aleonore-fr - Tumblr blog

aleonore-fr · 4 years ago

Text

Not Quite The Same

— – — – — – —

Set During Hogwarts Eighth Year, just to mix it up.

WARNINGS: a little smutty

Quick Note :- Not my most comfortable writing style but I thought I’d attempt it. let me know thoughts :)

— – — – — – —

Draco did try to stay away. But the moment he wasn’t being watched or he found her alone he had her pressed against any available surface. Something alarmingly addictive about the witch, forbidden, willing, beautiful. Often the mere thought of having her is what got him through his tedious lessons. Their meet-ups becoming somewhat planned, the idea of being apart for more than a day making him a wretched beast.

Classrooms were never quite the same. The bookshelves in the library on late evenings beginning to have stories of their own to tell. His despair at not feeling her lips against his as he often needed to use his hand to silence her.

The more Draco had from her, the more he had to have, never feeling satisfied, full, quenched.

He found his eyes wandering to her any room they were in, the way she bit her lip when she focused on something, was beginning to do something crazy to him.

There had been close calls, but none deferring them. Small touches here, little smirks there. When she spoke he felt himself undo, imaging the way his name rolled from her lips, her hips in his hands, the way her eyes begged him for more with each stroke.

The brunette was never fully accommodating, she gave as good as she got not wishing to relinquish all control to him. Something he found enjoyable and attractive. She wanted him to work for it and he was more than willing too.

Their bickering continued, but whilst others rolled their eyes at another one of their fights or battles for power they knew it was their foreplay. Moments later he’d have her around his waist in a broom cupboard. Each time promising this would be the last time, no more.

“We need to stop.” Their lips meeting again, “really.. we do.”

“I agree,” he would say. His hands tracing her lace. “But, you know.. One more time.”

“One more time.”

There had been so many one more times he felt it was their new version of goodbye. Seeing her around her friends, watching her lie about her disappearances to them as he bit back a smirk.

Then it unraveled. His eyes watching her as cruel words were spoken, her eyes glistening from the other side of the room as he found his fist balling up fighting the need to defend her. To protect her.

— — — — — —

She hadn’t intended to go this far.

Each time they had promised no more and then she’d find herself pressing her lips into his, tasting him. Her hand running down his torso feeling the muscles defined by Quidditch.

It was as though she needed him, that without him things would undo and she wouldn’t feel quite herself. That unknowingly he had power over her and she over him. The very people they had searched for being right under their noses, in need of putting back together again.

The library never being quite the same, her nails scratching down in the wood as she held on for all she had. The empty classrooms she passed on her way to class never seeming just like doors, parts of the castle she had never thought of now popping up in her mind at the most inconvenient of moments.

But it was the day she had intended on visiting Hogsmeade.

Her betrayal at the words spoken by what she thought was her best friend. The anger from their own problems being thrust on to her as she turned back into the castle barely making it from the Entrance Hall. Her tears clouding her eyes as she clambered up the grand staircase, attempting to navigate the moving staircases until she collapsed on to an empty corridor in a fit of sobs as she tried to shield her face from view.

Her surprise as she felt his warm hands removing her own from her face. The usual stern expression across his pale face was gone, replaced with a concerned frown. His arms scooping her up as he carried her, his pacing of the seventh floor corridor as he opened the door to what appeared to be a darkened bedroom. He gently placed her on her bed, the way he slowly and carefully removed her dress from her shoulders, showering her with soft kisses and lustful touches.

It was different. It was tentative, him wrapping the sheet over himself as he slowly moved into her, teasing her with his soft strokes as she felt the knot in her stomach build up inside her. He held her cheek softly, he kissed her as if he never wanted to stop and truthfully neither did she. Her tears a thing of the past as she held on to him as his thrusts broke all of her walls down, his own pleasure coming second to hers as he allowed himself his own release once she had her fill. Collapsing beside her, moved the sheet over her, protecting her whilst gaining his breath.

