck, looking up at him with innocent eyes.
He immediately locked the door and casted a silencing spell.
She woke up with a familiar feeling, she slowly sat up and saw a pale man naked, hugging her waist. She looked over to the room still processing what had happened the other night.
“Yn?” draco asked groggily, his morning voice is something she loved so much. Yn stood up and tried to pick up her clothes so she could leave.
“Yn please wait-” draco stopped her by grabbing her wrist, and forced her to look into his grey orbs.
“what.”
“look, I know what I did a year ago was wrong and I am so so so sorry. I shouldn't have done it, i completely hate myself because of it. And I am miserable without you., I need you by my side every single day I miss you. And I am still completely Inlove with you and I know you are too.”
Yn didn't know what to do, she did miss him and he did seem very sorry.
“fine I forgive you.”
He hugged her body immediately, sobbing onto the crook of her neck “thank you... Thank you so much baby..” he sniffed. She hugged him back and cried with him.
“i promise you I'll make your decision very worth it.”
Well he did make her choice very worth it, he showed her off with pride, always stood up with her and was a better boyfriend than before.
Now it's their 1st year marriage anniversary with their new born scorpius hyperion malfoy.
ೃ⁀➷ A/n : Lololol de end :P. This was short but, yeh here :D
ೃ⁀➷ taglist : @imabee-oralizard @dr4cking @dracosoftieofficial @ayeshaikram03 @blackitten3 @stoatwashere @ronsugarmommy @slyther-puff-girl16 @additi @my-river-lilly @gia0824 @0077kiara @malfoysgem @fullofshitgal @g4slightmepls @wanniiieeee @dracossweetprincess @xo-ariii @mega-fandoms-everythingrock @missslytherin31 @reginagabrielalove @simpingfortoomanypeople
#draco malfoy#draco lucius malfoy#draco x reader#draco malfoy imagine#draco imagine#draco fanfiction#draco fluff#draco fic#Draco x reader#Draco malfoy x reader#draco x female reader#draco x y/n#Malfoy#Draco#Draco malfoy. D#Dray#Dm#Dracotok#Draco x hufflepuff reader#Hufflepuff#Hogwarts#draco fuckingmalfoy#draco malfoy angst#draco malfoy fanfiction#draco one shot#— {🐚} her work's !
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detention, retention, and draco malfoy being a little shit
masterlist
request guidelines
pairing: draco x reader
request: no not really
summary: golden trio friend y/n y/l/n tries to extract information out of draco malfoy after being placed in detention together.
warnings: swearing, panic attack kinda stuff, just the dark war things that would come w having the task that draco does
a/n: ayo so i started this as a fic i was originally planning on writing in a week. i discontinued it bc i didn’t think anyone was that interested, but i’ve written for it on and off. it’s about 16k words right now standing, but i’m reposting this as a 2 part series. here are the first ~12k words....enjoy :) IMPORTANT: if you’re like “hey i started reading this in october why tf are you reposting the first two parts” just keep reading ok lmao i promise there’s more there’s about through part 6 in here hehe. i just wanted new readers to be able to pick up on it without being turned off by the fact that it was part 3. this will b e 2 parts and at least 20k words
word count: 11.6k
taglist: @gruffle1 @missmultifandommess @cleopatera @hahaboop @accio-rogers @geeksareunique @eltanin-malfoy @war-sword @cams-lynn @itsivyberry @ayo-cowbelly @nerd-domland @yesnerdsblog @shizarianathania @evanstanfanatic @strawberriesonsummer @hariosborn @night-ving @straightzoinked @imintoodeeptostop @naiomimoonshard @jejegu @ophelia-enthusiast @alwaysbeanunknownfan @nearly-memories @litty-dumb @callieclearwater @malfoy-wife15 @charlenasaxen @belladaises @fiantomartell
happy reading y’all
For legal purposes, the york pudding she lobbed at Pansy Parkinson’s head on Monday evening was simply meant to be a joke. She didn’t know that her aim was bad enough that it was going to get in Snape’s hair instead--honestly, it wasn’t even supposed to get past the Ravenclaw table, much less veer to the left to make a beeline for the professors--but no matter how much she tried to explain this to McGonagall, her sentence remained the same: detention every Friday. For two months.
Her life was ending for sure.
“I honestly don’t know what you were expecting,” Hermione told her as she gently wiped off the nib of her quill later that night in the common room. “Even if you had hit your mark, that’s still technically assault.”
“Did you even hear what she said to me? She told me that I looked like the type of kid that bit people in primary school,” complained Y/N. “I didn’t even think she knew what primary school was!”
Hermione snorted. “How long ago?”
“Two days. I’ve been waiting until there was something throwable on the dinner table.”
“How very analytic of you.”
“I’m going to hit you.”
“And you wonder why you’ve got detention.” Hermione tsk-ed at her, her face stone serious but her tone light hearted. “Maybe take this as an opportunity to, I don’t know, do your homework for once? So you won’t have to have a breakdown over the next Potion’s essay and beg me to write it for you?”
“I’m going to go to sleep and think terribly mean thoughts about you.”
“Have fun.”
~
Detention.
Something that Y/N wasn’t completely unfamiliar with--she’d done her time organizing Snape’s cabinets, just like every other Gryffindor--but it was different when it came to McGonagall. An impressive old lady, she thought that McGonagall saw something in her. She was always the first to chuckle at Y/N’s jokes and hesitated to reprimand her stupid behavior. And she never gave Y/N detention.
Until now, she supposed. 6th year was changing a lot of things--even their Potions professor--so McGonagall turning a new stone shouldn’t have been anything shocking.
At least, not as shocking as the first thing Y/N saw as she walked into her house head’s office.
“Malfoy?” she spat.
The platinum blonde didn’t even bother to look up from his desk.
“Miss Y/L/N,” Professor McGonagall chided. “I think we would all prefer if you restrained yourself from getting into any more physical altercations with Slytherins.”
She huffed, plopping down in the chair furthest away from that foul git and reaching for her satchel.
“I’ll be back in two hours,” said the elderly professor. “If I hear anything, and I mean anything, other than the sound of studying, consider your sentence doubled.”
With a swish of her robes, McGonagall was gone, leaving her with Malfoy.
“So what’d you do to get in here, huh? Did the administration finally get a hold of that video of you licking Voldemort’s toes?”
“What the fuck does that mean?!” he snapped, whipping around to glare at her.
“‘s just a joke,” said Y/N. “Like--how everyone says your family houses him and everything--but whatever. I can tell it’s a sore spot.”
His gaze, never withering in intensity, remained trained on her face. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Apparently so. What’re you here for?”
He exhaled sharply. “If I tell you, will you shut up and let me think?”
“No promises, but maybe.”
“Late work. I forgot to turn in the Transfiguration exam last week.”
She made a tutting sound as she lazily shuffled through the crumpled parchment in her satchel. “I expected more from you. Aren’t you gonna ask me how I wound up here?”
“No. I am going to ask you to stop talking now, though.”
~
“That’s terribly unfortunate,” Hermione said over breakfast the next morning. Ron and Harry were nervously chit chatting at the other side of the table over the Saturday Quidditch game against Hufflepuff--supposedly it was supposed to be quite a high stakes match. Not like Y/N cared much, though.
“Yeah! And the worst part was that he won’t even tease anymore. Like, he just sits there all broody and woe is me. We’re all witnessing our nation’s descent into war--he’s not special!”
“Who are you talking about?” asked Harry.
“Oh, just Malfoy,” said Y/N. “We have detention together with McGonagall. He’s such a nasty little greaseball, don’t you think? I mean, look at him right now, glowering over his cereal.”
“Wait! That’s it!”
“What’s it, Harry?” Hermione asked.
“It’s genius, really,” he said. “Y/N has to spend time with him alone every week, and we know that something is up with him. Malfoy is absolutely a Death Eater and has connections to You-Know-Who, but I just need to find a way to prove it.”
“I vaguely forecast where this is going, and I hate it already.”
“Listen, Y/N. It’s not for that long, and it’s for the health of the wizarding world. If you just get to know him--”
“Ick!”
“If you just get to know him, maybe get him to trust you and find out his secrets...we’d finally have enough to turn him in and throw him out of Hogwarts for good.”
“Is that really necessary, Harry?” Ginny butted in from her seat further down next to Dean. “Malfoy’s probably just exhausted like the rest of you. 6th year is difficult, and we have no solid evidence that he’s a Death Eater. I’m sure being stuck in a room with him for 2 hours is hard enough without pretending to be nice to him.”
“But what if Harry’s right?” said Y/N. “What if he is actually a Death Eater? What if he’s an active danger to the student body?”
“Exactly!” The joy written across Harry’s face at the prospect of someone else finally agreeing was infectious. “So will you?”
“Er…” She dragged her spoon across the top layer of her porridge. “In theory, sure. In actuality, I’m not sure how I could do it. Malfoy doesn’t want anything to do with me, either.”
“Love potion?” offered Ron.
“I don’t care how much of a prat he is, I’m not roofying him.”
“I rarely agree with you, Y/N, but I think you’re right. If you want to do this, you need to get him to trust you for real.”
“Your back-handed compliment skills never disappoint, Hermione. Do you think you could help me out with a plan?”
A slow smile spread across the girl’s face as she nodded. “That’s my strong suit.”
The plan they laid out over the remainder of the day was ambitious but at least do-able. Each week was split into different subtasks, the end goal being a somewhat tentative friendship between the two.
“If you can flirt with him and get him to have a crush on you without scaring him off, you’d be in the best possible position,” Hermione told her as they walked back from the Quidditch pitch among the screaming Gryffindor fans. They’d won--yet again. “Obviously I don’t foresee that being likely, but if you pull it off somehow he’d probably be willing to tell you anything. The fact that you’re a pureblood is going to carry you through this whole ordeal. He’ll at least be accepting of your existence in the wizarding community.”
The bitter edge in Hermione’s tone made Y/N’s blood boil. There was no reason for Malfoy to be as prejudiced as he was--he’d spent his adolescence in Hermione’s academic dust. She was obviously smarter than him.
“You got it, ‘Mione,” she said. Her voice barely carried over the cheers of her peers as they ascended the steps to the common room. “We’ll take this little ferret down. I can’t wait.”
“Don’t get too cocky, now.”
The Gryffindor after-party was crazy...per usual. The charmed self-filling goblets, the blasted playlist of Wizpop pumping through the air, and the buzzing energy of the room was giving Y/N a giant headache. She stood with Hermione and Harry by the edge of the crowd, watching Ron get hoisted up on the shoulders of the chasers.
“No wonder the Slytherins think we’re Neanderthals,” Y/N mused. For once, Hermione didn’t respond. “Hermione? Is everything okay?”
The second she turned away to look at her best friend, gasps and whistles filled the room. She whipped back just in time to see Lavender Brown, a sweet but slightly ditzy girl in their year, pull away from a kiss with Ron.
“Oh shi--Hermione!”
Harry and Y/N shared a glance before darting after the witch--who had impressively already made it to the door.
“Hermione, wait!” Y/N called as they jogged after her, throwing open the common room entrance and finding her sat by the tapestry on the other side of the hall, knees to her chest.
“‘Mione, what’s wrong?” asked Harry.
“Don’t be daft, Harry,” said Y/N. “You saw exactly what the rest of us did.”
“I don’t understa--”
“Harry.” Her voice was taut. “I know you’re just trying to help, but I think that it might be best if you let us be. Go back and enjoy the party.”
He gave her a tight, grateful smile before darting back through the door. Y/N wasted no more time in walking over to Hermione and throwing her arms around her shoulders.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, hugging her tight. Hermione made no move to detach them, so she continued. “Ron is an idiot. You deserve so much better--your first kiss was Viktor fucking Krum, after all. You’re hot stuff and this place is just unfortunately running dry of men who are impressive enough for you. Once you’re out of here and working in the Ministry, you’re gonna have the time of your life with men actually in your league.”
Hermione managed a sniffly laugh as she wiped her eyes with her sleeve. “It’s just so fucking embarrassing, you know. Like, I have a crush on him because I think he understands me and I smelled him in my Amortentia and I thought he’d like me back, but…” She hiccuped. “Then he goes off and kisses Lavender Brown, of all people. There’s nothing particularly wrong with her or anything, but she’s so different...I’m so bookish, and she’s so girly and everything I’m not…”
Y/N took the opportunity to tuck a lock of Hermione’s hair behind her ear as she listened.
“And it can’t help but make me think--was I ever anything to him but a friend? If the girl he ends up choosing is the opposite of me?”
“Girly, don’t think like that,” murmured Y/N. “He’s a teenage boy. They don’t think of love the way that we do--to them it’s a game of availability, not of choice. At least for Ronald. You intimidate him, and by extension, you’re not available.”
“That shouldn’t matter!”
“You’re right. It shouldn’t.” Y/N drew a long breath. “So you should find someone who always has you as their first choice--someone who isn’t intimidated by your intellect. They’re out there. I promise.”
Hermione managed a shaky smile. “Thanks, Y/N. I mean it. Do you mind if I have some alone time? I don’t think I’m ready to go back to the party but I just want some quiet.”
“Of course. Let me know if you need me,” she said, brushing herself off and making to walk down the hall.
“You’re not going back to the party?”
“Nah. It hurts my head and I want fresh air. If I’m not back here in a half hour, assume that I’ve been kidnapped.”
With that, she started her walk. She wasn’t planning on going on a long stroll--there was a small balcony that she often went to when she needed to clear her head. It was beautiful, especially on a snowy night like this.
But the walk was creepy.
There was only one way in and out--a narrow, damp hallway that had absolutely no light fixtures. If Y/N really wanted to, she could cast a quick lumos, but she wasn’t sure if she wanted to see what lived on the walls. The stairs were steep, too, but she managed to bound up all 40 of them in record time.
“Who’s there?”
The sudden voice ripped a scream out of Y/N’s throat as she reached the top, catching a glimpse of the shadowy figure at the edge of the balcony that spoke. She clasped her hand over her mouth and she crept forward to the opening, getting a better look at the person that was in her secret spot.
The clouds shifted in the sky to allow more moonlight to cast a soft glow on Malfoy’s face, hardened with irritation.
“Malfoy?” Y/N asked, rather dumbly.
“What stellar observational skills,” he drawled.
She felt her cheeks grow hot. “What are you doing here? This is part of the Gryffindor tower. Shouldn’t you be...I don’t know...playing hide and seek with the sewer rats in the dungeons?”
“Very funny.” His flat tone exposed the fact that he did not, in fact, find it very funny. “There’s no rule barring me from coming up here.”
“But why? This is my spot!”
“Because I wanted to get out. Now, I was here first, so unless you want your detention extended, I suggest you leave.”
Y/N bit the fiery comebacks on the tip of her tongue as the memories of her plan with Hermione began floating back to her.
Week 1 -- Hold one neutral, civil conversation with Malfoy.
“I’ll be quiet. You won’t even know I’m here,” Y/N decided upon. leaning up against the balcony. The rogue snowflakes that made it past the overhanging roof melted on her cheeks.
“That isn’t a suggestion,” said Malfoy. “I’m demanding you leave.”
“Beautiful night, isn’t it?” Y/N asked, pointedly ignoring his words. “I’ve always loved the snow. It’s so quiet.”
“And it would be even quieter if you left.”
“Aren’t you the conversationalist?” said Y/N.
“If you don’t leave, I will hex you,” Malfoy told her through gritted teeth.
“I just love how the moonlight reflects off of the snow,” continued Y/N. “It’s so...pure.”
“Please leave.”
On her walk back down the dank stairwell, she allowed herself a little smile.
Task 1? Technically done.
~
The first week went largely as planned. Malfoy was cold and certainly suspicious of her, but he wasn’t completely venomous when Y/N asked where he got his quill from in Potions. It was silver, charmed to shimmer with flecks of forest green. He told her Barnaby’s in France, and that was that. She walked away from his table with all of her limbs attached. Perhaps that was all the progress she was going to make in the next few weeks, but the task at hand certainly made the prospect of her lost Friday afternoons more bearable.
Harry was going completely batty, rambling on about how Malfoy was behind the mysterious cursed objects that had been floating about the castle without explanation.
“And why would Malfoy bring cursed objects to Hogwarts if he has aspirations other than being expelled?” Hermione would ask over their books.
“You don’t understand, Hermione! You girls need to be careful walking around at night--especially you, Y/N. I don’t want you going missing after detention because of that slimeball.”
Y/N always gave him a laugh, berating him for his slight misogynistic commentary and turning back to whatever her task was, but the truth was that she was worried for him. The mental weight of the impending war and the fact that he couldn’t do anything about it was certainly getting too difficult for him to bear. It was heartbreaking to see the vivacious boy she’d grown up with crumble under the responsibilities of something he should never have to worry about in the first place.
Friday came much sooner than expected, and Y/N reluctantly left her friends in the common room to trek to McGonagall’s office. The walk was frigid and the wind bit at her cheeks as she rounded the last outdoor hall.
Why was this castle so dark?
A thump behind her made her jump, and Harry’s words came floating back to her.
