#buzz cut draco malfoy

[gf2bellamy]

library — draco malfoy

pairing: draco malfoy x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) summary: draco joins you in the library content warnings: mention of school stress , eating in the great hall

Charms class dragged on, as Professor Flitwick went over the details of next week’s homework. You slouched in your seat, propping your head on your hand while your gaze drifted around the room. Beside you, Pansy was doodling aimlessly in her textbook, entirely uninterested in the lecture. 

Your eyes landed on Harry and Ron, who were scribbling furiously in their notes—but not about Charms. Judging by their muffled laughter, they were playing some sort of game, much to Hermione’s dismay. She swatted Ron’s arm with an exasperated glare, clearly trying to get him to pay attention. 

The scene made you smile faintly, but your attention shifted again, landing on Draco Malfoy. He sat slumped in his chair, his pale hair falling across his forehead as his eyes threatened to close. He looked like he was seconds away from dozing off completely, the faintest scowl tugging at his lips. 

You found yourself watching him longer than you intended.

“Enjoying the view?” 

Pansy’s whispered voice jolted you out of your thoughts. You snapped your head toward her, and she raised an eyebrow, a knowing smirk on her lips. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you muttered, giving her a half-hearted grimace as you straightened up in your chair. 

Pansy didn’t buy it for a second. She had caught on to your not-so-subtle crush on Draco ages ago, though she’d promised to keep it to herself. That didn’t stop her from teasing you at every opportunity. 

Professor Flitwick’s voice cut through your embarrassment. “I’ll see you all next week!” he announced, dismissing the class. 

Grateful for the excuse to leave, you hastily shoved your books into your bag, ready to escape to the Great Hall for dinner. 

“You two coming?” Blaise Zabini asked, stopping in front of your desk. Draco stood just behind him, lazily slinging his bag over his shoulder. 

Pansy snapped her textbook shut and stood, brushing imaginary dust from her robes. “I’m starving,” she declared, already heading toward the door. 

“Me too,” you murmured, falling into step behind her and Blaise. 

Draco, however, matched your pace, walking beside you as the group made its way down the corridor. You tried to keep your focus straight ahead, even as you were hyper-aware of him beside you. 

“Long class, wasn’t it?” Draco drawled, his voice low and smooth. 

You glanced at him, startled that he was talking to you. His gray eyes met yours briefly, a flicker of amusement in them. 

“Yeah, Flitwick really knows how to make time crawl,” you replied, managing to keep your voice steady. 

Draco smirked faintly, his gaze lingering for a moment longer before he looked ahead. “You didn’t look like you were paying much attention anyway.” 

“Neither were you,” you muttered under your breath, glancing at Draco out of the corner of your eye. “Saw you almost falling asleep.” 

He looked momentarily caught, his gray eyes widening just a fraction before he shrugged it off with practiced nonchalance. “Long day,” he replied simply, though the slight curve of his lips hinted at his amusement. 

The conversation didn’t go further as you and the rest of your friend group reached the Great Hall. The familiar buzz of chatter and clinking silverware greeted you, and you slid into your usual seat at the Slytherin table. 

Pansy wasted no time piling food onto her plate. You followed suit, your stomach reminding you how long it had been since lunch. Double Potions with Snape followed by Professor Flitwick’s monotone lecture had drained you completely. 

You sighed heavily, spearing a few fries with your fork before popping them into your mouth. For a moment, you let yourself get lost in the simple comfort of food, but the looming pile of homework waiting for you made it hard to relax.

Draco’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. “What’s up with you?” he asked, his tone casual as he reached for a bread roll. 

“Don’t feel like spending the night in the library,” you mumbled around a mouthful of fries. “Again,” you added with a groan, thinking back to the endless hours you’d spent surrounded by dusty books and half-finished parchment the night before. 

Draco’s gaze flickered toward you, his attention drawn away from his plate. Blaise and Pansy were too busy bickering over the last piece of bread to notice at first, their playful banter filling the space. 

“I’ll come with you,” Draco said suddenly, his voice cutting through the background noise. 

You froze mid-motion, your fork hovering just above your plate before you slowly set it down. Turning to face him, you raised an incredulous eyebrow. “You?” 

Draco met your gaze with his cool, gray eyes, the faintest trace of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. 

“Draco Malfoy. In the library?” you said, your voice laced with disbelief as you studied him. 

“Why not?” he replied nonchalantly, shifting his focus back to his food, though you didn’t miss the flicker of amusement in his expression. 

At that moment, Pansy and Blaise stopped mid-argument, their heads snapping toward the two of you. 

“What was that about the library?” Pansy asked, her eyes darting between you and Draco.

“You’re going to the library with her?” Blaise chimed in, his tone equal parts surprise and amusement as he leaned forward.

Draco didn’t look up, slicing into his food with an air of indifference. “I don’t see why it’s such a big deal,” he said, but his smirk deepened ever so slightly. 

Pansy’s lips curled into a knowing grin. “Oh, it’s not a big deal,” she said, dragging out the words as her gaze flicked to you. “Not at all.” 

You rolled your eyes, ignoring the heat creeping up your neck. “I need to finish my essay, that’s all,” you muttered, trying to downplay the situation as you returned your attention to your plate. 

“Sure, that’s all it is,” Blaise teased, exchanging a sly look with Pansy. 

Draco finally glanced up, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly at the pair of them. “You two should focus on your food instead of other people’s business,” he said smoothly, the authority in his tone enough to quiet them for now. 

After dinner, the chatter and laughter continued as everyone polished off their meals. Blaise and Pansy eventually decided to head back to the Slytherin common room, but not before Pansy grabbed your arm, pulling you aside with a teasing grin. 

“So, the library, huh?” she whispered, her voice dripping with mischief. 