Her expectation that he’d leave as he always did never occurred, finding that instead Draco wrapped his arm around her bringing her close to him. Her instinct to fight, diminishing as she found comfort in his touch. Her eyes staring up at his silver orbs and tousled white blonde hair as he stared down at her as if she was the most perfect thing in the world, his fingers tracing her outer arm.

“You’re perfect princess.”

Unable to find any words to respond he pressed his lips into her head before smiling.

“Sleep..” He said and she did.

Awaking to him beside her, peaceful, his eyes closed as she slowly closed her own.

84 notes · View notes

aleonore-fr · 4 years ago

Text

Scarlet Red

Blood. Wounds. White shirt painted red. Palms soiled with scarlet.

“ Sectumsempra !”’

Her heart froze as she saw the dark haired man fall back against the wall in shock. The sound of a woman’s scream erupting through the room as her body flung forward, her hands scrambling over the wounds as they sliced up and down his body, the water pooling around her knees licking her skin.

Grey eyes meeting hers. Tears falling as her sob echoed all around her. The grip on her wand as she whispered the spells she knew, doing nothing as the blood pulsated from his wounds. His eyes dimming as she felt her heart thump up her chest into her throat.

..This cannot be happening..

Blood. Wounds. His white shirt staining red.

..I haven’t had chance to forgive you..

“HELP!” She screamed, her hand falling to his chest as she crumbled over him. Protecting him from the World, from any more harm, from any more danger. Her tears flooding down mixing with his blood. Her hand finding the marked skin, the very reason she hadn’t wanted to be near him and yet now she’d do anything to be closer.

..I don’t hate you.. I don’t..

“You need to move,” she heard faintly, hands on her as she moved through the water, her sobs continuing sounding out everything else.

..Please don’t die..

It felt as though she hadn’t got a safe grip on reality, suddenly watching as he rose from the ground, the black cape billow from sight as she stared at the ground where he had first fallen. The water filling around her still as her eyes fell to her shirt, to her hands. His deep crimson blood all over her skin. Her hair slicked against her face from the water and tears.

Closing her eyes she saw it all, the fight that erupted before her as she merely was passing. The screams. The sound of cracked porcelain. The crack of spells. Pushing into the bathroom, the green spell near missing Harry before the Gryffindor shouted his spell, Draco crumbling like a deck chair to the ground. The woman’s scream shrieking through the bathroom as she rubbed her knees that had connected with stone.

“She needs to go to the hospital wing,” she heard the Professor say above her. Clamping her eyes closed. “And Mr Zabini, ensure that she gets cleaned up.”

She felt the warm arms scoop her, her eyes occasionally noticing the faces of students as she cuddled into his hold. Suddenly feeling the warmth of a bed as she curled into a ball, tears falling silently down her cheeks as she felt her chest want to burst open. The tingling of spells as she watched the blood fade from her skin, her hair and shirt drying. She heard a male voice, but she couldn’t follow him. As if lost between reality and her mind.

And then she was alone. Darkness having filled the hospital wing.

Sitting up to see the blonde across from her. His eyes closed and his face pale even in the moonlight. She found herself perched on his bed, unsure how she even got there as she clutched her face before her head slowly fell to his chest as she clutched his sheets.

“I need you…” She whispered into his chest as her fingers grazed his side. “.. I don’t want to, but, in that moment.. It became clear that, I need you.”

It was probably the most honest moment she had with him up to now. So preoccupied with being right, winning and being in power that they had never really shared much more. She felt much more, that was undeniable. Her eyes filling again at the thought he could never have known, trying to fight back pouring tears all over him when she felt his hand on her head, tears releasing at his touch. Not wishing to look up she remained exactly as she was.

“I still hate you,” she whispered with a smile.

“Feelings mutual princess,” he croaked as she looked up and he offered her a half smile.

“You scared me.”

“I wished for sympathy,” he said as his eyes closed but he smirked.

“I don’t want to fight anymore.”