Remember all those cursed objects? What if there’s someone just...stalking the school grounds, waiting for someone like me to snatch?
She shivered, throwing herself at the office door and slamming it behind her.
“Miss Y/L/N,” Professor McGonagall greeted, her eyebrows raised in amusement. “Something giving you trouble?”
“No, Professor,” she answered, setting her bag down on the desk next to Malfoy. He sent her a curious look as well. “It’s just cold outside.”
She chuckled. “I need to go speak to Headmaster Dumbledore. I expect that, upon my return, you both are in one piece and alive.”
“I’m not sure if I’m the one who needs to be given that speech,” said Y/N, bored and testing the waters.
“She’s right, Professor,” added Malfoy. “There’s no projectiles here.”
McGonagall exhaled a long, shaky breath before brushing herself off. “Please. Behave yourselves.”
“You got it, boss,” she said as she watched her Professor walk out the door. “So, Malfoy. How was your week?”
“I don’t know what you’re up to, but I’d way prefer if you didn’t speak to me,” he said, refusing to make eye contact.
“I’m not up to anything! We’re in detention together and, I dunno, since I see you sometimes at balls, I thought it’d be nice to be on good terms.”
“Good terms?” He scoffed. “You’re a Gryffindor. I’d rather you be a bloody Hufflepuff.”
“How about neutral terms?”
Even though he wasn’t looking at her, she could catch a glimpse of him rolling his eyes. “If neutral terms mean you being quiet, then, yes. Please.”
“I’ll be plenty quiet. After I hear about your opinion on what happened in Potions today with Brown and Weasley. When Snape yelled at them for holding hands.”
He let out a sharp sigh. “Believe it or not, I actually have better things to do than keep up with whatever stuff your house does.”
“But…?” Y/N pressed. She may not’ve spent her time at Hogwarts as Malfoy’s best friend, but she had grown up with the boy, and she could tell when he was holding back.
He stared blankly at her.
“Come on. I’m literally the only person in my house who’ll openly admit that they’re disgusted by that dynamic. I’m begging you.”
She wasn’t sure if she was imagining it, but she thought she saw a flicker of amusement dance across his face for a moment. “Your house sounds more like a cult than a student group.”
“Oh, says the one from Slytherin,” said Y/N.
“We only act like that because our families are close. What’s your excuse? Hormones and Quidditch culture?”
“Touché.” As much as she wanted to fight back, she bit her tongue. Whatever she was doing was making progress, and quicker progress than she was expecting. Her next task was to make him laugh, and she was emboldened by the fact that she could potentially be able to kill two birds with one stone.
They sat in silence for a little bit, but this time, it was a comfortable silence. Malfoy wasn’t staring at the clock on the wall or rolling his eyes at her every move, so she had time to plot.
On one hand, she could make a fool of herself--drop her inkwell, say something stupid in class, fall down the stairs--but she had a sneaking suspicion that her sorry attempts at slapstick humor wouldn’t land well with Draco anymore. He’d become so serious lately, so solemn. This was the most light hearted she’d seen him, even compared with how he acted with the rest of his Slytherin lackeys.
On the other, she could try to sell out her friends. She could confide in him how “big” Hermione’s teeth were (they weren’t even big) or tell him that Ron smelled of eggs (true, but that was a low blow). Something told her that this would be much more successful, but she wasn’t willing to turn to that so quickly--she was already a week ahead as it was.
“What is it?”
Malfoy’s bored drawl cut through her flurried thoughts. Her cheeks turned pink as she blinked, noticing that she’d been staring at him for far too long. “Nothing. Sorry. I just spaced out.”
“Sure,” he mumbled, giving her another suspicious look before turning back to his work. “Can you maybe space out somewhere other than my face?”
“Where’s your vanity, Malfoy?” she pressed as she leaned back in her chair, hair swinging over the back.
“Shut up,” he snapped. She could tell that whatever connection they’d had in the fleeting moments beforehand was being burnt by the second, but her embarrassment and pride drove her forward.
“Merlin, what’s got you so wound up?” she prompted, noting how deliciously unraveled he looked at this. “Where’s my cool, collected Slytherin?”
He slammed hands on his desk at this, whipping around to glare at her. “What’s your angle, Y/L/N?”
“What?”
“Why are you bothering me?”
“Because I want to.” She beamed.
Malfoy ran his fingers through his hair, mussing up the usual neat manner in which it normally laid on his head. “Compelling. What do you want from me?”
“What do I want…?” She tilted her head at him, narrowing her eyes. “What?”
“You never talk to me,” he explained. “Obviously, I prefer it like that. I can’t help but wonder why suddenly you want to be making small talk. So, what is it you want from me?”
“Malfoy,” she said. “I think you’re a spoiled prick who thinks far too highly of himself and drives me insane. But I also think that you’re funnier than what my friends give you credit for. Granted, you’ve always been annoying, but I don’t want anything from you. I just want to, I dunno, make these next few months less insufferable.” Somehow the lie slipped through her teeth easier than any of her previous bluffs.
He frowned, his mouth opening once before firmly screwing shut into a scowl. “Oh.”
“No offense, Malfoy, but what else can you offer me other than your dazzling personality?” she teased. “You know my family. I don’t need to blackmail you to pay for jewelry I’ve had my eye on or anything.”
He scoffed. “As if I’d say yes.”
“Exactly my point. It’d be fucking weird. Merlin, I’m not trying to butter you up to buy out Borgin & Burkes for me. Do I give off gold-digger vibes? Is that what this is about?”
“Fucking hell.” Malfoy turned to her in disbelief. “Do you ever shut up?”
“Answer my question. Or better yet, pull out your wallet. Wait, did I say that out loud?” She mimed surprise and covered her mouth. “Oh no! What will my mother say now that I’ve squandered my last chance of hitching you? There’s no way I can go home for Christmas break now.”
He rolled his eyes so hard she found herself worried for a moment that they were going to just permanently get stuck in the back of his head. “Hate to break it to you, but you didn’t really have a shot to begin with.”
Ouch.
She huffed and dramatically flopped over the back of her chair, hoping he couldn’t see that she’d flinched. “So you don’t think I’m pretty??”
“Y/L/N,” he snapped, his voice a low warning. “Can I please just work? What is with you today?”
Y/N sent him a sour look before giving her Charms work another look. Malfoy was awfully quiet, and when she snuck any glances at him later on, he was angled to face away from her.
Why did she feel like such shit all of a sudden? She cataloged the past events, trying to pinpoint the exact moment that her stomach dropped. It all made sense when the words “You didn’t really have a shot to begin with” echoed around her head once again. She’d failed Harry. She’d failed Hermione. There was no way that she was going to be able to get him to reveal his secrets now--it’s not like he was confiding in even his closest friends as Harry made apparent when he explained how vague his statements were to his fellow Slytherins on the train. Her only chance would’ve been to somehow get him to fall for her, and that wasn’t going...great. And it had been a pipedream to begin with.
When McGonagall swished back into the classroom to dismiss them, Y/N shot out of there without even looking at Malfoy again. It felt like something was lodged in her throat and she was not going to cry in front of him. No, no. She had to make it to Hermione to tell her what was going on.
“Y/L/N?”
Malfoy’s voice made her pause in her flee as she nearly rounded the corner in front of her, but she refused to look back. It was far enough away that it was possible she didn’t hear him.
“Wait!”
She was up the stairs and speed walking as fast as her legs could carry her to the Gryffindor tower before he even saw which way she went.
~
“I don’t think you understand,” Y/N wailed by the fire as Hermione rubbed her shoulders and Harry sat awkwardly perched on the couch. “I can’t do this. The only way this was going to work was if he had a crush on me, and I don’t think he ever will. I fucked it up! The one time you guys need me, I fuck it up! I let you down!”
Hermione’s left hand stopped its rubbing to rest firmly on her shoulder. “Please don’t be upset. You didn’t let us down. Plus, you’re only, what...two weeks in? You don’t need him to like you to make it work. Just getting him to trust you will be enough, and you’re good at that.”
“I don’t think so,” continued Y/N. “Harry said that he wasn’t even that open on the train when he overheard him talking to all of his friends. And those are purebloods that he likes! That he’s trusted and known for years and years! I’m a friend of you guys, and he knows it. I think he’d figure it out quick.”
“We should take every chance we can get,” said Harry from his spot a few feet away, his eyes lazy and unfocused on the fire crackling in front of them. “You won’t let us down if you can’t get anything, Y/N, you know that! But if you got anything from him, it’d be incredible. It’s a win-win. I don’t understand why you’re so upset.”
“I’m not upset,” she said, her tone becoming defensive. “I just...don’t want to mess this up. I know how much it’d mean if I succeeded.”
“So just try!” Hermione said. “There’s nothing wrong with it. I’m sorry he was kind of mean to you today, but I don’t think that should bother you too much. He should be more afraid of what you’d say if you didn’t care about being a good person.”
“Fucking right on there,” she said, wiping away the frustrated tears. “If I was honest with him, he’d leave crying. He should be grateful that I’m taking this bet so I actually have to be nice to him.”
“That’s the spirit.” Harry leaned over to smack her back like he did his Quidditch teammates after a winning match.
After they’d parted their ways with Harry, Hermione and Y/N made their way slowly up the stairwell to the girls’ dorms.
“Y/N?” Hermione asked, breaking the silence.
“Yeah?”
“Do you think, er…” She paused. “Do you think you were really upset about failing us today? Or was it something else?”
“What do you mean?” Y/N furrowed her eyebrows. “I don’t see what else it would be.”
“I’m sorry,” responded the bright witch. “Forget I ever asked. It was a stupid thing to wonder about.”
“Weirdo,” she teased as she waved her a goodnight and made her way to her dorm.
The next morning, Y/N busied herself with revising her Charms essay over her breakfast--a cup of tea and a half-buttered piece of toast--while Hermione leaned over her shoulder, nodding or grimacing at the corrections she made.
“Did you work during detention? Like, at all?”
“‘Mione,” moaned Y/N. “It’s too early for this. I don’t want a lecture. I just couldn’t focus.”
Her warm brown eyes narrowed as they bore into Y/N’s face. “Why were you distracted?”
“Oh, I, uh…” She stumbled over her words as Hermione drew closer. “Merlin, Hermione. I told you last night. I just felt like I was letting you all down.”
“Mhm,” was all she got in response before her best friend tilted her head back down to the parchment in front of her.
Y/N sat, completely puzzled. What was Hermione on about? She’d been straightforward with what was hurting her--she didn’t want to mess up the only task the Golden Trio had ever given her--and, even if she hadn’t been, Hermione was smart enough to deduce things for herself. So what was she thinking about?
Her eyes drifted over to the Slytherin table where the usual 6th year pureblood gang loitered about, drinking black coffee and sulking--but Malfoy was not to be seen. She jumped when her eyes met Parkinson, her dark eyes burning into her soul as a deep scowl was written across her face.
“Malfoy, what the fuck do you want?” Ron’s voice pulled her back to reality to see him glaring somewhere behind her.
“I wasn’t here to talk to you,” a familiar voice drawled.
She turned to see Malfoy standing behind her, a sneer written all across his stupidly pretty face.
“Miss me already?” asked Y/N as she raised an eyebrow and cocked her head to the side.
“For fuck’s sake, stop doing that,” he mumbled, reaching into his pocket and throwing a box at her. “You forgot your quill. I took the liberty of properly storing it, because it seems like you lot like to just throw them in your bag. Makes me physically ill to watch.”
“Oh.” Y/N studied the intricate box in her hands before tucking it away in her knapsack. “Thanks? I guess?”
He nodded curtly, contorting his face into one last scowl to send to Ron before turning and leaving,
“So,” Hermione began, cutting her omelet at a much brisker pace, “I think we need to have a little chat. About...all of this.”
“Why?”
“Not right now,” she said, her voice low and her eyes flicking at Ron and Harry sitting across from them. “I don’t think it’d benefit us for them to hear.”
“Ok?” She cautiously took a bite out of her toast and continued staring Hermione down. “You’re scaring me.”
“It’s...I don’t know. I thought I was crazy for thinking this, but it seems like we need to talk about it anyways. For this little mission of yours to work, we need to be totally open and honest with each other.”
“Sure.” Y/N took another bite. “I honestly have no clue what’s got you so on edge, though.”
“Who’s on edge?” Harry asked, leaning over the table and stealing the croissant on Y/N’s plate.
“Hey!” she exclaimed. “Do you not see the entire plate of them over there?”
He laughed, sending her an easy grin and dunking a piece into the hot chocolate in his mug.
“Finders keepers. Say, Y/N, are you busy next weekend? Ron and Lavender are going to Madame Puddingfoot’s together, and I know Hermione isn’t going to want to take a weekend off studying to go to Hogsmeade, so I thought that maybe we could go cause some trouble at the Cauldron.”
“If you stop stealing my food we can talk about it,” replied Y/N, the corners of her lips tugging up into a grin.
“Deal.”
Hermione tugged at her arm. “I just realized I need to get something out of my room before we watch the Quidditch game. Will you come with me, Y/N?”
“Sure!” said Y/N. “Gee, I’m rolling in invitations today.”
Once they exited the dining hall, though, it immediately became evident that they were not actually heading up to the dorms. Hermione dragged her into the nearest bathroom before casting a quick silencing charm.
“Myrtle! Are you in here?” Only when she was sure silence was the only response to her question, she seemed satisfied to turn to Y/N and begin talking. “When were you going to tell me that you have a thing for Malfoy?”
“I’m sorry, what?” Y/N felt the heat that had risen to her cheeks from the last quill-encounter re-emerge.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” said Hermione. “Are you seriously going to expect me to believe that you nearly sobbed over some random pureblood git telling you you never had a chance with him because it might slow down your progress with helping us? Actually? I’ve seen you look more ecstatic about hearing that your dear granny passed away.”
“To be fair, she had really good life insurance,” Y/N cut in. “And she was an old hag. Never had a nice thing to say to me.”
“Life insurance or no life insurance...you can’t seriously expect me to believe that you were just upset about not being able to help us as much. That was ridiculous. I don’t buy it. And the way you blushed like crazy when he came over to talk to you--the way you try and pretend like you can flirt...please. Y/N, it’s clear as day. I know you, and I know you have a crush on him.”
“Hermione!” hissed Y/N. “You have no clue what you’re talking about!”
“Yes, I think I do,” she pushed. “And you need to be honest with me if you want to be of any help right now.”
Her bossiness lit a fire of rage in Y/N’s chest, but she sucked in a deep breath, shutting her eyes before releasing it. “Believe me when I say I haven’t ever acknowledged any feelings I may or may not have towards him.”
“Ok.” Her face softened. “I know it might take time, but I honestly do think I’m right. Please just...be careful. This is a really odd situation to get caught up in if you actually have feelings for the other person. You’re trying to manipulate him, for Merlin’s sake.”
“And if I have these feelings for him, I’ve done a pretty damn good job of suppressing them for however long they’ve been here.”
Hermione sighed. “That’s true. I’m just saying that spending this much time with him is probably only going to make things worse. Will you please tell me if anything changes between the two of you?”
“Anything changes?” Y/N’s voice was dripping in disbelief. “You’re joking. Even if I was obsessed with him I don’t think there’s ever a chance of hell in anything ‘changing’ between us. He said it himself.”
“You know what I mean, Y/N,” responded Hermione. “Just promise me, ok?”
“Ok,” said Y/N. “I promise.”
That seemed to satiate Hermione as she nodded approvingly at her friend. “I think it goes without saying that Ron and Harry shouldn’t hear about this.”
“There’s nothing to hear about, but yes.” She shuffled her feet before meeting Hermione’s eyes again. “Er, I’m sorry for this being a weird question, but would you mind coming along with me and Harry to Hogsmeade? I don’t really see him like...that...and I don’t want to read into it too much and reject him if he is doing it just platonically, but just in case. Y’know.”
“Sure,” said Hermione, even though her face took on that curious expression yet again. “Anyways, you actually did forget something--you’re not wearing a single piece of Gryffindor colors for our game today. You should probably run back to your dorm before Harry and Ron notice.”
After they said their goodbyes, Y/N found herself turning over the things Hermione had said to her in her head. Did she like Malfoy? No, no fucking way. But a part of her really did think he was funny. And of course it was natural to feel rejected when anyone insinuates that they’d never consider you as a romantic interest without jest.
Once she’d made it up to her room and grabbed a few scarves, Y/N made to put her red cloak into her satchel. Her fingers ghosted over the box that Malfoy had given her and scoffed once she saw the Malfoy crest engraved into the rich wood.
Narcissistic snot.
Her curiosity got the better of her as she reached over to open up the elaborately decorated box. What met her was not just one quill but two--one of which was most certainly not her own.
She took them both out, tossing the old one in a pile with her other trusty familiar white feather quills and picked up the other one. It looked familiar--identical to the quill that she’d complimented Malfoy on in Potions about a week ago. Butterflies began to flutter like crazy in her stomach as she turned it over in her hand, watching the gray and green glitter together and the magic sparkles cast a gentle light over her bed. She generally avoided dipping into her family’s pockets to get school supplies any more than she had to--it’s not like it made her friends feel good about themselves when they were reminded how rich her family was--but this might be what she could consider to be an exception. She hadn’t even liked his quill all that much when she first saw it in Potions--but it was one of those things that was so noticeable that it made sense to compliment him.