You rolled your eyes, trying to appear unaffected. “Don’t make it weird, Pansy.” 

She leaned in closer, her grin widening. “Oh, it’s already weird. Malfoy volunteering to study? With you? That’s rich.” 

Before you could respond, she gave you a playful wink and flounced off to catch up with Blaise. You let out a sigh and turned back toward Draco, who was waiting patiently at the base of the stairs.

His expression was unreadable, but there was a flicker of curiosity in his gray eyes as he watched Pansy retreat. 

“What did she say?” he asked casually as you joined him. 

“Nothing important,” you replied quickly, brushing it off. 

The two of you began climbing the grand staircase toward the library, your footsteps echoing softly in the quiet corridors. The conversation turned to your respective workloads—essays, spell theory, and the looming deadlines that Hogwarts always seemed to pile on. 

Once you reached the library, the atmosphere shifted immediately. The warm, hushed air was filled with the faint rustle of turning pages and the soft creak of chairs as students worked at scattered tables. The librarian shot a warning glance in your direction as you entered, and you both instinctively fell silent. 

Draco scanned the room before selecting a free table near the back, far enough away from the busier sections. He pulled out a chair and sat down. You slid into the seat across from him, pulling out your books and parchment with a quiet efficiency. 

The two of you worked in near silence, save for the occasional scratch of quills on parchment and the soft rustling of pages. Draco’s focus was surprising—he wasn’t just idly pretending to work.

You stole a glance at him from behind your textbook, unable to help yourself. His usually sharp, guarded expression softened slightly in the dim light of the library, and the way he absentmindedly tapped his quill against the edge of his ink bottle was strangely endearing. 

“What?” he asked suddenly, not looking up but clearly catching you in the act. 

You snapped your gaze back to your parchment, your cheeks heating. “Nothing. Just surprised you’re actually working.” 

Draco smirked faintly, his quill pausing mid-scratch. “I told you, I’m full of surprises.” 

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips as you returned to your work. 

You focused on your parchment, the rhythm of writing and flipping pages creating a peaceful backdrop. 

Every now and then, you’d exchange a wordless glance across the table—a raised eyebrow when Draco sighed in frustration at his essay or a subtle laugh when you dropped your book.

“Why does Snape insist on us writing essays on potion theories we’ll never use?” Draco muttered under his breath, breaking the quiet. His voice was low enough not to earn the librarian’s wrath, but it carried just enough irritation to make you stifle a laugh. 

“Probably because he enjoys watching us suffer,” you whispered back, unable to resist teasing him. 

Draco snorted softly, a rare but genuine reaction that made your heart skip a beat. “You might be onto something,” he said, his smirk widening as he leaned back slightly in his chair. 

You returned your focus to your work, but a few minutes later, Draco spoke again. 

“You’ve got ink on your nose,” he said casually, leaning forward with an amused glint in his eyes. 

“What?” You immediately raised a hand to your face, swiping at your nose. 

Draco shook his head. “Not there. Here.” 

Before you could react, he reached across the table, his fingers brushing against your skin as he wiped the spot just above the bridge of your nose. The gesture was so unexpected, so gentle, that you froze for a moment, your breath catching in your throat. 

“There,” he said softly, his voice almost tender. 

You managed a quiet “Thanks,” barely able to meet his gaze as heat flooded your cheeks. Draco didn’t comment, but you noticed the faintest flush creeping up his neck as he returned to his essay. 

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of quiet concentration, shared glances, and the occasional murmured exchange.

By the time you both decided to call it a night, the library had emptied out.As you packed up your things, Draco stood and waited for you, his posture relaxed but his eyes attentive. 

“Ready?” he asked, his voice low.

You nodded, slinging your bag over your shoulder. When you reached the staircase that would take you to your own rooms, Draco paused, glancing at you. 

“You work too hard,” he said after a moment, his tone light but his expression sincere. 

You tilted your head, meeting his gaze. “Says the person who just spent two hours in the library with me.” 

Draco smirked, his usual confidence returning. “What can i say ? I had a lot of free time.” 

Your heart fluttered at his words, and you couldn’t help but smile. “Goodnight, Draco.” 

“Goodnight,” he replied, his smirk softening into something warmer as he watched you descend the stairs. 

[jadeshifting]

AMORTENTIA.

　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　

the air in the dungeon was practically electric, a low hum of whispered gossip and barely-contained giggles rippling through the students as they slid into their seats. today was the day—Amortentia day. everyone was buzzing, eyes darting around, wondering who among them might catch a whiff of their essence in the swirling potion. the curiosity was intoxicating: what would you smell? would it reveal some secret crush, or confirm a love you hadn’t dared to voice? the thought of brewing it, learning its secrets for future use, had everyone on edge, hearts thudding with anticipation. the room was alive with possibilities, every stir of a cauldron promising revelations and maybe, just maybe, a gossamer thread connecting you to the person you’re meant to be with

WHO IS IT THAT YOU SMELL ?