“It’s exhausting isn’t it,” his hand brushing her cheek.

“We’ve fought for months —”

“— years,” his fingers brushing her hair. “I think it be far easier for you to just relinquish and admit you love me.”

“Never,” she laughed as he smiled.

“You’re no fun.”

Her head moving up as she pressed her lips to his, little shocks electrifying her lips as the pair of them moved softly against one another. Her cheeks burning as they moved apart, his eyes on her.

“No more games?”

“No more games,” he said softly. “Not that I have time for them.” His arm raising as she looked at him sympathetically. “Don’t pity me.”

“I don’t think I can lose you,” she said as she wiped her cheek.

“I’m not losing you now princess.”

“Promise?”

“Promise,” he croaked.

“Can I stay here a while?”

His head moving to gain a better view, the moonlight shining his faded pink scars, “you can stay here for as long as you like princess. Forever if you wish.”

Draco’s fingers wiping her cheek as she adjusted herself into his arm and chest, her hand placing gently on his arm as she ran circles against his skin. The feel of his breath against her forehead and she was sure that she hadn’t felt anything more wondrous.

He was alive. And she was sure she was in love. A princess in love with the dark knight, a death eater.

215 notes · View notes

aleonore-fr · 4 years ago

Text

breaking point — draco malfoy

pairing: draco malfoy x female!reader

summary: draco reaches breaking point.

a/n: i wrote this for @nebulablakemurphy‘s writing challenge !! congrats again and i hope i did your prompt justice <3 the prompt was “i had no choice” and will be in bold (also can i just say this was so sad to write .. draco just needs a hug my dudes)

[Y/N] knows every inch of Draco better than she knows herself. Knows all of the quirks that he thinks are flaws, all his little insecurities, his habits and his innermost secrets and all the worries that plague his head even before he tells her about them.

But she doesn’t know how long he has been like this. She notices, though, that the light in Draco’s eyes has begun to dim; he is losing some of his color, the bags under his eyes deepening, the frown lines drawn across his face growing more prominent. The worst part is that she doesn’t know exactly when this started—how long he’s been like this—but one day she knocks on his dorm room, when all of his roommates are home for the holidays and only a few Slytherins have chosen to stay.

When she pushes open the door, Draco is alone, hunched over at the edge of his bed with his head in his hands, bowed down like he’s trying to become as small as possible.

She stops in the doorframe.

“Draco?” she says softly, rapping her knuckles against the open door as she steps inside the room. It’s dark. The lanterns are off. “Why weren’t you at dinner?”

Draco doesn’t respond. Only as [Y/N] draws nearer does she realize that Draco’s hands are trembling in his hair, and [Y/N] panics a little, feels her breath catch in her throat with dread as she pauses halfway to him.

“Draco?” she asks quietly, tentatively, stepping forward and reaching out a hand to touch him—

But then Draco recoils like he’s been struck, standing up so suddenly [Y/N] lets out a quiet little gasp.

“Get out,” he whispers, eyes wide but not quite meeting hers, and his voice—he doesn’t sound like himself. Doesn’t look like himself, either; he looks more tired than ever, like he’s aged a thousand years older, his face gaunt and sunken. [Y/N] stares at him, at a loss for words.

Since when had it gotten this bad? She’d known for a while that something was up; something he wasn’t telling her. Something she couldn’t figure out. But she thought she was helping him by not bringing it up and by giving him space.

Guilt blooms inside of her chest. Should she have tried harder? Found out what exactly it was so she could help him properly and not just sit by the sidelines, thinking that she was helping, but in reality she’d watched him get worse?

Like a ticking time bomb, she thinks to herself. And I just let him explode.

She takes a hesitant step forward, hand held out before her as she says, gently, (and yet there is only so much she can do to mask how her voice shakes), “Tell me what’s wrong, Draco.”

“Get out.”

“Darling,” her breath rattles in her throat. “Let me help.”

“GET OUT!”