She gave it one last look before tucking it back away into the elaborately decorated box. Perhaps she had spoken too soon when she’d told Hermione all hope was lost.
~
When Monday morning Potions class with the Slytherins rolled around, Y/N wasted no time. Malfoy was alone--even his Slytherin lackeys seemed to know not to bother him. Just what she needed.
“Malfoy,” she greeted, setting her bag down on his table and looking him dead on. He raised to meet her eyes, his eyebrow raised.
“Can I help you?”
“I just wanted you to know that I also really like your immense fortune,” she said. “And your manor.”
“Well, a lot of people do,” he mumbled as he looked away to dig through something in his bag. If she didn’t know any better, she would’ve thought he was blushing.
“I’m just letting you know,” she continued. “In case you were wanting to give them away. It worked for the quill, so I thought, well, why not?”
He exhaled, a deep and annoyed sound escaping his lips as he rolled his eyes up to the ceiling. “I knew I shouldn’t have done that.”
“You really didn’t have to.”
“I was getting sick of it,” he told her. “I never can stick with one quill for too long, and I thought it’d be a shame to toss it. I thought it’d be better to be charitable--it’s not like your family could get an appointment at Barnaby’s if they tried.”
“Hey!” Y/N said indignantly. “You don’t know that!”
“I’ve heard your parents try to speak French,” he said. “If you’re anything like them, you'll be barred from ever entering the country.”
“Malfoy!”
His lips turned up into a smile, a soft laugh escaping his lips. Y/N suppressed the urge to grin in return. Task 3? Done. “What?”
“I can’t even argue with you,” she said. “It’s tragic.”
She stared at the empty stool next to him, wondering if she should just take the leap and sit with him. Malfoy seemed unbothered by her presence as he opened up his Potions book and set it next to his cauldron. “Do you want a partner?” The words left her lips before she could stop them.
He cast her a curious look before glancing at the empty stool. “It depends. Are you going to be annoying?”
She gasped in faux-offense. “What makes you think I could ever be annoying?”
“On that note, I think you better get back to Potter.” He motioned with his head towards the side of the room where most of her Gryffindor friends were chatting. Harry was staring at her, his fists clenched by his side.
Y/N smirked and sent him a wink.
“On that note,” she said, careful to imitate Malfoy’s drawl and sending him a smug grin, “Maybe I better sit here.”
“Hm.” He awarded her one more uninterested look before rolling up his sleeves and setting out the ingredients for the potion they were brewing--Amortentia.
She tried not to make it too obvious that she was staring at his left arm, but there was nothing on it like Harry had told her. It was just pure, unblemished pale skin that shimmered under the light. Before he could catch her looking, she quickly sat down and started pulling out her own things. After a short pause, she decided to take out the silver quill. She’d left his box back in her room--she wouldn’t be caught dead with something that had the Malfoy crest on it--but she’d wrapped it in a pouch with her own family’s emblem on the front, shimmering in gold and red.
“Why don’t you just buy your own charmed quills?” asked Malfoy after they had chopped all of the gillweed.
“You already know. We’re an abomination to the French. We aren’t allowed entry.”
“That’s not what I mean.” His tone was meant to read as exasperated, but his words still seemed good-natured.
“I...well.” She frowned. She’d never confessed this to anyone, but she supposed that Malfoy wasn’t going to find a way to use it against her. “I don’t like to flaunt my family wealth. I think it makes people, at least in Gryffindor, like me less. I learned that pretty early on.”
He hummed something in response before sliding all the gillweed into the cauldron, turning the clear liquid into a bubbling forest green.
“Why are you being so nice to me all of a sudden?” she asked.
He took his time finishing the note he was jotting down before he answered. “I’m not being nice. It’s just called being civil. You said it yourself, we see each other at balls sometimes.”
“We probably won’t anymore, though,” she mused.
Malfoy’s eyebrows shot up, but his voice remained low and steady. “No. I suppose that we probably won’t. Is your family part of the Order?”
“Hm. Are you a Death Eater?” she asked brazenly. He had no business asking her something like that, and he knew it. Especially not with his family connections.
“What do you think?” he drawled, waving his bared left arm in front of her face.
“Bullshit. That doesn’t mean anything after we learned Glamour spells last year.”
“Guess you’ll just have to trust me, then,” he responded, focusing intently on the bubbling liquid in front of him instead of her face.
“I guess so,” she replied. The weight of her Glamour comment began to sink in--she was right, after all. How had she not thought of it before?
But he was right when he told her she just had to trust him. Could she? Y/N rested her chin in the palm of her propped hand as she watched him work. A piece of disobedient moonbeam blonde hair dangled over his forehead as he diced up the unicorn tail, his eyebrows furrowed in focus.
“Is this why you want to be my partner?” he finally asked after a few moments of silence. “So you can just stare at me while I do all the work?”
“There’s the vain Draco I know,” she said, grinning as she leaned over to punch his shoulder.
He rolled his eyes again, scooting out of arm's reach before flipping back to Amortentia in his book. “You’re insufferable. And it’s Malfoy to you.”
“Fine, fine, Malfoy,” said Y/N. “What do you want me to do, then?”
He shoved his cutting board towards her, the half-diced unicorn tail staring up at her. “Finish dicing this and then stir it in. 9 times clockwise. I did almost all of the work, but it should be finished after that.”
Y/N sent him another glare before doing as he said. The glittering quill kept catching her attention from the corner of her eye, and she couldn’t help but notice that Malfoy was writing with just a plain white quill for the time being. HE really did just give it to me.
After the final ingredients were diced, she began to stir, each rotation around the cauldron turning the potion to a different color. It began as the bubbling green, then a deep sea blue, then a royal purple, a crimson blood red, a glimmering gold--before settling into a pale silver.
“Wow. It’s beautiful,” she breathed. “It’s like...liquid starlight.”
“All thanks to me,” said Malfoy. “You didn’t even have to crush the Mandrake root.”
“You’re such a gentleman, Malfoy.” Her voice dripped in fake sincerity. “So, what do you smell?”
Y/N was expecting him to scowl at her and tell her that it wasn’t any of her business, but he actually leaned over the cauldron and shut his eyes.
“I’ve never been good at explaining what things smell like.”
“Fair.”
Once he leaned back, she took his place, shutting her eyes and breathing in a tendril of the beautiful potion. “Whoa.”
“What’s it for you?”
“I don’t...know,” she admitted. “It’s not something I can describe note by note. It kind of reminds me of something, though.”
“Something with Potter, I presume?” he said, casually twirling his generic white quill around his fingers.
“No,” she answered, surprised at how honest she was being. “It’s��I’m trying to think. Er, it’s very lavish. It reminds me of when I was younger and my parents would drag me to galas and balls and whatnot.”
He stared at her in silence.
“What about you? Does it remind you of anything?”
“Yeah.” Malfoy reached forward to put a lid on the cauldron, effectively shutting out the steam from reaching either of them.
“Ooh, have you figured it out yet?” she teased, crossing her legs and turning to face him head on. “Let me guess. Is it someone like…”
She paused, a wicked smile stretching across her face. “Oh my god, is it Hermione? Or Luna? Or...help me out here!”
“No.” His voice was sour.
“Ah, it’s Parkinson then, isn’t it? Tell her I’m sorry for throwing food at her if you ever have the chance. Make sure to add the part where I’m more sorry that I missed.”
“Y/L/N!”
“It’s okay. I’d be a little let down, too.”
“Can you please just…” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Please just stop. I haven’t figured it out. Okay? Happy now?”
“I’ll leave you alone,” said Y/N. “Under one condition. You give me a hint. I’ve given you everything I know! This isn’t fair.”
“This doesn’t have to be fair,” he hissed.
Y/N kept the easy smile plastered on her face while she waited, her eyebrows raised in anticipation.
“You’re not going to let up until I tell you, are you?”
“You’d be right on that,” she said, sugary sweet.
“Fine. It’s something kind of floral.”
“How descriptive,” she snorted as she slumped back in her stool, thinking hard. Where had she smelled it before? Y/N shut her eyes, leaning her head back and trying to immerse herself into the memory that had surfaced. It smelled like grandeur, like an open ballroom full of guests wearing expensive perfumes. She could feel spinning, spinning like she was with a dance partner. Who was it? She couldn’t quite remember--the last ball she’d been to had been years ago--but after she leaned forward and smelled the Amortentia once more time, she came to a conclusion.
“I had to have danced with him at a gala before,” she announced to Malfoy, who was looking quite unimpressed. “So I know it’s no one from Gryffindor.”
“Interesting,” was all he said before turning to his parchment and jotting something down.
Late that night, while Y/N was settling into bed, a strange idea struck her. Sure that the thought that was nagging her was completely fruitless, she had no trouble with reaching into her desk and pulling out the Malfoy box. She just had to check if she wanted to sleep well.
Here goes.
She closed her eyes, imagining the expensive scent of her Amortentia. Then she opened it, stuck her nose into the fabric, and breathed in.
Well, fuck.
~
The internal debate going through Y/N the next day at the breakfast table was intense. On one hand, she really, really wanted to just tell Hermione that Malfoy had been in her Amortentia and she was completely fucked, but on the other…
She glanced at the witch next to her as she methodically sliced her toast into perfect, equivalent squares before dunking them in jam. Y/N liking Malfoy was not going to fit into her toast cubes. If she said anything, she would lose her excuse to talk to her about him. And her excuse to try and get close with him.
Perhaps I can figure it out tomorrow.
When tomorrow came, she still hadn’t made progress. Y/N was beginning to think that her so called “revelation” after they brewed Amortentia was truly just complete and utter bullshit. So what that his quill box smelled like it--all rich people kind of smelled the same at some points, and so did their houses. There was a reason why she couldn’t immediately pin the scent to anything--it wasn’t like she even knew what Malfoy smelled like.
But the truth remained that she was still attracted to someone who happened to be a rich Slytherin--so naturally, her mind began to wander. There’s no way it was Zabini--his mother owned a fragrance line, and she would’ve instantly recognized the cologne that she knew Mrs. Zabini made him wear--and there was absolutely no way that it was Crabbe or Goyle, so the only other Slytherin it left was...Nott? But that didn’t make sense either--she’d never spoken to him before in her life, even less than Malfoy. So perhaps it would be better if she didn’t think on it.
The next day of potion brewing came on a stormy Wednesday. Malfoy and Y/N worked silently together to brew a Draught of Dreamless Sleep. She was surprised to see how practiced his movements were--he didn’t even have to reference the book to recite the exact measurements and directions.
“Do you have bad dreams or something?” she asked, mostly as a joke. He didn’t seem to pick up on the light-heartedness and stiffened up.
“No?”
“Gee, you’re talkative today,” Y/N said, trying to ignore how her hand brushed his by accident when she added the scoop of anjelica.
“Excuse me for not entertaining you,” he drawled. “I wasn’t expecting to have such a needy potions partner today.”
“I am not needy!” she gasped, smacking his arm. “I’ve sat in silence for a full hour!”
He rolled his eyes (he was always rolling his eyes) and gave the potion one more final stir before setting the lid on the cauldron. “Think you can do that again? It needs to simmer for that long.”
“Just because you’re so sweet to me,” crooned Y/N before pulling out a heavy book from her satchel. Her Charms exam was tomorrow, and, naturally, she had decided to save all of her revising work until the night before. The textbook stared back at her as she jotted a few notes onto a previously blank sheet of parchment. The quill in her hands was light and glided across the paper like the tears of Merlin, something that she had forgotten quills could do. All of her familiar basic quills were okay, but they were prone to skidding and breaking. This nib hadn’t worn down in the slightest, still at a smooth and defined peak.
Y/N couldn’t believe that, out of all people, the person to give her such a thoughtful gift was Draco Malfoy. She tried to sneak a glance at him then, moving her curtain of hair away from her face. It took all she had in her to not be startled at the fact that he was already looking back, a slightly concerned expression etched into his face.
“Is something wrong?”
He snapped out of it the moment the words left her lips, his face hardening. “No.”
“Forget I ever asked,” she responded, turning away from him for good and focusing on her textbook. No, there was no way he could be what she smelled in her Amortentia. She liked to think that her subconscious wasn’t secretly a masochist.
~
Friday evening swung around again, much to Y/N’s dismay. She’d had a talk with Hermione later on in the week, confirming that no, she did not smell Malfoy in her Amortentia, and that yes, she was still abiding by the plan that Hermione had so carefully laid out for her. It did bother her a bit that she could be lying to her on both fronts--but at the end of the day, she was going to get the answers that Harry wanted, no matter what.
She just had to get through the scary ass castle first. She’d forgotten how spooky Hogwarts was after her previous sprint to the door, and this time she was positively trembling by the time she turned another dark corner on her way to McGonagall’s office. Yet another cursed item had been found in the girl’s lavatory on the 3rd floor, right by some of the classes that she had taken earlier in the week. The fact that whoever was out there was capable of dark magic and actively wanted to hurt people terrified her, all that Gryffindor bravery be damned.
So when she heard footsteps suddenly right beside her, it was no wonder that she jumped feet in the air.
“Fuck!” she sputtered, turning to see a very familiar blonde in Slytherin robes. He was frozen in place, curiously looking her up and down.
“Am I interrupting something?”
“Malfoy,” Y/N said, resisting the urge to melt into a puddle of relief at the sight. This wasn’t right--wasn’t he a suspected Death Eater? “You scared me.”
He scoffed, digging his hands into his pockets. “You’re supposed to be the brave ones, right?”
“Huh?”
Malfoy motioned to her Gryffindor jumper.
“Oh.” Heat rushed to her cheeks as she realized what he meant. “I dunno. I just get jumpy around the castle at night.”
“No shit.” They’d begun to walk now, side by side. Y/N couldn’t remember ever walking with him before--she’d always been late. “Do you think I forgot the way you screamed when you saw me at the tower?”
“Shut up,” she grumbled, reaching over and giving him a healthy shove.
They walked in silence together. Malfoy moved noticeably slower than he normally did so he wouldn’t leave Y/N’s shorter legs in tow. McGonagall seemed pleasantly surprised to see Malfoy hold the door open for her.
“I’m glad to see you two getting along,” she said, giving Y/N a hesitant nod before grabbing the stack of papers on her desk. “I’ll be back momentarily.”
After she exited the room with a swish of her deep maroon robes, Malfoy turned to her. “Are you scared of the dark or something?”
She turned, ready to send a biting retort his way, before she noticed how gray his pallor looked...and how big the circles under his eyes were. “You look like shit, Malfoy. Is everything okay?”
He rolled his eyes. “Don’t change the subject.”
“Oh. Um…” Y/N pause before deciding that the little tidbit of information she was about to reveal wasn’t that important anyways. “I’m just on edge at night at Hogwarts is all. Especially with all that weird shit going on with all the cursed objects. So I kind of hate walking to and from detention.”
Malfoy let out something that sounded like a strained laugh.
“You didn’t answer my question. Is everything okay?”
“None of your business,” he snipped. “I just had a bad night.”
“Do you have trouble sleeping?” she asked, unable to keep herself from prying.
“Something like that.”
“Have you tried lavender?”
“I’m sorry?” He frowned.
“Lavender. Like the essential oil. It’s nothing magical,” she explained. “I just like to spray it in my bed sometimes before I sleep. Or I’ll use a few drops in a diffuser. I have trouble sleeping too, all the time, actually.” She shut her mouth before she had any chance to ramble further.
“It sounds a bit too floral for my taste.”
“Here.” Y/N dug around in her satchel, searching for the tiny spray bottle she kept with her at all times. “Borrow this and spritz your pillow with it before you sleep, and then tell me it’s too floral. I promise it helps.”
He glared at her. She extended her hand with the white bottle that was covered in purple decor, raising her eyebrows expectantly. “I won’t tell anyone that you have it if that’s what you’re worried about or whatever.”
“Fine,” he snapped, snatching it from her hand and dragging his fingers over her palm for just a second. “Don’t expect me to actually try it, though.”
“Just give it a sniff.”
He huffed, but to her surprise, he actually uncapped the top and held the spray hole up to his nose, inhaling in once.
The effect was immediate. Malfoy’s face completely drained of color, becoming even grayer than he’d been when she first saw him under the light. The briefest expression of surprise fleeted over his face before he wiped it off, replacing it with something unreadable and tossing it back at her. “I’m not using this.”
“Why not?”
“Not quite my taste,” he spat.
Y/N was shocked by the sudden outburst, watching as he continued to glower at his desk. “I don’t understand. It really does help you sleep. I know it seems stupid, but I...really think you should try it. Just once, if anything.”
“Why does it matter so much to you?”
“Because I--” Y/N stopped herself before she let her mouth run without check. “I know what it’s like is all. I feel like shit if I don’t sleep. Plus, I have to spend time with you every Friday. I imagine that you’ll be slightly more tolerable if you sleep more.”