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˚☽˚.⋆ MATTHEO RIDDLE. dark chocolate and crackling embers devouring wood chips, with a hint of something dark and unidentifiable

˚☽˚.⋆ DRACO MALFOY. crisp winter air and freshly polished leather, laced with a whisper of expensive cologne

˚☽˚.⋆ THEODORE NOTT. ancient parchment and sandalwood, with undertones of the forest after an unforgiving storm

˚☽˚.⋆ PANSY PARKINSON. rich jasmine and a touch of spiced vanilla, wrapped in a cloud of luxurious bergamot perfume

˚☽˚.⋆ LORENZO BERKSHIRE. sea salt and sun-warmed driftwood, with a tiny hint of freshly squeezed lime

˚☽˚.⋆ BLAISE ZABINI. luxurious cooking spices and smooth, aged whiskey, with the faintest trace of cedarwood

˚☽˚.⋆ ASTORIA GREENGRASS. soft rose petals and sweet honey, tinged with the refreshing scent of a summer breeze

˚☽˚.⋆ DAPHNE GREENGRASS. mellow lavender and fresh morning dew, layered with a whisper of crisp apple

˚☽˚.⋆ MILLICENT BULSTRODE. earthy pine and rich musk, softened by the warmth of freshly brewed coffee

˚☽˚.⋆ HARRY POTTER. freshly cut grass and a hint of broomstick polish, with the undertone of gently burned bay leaves

˚☽˚.⋆ HERMIONE GRANGER. crisp parchment and freshly brewed peppermint tea, with a subtle whiff of vanilla candle wax

˚☽˚.⋆ RON WEASLEY. warm cinnamon and rich butterbeer, tinged with the comforting scent of old wood

˚☽˚.⋆ LUNA LOVEGOOD. the ethereal scent of rain-soaked wildflowers and a hint of parchment, like secrets whispered in a moonlit meadow

˚☽˚.⋆ GINNY WEASLEY. the fiery aroma of spiced apple cider and freshly mown grass, full of warmth and untamed spirit

˚☽˚.⋆ FRED WEASLEY. fiery cloves and burnt sugar, mingling with some mysterious electric buzz

˚☽˚.⋆ GEORGE WEASLEY. smoky bonfires and caramel toffee, layered with a cheeky twist of citrus zest

˚☽˚.⋆ CEDRIC DIGGORY. golden apples and the fresh scent of a cool river breeze, tinged with warm amber

˚☽˚.⋆ NEVILLE LONGBOTTOM. freshly turned soil and blooming flowers, with a faint trace of sun-ripened strawberries

˚☽˚.⋆ CHO CHANG. delicate baby’s breath blossoms and soft raindrops, with a whisper of green tea with too much sugar

˚☽˚.⋆ CORMAC MCLAGGEN. sharp citrus and molten pine candle wax, layered with the crispness of mountain air

˚☽˚.⋆ OLIVER WOOD. freshly mown grass and clean sweat, mixed with morning dew on wood and the stirring of broom polish

˚☽˚.⋆ SEAMUS FINNEGAN. smoky campfires and a hint of spiced firewhiskey, laced with the tang of sea salt

˚☽˚.⋆ DEAN THOMAS. charcoal sketches and warm cocoa, blended with the cozy scent of old bookshops

˚☽˚.⋆ REMUS LUPIN (ooh, scandal). warm honey and worn leather, with a trace of earthy pine forests after rain

THE JUICY AFTERMATH.

　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　

the aftermath of Amortentia class is pure, unfiltered chaos. whispers turned into gasps when Dean realized his girlfriend didn’t catch his scent in the potion—no, she smelled someone else entirely. in front of everyone, too… yikes.

.　　. 　 ˚　. meanwhile, Astoria’s cheeks turned into fiery roses when she realized she smelled the awkward Gryffindor idiot she sneered at in the hallway (RON!! WEASLEY!!), and now she had to question practically everything about herself and her sensibilities

.　　. 　 ˚　. but the real scandal? Padma smelled Professor Lupin. yep, full-on professor. she looked like she wanted to sink into the floor, but how embarrassing was it, really? (no one else wanted to admit it, but plenty of his students knew that the gentle cadence of his voice and his capable nature made them swoon in class.) friendships were tested, secrets spilled, and the whole castle buzzed with the fallout of who smelled what—and more importantly, who smelled who

WHAT DOES YOUR AMORTENTIA SMELL LIKE ?

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after all, if you know, you can zero in the moment someone else smells you—you hear someone whisper a description of your particular brand of personal fragrance, and their harbored affections for you are on full display for you to take advantage of

˚☽˚.⋆ freshly baked cinnamon rolls on a chilly morning, the scent of the creamy glaze cutting through the bite of the cold air

˚☽˚.⋆ the buttery sweetness of caramel popcorn at the fairgrounds, playful and indulgent, mixed with the salty tang of sea breeze at sunset

˚☽˚.⋆the rich, creamy fragrance of coconut oil warming on sun-kissed skin, luscious and inviting

˚☽˚.⋆ the soft, powdery scent of lavender sachets in a vintage wardrobe, delicate and calming with an undertone of light wood shavings

˚☽˚.⋆ the silky smooth scent of jasmine tea steaming in a porcelain cup, refined and subtly intoxicating

˚☽˚.⋆ crisp, clean and freshly laundered linen on a breezy day mixed with the sweet, fruity aroma of ripe peaches on a summer afternoon

THIS YEAR’S AMORTENTIA DISASTERS.

　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　

sure, there’s always one or two, but the Amortentia mishaps that year were legendary

.　　. 　 ˚　. first off, poor Cormac accidentally dosed himself—yeah, rookie mistake—and spent a week hopelessly in love with his reflection (but how different was that from his true self, anyway? no way of knowing.)

.　　. 　 ˚　. then there was Katie, who slipped a few drops into a goblet meant for Mr. Harry Potter of boy-who-lived fame, only for his best friend Hermione to pick it up instead. The look on Katie’s face when Granger started waxing poetic about Katie’s “brilliance” in the middle of the great hall was priceless—but, of course, Hermione was beet red and positively humiliated after it wore off, and i believe the two haven’t spoken since. i think Katie learned her lesson, though.