[Y/N] pauses several feet away from him. He has whipped out his wand, pointed it directly towards her, and [Y/N] freezes in place.

“You can’t help me,” Draco says, breathing ragged. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” his voice cracks, his wand shaking in his hand. “Get out. Please.”

[Y/N] inhales sharply. But even then, she doesn’t stand down. She isn’t afraid of Draco; she could never be. She should see a dangerous boy with his wand pointed at her, capable of doing anything he wants to to force her out of the room, but instead all she sees is Draco. The boy she has loved for so long, who, for some reason that she doesn’t yet know, is in so much pain.

“You’re not going to hurt me,” she says. There isn’t a sliver of doubt in her voice.

Draco makes a frustrated noise, his lips curling in a way that lets [Y/N] know he’s trying to hold it together. “You don’t.. you don’t know that. You don’t know what I’m capable of, [Y/N],” he says, and it should sound threatening, but all she hears is anguish. “You don’t know what I’ve become.”

[Y/N] risks another step closer to him. Five feet away. The hand holding his wand stays up, pointed directly towards her, but she knows, the same way she knows that the sun will rise and fall everyday, that Draco wouldn’t hurt her.

“Draco,” she begins, fighting to keep her voice steady. “Just let me help you. Tell me what’s wrong.”

And then Draco does something that knocks the breath out of her throat—roughly, he pulls up the sleeve of his robes, revealing the skin of his left arm.

A tattoo of a skull, with a serpent protruding from its mouth.

The Dark Mark.

And all of a sudden everything makes sense.

[Y/N] blinks and forces herself to breathe again, mind untangling bits of logic, stringing them around her throat, pulling tight. “Draco—”

“I had no choice!” he screams; a guttural sound. Something so pained it doesn’t even sound like him anymore. But he doesn’t look or sound or seem angry at her—no, the way he tugs at his hair in frustration, the blazing look in his eyes all suggests that he is more angry at the world than anything. Angry at himself, even. But not at her. “He said he’d kill everyone I loved if I didn’t take the bloody mark—he said he’d murder my entire family—and [Y/N], he knows you, I don’t know how but he knows you and he—”

A cut-off sort of choking noise leaves Draco’s lips. “He said he’d force me to watch you die.”

“Oh, Draco.”

She rushes forward just as he sinks to his knees, face contorting as he begins to cry—heartbroken sobs that surge straight through the spaces between her ribcage and sink into her heart. But the pain she feels as she wraps her arms around Draco and holds him close no doubt pales in comparison to what he feels.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” she whispers into the crown of his head, letting him cry into her shoulder. And it hurts, how this is the only thing she can do to help him, and it’s excruciating—it’s torture, how his chest lurches with the force of his sobs, how he tries to stifle the whimpers that leave his lips and he keeps choking out apologies as though this human show of vulnerability is something to be ashamed of. And it’s not. It’s not.

“It’s fine, Draco,” she murmurs, raking her hands through his hair, pressing comforting little kisses to the top of his head. “It’s okay. You can cry. It’s okay.”

She can’t rid him of all his pain. God, she’d love to—if she could only reach straight into him and pull all the pain out, even if it means she has to bear the weight of his burdens herself, she would do it. With zero hesitation.

But she can’t, so all that she is left to do is hold Draco as tightly to her as she can, his tears soaking into her collar. At some point—she doesn’t know exactly when—she realizes that her own cheeks are wet, and that salty taste on her tongue is likely her tears, but this isn’t about her. This is about Draco and that blasted mark on his arm and everything that he has been forced to endure. So she presses her lips together into a tight line, holding back her own sobs, silent tears dripping down her chin and onto Draco’s hair.

She holds him until she loses track of time, sitting curled up on the floor as she waits for Draco’s sobs to turn into quiet sniffles. When they do, she feels his shoulders sag as the fight in him dies down, replaced only by weak sort of defeat that has his head hanging low, leaning still on the crook of her neck, shoulders hunched over.