“Hm.” He sent her a particularly venomous glare. “Thanks for your concern. Consider me uninterested, though.”
“You break my heart,” she teased, pulling back her hand and placing the bottle on the corner of her desk. An idea struck her.
“And just what are you smiling about?” Draco said. His lips were turned into a sour frown.
“Nothing, nothing,” she responded, her voice adopting a sing-song quality. All she had to do now was wait.
He exhaled, a deep and exasperated sound. Then he turned back to whatever was in front of him.
McGonagall entered the room a few minutes later, nodding cordially at the comfortable silence the two students were in. What she didn’t know was that Y/N was waiting, just waiting for Malfoy to dig through his satchel and stop paying attention to his quill.
She got her opportunity a few minutes later, when McGonagall called him up to look over his latest Transfiguration homework.
“Mr. Malfoy, I’m happy to see that you’re taking more initiative in getting your assignments done...I have to say that you had me a bit concerned…”
While her professor kept Malfoy occupied, Y/N darted over and grabbed his quill.
Ha.
Malfoy frowned down at his desk when he returned, giving Y/N a suspicious look.
“What is it, Malfoy?” she said, hoping her voice conveyed nothing that might hint that she took something of his.
“Nothing.”
“Hm.”
The rest of detention passed without any more discussion. Y/N was eager to run up to her dorm and set up her plan to be carried out the next morning, but she calmed her bouncing leg and forced herself to keep a straight face when McGonagall dismissed them.
“Got somewhere to be, Y/L/N?” Malfoy’s voice called after her as she sped down the hall towards the Gryffindor tower.
“What’s it to you?” she fired back.
He didn’t respond. Instead, he picked up his pace until he was walking next to her.
“Aren’t the Slytherin dorms the other direction?” she asked.
“I don’t know. Are they?”
She allowed herself to be amused by the way words flowed out of his mouth when he was slightly out of breath. “Why are you walking with me?”
“You said it yourself.” He kept his eyes cast on the cobblestones below them. “You don’t like walking alone at night.”
“Uh...oh.” Against her will, her feet froze and she was glued to the ground. “You’re joking, right?”
If the lighting wasn’t so dim, Y/N would have good reason to believe he was blushing with how intently he was studying his fingernails. “By all means, I can be.”
“No! No, I didn’t mean it like that,” she said, the words tumbling out of her mouth. “Er...I’d like you to. If you want to, that is.”
He shrugged, an elfish expression spreading across his face as he took in how nervous she was. “Well, come to think of it, you didn’t ask me to. I suppose I better get back to the Slytherin dorms anyways. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere near the Gryffindor Tower right now.”
“Why?” she squeaked.
“Oh, you know, I don’t think it’s a coincidence that most of the cursed things showed up on your side of the castle, yeah?”
She gulped.
“I gotta get going. Don’t want to stand around here too long. This place gives me the creeps.” With that, he turned and began walking away.
“Malfoy?” She hated how timid her voice sounded. “Consider this me asking you to walk with me.”
He slowly faced her, a sly grin plastered all over his face. “Oh? Did I hear that correctly? Do you want me to?”
“I’m only going to say this once,” she said, putting her hands on her hips and trying her best to look intimidating. “Walk with me. Please.”
“I guess I’ll take it.” Malfoy glided down the hallway to her in just a couple steps, sending her yet another smug look.
“You made up that whole ordeal about Gryffindor Tower being targeted, didn’t you?” asked Y/N as they rounded the corner to reach the staircase leading up to the common room.
“You bought it, didn’t you?”
“Who says I didn’t just want you to walk with me?” pushed Y/N. This was as close to flirting as it would ever get for her--but it looked like, somehow, things were falling into place. The heat in her cheeks must’ve been from the excitement of making progress.
Malfoy’s toe caught on the first stair and, if it weren’t for Y/N’s steady grip on his arm, would’ve made him go sprawling across the stone steps.
“Merlin, Malfoy,” she said, immediately dropping her grip from his shoulder. “What’s gotten into you?”
He responded with an unceremonial snort and a withering glare. The rest of the walk was done in silence, and Y/N noted how careful his footwork became around the Gryffindor steps.
“This is me,” she finally said once they reached the tapestry for the Gryffindor dorms. He seemed surprised, and only then did it strike her that he’d probably never seen the entrance himself before. “Thanks for being such a gentleman.”
“I live to serve,” he drawled.
And just like that, he was gone.
~
Her plan was simple. She had located an extra monogrammed pouch in her cabinet, a rich mahogany color with her family crest in a vivid gold, and placed both his quill and the lavender bottle. She would corner him after breakfast or follow him out of the Great Hall and show him then.
However, it was becoming increasingly obvious that Malfoy was not coming to Saturday morning breakfast. Many people didn’t, but Y/N had never known him to miss it. His normal spot was vacant, and it certainly wasn’t a house-made decision as all of his Slytherin friends were present and accounted for. Y/N couldn’t say for sure, but she could see Parkinson turning her head to the entrance every time the doors thudded open before glancing back to Malfoy’s empty seat when it turned out to be someone else.
Where was that loser?
“Excuse me,” she said to the trio as she stood up and brushed off her skirt. “I think I’m going to go get some fresh air. I have a bitch of a headache.”
Hermione and Harry expressed their sympathies while Ron gave her a characteristic mumble through his mouthful of bread, and she was off with the pouch secured in her cloak pocket.
It was a clear November morning, clearly Mother Nature’s attempt to slowly move the world from the crisp autumn to a cold winter. The sky was clear and the sun’s rays warmed her skin at a slanted angle, casting weak shadows across the courtyard.
If I were Malfoy, where would I go to sulk?
The obvious answer was either the Slytherin common room or his own dorm, but that was without a doubt out of question for her. She wasn’t even sure if she possessed the knowledge to guess which corridor the entrance was in, much less work out the password herself. Beyond that, just getting into the common room and waiting would be...She shivered. It would be a terrible idea while she was clearly wearing a cloak in Gryffindor red and gold trim.
As she continued her aimless wander around the castle, she heard the slightest sound from the girl’s bathroom on the second floor. It wasn’t ever really in use--no one came in there to actually use the loo unless they wanted Myrtle to materialize and tell them her supernatural troubles while they were in the middle of their personal business--but it was often the source of strange happenings.
Like the cursed objects she thought to herself, her nails digging into her palms. But did she care about that right now? Surely cursed objects seemed somewhat...suspicious. Dark magic was difficult to hide, and to a pureblood eye that grew up around magical objects, cursed things shouldn’t be impossible to spot.
And, plus, it was Malfoy she was looking for. None of the students had died from the curses so far, and if she was able to break through and learn something, or at the very least gain his trust, the reward to the Order would be more than worth it.
She stepped in, expecting to see an entirely empty bathroom with perhaps a ghost rattling around at the sink. Instead, a different sight awaited her.
Draco Malfoy was clutching the edge of the cracked sink basin in front of him, rocking himself back and forth and shaking. From her vantage point, she could see that he was dressed in his normal garb--a black ensemble--but his hair was unruly and messy, sticking up in the back like he’d hurriedly tugged something over his head.
A strangled gasp grounded her and halted her curious observations. Malfoy began to make these awful sobbing sounds, like he could barely manage to breathe.
Y/N was frozen in place as she surveyed her options. If she stayed and tried to talk to him, he might react in anger or hurt her. But if she just left him, like this, all alone...She swallowed once before stepping forward.
“Malfoy? Are you okay?” Obviously he’s not, you bint said a voice deep in her brain. She pushed it aside as he swung around, his wand raised and his eyes blazing. “Whoa! I’m not going to...Put your wand down!”
He stared at her, his eyes wide with horror as he continued to shake, so much so that his wand slipped out of his hand and clattered to the floor. Without thinking, Y/N reached into her pocket and flung her wand away, holding her hands up.
“I’m not going to try anything. I promise.”
As she drew closer, she could see the remnants of tears on his wet cheeks and the way that his silver eyes were rimmed with a bloodshot red.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he hissed, his voice weak and cracking.
“Neither should you. This is the girl’s bathroom.”
final a/n: ok so lmk if you guys wants me to continue. i really did not edit the last half fjkdsal;f also kinda made this an au where malfoy tried to assassinate dumbledore. with more than one cursed object but dw it’ll all make sense ill clear that up 😭
#draco malfoy#draco x reader#draco malfoy x reader#draco imagine#draco malfoy imagine#draco x you#draco#draco malfoy x you#draco x y/n#draco malfoy x y/n#draco x oc#draco malfoy x oc
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Draco and y/n just recently went from enemies to friends and they have their first kiss mid argument and finally confess
You Don't Understand
Summary: Draco and Y/N's friendship hangs in the balance as the two engage in a heated argument. What do the sparks that fly mean? Is it hate or something more?
Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Fem Reader (again you’re more than welcome to specify gender neutral!)
Year: 6th
Y/H/H: Your Hogwarts House
House: Any
Word count: 1.1k
Warnings: so much fluff omg
A/N: Thank you for your request, my lovely anon! Hope you like this! <3 it is nearly 2 A.M. holy moly
“Draco,” Y/N tugged on Draco’s sleeve as he exited the Potions classroom. He’d been avoiding her all day and she was tired of it. “What’s going on?”
The Slytherin yanked his arm out of the Y/H/H’s grasp, pinning her with a glare. “For the last time, Y/N, nothing is going on!” He moved to walk away, but Y/N held on to his sleeve tightly, ignoring the curious glances students gave the pair as they passed.
“I’m not an idiot, Draco.” Y/N hissed. “I know something’s wrong. Why can’t you tell me what it is?”
Draco growled. “Let. Go.”
She gritted her teeth. “Fine. But we will discuss this. Name a time and place and I’ll be there.”
“Fine.” He sniffed.
“Fine.”
They glowered at each other for a few heartbeats before going their separate ways.
***
Much to Y/N's chagrin, Draco didn't send her an owl until a few days after their initial encounter.
Astronomy Tower. 7 P.M.
Y/N pursed her lips. She thought about not showing up at all. Why did he make her wait so bloody long? Sure, their friendship was new and somewhat tentative, as they'd gone from enemies to friends, but didn't she have a right to know what was going on in his life?
Her curiosity won out, however, and she sighed as she trudged up the winding staircase that led to the top of the Astronomy Tower. Y/N wasn't surprised to find Draco already standing there, his back to her as he looked over the expanse of the grounds. Y/N cleared her throat; Draco turned immediately.
"You're late," he sniffed. Y/N snorted.
"So was your bloody owl. It's been three days."
"Oh? I didn't realize our conversation was assigned a due date."
The girl clenched her fists at her sides, taking a calming breath as she joined Draco at the railing. "Punctuality would've been nice."
Draco didn't answer her. Instead, he sighed, the Malfoy family ring clinking against the cold iron as he ran a hand along the railings. "This isn't working," he said suddenly. Y/N blinked.
"What isn't working?"
"This." He gestured between them. "Our friendship. We can't be friends anymore."
Y/N folded her arms, taking a step back as she turned to face the blonde Slytherin, her Y/E/C eyes icy. "Why the hell not?"
"There are things going on that you don't understand," Draco started, but Y/N interrupted him.
"I'm an intelligent witch, Draco. I'm sure I can keep up."
"You couldn't possibly." Draco snorted, making Y/N tense, her eyes narrowing.
"Did you just call me dumb?"
"Not in so many words," he shrugged, raking his left hand through his hair. And what a bloody mistake that was, because then she saw it.
"Draco," she reached for his arm. "What is that on your arm?"
"Nothing." He smacked her hand away. Y/N drew her wand, pointing it at his chest.
"Don't you dare hit me," she dug her wand into his chest, her eyes flashing dangerously. "Now tell me what you've done or I swear I'll-"
"You'll what?" Draco sneered. "Go to Dumbledore?"
Y/N shrugged, lifting her chin defiantly. "If I must. Now show me your bloody arm."
If looks could kill, Y/N Y/L/N would be dead from the glare Draco gave her, but he rolled up his sleeve, revealing the Dark Mark that had been burned into his skin. Y/N stumbled back, lowering her wand.
"Draco," she breathed. "What on Earth have you done?"
His gray eyes were bitter. "What I had to do. I didn't have a choice."
Y/N let out a scoffing laugh. "Everyone has a choice, Draco." Her voice began to shake. "But how...how could you go through with it? He's a murderer, Draco! The things he's done--"
"I know what he's done!" Draco cried. "God, do I know what he's done! I've been there for so much of it that I'm afraid the nightmares will never stop, Y/N!" Tears glittered in his gray eyes. "Don't you see? That's why this has to stop. He'll kill you, Y/N, he'd ruin everything!"
"No!" Y/N pocketed her wand, storming up to him, a fire raging in her eyes. "I refuse to believe that! Let me help you, Draco. Please."
"There is no helping me, Y/N." Draco snarled as he looked down at her; he could feel the warmth of her breath on his chin with each word she spoke. When had they gotten so close?
"Bullshit," she snapped. "I can and I will help you, Draco!"
He let out a cry of frustration. "Oh, for Salazar's sake, witch! Are you so keen on getting yourself killed?"
"I just want to help!"
"Why in God's name won't you get it through your thick skull?" Draco stepped forward, towering over her intentionally, an intimidation tactic. "That I don't bloody need your help?"
For a moment, Draco thought he saw Y/N's gaze flicker towards his lips, but the moment was gone before he could be certain. Desire shot through him at the thought, and he squeezed his eyes shut.
"I just want you to be safe, Draco." Y/N whispered, the sweet smell of her breath assaulting his nostrils as she exhaled.
Draco took a shaky breath. "Why?" he whispered.
"You're my friend--"
"Like Hell I am," His self-control snapped as he crushed his mouth to hers.
For a long, horrible moment she was frozen in his arms, but then she dangled her arms around his neck, her chest flush with his as she responded to the kiss. Draco's arms snaked around her waist as the kissed turned slow and soft. When they needed air, he broke away from her lips and trailed kisses along the shell of her ear, pressing feather-light kisses against her neck before lifting his head.
Her lips were just as kiss-swollen as he was sure his were, and he groaned as she leaned in to peck him on the lips again.
"That's why this won't work. I can't stand being your friend when I'm so bloody in love with you that I can't breathe." Draco said breathlessly as their lips parted once more. Y/N's cheeks flushed pink, and she gave him a dazzling smile.
"I've wanted to kiss you for ages now, Draco Malfoy." She murmured, running her fingers through his platinum blonde hair. "Because I love you, too."
Warmth spread across Draco's entire being at her words, and for the first time since he was a little boy, a feeling of bliss, a feeling of safety, wrapped around him like a warm blanket. The Dark Lord's task, as insurmountable as it seemed, would be bearable with the witch he loved by his side.
He would be all right. He was sure of it.
~~~
I know @rosiehufflepuff for sure wanted to be tagged but if you want to be added to my Draco taglist let me know! ❤️
#draco fanfiction#draco fluff#draco malfoy#draco malfoy fanfic#draco malfoy fanfiction#draco malfoy fic#draco malfoy fluff#draco malfoy imagine#draco malfoy one shot#draco malfoy x reader#draco malfoy x y/n#draco malfoy x you#draco x reader#draco x y/n#draco x you#hp imagine#hp fandom#hp fic
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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.”
#draco#draco malfoy#draco x reader#draco malfoy x reader#draco x you#draco malfoy x you#draco fanfiction#draco malfoy fanfiction#draco imagine#draco malfoy imagine#draco x y/n#draco malfoy x y/n#draco smut#draco x reader smut#draco malfoy smut#draco malfoy x reader smut#draco fluff#draco malfoy fluff#draco x reader fluff#draco malfoy x reader fluff
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both a little crazy // d.m
request: Hi! Just noticed ur requests r open! Can u please do a Draco x Slytherin Reader in which the Reader is a bad boss biatch and is TOTALLY savage, but her and Draco hides feelings for each other?
warnings: very brief mentions of torture, language?? not proof read bc i am sick and dont feel like it i am sorry
word count: 3.1k
a/n: don’t mind the fact that i based the reader off of rosa diaz. :)))) enjoy! (also yes i reposted this bc my tumblr wasnt working and tags were wonky!)
——
Your head was held rather high as you entered the Great Hall, your eyes pointed straight towards the Slytherin table in hopes that no one would talk to you as you walked over. It was way too early for conversation, in your opinion. Any attempt would just be sour.
You took your usual seat next to Pansy, who’s head was down on the table as she breathed slowly — quite possibly sound asleep. It wouldn’t be a surprise. She was not one for early mornings either. Quite possibly less so than you were.
The empty goblet in front of you was quickly filled with pumpkin juice before you took a big gulp, hoping the familiar liquid would help bring a bit of energy into you. However, that was a failed attempt as you felt your eyes stay heavy, your head swaying to the side slightly before a loud voice startled you out of your dozed out state.
“Crabbe, shut your mouth,” you snapped, silencing the boy sitting across from you who looked over with wide eyes, his mouth closing slowly, “You just woke up half the bloody hall with your laughter.”