.　　. 　 ˚　. and let’s not forget Jenny, who finally got her crush, Maximus, to fall head over heels—only to discover lovesick Maximus was clingy with a capital C. cue sleepless nights and desperate whispered pleas for antidotes. a couple of brave (or just plain desperate) students tried to brew their own fixes in the dorms, resulting in green smoke, shrieking mandrakes, and one extremely unfortunate case of squishy bones and a subsequent trip to the hospital wing

.　　. 　 ˚　. and of course, the pièce de résistance: Parvati and Lavender dragging a moonstruck Ruby to Slughorn, her eyes glazed over, babbling sonnets about a completely baffled Draco Malfoy—he loved attention, sure, but he looked like he wanted to die. Slughorn went easy on her to save them the embarrassment. the whole school buzzed with these tales, each mishap adding another layer of absurdity to a year that already had more than enough going on

GOOD LUCK IN LOVE THIS YEAR, WITCHES AND WIZARDS

yours truly,

— me :^)

[rosesareredrosa]

Different

Theo Nott x fem reader

Summary: Y/N, a Gryffindor, and Theodore Nott, start as enemies due to house rivalry. Over time, they discover hidden depths in each other, leading to an unexpected bond and the possibility of friendship.

A/n: I don't know what to do anymore :)

w/c: 1541

The Great Hall buzzed with the usual morning chatter. Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws, and Slytherins mingled in their respective groups, creating a tapestry of colors and crests. Y/N sat at the Gryffindor table with Harry, Hermione, and Ron, enjoying the usual banter over breakfast. Across the hall, the Slytherin table was occupied by Draco Malfoy and his entourage: Blaise Zabini, Lorenzo Berkshire, Pansy Parkinson, Mattheo Riddle, and Theodore Nott.

Y/N's gaze wandered to the Slytherin table, where Lorenzo and Pansy were deep in conversation. They were the only ones from the group she could tolerate—no, actually liked. Despite the rivalry between their houses, Y/N and Lorenzo had bonded over a shared interest in magical creatures, and Pansy, surprisingly, had a soft spot for Muggle fashion, which Y/N had a knack for.

However, her eyes inevitably landed on Theodore Nott. His aloof demeanor and icy blue eyes made him stand out among his peers. He was one of the quieter members of the group, often observing rather than engaging. Still, whenever he did speak, it was often to make a cutting remark, especially towards Gryffindors. Y/N had been on the receiving end of his snide comments more than once, sparking a mutual disdain.

As Y/N laughed at something Ron said, she felt eyes on her. She glanced over to see Theodore watching her, a flicker of annoyance in his gaze. He quickly looked away, leaning in to whisper something to Draco, who snickered. Y/N rolled her eyes and returned to her breakfast.

Later that day, Y/N found herself in the library, searching for a book on advanced transfiguration. As she scanned the shelves, she heard footsteps approaching. Turning, she saw Lorenzo with a warm smile on his face.

"Fancy seeing you here, Y/N. Need any help?" he offered.

"Actually, yes," Y/N replied, smiling back. "I can't seem to find the book I need. Advanced Transfiguration Techniques?"

Lorenzo nodded and stepped closer to help. As they searched, the sound of footsteps approaching made them both glance up. Theodore appeared, looking rather displeased.

"Lorenzo, what are you doing?" Theodore's voice was cold, his eyes flicking to Y/N.

"Helping a friend," Lorenzo replied, unfazed. "You should try it sometime, Theo."

Theodore's jaw tightened, and he crossed his arms. "We don't associate with Gryffindors, especially not with Potter's crowd."

Y/N bristled at his words, her previous feelings of annoyance flaring into anger. "I'm right here, you know. No need to talk about me as if I'm invisible."

"Maybe you'd like that," Theodore retorted, his tone biting. "Then we wouldn't have to listen to your incessant whining."

Lorenzo sighed, stepping between them. "Theo, that's enough. Y/N's not like the rest of them. She's... different."

"Different?" Theodore scoffed. "She's just like the rest of them. Arrogant, self-righteous, and constantly getting into trouble."

Y/N felt her temper flare. "Better than being a coward who hides behind his friends and makes snide comments from the shadows."

Theodore's eyes narrowed dangerously, but before he could retort, Lorenzo stepped in. "Alright, that's enough from both of you. We're in a library, not a dueling club."

With a final glare at Theodore, Y/N grabbed the book Lorenzo had handed her and stormed off. She could feel Theodore's gaze burning into her back but refused to turn around. As she left, she heard Lorenzo's hushed voice trying to reason with Theodore, but she didn't care. The encounter had only solidified her dislike for the Slytherin boy.

Over the next few weeks, the tension between Y/N and Theodore only grew. They continued to exchange barbed comments and glares whenever they crossed paths. It was clear to everyone that they couldn't stand each other. Lorenzo and Pansy often tried to mediate, but their efforts were in vain.

Despite this, there were moments where Y/N caught a glimpse of something more in Theodore's eyes—a flicker of something that wasn't hatred. It confused her, making her wonder if there was more to him than his cold exterior.

One day, as Y/N was leaving the greenhouse after Herbology, she found herself alone with Theodore. He was standing by the entrance, seemingly waiting for someone. She considered ignoring him and walking away, but something compelled her to stop.

"Theodore," she called, surprising even herself with her boldness.

He looked up, surprised to hear her use his first name. "What?"

"Why do you hate me so much?" she asked bluntly. "What did I ever do to you?"

Theodore's expression flickered with something unreadable. For a moment, he seemed almost vulnerable, but it quickly disappeared. "You represent everything I despise," he replied. "Gryffindors like you, always so sure of yourselves, always so... infuriating."

Y/N crossed her arms, not backing down. "That's not a real answer. That's just an excuse."

He stared at her for a long moment, then sighed. "Maybe it is. But it's the only one you're getting."

Without another word, he walked past her, leaving Y/N standing there, confused and frustrated. As she watched him go, she couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to Theodore Nott than met the eye.