[Y/N] stays silent. She knows this isn’t about her. So she waits, rubbing circles into his shoulder blades and carding her hands gently through his hair because she knows that it calms him. She waits for two, three minutes, but she doesn’t count the seconds as they pass; just stares out the window of the Slytherin dorm room, watching the water ripple just behind the glass.

And she waits.

And waits.

And she knows she will wait for as long as it takes.

Finally, after some time, Draco makes a move to lift his head off of her shoulder. She lets him, slowly, hands sliding from his back to cup the side of his face as he draws away to look at her.

Draco stares at her through bleary eyes, and oh—[Y/N] feels more tears stinging at the back of her eyes, burning at her throat. He looks even more tired from up close. So, very tired. His eyes are swollen and his cheeks tinged pink from all the crying, but what has [Y/N]’s tears spilling over again is that sad frown on his face—and [Y/N] realizes, with yet another horrible rush of guilt, that this isn’t the first time she has seen this look on Draco. It’s the same expression he has worn every single day that [Y/N] convinced herself wasn’t something to worry too much about, but now she sees it clear as day: that look of resignation, as though he’s been through so, so much and just wants to rest. To have it done with.

So, so tired. And so sad.

And it’s that sudden realization—that she might not know Draco as well as she thought she did, that he has been here, struggling, all of this time, carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders without anyone to help him bear it, and [Y/N] has never realized—it’s the realization of that that has her whispering, “I’m sorry, Draco.”

She leans forward, pressing her forehead against his, the tips of their noses just brushing as she closes her eyes and rakes in a deep, shuddering breath. “I’m sorry, darling. I should’ve known. I should’ve helped sooner.”

But Draco is patient and loving and good, so much more than she deserves, so all he does is shake his head and say, quietly, “It’s not your fault.” Her eyes are closed and she misses the way Draco is staring at her—like he always has, like the entire sky is opening up after weeks and weeks of rain. “It’s not your fault,” he repeats, voice scratchy, but he finds the strength in him to lift a hand and cup the side of her jaw, thumbing at the tears that have fallen on her cheeks despite the ones on his own.

[Y/N] swallows down the lump in her throat, squeezes her eyes shut for a few more moments, then opens them again. She pulls away and moves her hands to hold his lower arm—the one with the mark—and gently, she makes Draco hold the tattoo up between the pair of them. Her breathing is still erratic, but she says, her hands cradling his arm, smoothing over his skin, “This doesn’t change anything.”

Draco’s eyes swim with all sorts of conflicting emotions—anger and guilt and disgust and sadness—as he stares down at the mark, lips turned down into a frown.

“Draco, listen to me,” she whispers, urging him to look at her. “If you think that this stupid mark makes you any less of a person, you’re wrong. You are still the same boy I fell in love with. The same boy I’m still in love with, and that’s not going to change, Draco, do you hear me? You're—” she pauses as a tear slips down her cheek and onto his arm, landing on the Dark Mark. “You are brave,” she says, voice laced thick with emotion as her grip tightens. “And I love you.”

And Draco is still scared. Still so terrified of what’s to come. The mark on his wrist isn’t going away—no amount of regret will ever have it fade—but sitting here, sharing the same breath as the girl who makes his heart feel like everything is going to be okay, no matter how bleak things may get, no matter how hopeless life may seem, Draco allows himself to think, even for a few, meager moments, that everything is going to be okay.

taglist: @dancing-in-the-moonlight3 @kalimagik @alittletoomanyobsessions @hariosborn @obsessedwithrandomthings @emcchi @sxrensxngwrites @enjoying-fantasyland21 @masterofthedarkness @siriusly-addicted-to-writing @bforbroadway @hufflefluff-writer @summer-writes @chaotic-fae-queen @firewhisky-kisses @dracosvftie @heloisedaphnebrightmore @idont-knowrn @dreamer821 @peachesandpinks @slytherinprincess03 @chocfrogaddict @nebulablakemurphy

2K notes · View notes