Pansy jumped up from next to you, thick red marks across her forehead that resembled the wooden carvings on the table she was just rested against. You let out a low chuckle, eyes darting towards the entrance to the Hall — what you saw made you stop your laughing and sit up straighter.
Draco, accompanied by a brunette Slytherin, waltzed in with a smile on his face. You looked down immediately, hating the bubbling jealousy that threatened to emerge. You had seen the two together before but it didn’t help the sudden onslaught of negative emotions every time you saw him with her.
Maybe, possibly, you’ve had dreams where you use muggle torture techniques to keep her out of your life.
But no one needed to know that.
“Ah, Malfoy’s brought his admirer,” Pansy sighed, resting her chin on her hand, “What a surprise.”
You scoffed, trying to play it off, “When doesn’t he?”
No one knew of your little crush on Draco Malfoy. And if things were to go your way, no one would ever know. Being sly was always one of your specialties and you were rather proud of that. You didn’t let people in on a lot of secrets and you were bound to keep this one to yourself too.
“Fair point,” Pansy said lowly as Draco walked towards the table with an arrogant smirk on his face. A pleasantly attractive smirk, yes, but it was arrogant nonetheless. And you wanted to bite your own tongue off at the knowledge that the brunette was the one that put it there.
He sat across from you, seated between Crabbe and Blaise, but you didn’t greet him. Pettiness was overtaking your mood and you sat quietly, not even turning up to face him as you picked at some breakfast foods to put into your plate. Your day already felt like it was ruined — as dramatic as that was.
“You ready for tonight’s Quidditch game?” Blaise asked nonchalantly, taking a sip of tea and raising his eyebrows at Draco. You hid a scoff.
“Yep, can’t wait,” you sighed, leaning forwards, “The rain will really up the fun factor.”
You looked up at the bewitched ceiling, the heavy rain clouds pouring down on the students below. The drops obviously never reached anyone, but it was still awfully gloomy. You always hated playing in the rain. You’d end up in bed, shivering and wet with the early signs of a cold.
“Only reason I joined the team was to take down Gryffindor,” Draco sneered, “Will gladly get to do that tonight.”
“That’s if we win,” you scoffed, “Potter’s always got one up on you. You should probably fix that.”
After saying the words, you felt guilt blossom in your chest. You knew Draco’s weakness was the fact that his ‘sworn enemy’ Harry Potter always beat him — you had never really thrown it into his face until now.
You could see the change in his mood from the way his eyes grew slightly darker, glaring at you as if he wanted to retaliate. His shoulders slouched downwards and he leaned forwards on the table.
“Well, what’s got your wand in a twist this morning?” the corner of his lip curved up into a smirk and you had to force yourself to look away from him so you wouldn’t cave.
Shrugging, you kept your voice neutral, “Just saying. Maybe it’ll give you more incentive to win and prove me wrong,” you picked up your cup, avoiding eye contact if at all possible.
He eyed you, confusion laced into the creases of his forehead. You had never snapped at him like this before but you just couldn’t help it. The faint smirk quickly vanished and was replaced with a scowl as he turned down to face his plate.
You bit the inside of your cheek, absentmindedly picking at the scraps of bacon and toast on your plate. This section of table grew awfully quiet at your outburst, an awkward air surrounding all of you.
Being friends with Draco, it wasn’t rare that the two of you bickered. He always carried his nose and chin high, and sometimes you liked to knock him down a peg, no matter how much you swooned over the platinum headed boy. His charismatic charm was just one of the endless reasons he always thought he could get his way.
“Seriously,” Pansy leaned over and whispered in your ear, “What’s up? Why’d you say that?”
A blush rose to your cheeks and your snapped your head to her, “Out of my business, Parkinson.”
Her eyes widened and she held her hands up in surrender, “My bad.”
You let out a huff and went back to eating your meal, very much aware of Draco’s eyes piercing the top of your scalp as you kept your own eyes facing down, attempting with all of your might to avoid any more conversation than necessary.
Tonight’s match should be fun.
——
As usual, Potions class was a complete drag.
Snape was in his usual foul mood, nitpicking every single damn thing. You were used to it by now, having been in Snape’s house for nearly six years now, but it didn’t mean you particularly enjoyed it.
Least of all now, after being paired with Draco for a potions assignment.
If this were any other day, your heart would be doing leaps inside of your chest right about now — however the idea of just the two of you having to work together and talk was slightly nauseating after this morning’s outbreak.
“So,” he sat next to you, sliding awkwardly into the empty seat, “You still mad at me?”
You scoffed, flipping through the pages of you book, “Wasn’t cross with you.”
Fun fact about Draco Malfoy; he always saw right through you.
“C’mon,” he nudged your shoulder, causing you to look up from your book, “Don’t think you’ve ever spoken to me like that before.” His soft voice and piercing eyes were so hard to lie to. You always found yourself tempted to spill your deepest darkest secrets.
“I said I wasn’t mad at you,” you forced a smile, “I’ve got... other things going on.”
He didn’t believe you for a second, “What other things?”
You blessed Salazar and all of the Hogwarts founders that Snape decided to do his rounds, cutting your awkward conversation short and placing a piece of paper on your desk — the name of the potion you’d have to make.
Wiggenweld.
Grinning, you re-opened your book and began scanning through, landing on the very worn down page with said potion on it. You couldn’t count how many times you’ve made this, which was great since you could do it easily and get away from Draco as soon as possible.
“Stop ignoring me,” he pushed, a small smile on his face, “We’ve gotta team up and play well together tonight so you might as well come clean.”
“Stay out of my business and I won’t have to hex you,” you said through gritted teeth, your voice low so no one could overhead. You reckon that’d be quite embarrassing.
He leaned even closer to you — close enough that you could smell some sort of faint cologne and laundry detergent lingering on his house robes. Close enough that you could see the small strands of brown hair in the sea of bleach blond. Close enough that his eyes weren’t just blue; they were turquoise. Green stars scattered amongst a sky of blue.
Close enough that you nearly forgot to breathe.
“I’ll find out eventually, you know?” he looked over the page in your book and began writing the ingredients and steps down on the parchment in front of him.
You fought back a chuckle at his childish handwriting.
He offered to go get the ingredients and you let him do so as you cleaned up your desk, preparing it to become a potion station. You hated working in a dirty environment and so you attempted to make the dingy desk as spotless as possible.
Your partner had been gone for quite a while as you felt slightly guilty. There were quite a few ingredients to Wiggenweld and it’d be tough for him to walk back with everything in his hands. You gazed over to see if he needed help, your heart leapt up into your throat.
Draco was leaned up against the wall, his arms crossed against his chest and a smirk on his face as he chatted to the same Slytherin girl from breakfast.
You bit down on your tongue, fighting a deep breathe that would surely give away your overwhelming jealousy. After taking a good long moment to calm down the rapid, angry beating of your heart, you balled your fists behind your back and walked over to him.
“Give me these,” you snatched the bottles and ingredients from his hands, looking anywhere but his eyes as you turned away from him, “When you feel like actually doing the work, that’d be great.”
Storming back to the table and placing everything down in a somewhat organized fashion, you decided to turn over to Blaise at the table next to you, “Wanna switch partners?”
He let out a low chuckle, looking over to the quiet Hufflepuff boy that was chopping away at the other half of the ingredients, “Mine’s actually working so I’d say no.”
“So selfish,” you scoffed, shaking your head, “Mine’s off being a git.”
Dropping the tool he was using to grate a unicorn horn, Blaise crossed his arms and walked over to you, “Lucy? She’s great.”
You let your hair fall from behind your ears to hide your frustrated blush, “Yeah, she’s real great. Taking his time while he should be here working”
If you had looked away, you would have missed the smirk that overtook his face. However, you noticed it, and it only made the blush on your cheeks grow even deeper.
“Oh, I see what’s going on,” he wiggled his eyebrows.
“No you don’t,” you snapped, “Go back to work or I’ll cut your tongue off and use it as an ingredient.”
He stepped back, but the smirk and amusement never left his face. Blaise was intuitive, yes — but you were being incredibly obvious, that much was certain. Him putting the pieces together was your fault, really.
“Oi, don’t attack me. If you’re to go after anyone, wouldn’t it be her?” he nudged his head in the direction of the girl that Draco was now walking away from, “after all, she’s the one stealing your man.”
“Shut your face,” you spoke lowly, glaring him down with all of your might as he walked back to his table with a chuckle. You watched as he went back to work before you decided to do the same yourself, picking up a tiny bottle and reading the label before unscrewing the tiny lid.
Draco’s bright head popped up on the other side of the table, “We getting started?”
Fighting the urge to snap, you nodded your head slowly, “So kind of you to join. Now get to work.”
He brushed your comment aside, stepping closer to you and ignoring your demand to get to work, “Do you know Lucy?”
Biting down on your tongue, you shook your head, “Nope. Your girlfriend?” You hated how bitter and insecure you sounded but at the moment, that was really the least of your concerns. All logic has been thrown out the window.
He rolled his eyes and let out a small laugh, “Bloody hell, no. She’s actually interested in Zabini. But I was wondering—”
“Wait, what?” you asked, nearly knocking a tiny bottle over as you leaned into the table, trying to get closer to him as if your hearing was off. Which, by the sound of what he said, you assumed it might be.
“What?” he stopped, “I’m trying to help her get with Zabini. He keeps talking about her.”
Suddenly, you felt like a complete idiot. The blush on your cheeks resurfaced and your heart did a leap against your ribcage.
“Oh,” you looked down, letting out a humourless chuckle, “I’m so sorry.”
Of course, you had jumped to conclusions. That’s what you always did. And now here you were, looking like a complete idiot and making your feelings blatantly obvious. The one thing you had been trying to avoid.
“Sorry? For what?” he was now the one to be confused, “What’s going on?”
“I—,” you blinked rapidly, looking over at him and trying your best to come up with any sentence that could make sense, “Nevermind. Let’s just get back to work.”
He furrowed his eyebrows, clearly put off by how oddly you had been behaving all day so far, but he didn’t press the subject. You knew he’d ask you about it later, but that was for another time. You couldn’t exactly blame him either. If the tables were turned and he was the one behaving oddly, you’d be on his rear about it too.
You made a promise to yourself to talk to him after tonight’s game. The conversation might end up going against your one goal, and it might end up going really badly for you, but you had to tell him. It was time.
——
The Quidditch match ended up being a breeze. You guys ended up victorious by a landslide, Draco catching the snitch with a massive grin on his face. The relief spread through your body like a tidal wave as you watched him hold up the tiny golden ball — but what was even better was watching Gryffindor stalk off the field with glum expressions.
A real victory.
The Slytherin team gathered down on the pitch, surrounding a boastful Draco as he held his head high. A part of you wanted to go down, give him a hug and apologize for the rude comments you made this morning — but the other part of you thought that he was fine celebrating without you. You’re the one who made him feel like complete crap this morning; why would he want to celebrate with you?
You smiled from afar, walking into the Slytherin tent. You were alone, obviously. Everyone was still shouting and cheering on the pitch and you highly doubted the partying would end anytime soon.
The perfect escape for you.
You hung up your broom and removed your uniform, bundling yourself in a comfy sweater and leggings so you could walk back up to the castle without getting too cold now that the sun was gone.
Hoping no one would catch you sneaking off before party plans were made, you began to open the tent door, only to be interrupted by a voice.
“Not sticking around?”
You spun on the spot, facing a rather sweaty and satisfied looking Draco. You cursed his good looks under your breath, knowing that you’d have a hard time saying no to him while he looked like this.
“Not feeling well,” you lied, shrugging and looking down at the ground.
He stepped closer to you, “Right, you’ve been odd all day. What’s wrong? And don’t say nothing again.”
You took a deep breath, biting your lower lip as you gazed back up at him, looking into the eyes that made butterflies fly wildly in your belly.
“I spoke to Blaise and I think I know what your problem is,” he stepped even closer, the space between the two of you now only a few inches.
Letting out a small laugh, you shook your head, “That little git.”
He pursed his lips, placing one of his warm hands on the side of your cheek. Your breath hitched in your throat and you leaned into his touch, not sure where he was going with this but enjoying every second of it.
One step closer, and he was nearly flush against your body. He was radiating warmth, his entire body still high off of the win, and you swore he could feel your rapid heartbeat.
Why else would he be smirking like that?
His smirk didn’t last long, however, as his lips pressed against yours.
Many people say their first kiss with their crush is soft, delicate — this wasn’t the case here. His lips pressed against yours with feverish passion, bringing the temperature in the small tent up by at least ten degrees. His lips were hot and wet as they moulded against yours, both hands cupping the sides of your face as he locked his body up against yours.
How many times you dreamt of this, you couldn’t count. But by Merlin, was it better than you could have ever imagined. You felt as if you were dancing with him, letting loose and moving to a rhythm of heartbeats. It was truly a beautiful feeling; one that you hoped you’d get to experience again.
“Well,” he muttered against your lips after pulling away, “Guess I was right.”
You wanted to retaliate and give him a sarcastic comment, but your mind was too numb and flummoxed to do so.
“Sorry I was acting all crazy,” you sighed, looking up into his blissful eyes, “Perhaps it’s true when they say jealousy makes people do crazy things.”
“It’s alright, love,” he smirked, placing hands on both sides of your waist and pulling you even closer, “We’re both a little crazy then.”
It felt like hippogriffs were fluttering around your belly as he kissed you once more, hands tightening their grip as he deepened the passionate act.
This would be awkward to explain when the team walked in, but for now, the two of you were perfectly content as you were.
Finally together.
——
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I’m Done (d.m.)
Summary: draco has been cruel to you since the summer before your sixth year and you’ve had enough.
AN: sad girl hours but with a happy ending
Draco Malfoy had a reputation. Whether it was a good or bad one didn’t matter, he still had one.
You were used to his cruel comments about your friends and you did your best to keep him at bay most of the time. But the dynamic of your relationship had shifted and not for the better.
Draco’s letters to you over the Summer became very rare. You’d be surprised if you got one in a week. You tried not to let it bother you but it did leave a sour taste in your mouth.
Then on the train back to Hogwarts, he kept saying things about how much he wasn’t looking forward to his sixth year. How it was going to be a waste of his time.
You looked down at your hands when he said that, thinking about all the plans you had made for your sixth year. He thought they were a waste of time now.
Then came the cruel comments and digs about you and your house. You were a Gryffindor but from a pure blood family so it was okay that you were with him. Well, according to him.
By the time winter was approaching, you had grown accustomed to his cruel behavior and him telling you how lucky you were to be with him. Your friends began to worry for your mental state. They thought it can’t be good for someone to hear degrading things about them every day.
But you loved Draco. You didn’t know what was going on with him but you couldn’t leave him. Until he snapped that was.
You were standing at the Astronomy tower one evening, figuring Draco would be there. “Draco, are you okay?” You asked, placing a soft hand on his shoulder.
“I’m fine, Y/N, just go back to your common room.” He said, irritation in his voice. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what’s wrong. I’ve seen what’s going on with you but you won’t tell me anything.” You rebutted.
“Because telling you would be useless! You can’t do anything so I don’t know why you bother trying to help! God, I knew you weren’t bright but not this stupid.” He snapped. Instantly wishing he hadn’t said it.
You scoffed at his words as tears began stinging your eyes. “That’s it, Draco, I’m done. Ever since the beginning of term you have been mean and cruel and I have done nothing to deserve it. I am so terribly sorry that I care about you. I deserve better this. I don’t deserve to be treated like the scum of the Earth because you don’t want to tell me what the hell is going on with you.” You started.
“What, you’re going to break up with me?” Draco asked, figuring you were bluffing. “Yes. Yes, Draco, I’m breaking up with you. I’m not wasting my life staying with someone who doesn’t love me.” You answered.
Draco’s face fell at your words. He wasn’t expecting you to actually break up with him. But he couldn’t blame you. The stress and pressure that was put on him by his family had caused him to start lashing out at you. And you were right, you didn’t deserve it. You were just trying to help.
“Y/N,” He started. “No. Just stay away from me.” You said in a more hushed tone before leaving him alone. Draco stood there, trying to process what had exactly just happened. You left him. You finally left him and it was entirely his fault.
He drove you to it and he wasn’t instantly regretting anything more.
__
It had been exactly three weeks since you broke up with Draco and you were not going to let him see you miserable. You had far too much pride for that, making it way more evident as to why you were sorted into Gryffindor.
But your efforts were futile because your appearance gave you away. You hadn’t slept in days and if you did it was only for a couple hours so you had very noticeable dark circles under your eyes. You lost a couple pounds due to you skipping some meals.
Draco didn’t look any better. As a matter of fact he looked worse. He looked so frail that everyone thought if they nudged him ever so slightly he’d break. You breaking up with him was was the straw that broke the camel’s back and added on to having to fulfill his task for the Dark Lord. But no one knew.
He told himself it was better this way. You’d be safe and Voldemort wouldn’t find out about you. But what if he saw his current state as a weakness and found out about you anyways? The only thing that saved you was the fact that Lucius didn’t know about you. Draco only told his mother about you and she was happy to see her son happy. Regardless of what house you were in.