The days went by, and Y/N continued to struggle with her conflicting feelings towards Theodore. She found herself thinking about him more often, wondering what he was like beneath the cold facade. Meanwhile, Theodore seemed more distant than ever, though there were moments when she caught him watching her, his expression unreadable.

The turning point came during a particularly challenging Potions class. Professor Snape had paired them together, much to their mutual dismay. They worked in silence, the tension between them palpable.

As they prepared the potion, Y/N noticed Theodore seemed distracted. He almost added the wrong ingredient, which would have caused their potion to explode. Without thinking, she grabbed his wrist, stopping him just in time.

"Theodore, what are you doing?" she hissed, keeping her voice low so as not to attract Snape's attention.

He blinked, seemingly coming out of a trance. "I... I don't know," he muttered, clearly flustered.

For a moment, they stood there, her hand still on his wrist. Y/N felt a strange jolt at the contact, quickly withdrawing her hand. Theodore looked equally shaken, but he quickly masked it with a scowl.

"Just be careful," she muttered, turning back to their potion.

They finished the lesson in silence, but something had changed. There was a subtle shift in the air between them, an unspoken understanding. As they left the classroom, Y/N felt Theodore's gaze linger on her, and for the first time, it didn't feel hostile.

As the weeks passed, the dynamic between Y/N and Theodore continued to evolve. The barbed comments became less frequent, and they found themselves working together more often. There were still moments of tension, but there were also glimpses of something softer, something more human.

One evening, Y/N found herself in the library, struggling with a particularly difficult Arithmancy problem. She was on the verge of giving up when she heard a familiar voice.

"Need help?"

She looked up to see Theodore standing there, his expression surprisingly neutral. She hesitated for a moment, then nodded.

They worked together in silence, Theodore patiently explaining the concepts she was struggling with. As they worked, Y/N found herself sneaking glances at him, noticing the way his brow furrowed in concentration, the way his eyes softened when he was focused.

When they finally finished, Y/N felt a strange mix of relief and sadness. She had enjoyed working with him, more than she cared to admit.

"Thank you," she said softly, packing up her things.

Theodore nodded, his expression unreadable. "You're welcome."

As they left the library, Y/N felt a strange sense of hope. Maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for something more than animosity between them.

The next few weeks were a whirlwind of confusion and conflicting emotions. Y/N and Theodore continued to interact, their conversations becoming less hostile and more civil. They still had their disagreements, but there was a growing sense of mutual respect.

One day, as they were walking back from a particularly exhausting Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson, Theodore spoke up.

"Y/N," he began, his voice hesitant. "Why do you care?"

She looked at him, confused. "Care about what?"

"About me," he clarified, his tone almost vulnerable. "You've always been... different. You don't just see me as a Slytherin or as someone who hates Gryffindors. You see me as... more."

Y/N stopped walking, turning to face him fully. "Because I know there's more to you," she said simply. "I don't know what it is, but I can see it. And I want to know the real you, not just the version you show everyone else."

Theodore looked at her, his expression a mix of surprise and something else she couldn't quite place. For a moment, it seemed like he was going to say something, but then he just nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Maybe one day," he said softly. "Maybe one day, I'll show you."

As they continued walking, Y/N felt a strange sense of peace. Whatever happened

[roseyreveries]

Far Away - 2

Draco Malfoy x Fem!Muggle!Reader

Series Masterlist

Summary: You're thrown into the chaos of the Hogwarts Sorting Ceremony. As you navigate your first moments in this strange place, you cross paths with a few familiar faces and begin to wonder what your future holds at the school.

Disclaimer: All characters are being aged up for PLOT (1st years are 15, 7th years are 21) but characters may act immature and childish in the beginning at times to keep their character development. Not accurate to the books or movies.

CW: Arguing, Gambling(?)

Directory Masterlist

I yelped and stumbled back, clutching my wand like a lifeline. In front of me stood an old man with a long silver beard, half-moon spectacles perched on his nose, and a deep blue robe that shimmered in the sunlight. His eyes, usually so calm and twinkling in the movies, were now sharp and slightly frantic.

“Professor Dumbledore?” I stammered, barely able to process the situation.

“Why are you not at the castle yet?” Dumbledore asked, his voice carrying an unusual edge of urgency. He looked me up and down, his expression a mix of concern and impatience.

“I—I don’t know what’s going on,” I stuttered, my confusion spilling over. “I don’t even know where the castle is. I was just—”

Dumbledore raised a hand, cutting me off. His eyes softened slightly, but there was still a flicker of something else—perhaps worry or a sense of urgency that I couldn’t quite place. “No time to explain here,” he said briskly. “We must get you to Hogwarts immediately.”

Before I could protest or even think of another question, Dumbledore grasped my arm firmly. There was a sudden, dizzying sensation, like the world had been yanked out from under my feet. The air squeezed tight around me, my vision blurred, and for a split second, it felt like I was being pulled through a narrow tube.

Then, just as abruptly, it stopped. I gasped, catching my breath as I found myself standing in front of massive, towering doors that stretched high above me. The grand entrance hall of Hogwarts loomed before us, its stone walls echoing with a faint hum of magic. I blinked, my surroundings snapping into focus, the realization hitting me like a tidal wave.

We were at Hogwarts. The place I had only ever seen on a TV screen now stood before me in all its ancient, majestic glory. My head spun with a thousand questions, but Dumbledore’s expression remained resolute as he released my arm.

Dumbledore gave me a quick, assessing glance, then waved his hand with a graceful, practiced motion. Before I could even register what was happening, my clothes shifted and transformed, the fabric rippling as plain black robes appeared around me. I stared down at myself, wide-eyed and speechless. The robes were just like the ones I’d seen in the movies, flowing and perfectly tailored, fitting me as if they’d always been mine.