You were sitting in the Great Hall during your ‘free period’ trying to focus on getting your homework done. Your focus was depleted by Ron Weasley taking a seat next to you.
“Hi, Y/N.” He greeted you. “Hello, Ron. What can I do for you?” You asked, turning to him with a small smile. “I just wanted to see how you were doing. Ever since Draco, we’ve all been worried about you.” He answered. “I’m okay. I promise. But I appreciate you worrying about me.” You told him, placing a hand on his arm.
Ron’s gaze shifted to something behind you before a look of worry and awkwardness adorned his face. You turned around and your gaze fell to Draco standing a few feet away from you.
Your eyes shifted downward as Draco turned around and left the Great Hall. “You really got him shaken up, Y/N. He must have really cared about you.” Ron commented. “That was the problem. He didn’t care about me.” You muttered.
Later that day, you were walking back to the common room from potions in the dungeons when someone grabbed your elbow and pulled you off to an empty corridor.
“What the hell?” You questioned until you saw that the culprit was Draco. “What do you want, Draco?” You asked, quickly feeling uncomfortable under his gaze. “Weasley now? Really? You broke up with me for Weasley?” He questioned with a rather harsh tone.
“I broke up with you because you were terrible to me! Ron was making sure I was okay because though I should be thrilled to be rid of your torment, I’m not. I don’t sleep, I barely eat and it’s all because I’m worried sick about you. And I shouldn’t because you don’t give a damn about me.” You yelled at him.
“Of course I care about you! All I do is care about you! I-I can’t tell you what’s going on because you could end up dead if I do.” Draco said. “What are you talking about?” You questioned.
Draco was silent and that silence was all you needed to connect the pieces. “No. No, please tell me you aren’t one of them.” You begged. “I wish I could.” He whispered. “He said he’d kill my family if I didn’t help him. He doesn’t know about you but he could find out and I will not have you get hurt because of me.” He added. “Draco, this isn’t you. You aren’t like them, you’re better than that.” You said.
“You don’t understand, Y/N, I have to do this. It’s not as easy as just leaving.” He said before pulling up the sleeve of his robe. You took a couple small steps back at the sight of the dark mark in his forearm.
Draco could tell that you were scared and he didn’t want you to be scared of him.
“Y/N, please.” He said. You shook your head and all you could look at was the mark. “There’s no going back from this, Draco. No one ever stops being a Death Eater and after this is over you’re going to be locked up in Azkaban with the rest of them and you know that. Because you know that he’s not going to win. And I can’t see that happen to you.” You said. “But I love you, Y/N.” Draco said, his last stitch effort to get you back.
“And I love you too but I can’t watch you do this to yourself.” You replied before walking away from him.
__
It has been a year since the Battle of Hogwarts had been fought and won. You fought along side your friends and had to see the man you love forced into a situation he wanted no part of.
Even a year later, Draco was all you thought of. And of course you heard the whisperings about his trial. How the ministry was asking for witnesses to testify. You got off lucky because no one outside of Hogwarts knew you were together.
In the end, all the charges were dropped because he was just a boy, forced to do the Dark Lord’s bidding in fear of losing his life and the lives of those he cared for.
You knew of this because Arthur Weasley got you a job at the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office so you heard all of the Ministry gossip and you had heard that Draco was let go.
After the war, you spent a lot of time in muggle London because it was a nice change of scenery. You only ever ran into muggle-borns or half bloods so it came as a shock when you walked into your favorite bakery and caught sight of familiar platinum blonde hair.
You wished you could’ve turned around right then and there but it was already too late. The bell atop of the door alerted the other customers and his eyes landed on you.
He could see that the last place you wanted to he was there. Were you that disgusted that you couldn’t even be in the same room as him?
Draco decided to throw caution into the wind and approach you.
“Uh, hi, Y/N.” He greeted you. “Hello, Draco. I didn’t expect to see you here.” You said. “Here as in?” He questioned. “The muggle world. I know you weren’t fond of it back in school.” You explained.
“It’s really the only place I can go now without receiving death threats or getting kicked out.” He said. Your heart hurt for him upon hearing the reason for his escape.
You took a leap of faith, one that he could see you battling internally. “You can join me if you want. It’s no fun being alone.” You said.
He gave you a soft smile before sitting down with you.
The two of you caught up and talked. The first question you asked was how Narcissa was doing. She was always supportive of your relationship with her son. Draco asked how your parents were doing, to which you had to deliver the news that your father was killed by his aunt.
The look of indescribable guilt washed over his face as a slew of apologies came out. You could see that he regretted his actions back in Hogwarts and you assumed that if he could take it all back he would.
“If I could go back and say no, I would.” He said, proving your assumption to be correct. “I know. But we can’t change the past. We can only move forward.” You told him.
“I know who you really are, Draco. You’re not this evil person. You just need to let the rest of the world see it too. And yes, I know you hate being vulnerable.” You added.
He smiled softly at your words, happy that you still knew him. The real him.
“I miss you. Every single day.” Draco said. You were quiet for a moment, not really sure how to respond to him. “I’d be lying if I didn’t miss you too.” You finally said.
“Hurting you is one of the biggest mistakes I’ve made. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt you.” He told you. “I know that now. Back then, I wasn’t sure.” You replied. “Can you forgive me? You’d be the first to.” He asked.
You smiled sweetly at him as you placed your hand on top of his. “I already forgave you, Draco. After Fred died I knew I couldn’t hold on to grudges forever. Life is too short for that.” You said.
“I’m sorry about Fred. I know he was important to you. All of them were and I’m sorry I treated them so terribly.” Draco said. “You need to stop being so hard on yourself. You were a kid, Draco. An easy target for him. He was trying to make an example of you. He chose you because you didn’t believe in his cause. You think you did but the Draco I fell in love with didn’t side with him. He was torturing you. You were just a boy. Now it’s time to start being the person I know you are.” You told him, in an understanding but stern manner.
Draco appreciated your honesty in the matter. Of course he was going to be hard on himself, he was a Death Eater and it was his fault Bellatrix destroyed Hogwarts. But you were always the person who saw the good in him.
“I have a good way to start your redemption tour.” You added. “How? Half of the wizarding world hates me.” Draco questioned. “Be my date to Ron and Hermione’s wedding. I’d hate to go alone.” You answered. “Y/N, they’re not going to want me there.” He rebutted.
“You’d be surprised. Resentment is corrosive. They’ve learned to forgive.” You said. “How long did it take you to convince them of that?” Draco asked. “Actually, it was Mrs. Weasley. Ginny almost died because of Tom Riddle, it could have easily been her.” You said.
“Y/N, I love you but I don’t think it’s a good idea.” He told you. Your face fell slightly as you looked at your hands. “What?” Draco questioned. “You just told me you loved me.” You answered. “Because I do.” He said with absolute certainty.
Again, you paused. You couldn’t say it back just yet. Though you wanted too, you needed to learn to trust Draco again before saying those three words to him.
“I want to say it back, but I need to trust you again. It’s not that I haven’t felt that way since fourth year but we went through something extreme. I need time.” You said. “How about we start with Weasley and Granger’s wedding?” He suggested.
You smiled a giddy smile at him, relieved and thrilled that he had accepted your invitation. Both you and Draco had healing to do after the war. And doing that together would open the door to rebuilding your relationship.
#imagine#imagines#harry potter imagine#draco malfoy#draco malfoy imagine#draco malfoy x reader#ron weasley#hermione granger#george weasley#fred weasley#ginny weasley
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An Artful Revenge Pt. 1
First part of The Archeron Damnation series.
~Rhysand~
Have you ever had everything you’ve ever wanted dropped in your lap like a present?
It makes it so easy you almost don’t even want it anymore.
Before today, this had never happened to me. For over thirty years, I’ve worked and fought and killed for everything I’ve wanted. Nothing about my life has been easy.
Until today.
Until a young, beautiful woman paused to look at a piece of art, oblivious to the monster who stood behind her.
As soon as I looked up and saw her, I felt like an anvil fell on my chest and robbed me of air. I couldn’t fucking breathe.
For the first time in my long, miserable life, I was utterly speechless as Feyre Archeron tilted her head contemplatively, as if the slab of paint was something that required great concentration.
Her focus was so singular it gave me more than enough time to figure out what I wanted to do.
But I couldn’t concentrate enough to even do that. Not yet. For now, I just took her in. Photos didn’t do her justice, honestly. Sandy blonde hair, a slight frame more than pleasing to look at from the back, defined cheekbones, full lips. Beautiful.
It was almost unfair for someone like her to be so beautiful.
She had a hand on her chest and was completely still as she looked at the work in front of her, like she almost couldn’t stand the rush of emotions it gave her.
I understood the feeling.
My friends often tell me I should go on the road as a mind reader or fortune teller or some other bullshit. The point is, I’m pretty decent at reading people.
And just from the way the woman in front of me is looking at an overpriced, ugly piece of art, I know she’s innocent.
She has no idea who she used to share a bed with, no idea what kind of evil she invited into her life with a smile.
I also know I can’t let it change things in the slightest. Innocent or not, beautiful or not, I’ve been trying to find the perfect moment to worm my way into her life and turn it fucking upside down.
And she’s just handed it to me on a silver platter.
I’ve been looking for her, and I’ve finally found her.
She’s mine.
~Feyre~
“You like it?”
Gasping and pressing my hand harder against my chest to calm my racing heart, I spin around to face whoever just asked such an obvious question.
And the first thing I can think is, He’s more beautiful than the painting.
The stranger’s casually leaning against the opposite wall, hands in his pockets, confidence and wealth and class draped over him like a very impressive, very handsome mask.
He’s concealed in a jet black suit, but somehow I can tell he’s impressively built; it’s like strength and power are radiating off of him. His face probably took the gods years to craft, the sharp angles of his jaw and slash of his brows perfectly creating the most alluring thing I’ve ever seen.
Dark hair, piercing violet eyes that scan me head to toe, and smirking, sensual lips complete his features.
He’s the most attractive male I’ve ever seen. And I’m an art major who frequently finds herself painting models, so that’s saying something.
“You like it,” he states, whatever he finds on my face taking away the need for a question mark.
“I do,” I confirm, forcing myself to turn back to the painting and stop gawking like an idiot.
He surprises me by asking openly, “Why?”
The painting in question is one of the most revered paintings in the world: Dancers in Blue by Degas. But he’s asking in a way that makes it clear he genuinely doesn’t know why people pay to look at it.
Running my hand through my hair, I try and put it into words. “There’s just so much... energy in it. The background’s nothing but a bunch of paint splatters, and yet you can feel it almost. The dancer’s excitement, the energy of the crowd. It’s breathtaking.”
There’s a beat of silence, and I cringe inwardly, thinking of how weird that probably sounded.
Then, “Would you like it?”
Only four words and they almost knock me on my ass. I spin back around so fast he chuckles, eyes wide, and sputter, “Would I what?”
I mean, it’s clear he’s rich, but there’s rich, and then there’s buying a Degas rich.
“I was planning on buying it anyway. It should belong to someone who loves it as much as you obviously do.”
“What?” I repeat, still not understanding why he would offer something like that to a total stranger.
“I presumed you to be intelligent, but if you keep asking that question, I might have to amend that.”
I narrow my eyes, somehow intelligent enough to pick up on the insult. “I’m just confused. I mean, you look rich and all, but that painting’s worth $45 million dollars. And you just asked...”
“If you want it.”
Putting my hands on my hips, I regard him speculatively. “Which psych ward did you break out of, exactly?”
He smiles, amusement twinkling in his eyes. “The way I see it, you have two options. You can accept the painting and stare at it from home, or I can buy it and hang it with the other one and never give it a second thought.”
My mind can’t stop running, and I think if I wasn’t determined to not completely embarrass myself, I’d collapse to the ground and sob at the impobability of this situation. “What do you mean the other one? You already have a Degas?”
“The pink one,” he confirms casually, flicking a nonexistent fleck of dust off his jacket.
“You have Dancers in Pink?” He nods, lips twitching at the look on my face. “And why, exactly, are you buying priceless pieces of art if you don’t like them?”
“It’s not priceless. You just told me it’s worth $45 million.” I scowl at the non-answer, and he shrugs. “Someone I don’t care for likes them.”
I connect the dots slowly. “So you buy them so he can’t.”
He nods.
My mouth falls open, making him smile again. It’s dangerously attractive and distracting, but I still demand, “Who the fuck are you?”
The stranger laughs outright at that, strolling forward and offering me a tan, tattooed hand with practiced ease. I notice there’s a platinum, engraved ring on his pointer finger, and I stare at it for a moment because it looks strangely familiar.
He seems to pause as I look at it, holding his breath. I’m probably acting like a total weirdo, so I snap out of it and take his hand.
Because he’s rich and confident and beautiful, he feels entitled to drag his calloused thumb across the back of my hand.
And because I’m poor and stupid and at the end of the day, just a woman, I blush. Which only gets worse as he notices and smirks.
“My name is Rhysand.”
“Rhysand what, exactly? Rockefeller? Vanderbilt? Carnegie?” I run out of rich families and fall silent, and he gives me a look like I’m the most amusing thing he’s ever come across.
“Rhysand Azara. When you google me, you won’t find anything of consequence, I’m afraid.”
The way he says when instead of if makes me blush again, because I’d been waiting for him to leave so I could pull out my cracked, struggling little phone and do exactly that.
He looks at me expectantly, and I realize I haven’t said a word, just held onto his hand like a toddler being led across the street. “Oh, I’m Feyre.”
Rhysand just raises an eyebrow.
“Feyre Archeron.”
“And what would I find if I were going to google your name?”
I notice his statement has an if, but I answer anyway, stating facts nervously like an army cadet reporting for duty. “I’m an art major at UChicago. From Missouri.”
“What else?”
“There’s really not much else.”
He tsks, telling me this answer is unacceptable, but doesn’t press it. Instead he shocks the hell out of me once again. “Have dinner with me tonight.”
It isn’t a question, but it isn’t quite a demand, either. It’s a statement, and it’s said like he already knows what my response is going to be.
But like I just told him, I’m a college student.
Which means for the past three years, I’ve been dealing with college boys.
I’ve been asked to “hang,” “smash,” and even to go to coffee on a few rare, wonderful instances. But never, in my entire life, have I been asked---or told--to go to dinner by someone like him.
I realize it’s because I’ve never met anyone like him.
Even my ex-boyfriend, who’d been well off and older, was nothing like him. Compared to the man in front of me, everyone else seemed... juvenile.
They were boys, toddlers even, compared to the man still gripping my hand.
It prompts me to ask, “How old are you?”
He smiles. “Too old for you, I’m sure. Have dinner with me anyway. For the sake of the painting.”
I’m halfway sure I’m in the middle of a fever dream, about to wake up covered in sweat and wondering what the hell just happened, because this cannot be real.
“You’re... are you actually... you’re offering to give me a $45 million painting if I have dinner with you?” I sound incredulous and wheezy to my own ears, but I don’t even care.
Who the hell is this guy?
“You’ll be my second most expensive date.”
“You’re insane.” I look down to where he still holds my hand, entire focus narrowing on the strength in his grip. How would it feel to have him grip me somewhere else? Rhysand gives me a look like he knows what I’m thinking, so I look at the ceiling. Then declare, “I can’t have dinner with you.”
It almost hurt to say it, honestly, because I really love that painting.
He waits until I look back down at his face before asking, “Why not?”
Blushing to high hell, I murmur, “It feels a little like... prostitution.”
Rhysand throws his head back and laughs, a full, wonderful sound I hadn’t been expecting. It’s easy and contagious, and I find myself grinning, even though what I said was true.
“Dinner, gorgeous, was the deal.” He leans in close and whispers, “You coming home with me won’t have anything to do with it.”
I push him away, mind set on giving myself a few feet away from him to compose myself, but I’m so dizzy and confused and strangely turned on I almost fall. His hands shoot out, landing on the bare skin of my shoulders, and I pause.
And really, really contemplate my life.
Yesterday I was sitting on the floor of my dusty apartment in my underwear, eating Ramen and struggling to figure out what the fuck to put in the background of my painting. Today I’m being asked to dinner by a probable-billionaire. On the condition I accept a very expensive form of bribery.
“I’m not going home with you, but I’ll have dinner with you.” He starts to smile, so I cut him off, “Only if you promise to not buy the painting.”
His brows narrow, a silent demand for information.
“I come here almost every day to see it anyway,” I explain. “Besides, there’s no way I can accept it. It’ll get stolen or damaged or... I just can’t accept it. And the thought of you putting it in some forgotten hallway depresses me.”
He sighs dramatically and re-puts his hand out. “No painting. Just dinner.”
“And no sex.”
A very male look crosses his features. “We’ll discuss that later, I think.”
I roll my eyes but shake hands with him, a strange sense of finality settling over me. I shake it off, telling myself the bare mention of having sex with him is why I’m so nervous.
~
Four hours later, I stand at the door, purse clutched in one hand, keys in the other. I’m staring at the door, practically foaming at the mouth, waiting for a knock on the other side to hopefully shock me out of my crazed state.