“Whoa,” I breathed, my fingers brushing against the smooth material. I could feel the faint hum of magic in the fabric, like a soft, comforting buzz against my skin. I turned to Dumbledore, a hundred questions bubbling up inside me, but he was already on the move.

“Come along, Miss Thunderbrooke,” he said briskly, gently nudging me forward. “There’s no time to waste.”

Still in awe of the robe transformation, I allowed Dumbledore to guide me through the towering doors of the Great Hall. The sheer size of the room took my breath away—the enchanted ceiling reflected a twilight sky dotted with stars, and floating candles cast a warm, flickering light over the long tables filled with students. The air was thick with the excited murmurs of young witches and wizards, all gathered for what I quickly realized was the Sorting Ceremony.

Dumbledore ushered me to the front, where a line of students my age stood nervously, waiting their turn to be sorted. My heart pounded as I joined the line, still feeling out of place in this magical scene. I glanced around, recognizing some of the faces from the movies, and a new wave of disbelief washed over me.

“Just stay here and wait to be sorted,” Dumbledore whispered, his voice softer now. He offered me a small, reassuring smile, though his eyes still held that glimmer of urgency. “Everything will be explained in due time.”

Before I could respond, he turned and made his way up to the staff table, leaving me standing among the other first-years. I looked up at the enchanted ceiling, then down at my robes again, the surrealness of it all making my head spin. I was at Hogwarts, about to be sorted like every other first-year student. It was as if I’d been plucked straight out of my living room and dropped into the heart of the wizarding world, with no clue why or how any of this was happening.

My eyes drifted to the students ahead of me, watching as they approached the Sorting Hat one by one. This was really happening—I was here, in the Great Hall, about to be sorted into a house. The dreamlike quality of it all still lingered, but as the line moved forward, I felt a spark of anticipation mingling with my confusion. Whatever was going on, I was about to be part of it.

I stood there, my eyes wide as I took in everything around me. The Great Hall was huge, way bigger than I’d ever imagined, with its ceiling that looked exactly like the night sky, full of twinkling stars. Candles floated in mid-air, and I couldn’t help but wonder how they weren’t dripping wax on everyone. I tugged at my new robes, still half-expecting to wake up at any second back on my living room floor with the TV blaring.

It all felt so unreal, like I’d stepped straight into one of the movies. I turned in a slow circle, trying to catch every little detail—the four long tables packed with older students, the giant banners with different house crests, the Sorting Hat that was being placed on each kid’s head one by one. My head was spinning, and I couldn’t stop gawking.

Without realizing it, I took a step back and bumped into someone. I spun around quickly, nearly tripping over my own feet, and found myself face-to-face with a boy my age. He had slicked-back blond hair and a pale, pointed face, his eyebrows drawn together in a frown.

“Hey, watch it!” he snapped, rubbing his shoulder like I’d really hurt him, which I definitely didn’t.

“Oh! Sorry,” I mumbled, my face heating up. I hadn’t meant to bump into anyone, especially not someone who looked so put together, like he already belonged here. My eyes widened as I realized who I was looking at— Draco Malfoy, from the movies. He looked just like he did on screen, but now he was right in front of me, all scowls and pointed glares.

Draco’s frown deepened, and he brushed at his robes like I’d somehow dirtied them just by bumping into him. “Watch it, would you?” he snapped, his voice dripping with disdain. “You don’t just wander around like a lost puppy and bump into people. Are you even supposed to be here?”

I felt my cheeks flush with a mix of embarrassment and anger. “I said I was sorry,” I shot back, straightening up and meeting his glare. “You don’t have to be so rude about it!”

Draco scoffed, rolling his eyes dramatically. “Rude? I’m not the one who doesn’t know how to walk properly. And those robes— you look like you’re wearing hand-me-downs from a rubbish bin.”

I clenched my fists, my temper flaring. “You don’t even know me! What’s your problem?”

“My problem?” Draco sneered, stepping closer with his arms crossed. “My problem is I have to share a school with people like you who clearly don’t belong.”

I opened my mouth to snap back, my frustration bubbling over, when another voice cut through our argument.

“That’s enough!” A girl with bushy brown hair and a determined look marched up to us, her eyes narrowing at Draco. I recognized her instantly— Hermione Granger, looking just as fierce as I’d seen her in the movies. She stepped between us, glaring at Draco with a mix of annoyance and confidence that made me feel instantly better.

“You shouldn’t talk to people like that,” Hermione said firmly, planting her hands on her hips. “Everyone’s here for the same reason, and you don’t get to decide who belongs.”

Draco huffed, looking at Hermione with disdain. “And who are you, the manners police?”

Hermione’s expression didn’t falter. “I’m Hermione Granger, and I’m not afraid of you. So why don’t you back off and leave her alone?”

Draco’s eyes flicked between Hermione and me, his scowl deepening, but he seemed to realize he was outmatched— or at least, outnumbered. He rolled his eyes and took a step back, smoothing his robes again. “Whatever. You’re not worth my time,” he muttered, turning away with a swish of his robes.

Hermione gave me a reassuring smile and motioned for me to follow her. “Come on, you can stand with us,” she said, leading me through the crowd. I was still a little shaken from my encounter with Draco, but having Hermione on my side made me feel better. As we weaved through the other first-years, I couldn’t believe this was happening— I was actually at Hogwarts, with Hermione Granger.

We finally stopped near the back of the line, and that’s when I saw them. Harry Potter, with his messy black hair and round glasses, was right there, talking to a tall redhead who I instantly recognized as Ron Weasley. Standing beside them was Neville Longbottom, looking a bit nervous but kind, just like I remembered. They all turned as Hermione approached, and my heart skipped a beat.

I froze, staring at the trio in front of me, my mind racing. It was like seeing a group of celebrities, only better. They were my favorite characters from the books and movies, and they were right here, standing inches away. I felt my excitement bubbling up, almost like I was going to burst.