I’ve been like this for ten minutes already, for some reason not wanting him to wait for a second after he got here. Or maybe I just don’t think he’s actually coming.
Maybe I’ve been on some horrible practical jokes show, and Rhysand Azara isn’t even a real person. I’ll probably end up on television, blushing and beyond naïve, having been convinced a man who looked like a male model wanted to buy me a Degas.
I snort, shaking my head at myself. And then almost fall down when a soft yet somehow insistent knock sounds through my small apartment.
“Holy fuck, he’s here.”
I have no idea why I state it aloud, to myself no less, but I feel like it should be said. Hell, it should be written down in history books. If I kept a diary, I’d write in bold, underlined letters: I HAVE A DATE WITH A VERY STRANGE, VERY HANDSOME MAN.
After fluffing my hair and checking my makeup in a mirror, I stop stalling and open the door.
He, of course, looks like sex on a goddamn spoon. And for a split second--just a moment, I swear--I debate grabbing him by his expensive lapels, dragging him backward into my apartment, and finding out what his mouth feels like against mine.
“Feyre,” he greets, snapping me out of my perverted daydream. “You look beautiful.”
I know it’s dumb to be flattered, because it’s fairly standard to tell a girl she looks nice when you pick her up for a date, but it does my ego no harm because how I look right now took some fucking work.
I shaved from the eyebrows down, exfoliated, scrubbed, cleansed, plucked, and spent thirty minutes deciding what to wear.
I’d taken a gamble he’d wear a suit and dressed to match in a black dress, unremarkable save for the very low back, and simple heels.
I step outside with him, grateful for the warm weather, and turn to lock the door.
Rhysand makes a humming sound, and I freeze as I feel a finger drag down my spine, stopping right at the edge of the fabric. Which happens to be very, very close to something indecent.
“Beautiful,” he states again, and hell if I don’t feel like it.
I finally manage to get the lock closed, then spin around to face him. Up close, there’s silver flecks in his eyes, like starlight. Oh, and he smells amazing. Something manly and wintery and not sold in a bottle.
I. Am in. So much. Trouble.
I have no idea why this man has taken an interest in me, but I know it can only end in one way: me in love, him long gone.
But even though I know it, I’m ready. Five minutes with him makes me feel more alive than I ever have, and even though it’s a disaster in the making, I can’t bring myself to care.
He offers his hand and pulls me towards a--surprise--black car, one that looks expensive. After depositing me in the passenger seat, he goes around and climbs in beside me.
“Where are we going?”
“I’m making a guess about something.”
I glance over at him. “Have you ever realized you don’t give actual answers?”
"Yes,” he responds with a grin, turning the stereo on.
Twenty minutes later, I’m practically bursting at the seems to know where he’s taking me.
What kind of guess is he making? Also, what does that even mean?
He pulls up in front of a nice looking place I’ve never been to--again, surprise--and comes around to open my door. Despite the crowd, as soon as the hostess sees the man leading me through the restaurant, we’re ushered into the back.
Turns out the place has private rooms. It’s quiet and cozy, and I’m pretty sure only the president gets this kind of treatment.
Once I’m seated across from him, menu in hand, I have to ask, “Was your guess correct?”
“I don’t know, do you like French food?”
I smile because j’adore French food, and he grins back because he somehow knew that already.
The waiter comes to ask for our drink order, and I gesture at Rhysand for him to order mine. I know nothing about wine, and he obviously does, because he orders something fancy and expensive sounding.
There’s soft music playing in the background, candles in the corner, and a handsome man sitting across from me. It’s the most romantic situation I’ve ever been in, hands down.
He braces an arm on the table, watching as I take a small sip of the wine. Trying to maintain some sort of maturity, I say, “You have good taste.”
“I do,” he replies, but his eyes are on me, not the wine. “Are you almost done with school?”
“One more year,” I answer, trying not to cheer as I say it. Four years of education for an art major is kind of ridiculous to me, but it would’ve been stupid to turn down a full scholarship.
Rhysand hums, nodding. Even though he asked, I somehow feel like he already knew that. Weird.
“Did you go to college?”
He gives me a strange look. “My formal education stopped around seventh grade.”
It’s an effort to keep my jaw off the table, and I’m proud of myself when I say mildly, “Impressive.”
“Being uneducated impresses you?”
I scowl. “No, but having everything you do despite not being handed anything is.”
His face stays impassive, but there’s a twinkle of respect in his eyes. The waiter comes back and asks what we want to eat, and because the menu I’ve barely even looked at is in French, I get the same thing as Rhysand.
When we’re alone again, I ask, “Okay, spill. How’d you know I love French food?”
Rhysand shrugs. “I’m good at reading people.”
I wave a hand, because that wasn’t answer enough, and he continues on a sigh. “You’re kind of... easy to read. No offense.”
“Interesting you say ‘No offense’ after calling a woman easy,” I note.
He laughs, but points out, “You’re not easy. I offer to buy you a Degas and you won’t even come home with me.”
It’s my turn to shrug. “Once again, you haven’t answered my question.”
There’s a long beat of silence. “You like French food because you like Impressionist art, and both Degas and Monet were French. Your dream vacation also happens to be Paris, and eating French food makes you feel closer to that goal.”
My mouth drops open, and he laughs soundly at the blatant display of shock, but before I can ask how the hell he knew that, the waiter comes with our food. Identical displays of delicious-smelling pasta are set in front of us.
I reach for my fork, but he grabs our plates and switches them.
When I raise a brow, he shrugs and says, “In case you were thinking about poisoning me.”
I snort in a very ladylike manner, tucking into my food. A soft moan escapes me, and he looks up at me, bite halfway between his plate and mouth.
“Uh, sorry,” I murmur, blushing down the neckline of my dress.
Rhysand just smiles, making me feel young once again. “Don’t be. I quite enjoy the sound of a pleasured woman.”
Rolling my eyes, I take another bite, managing to refrain from sounding too pleasured. “So, Paris. How’d you know?”
He doesn’t really give me an answer, just says, “I bet you have a little Eifel Tower trinket on your desk and everything.”
An embarrassed laugh bubbles out of me, because I do. I totally do. I’ve had it for three years and look at it every time I’m tempted to drop out.
“What do you do for a living?” I ask, trying to get us back on even ground. I feel like he somehow knows everything about me, and even though I’ll have to ask questions, I’m finding out at least one thing about him.
“I’m in real estate.”
I nod, ready to just accept that answer. Then I look around us, remembering how crowded the restaurant was, and start giggling. “You own this restaurant, don’t you?”
A sigh. Busted. “Yes, I do.”
I tsk and give him a judgmental look. “You can’t take me somewhere you own for a date. That’s cheating.”
He takes a sip of his wine. “How so?”
“It just is.” I sigh, just to tease him. “Shame. I was feeling so romanticized, maybe enough so to go home with you. Not anymore, though.”
He rolls his eyes, the gesture making him younger. “Eat your food.”
I do, and by the end, I’m so full I probably look pregnant. “Holy fuck, that was good.”
Rhysand smiles, like it’s adorable that I cursed, and pushes back his empty plate. “Dessert?” I shake my head. “Coffee?”
“I’m so full I might die.”
Rising with fluid grace, he extends a hand. “Then come with me.”
Not bothering to ask questions at this point, I just take his hand and follow him out, noticing the city has a slight chill now that the sun’s gone down.
“Why is it women can never plan for the sun going down?” he ponders, wrapping me in his suit jacket.
“It’s a test to see if you’ll let us freeze to death.”
Rhysand chuckles and slides his hand into mine, so casually and simply it seems like a mundane thing we do every day.
I know I’ve known him for a total of five hours, but everything about today has been... easy. Natural. It’s like we just click, and I’m not stupid enough to question it right now.
“You’re quite the gentleman,” I remark, bringing up our intertwined fingers to look at the tattoos on his skin. He’s silent for a minute, and when I glance over, he’s looking at the ground as we walk, a strange look on his face. “What?”
“You’re probably the only person in this entire world who believes that.”
I scoff, because the idea that the man next to me, holding my hand and running his thumb across my fingers, is anything but a gentleman is absurd.
“What other paintings do you have?”
It’s a question I’ve been dying to ask since he mention his other Degas.
“It’s a shame you’re determined to not go home with me. You could see them yourself.”
I drop his hand and shove his shoulder, my lips twitching as he laughs. “You asshole. You’re leveraging access to a private collection for sex? Men are horrible.”
Rhysand chuckles, throwing an arm around me and pulling me close. “I have a Monet,” he whispers in my ear, placing a featherlight kiss to my temple. “And a Rembrandt.”
“I hate you.”
He releases me and grabs my hand again, then pulls me toward a dark alley I hadn’t noticed he’d been guiding me toward. “Um... where are you taking me?”
He, of course, doesn’t tell me. No, he shushes me.
“I will not be quiet while you drag me down some seedy alley!” I’m beginning to panic a bit, because besides spending way too much time alone, I like to watch Law and Order, and this is turning into the beginning of a familiar episode.
“Is this because I said I won’t have sex with you tonight?” Before he can respond, I blurt, “Because I probably will at some point, I’m just kind of nervous-”
“I’m not going to murder you, Feyre darling.”
“Promise?”
“Yes. Now shut up.”
Pouting like a sullen child, I shut my mouth and accept my fate. He tugs me further down the black alley, and eventually I can’t even see. Can he? Is he some sort of vampire? Am I really asking myself that?
The glow of his phone illuminates the dark for a second, and I catch the time 11:59. “One more minute.”
“Until...?”
He’s silent for thirty-eight seconds, then he says, “Until this.”
Suddenly, the space above us lights up, colors shooting all around us in a kaleidoscope of reds and blues and greens.
Gasping, I look up to see the air above us full of glass lanterns, the surfaces painted with swirling black paint. The alley is covered wall to wall, and the end result gives the walls around us beautiful designs and dimension.
I laugh in surprise, twirling around to take in the entire place. “What is this?”
“We’re in the artist’s quadrant of the city. I don’t know why, but they do this every night, exactly at midnight.”
I spin around in a circle, arms out, smiling from ear to ear. He watches with a grin, leaning against one of the walls casually. I walk down the alley, eyes up, taking in everything.
It’s the best thing I’ve ever seen.
The lanterns are each unique, like they were done by different people. Some are solid colors, others are mixtures.
I look back over at Rhysand, beams of red and blue and pink bouncing off his face, a smile playing at his full lips. It’s obvious he took me here because he knew I’d love it, and it makes me feel insanely special.
Still giddy with happiness, I bound over to him, put my hands on either side of his face, and press my lips to his.
For a second, we probably look like idiots, just standing there pressing our smiles together.
Then, like we’re in synch, the smiles fall away and we start to actually kiss.
His hands slip inside the jacket, linking at the small of my back and pulling me closer to him. He’s still leaning against the wall, back against the brick, and I put my hands on his chest, fingers digging into the corded muscle I find there.
Rhysand pulls back for a minute, traces his fingers over my face lightly. He looks so surprised and confused, I’m tempted to ask what’s wrong. But then his mouth is back on mine, moving more fervently, and I forget all about it.
His hands cup my jaw, tilting my face to where he wants it, then slide in my hair.
He tastes like honey and citrus, and I slide my tongue in his mouth, desperate for more. I moan at the taste of him, and he suddenly moves, like the sound unleashed something in him.
One hand grabs the back of my thigh, the other wrapping around my waist, and then I’m the one against the wall. The brick digs into my shoulder blades, but I hardly even notice, because he wraps my leg around his hips and presses us together.
His mouth is sliding down my jaw, sucking on the spot between my neck and shoulder softly. I make a low sound, slip my hands in his hair, and prepare to eat him alive.
And then the world goes dark.
The lanterns above us turn off, casting us in darkness, but we don’t stop for a few minutes. When we’re both breathless, he pulls away with a low chuckle and releases my leg.
I slide down him slowly, leaning against the wall for support.
What the hell was that?
Did I really just make out with a complete stranger in an alley?
The answer to that question--and the one of if I’d do it again--is hell yes.
He runs a hand over his lips, almost in disbelief, then takes a healthy step back and holds out a hand. “Come on. I’ll walk you home.”
I take another look at the disheveled hair, swollen lips, rumpled shirt. And I know without a doubt that if he were on my doorstep, looking at me with those bedroom eyes, I’d pull him inside without a thought.
“I think I should take a cab.”
Rhysand smiles, knowing exactly why. “I’m flattered.”
“Shut up,” I laugh, pushing him away and starting back toward the busier street.
Even though the street’s deserted, he manages to hail a cab easily, the bright yellow car slowing to a stop next to us. I open the back door, kiss his cheek, and slip inside. “Thank you for dinner. Even though you cheated.”
He rolls his eyes and shuts the door behind me. “I’ll call you.”
I nod, feeling a little ridiculous for how happy that statement makes me. Tonight was... like nothing I’ve ever experienced. It was just dinner, I remind myself, but it doesn’t do any good.
It feels like the beginning of something.
The cab driver glances at me in the rearview mirror and laughs. “That good, huh?”
I don’t even respond because yeah. That good.
I’m halfway home before I realize I never even gave him my number. And I honestly wonder if I’ll ever see Rhysand Azara again.
_________________________________________________
Part 2
@elorcan-trash @perseusannabeth @cursebreaker29 @a-bit-of-a-cactus @elriel4life @girl-who-reads-the-books @shinya-hiiragi @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @ireallyshouldsleeprn @highqueenofelfhame @nahthanks @ghostlyrose2 @claralady @tswaney17 @rowanisahunk @superspiritfestival @thegoddessofyou @jlinez @studyliketate @over300books @bamchickawowow @justgiu12 @maastrash @aesthetics-11 @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @musicmaam @hizqueen4life @maybekindasortaace
#feysand#acotar#acomaf#acowar#a court of thorns and roses#a court of mist and fury#a court of wings and ruin#a court of frost and starlight#acotar fanfiction#feysand fanfiction#rhysand
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Let Me See It
A/N: So this is my very first Harry Potter imagine ever (it is, in fact, my very first fanfic ever). I’ve got a few things to say before we start. First, if anyone read the very long rant I wrote the other day (my first Tumblr post ever lol), I haven’t read all the books yet and I haven’t watched all the movies either. I’m currently on the third book. Why would I write a sixth year Draco imagine when I have virtually no canon idea about it? Well, my friends, I’ve read a lot of fanfiction and imagines about it so I kind of have all the main plot points and I wanted to give it a go. It’s absolutely self indulgent. Hopefully once I’ve finished all of the books my writing gets better. Also, English is not my first language, so if you find any mistakes, please tell me and I’ll correct it :) I hope it’s not too bad and I really hope you like it.
Details:
Draco Malfoy x Reader (She/her pronouns...If this goes right I’ll try my best to write gender neutral as well).
Word count: 1529
Summary: The reader is Harry’s friend and in a secret sort of relationship with Draco. She is the one who’s hit by the sectumsempra spell and wakes up in the hospital wing to an angsty/fluffy situation.
Warnings: my terrible writing, some angst, some fluff, perhaps a lot of wordiness, sectumsempra, soft Draco.
When (Y/N) woke up, she felt as though she had been drowning and could finally take a breath. Her whole body ached and her chest felt tender in the worst of ways, open even. Engrossed in the sensations, she didn’t pay much attention to her surroundings at first. Then she felt the raspy fabric of the infirmary’s bed and it all came back to her. The commotion in the bathroom, spells casted and dodged, the water gushing from the broken sinks, Moaning Myrtle’s shrieks…even remembering it gave her a headache.
When Harry had rushed to the girl’s bathroom, (Y/N) had been quick to follow him. When she got there, her best friend was already casting spells towards the boy she fancied. Draco seemed distraught. He was dishevelled and unkempt. He had grown thin and he was so pale that the bags under his eyes stood out. Shaking as he held his wand, he looked as though he was in the midst of a panic attack.
(Y/N) had noticed all of this, of course. Whenever they met he’d brush it off by telling her he was going through something rough. She had an idea of what it might have been, she had discussed it countless times with Harry (Ron and Hermione would usually dismiss them when they brought the topic up). So, when they had their secret rendezvous in the Astronomy Tower, she’d hold him as he cried. They’d talk about dreams and interests. They’d imagine different futures together. Sometimes they’d snog. Shyly or passionately, it’d feel wonderful until he’d tell her how it was dangerous for her, how he carried baggage she didn’t deserve. They weren’t a couple, but they certainly were past the “friends” category.
Seeing him standing there, standing helplessly against a sink, (Y/N) felt her heart shatter. She had to do something. Fast.
Draco wasn’t even thinking at the moment, casting spells left and right and making sure none of Potter’s hit him. Conjuring the first thing that came to mind, he was about to cast an unforgivable when he saw her, his beautiful (Y/N), standing wide eyed just a few steps away from Potter. He was about to tell her to leave when the scene unfolded in front of his eyes as if in slow motion. He saw (Y/N) running towards him, pushing him out of the way as Potter casted a spell he had never heard of. He heard her name leave Potter’s lips in a sob when she was hit. He saw her fall, lifeless, as her blood poured from her chest. He saw him running towards her, taking her in his arms. It all seemed unreal.