“Oh my god,” I blurted out, my eyes wide as I took in every detail. “You’re—oh my god, this is insane!” My words came out in a rush, my hands flapping in disbelief. Harry, Ron, and Neville exchanged confused looks, their expressions a mix of amusement and bewilderment.

Ron raised an eyebrow, a crooked smile forming on his face. “Er, you all right there?” he asked, glancing at Harry like he was wondering if I’d lost my mind.

Harry chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh, yeah… we’re just us,” he said, looking at me curiously. “Are you okay?”

Neville gave me a shy smile, clearly unsure how to react. Hermione put a hand on my shoulder, her brow furrowing slightly. “You seem really excited,” she said, a hint of a laugh in her voice.

“Oh, right!” I said quickly, trying to gather myself. “I’m Y/N. Y/N Thunderbrooke.” As soon as the name left my mouth, I felt a jolt of panic. That wasn’t my real name, but it was the one on the letter I had been holding, and for some reason, I just went with it.

Ron’s face scrunched up in confusion, and he glanced at Harry before asking, “Thunderbrooke? Never heard of that name before. What family are you from?”

My heart raced. I didn’t know how to answer that— I wasn’t even supposed to be here, and the last thing I wanted was to blow my cover, whatever that even was. “Uh, well, I’m not really from around here,” I blurted out, my voice a little higher than I intended. “It’s, um, a long story. My dad and I… we, uh, move a lot.”

Harry raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further. “Oh, okay. Well, you’re at Hogwarts now, so I guess that’s what matters.”

I nodded, relieved that they weren’t asking more questions, though I could still feel Ron’s curious eyes on me. I bit my lip, trying to calm the nervous fluttering in my stomach. Maybe they wouldn’t think too much about it. After all, it wasn’t like I was the only new kid here.

Just then, the room hushed as Professor McGonagall stepped forward, holding a long scroll. “When I call your name, you will put on the Sorting Hat and be sorted into your house,” she announced, her voice echoing through the Great Hall. I glanced nervously at the line of students ahead of me, each waiting for their turn.

The Sorting Hat started singing, its voice filling the hall with a song about bravery, cunning, wisdom, and loyalty. My heart pounded as I listened, a mix of excitement and anxiety bubbling inside me. The reality of where I was and what was happening sank in all over again.

“First up, Abbott, Hannah!” McGonagall called, and a girl with blonde hair nervously walked up to the stool. I watched, mesmerized, as the hat was placed on her head and called out “Hufflepuff!” The Hufflepuff table erupted in cheers, and I couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like when it was my turn. Would the hat know who I was? What would it see when it looked into my mind?

As each student went up, my nerves grew. I was in a magical world I’d only dreamed about, standing among characters I’d known and loved for years, but now it was real—and I had no idea what was going to happen next.

I mumbled to myself, more to calm my nerves than anything else, “Wow, I wonder which house I’ll get?”

Before I could even take another breath, a familiar voice sneered from beside me. “Bet it won’t be a good one.” I turned to see Draco Malfoy, his smug face popping into my view like an unwanted jack-in-the-box. He was grinning, clearly enjoying the chance to get under my skin again.

I frowned, feeling my cheeks flush with frustration. “What’s your problem, Malfoy? Can’t you just leave me alone?”

Draco crossed his arms, leaning in closer with a taunting smirk. “You’re just lame, that’s all. Probably end up in Hufflepuff or, worse, that house for the leftovers.” He chuckled, clearly proud of himself for thinking he’d dealt the ultimate insult.

I clenched my fists, trying to keep my cool, but his attitude was really starting to grate on me. “You don’t even know me,” I shot back, standing my ground. “And for your information, Hufflepuff isn’t lame, and neither is any other house. But I bet I could get into Gryffindor or even Slytherin.”

Draco’s eyebrows shot up, and he laughed, the sound sharp and mocking. “You? In Slytherin? You don’t have what it takes,” he said, shaking his head. “And Gryffindor’s just as unlikely. You’re dreaming.”

I felt a surge of determination flare up inside me. I wasn’t going to let him have the last word, not this time. “You think so, huh?” I challenged, narrowing my eyes at him. “Fine. I bet you a Galleon I get into either Gryffindor or Slytherin.”

Draco’s smirk widened, and he gave a little scoff, like he couldn’t believe I was serious. “A Galleon? You’re on,” he said, eyes glinting with confidence. “But don’t cry when you’re stuck in Hufflepuff or some other boring house. I’ll be in Slytherin, where I belong.”

I crossed my arms, trying to ignore the way my stomach churned with nerves. “We’ll see, Malfoy. Just don’t get too full of yourself when you lose.”

Draco snickered, clearly enjoying the challenge. “I’ll believe it when I see it, Thunderbrooke. Better get that Galleon ready.”

He turned on his heel as Professor McGonagall called, “Malfoy, Draco!” His name echoed through the Great Hall, and he strutted confidently up to the stool, sitting down with an air of smug anticipation. The Sorting Hat barely touched his head before it bellowed, “Slytherin!”

Draco’s face lit up with pride, and he leapt off the stool, practically skipping over to the Slytherin table. He was welcomed with cheers and claps from the older students, and he took his place among them, basking in the attention.

I watched, my nerves bubbling up again. My heart pounded as I waited, fingers fidgeting at my sides. Then, it was my turn. “Thunderbrooke, Y/N!” Professor McGonagall called, and I felt all eyes turn to me. My feet felt like lead as I walked up to the stool, trying to keep my cool in front of everyone.

I sat down, and the Sorting Hat was placed on my head, its brim falling over my eyes. I held my breath, waiting for it to speak.