Then he heard Potter sobbing, babbling, begging her to wake up: “(Y/N/N), (Y/N/N) please, open your eyes. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry”.
He held her to his chest. And Draco, enraged and panicked, ran towards both of them.
“What did you do, Potter? Fix it, fix it I am begging you,” he pleaded as he tried to take (Y/N) from his arms. She was growing paler by the minute, her uniform soaked in so much blood it made Draco sick.
“Don’t touch her, death eater,” he spat as he rocked her back and forth in his chest and sobbed.
“Fix it!” he barked.
“I…I don’t know how,” babbled Harry, holding even tighter to his best friend.
They both looked at her helplessly, hoping for a miracle. Guilt-ridden, Draco started sobbing as well. He fancied her. Merlin, he could even swear he loved her. She saw the good in him when nobody else had bothered to even try. She overlooked how nasty he had been to her friends and even to her in the past. She showed him the meaning of true friendship, opened her heart to him to give him nothing but love and care. By her side, he started considering different ways of conceiving the world. She believed in him as he evolved into a person who hated everything the mark under on his left forearm meant. In the last year and a half, (Y/N) had become the person he probably cared for the most (apart from his parents, if the Dark Mark was a testament to something). Now she was there, bleeding on the cold, wet floor of Myrtle’s bathroom as the two boys and the ghostly girl sobbed for her.
After what seemed like hours, the miracle did come…in the form of Professor Snape. He quickly chanted a counter spell he had never heard of either. Draco concluded his aunt Bellatrix wasn’t a very good teacher as she was the one who taught him every Dark spell he knew. With one icy glare, Snape got Harry to let go of (Y/N) and took her to the hospital wing. Both boys followed behind him, their bloodied clothes alarming the whole school.
Three days later, both of them were still there, glaring at each other, waiting for (Y/N) to wake up. There were times when Draco thought she’d stay in her stupor forever. He buried his face in his hands, feeling empty and guilty, until he heard a gasp. She had woken up.
Draco rushed from his seat and took her hand. Harry had done just the same. As she squeezed both their hands, Draco and Harry shared a sigh.
“I am so sorry, (Y/N/N). I didn’t – “
“Don’t even start, Harry. I’ll scold you later,” (Y/N) interrupted. Even though she felt tired, (Y/N)’s voice had a bit of playfulness in it, which humoured Harry and brought warmth into Draco’s heart. (Y/N) gave Harry a meaningful look; her way of telling him she needed to talk to the Slytherin in private. He gave her a curt nod, not very convinced, but still let go of her hand.
“I’ll come later with Ron and ‘Mione,” he said.
Draco gave him a thankful nod as Harry closed the curtain around them. His heart was pounding hard as silence engulfed them again. Their eyes met. He felt relieved that she was with him, but also uneasy and guilty. (Y/N)’s eyes travelled to his left arm. She swallowed hard.
“Let me see it,” she said, her voice devoid of emotion.
Draco held his breath. His eyebrows furrowed in sorrow. He didn’t put up a fight when (Y/N) took his arm and gently pushed his sleeve up. (Y/N) knew what she would probably find under the sleeve. She thought she was prepared. And, of course, she wasn’t. She gasped loudly as she saw the black snake protruding from a skull’s mouth. She looked at the blond Slytherin, feeling the pain and disappointment seeping from her gaze, as well as a couple of tears. He didn’t meet her eyes. He was ashamed. The guilt, the pain, and the self-hatred were eating him up.
(Y/N) saw a few tears silently slipping from his eyes and her heart broke again. Draco sobbed. He was certain he had lost her now.
“I am so sorry, (Y/N/N). They made me do it. I had no choice…He’s going to kill my parents and I can’t –,” his pathetic little apology was cut short by his sobs. He was certain he was a bad person, but having to hold himself accountable in front of the one person that truly saw him for who he was felt unbearable.
He felt (Y/N)’s fingers gently caressing the dreadful mark. He mustered all of his courage to look at her and found a sympathetic expression that made him feel better. She pulled him to her and he gave her a hug. Draco started crying again.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. This is all my fault,” he cried, bringing her closer to his chest as though she could disappear any minute.
She pushed him just a little, enough to allow her hands to travel to his face and clean his tears with her thumbs.
“Shh, Dray. Don’t cry. I know that mark isn’t you. I trust it isn’t you. I know you wouldn’t join them on your own volition,” she soothed.
(Y/N) made room for him on her bed and he slither in, careful not to hurt her in any way. He buried his face on (Y/N)’s neck as she whispered sweet nothings in his ear. She caressed his hair gently as Draco sniffled. He was still heavyhearted, but she felt like home and it made his heart swell.
“Dray”
“Yes?”
She thought about making him promise to make it right, to fight by her side. But she felt tired. Her body still ached. And, regardless of the circumstances, snuggling up to him felt wonderful. So, she closed her eyes and blurted out the first thing that came to her mind.
“I love you,” she said almost inaudibly. Draco was so close he heard alright. He couldn’t believe she had actually said those three words for the first time under the circumstances. He didn’t hesitate to answer back.
“I love you too, (Y/N/N)”.
When Madam Pomfrey came around and opened the curtain, she found both (Y/N) and Draco fast asleep. Draco’s face was very close to (Y/N)’s neck. One of her hands was still buried in his platinum hair. And they looked so peaceful, the healer could only close the curtain and let them rest.
#draco malfoy x reader#draco malfoy fanfiction#draco malfoy x you#draco x reader#draco malfoy#harry potter#harry potter fanfiction#harry potter imagines#draco malfoy inserts#draco imagines#draco malfoy imagines#draco x you#harry potter fanfics#draco fanfics#draco malfoy fanfics#x reader#draco malfoy fluff#fluff#sectumsempra#draco#draco fluff#draco malfoy x female reader
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Sectumsempra - Draco Malfoy x Reader
Requested by the lovely @the--queen-of-hell
-> Well, I don’t know if you are into something like this but what I had in mind is some angst/fluffy fluff where the reader is the one that gets hit by the sectumsempra which is meant for Draco, but the reader jumps right in front of him to save him (because the reader is best friends with Draco, even though she’s very much in love with him). So once she wakes up, he sees Draco right next to her, holding her hands in his. It’s obvious that he’s been crying and all that. He gets all protective of her, and it gets extremely fluffy and they kiss?? :3
A/N: Thank you so much again for this! This idea was really cool! I hope it’s to your expectations!
TW/ Blood
I’ve always given much thought of the scaling effects I would go through if I was Draco’s girlfriend. Though I was only his best friend, it was like I already feeling the outcomes whether I was his or not.
As we began our sixth year together, Draco started sinking into deeper pressure. With receiving his dark mark over the summer, he started receiving more commands from the Dark Lord, as he was assigned to do something terrible, so terrible that he couldn’t tell me, as he was scared of losing me if he leaked a great secret that was given to him.
Seeing him this scared and worried really made me concerned for him. I really wanted to help make things better. Despite begging him to let me assist him with whatever he was going through, he would always place his hands on my shoulders and lecture me into why he wanted to keep me safe at all times. As much as I appreciate how he doesn’t want me to get hurt, he doesn’t have the right to dictate my actions. I can completely do whatever I want and the consequences are on me, myself, and I.
When he first confided in me that he was commanded to do something on Katie Bell, I assumed that this was the great secret he dared not to tell me. So when I asked him about it, he told me this was just one of the minor commands he had to do, and it was something not to worry about as he told me that Katie wouldn’t be harmed as he only used her to act as a messenger. Though he did not tell me who Katie was going to be the messenger for, I exhaled, knowing that I wouldn’t get to see any student getting hurt by him.
But when news broke out that Katie was hexed, all I did was a gasp, wondering how this could have happened. Rumors flew around the castle as people were talking about how Professor Snape told Professor McGonnagal that it was cursed and that Katie was not the target. This scared me because did that mean Draco failed? I had a feeling that the consequences of not doing what the Dark Lord tells you to do were extremely terrifying but what about failing his commands?
I was waiting for Draco in the Great Hall as I figured he could answer the thousands of questions running in my head. When I spotted him from the Slytherin table, my smile at the sight of finally seeing my best friend slowly started turning into a frown when I watched him walk slowly towards Harry and Katie Bell. Draco did not even dare look at me as his fearful eyes looked at the two Gryffindors, widening their eyes as they began to realize that Draco was behind all the fishy business.
“Draco!” I practically yelled his name as he instantly dashed out of the Great Hall, being followed by Harry. Without thinking, I quickly stood up and ran over to Harry and pushed him to the side, hoping I could catch Draco before he got into the hands of his arch-nemesis.
“Expelliamus!” I screamed, turning back at Harry as he stopped running for a few seconds to get his wand. That should have stalled him from catching up to me. “Draco! Wait!” I shouted as I saw the platinum blonde running inside the washrooms. Before I could enter, I heard Harry shouted, “Stupefy!” knocking me to the wall.
It took me a few seconds to get back up and enter the washroom but when I went in, I could hear wands, zapping at each other as Draco and Harry were trying to play cat-and-mouse with each other. I couldn’t see any of them so I went on my knees and crawled, looking under the toilet stations, hoping to see familiar shoes walk around. Looking further, I saw Harry. He zapped towards my direction, but he didn’t hit me. He zapped a few meters to my right and before I figured it was Draco who was beside me, he speedily wrapped my body with his arms and scooped me up, lifting me until I could place my feet on the ground to stand up on my own.
We started running to the ends of the toilet stations, finally passing through the last toilet, only to find Harry already waiting for us. Walking behind Draco, I managed to see Harry in front of us, waiting. As he lifted his wand, I thoughtlessly jumped in front of Draco the minute Harry cast, “Sectumsempra!” a spell I had never heard of.
As the blast entered my body, so did the pain. I felt my body feel numb as I felt into the ground. I couldn’t move my body which terrified me. I did not want to concentrate on the blood, rushing out of my abdomen as it joined the water from the running sink that forcefully flowed on the floor. So I was trying my best not to whimper as much, as my eyes went to Draco, who looked more terrified than me. He was kneeling down as he started crying, trying to stop the pressure on my bleeding. I couldn’t decipher what he was saying since he was heavily crying but I think I heard him mumbling, ‘N-no, th-this is all m-my fault. D-don’t d-die on me.” That was all I could get until I watched Harry, slowly walking over in shock. I was sure he didn’t know how badly his unfamiliar spell could do. Then a figure came in behind him, all dressed in black. I couldn’t figure out who because after that, my eyes gave up on me as I slowly went unconscious.
What I didn’t know was that was Professor Snape who hurriedly walked through Harry with worry in his eyes. Snape stood in front of me, studying the exessive blood that was leaving my body, then looking up to Harry in disappointment and shock. Snape must have not known what Harry had up his sleeves as Potter turned around, walking and rushing out of the washrooms.
Snape went on his knees and looked at Draco. “Step away, Mr. Malfoy,” he told him. But Draco shook his head as he was holding on to my hand tightly. He looked at Professor Snape as if he couldn’t breathe well. Draco was shivering and having a hard time breathing as he was still crying from what happened. “N-no, I can’t do that, sir,” Draco replied.
Draco was truly disappointed with himself. He blamed himself for not being able to hold you back from sacrificing yourself for him. He hated how he was too slow to see his best friend and the love of his life, attacked, and now bleeding all thanks to the person he hated the most in his life. If someone had to be cast a nasty spell by Harry Potter, Draco would have done anything to be that person instead of you. Seeing you bleed out so much blood rapidly and not being able to control it sickened him. He hated how he was seeing you all knocked out as your body started getting cold.
Seeing how it was impossible to leave Draco out of this, Professor Snape furthermore brought out his wand, pointing it at my body as he started chanting a spell which slowly removed the blood from my uniform, healing me. As this was being done, Draco placed his free hand on my forehead and slowly brushed his thumb on it. “Y-you’re in good hands, Y/N. Y-you are not g-giving up on m-me.” he assured unconscious me, as I laid down in the washrooms that started flooding as the sinks continued running water out to the ground.
The sight of a teacher healing a damaged student was horrible but finally finished when all the bleeding stopped. Professor Snape and Draco lifted my body up, carefully but swiftly to the Hospital Wing for me to be bandaged, dressed, and rested. When Madam Pomfrey got me as a visitor, Professor Snape gave her special instructions to take care of me, allowing Draco to be there with me the whole time. Usually, Madam Pomfrey shoos the students away from the patients but with Snape giving her this instruction, she knew how much of a deal I meant to Draco. She secretly liked that, so did Professor Snape. In fact, there were times when he’d see the way the two of us looked at each other from across the room. That was why he made new seating arrangements of all a sudden that one time in class. Thanks to him, I got to be sitting with my best friend and crush.
As Madam Pomfrey started dressing me and bandaging me up, Draco, being the gentleman he is, looked away, but still tightly holding my hand as my unconscious self was assisted by Madam Pomfrey. She saw the way Draco looked away, closing his eyes even the minute clothes and bandages were brought out.
“How long have you two been dating, dear?” she smiled, still looking at me as she started bandaging me.
Even though Draco closed his eyes, he knew Madam Pomfrey could see the red blush on his face as he heard the question. Nevertheless, Draco shook his head shyly, “We’re not dating, Madam. She’s just my best friend.”
“That may be true, but something tells me you want to be more than that.”
“Yes, I do want more than that.” he frowned, admitting it. “I just don’t think she feels the same.”
“Of course she does, dear. Why else would she sacrifice herself for you? Think about that.” she said, patting Draco in the shoulder, signaling that he could open his eyes. “When you do, tell her when she wakes up.” Then she walked away, smiling at the fact that a relationship was about to be made today.
Of course, it took a while for me to wake up by myself. 3 hours, to be exact. But this gave Draco 3 hours to ponder. Ponder about his feelings toward me and ponder about how he was going to confess his love to me. Oh, he also had 3 hours to get his act together because he was really, really nervous. He never imagined how this was going to be the time, situation, and place for him to tell you how he feels about you but it has to come down sooner or later.
When I finally woke up, my eyesight at first was so unclear and shaky. But I could hear a voice, a voice beside me speak up so softly.
It was Draco.
“Merlin’s beard! Y/N!” Draco said in relief, holding my hand even tighter than ever. With his voice being soft, there was a little dryness in it. I realized he spent this whole time crying, as his eyes looked terrible. His eyes were pink and his eyebags were so dark. Knowing that he cried made me tear up a little, only for him to cup my face with his hands.
“Please don’t cry, dear. You’re going to make me cry.”
“I think you already did.” I managed to joke my way out of crying harder, making him chuckle as well. “Are you okay, Draco? Are you alright?”
“I should be asking you that, sweetheart. You scared the bloody hell out of me! I can’t believe you did that, you could have gotten yourself in far worse condition! You should have left me to do that. I promised you that you wouldn’t get hurt. I-”
That was all he could manage to say as I stopped him, by crashing my lips into his. He was shocked at first, that’s why I could only feel my lips doing all the work. But I was also worried he didn’t want to kiss back but before I could stop, he suddenly kissed me back passionately. Again, he took me by surprise but nonetheless, I was completely happy that he kissed me back.
We finally pulled back, giving me the advantage to reason with him.
“Draco,” I said, now putting my hands on his shoulders, “That’s what love does. I am completely in love with you Draco Lucius Malfoy and my love for you means that I will do anything I can in my power to keep you safe as well. I can’t stand and just watch you get hurt all the time. I just don’t want you to walk a lonely dark road any longer. From now on, I want to be there, holding your hand as we walk a bright and wider road together.”
Draco was surprised to hear me say this. He smiled widely and hugged me tightly. He kissed the side of my neck, whispering into my ears, “To a brighter, wider road together with my girlfriend. I love you, Y/N Y/L/N.”
All I could do was hug back, smiling at his words. I felt like I was on cloud nine upon hearing this. I know this road won’t be as bright as promised for now, but once this whole war is done, I can finally assure myself that we will be walking on nothing but a truly bright and wider road together. I know that there will be some bumps in the road we will be walking back to as soon as I get better, but it’s really better to be going through a roller coaster when you have the love of your life with you in this journey because that’s what will help me through.
#Draco Malfoy#Draco Malfoy x Reader#Draco Malfoy Imagine#Draco Malfoy Imagines#Draco Malfoy x Y/n#Draco Malfoy x you#Draco Malfoy fanfic#Draco Malfoy fanfiction#Draco Lucius Malfoy#Slytherin#Hogwarts#Hogwarts x Reader#Hogwarts Imagines#Hogwarts imagine#Hogwarts oneshots#Draco Malfoy oneshots#Harry Potter#Harry Potter x Reader#Harry Potter Imagines#Harry Potter Imagine#Slytherin oneshots#Tom Felton#Tom Felton x Reader#Tom Felton Imagines#Tom Felton Imagine#Tom Felton Oneshots#Tom Felton x you#Tom Felton x y/n#Tom Felton fanfic#Tom Felton Fanfiction
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