“Ah,” the hat said softly, its voice echoing in my mind. “You’re the one who’s not from this world. Dumbledore mentioned you’d be coming. Quite the unique situation, isn’t it? No matter— I know just where to put you.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for the answer, my mind racing with possibilities.

“SLYTHERIN!” the hat shouted.

I blinked in surprise, but a wide grin quickly spread across my face. I hopped off the stool, excitement bubbling inside me. I couldn’t believe it— Slytherin! I was determined not to show any of the nerves I’d felt moments before. Instead, I walked with as much confidence as I could muster over to the Slytherin table.

I caught sight of Draco, who was already chatting animatedly with some of his new housemates, but his gaze flickered over to me when I approached. I stopped right in front of him, letting the cheers from the Slytherin table fade into the background. Draco’s smile faltered as I slid into the seat across from him and held out my hand, palm up, with a cocky grin.

“Well, Malfoy?” I said, arching an eyebrow. “I believe you owe me a Galleon.”

Draco stared at me, his eyes narrowing for a moment, clearly not expecting to lose the bet. A mix of annoyance and begrudging respect flickered across his face before he finally huffed and reached into his robes. He pulled out a shiny Galleon and slapped it into my hand.

“There,” he muttered, trying to keep his cool. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

I pocketed the coin with a satisfied smile. “Oh, don’t worry,” I said, leaning back in my seat. “I won’t. But thanks for the Galleon, Draco.”

He rolled his eyes but couldn’t help a slight smirk, clearly impressed despite himself. We might have started on the wrong foot, but I had a feeling this was only the beginning of whatever rivalry— or maybe even friendship— was brewing between us.

Draco crossed his arms, still giving me a sideways look, but I could tell he was intrigued. “Don’t think this means we’re friends or anything,” he said, trying to sound aloof, though there was a slight crack in his smug demeanor. “You got lucky, that’s all.”

I shrugged, pretending to be unfazed by his words. “Sure, if that’s what you want to believe. But maybe luck’s just on my side.”

Around us, the Slytherin students were still celebrating the new additions to their house, and I couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride. I’d not only proven Draco wrong but also found myself in the very house I’d always admired, even if it wasn’t my first choice in the movies. Slytherin had a certain allure—a promise of greatness, ambition, and cunning that I couldn’t deny was appealing.

As the sorting continued, I watched, taking in the sight of the Great Hall, with its enchanted ceiling reflecting the night sky and the floating candles casting a warm glow over everything. It was even more incredible than I’d ever imagined. The long tables, the chatter of students, the clinking of silverware and goblets— it all felt so surreal.

Beside me, Draco had started talking again, this time about Slytherin traditions and how he was destined to be a prefect someday. He spoke with such confidence, but every now and then, his gaze would flicker back to me, as if he was trying to figure me out. I listened, nodding occasionally, but my mind was still racing with the impossibility of everything.

“How do you even know so much about this place?” Draco suddenly asked, his tone more curious than hostile. “You said you’re not from around here. So, where exactly are you from?”

I hesitated, not really knowing how to answer that without sounding completely insane. “It’s… complicated,” I said finally. “Let’s just say I know a lot more than I should.”

Draco raised an eyebrow but didn’t push further, though I could tell he was itching to ask more. “Well, whatever. Just don’t mess things up for the rest of us,” he said, but his voice lacked the sharpness from before.

The Sorting Hat continued to call names, and as more students found their places, I settled in, still marveling at the fact that I was actually here. The chatter around the hall grew louder as food appeared on the tables, a feast fit for royalty with roast chicken, mashed potatoes, and pumpkin pasties among other delicious-looking dishes.

I grabbed a plate, filling it with everything that caught my eye. Draco watched me with a half-smirk, probably thinking I was overdoing it, but I didn’t care. This was Hogwarts, and I was going to enjoy every second of it. As I dug into my food, I realized that, for the first time in a long while, I wasn’t worried about anything—how I got here, what was happening back home, or even what would happen next. I was at Hogwarts, sorted into Slytherin, and had just won a bet against Draco Malfoy.

For now, that was more than enough.

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[soupandsorcery]

"No son of mine--" Lucius roars, drawing himself up to his full, impressive height. He's red in the face, his thinning hair wispy and unkempt in his anger. "Do you hear me, Draco? No son of mine is going to flounce around dressed like a--" He cuts himself off, like he doesn't know what he wants to say.

And Draco, well. Draco has a moment of perfect, sparkling clarity.

It's as if all of a sudden, Draco's childhood is rearranging itself. All the spoiling, the pampering, the vacations to lavish, lush places, interspersed with hiding under the bed from Lucius' rages, clutching at Narcissa's hand in the kitchen while Lucius shattered crystal in the parlor. Being led, Lucius' hand in a white knuckled grip on Draco's shoulder, to stand in front of the Dark Lord. All the little moments Draco shoved down or ignored in favor of a cruel, empty smile and doing what was best for the family. What Lucius said was best, anyway.

Now, everything is different. Now, Draco knows that Lucius Malfoy is a small, scared man, clinging to the last vestiges of his control with everything he has. And Draco knows that she will do anything, anything to avoid ending up like him.

"That's fine," she says, cutting in before Lucius can take another breath.

"Excuse me?"

"I said 'that's fine'," Draco replies coolly. "You don't have to worry about what a son of yours would do because you don't have a son, and considering the way you treated me when you thought you did, I don't plan to stick around and find out how you could scar a daughter for life."

Lucius splutters, struck dumb by Draco's pronouncement. It feels good, she won't lie.

She turns sharply, heels clacking with finality as she walks across the polished marble floor of the Manor's entry way and heads for the stairs, hopefully, for the last time.

She pulls out her mobile as she goes, sending off two texts with clumsy fingers. Why are the keyboards on these things so bleeding small?

I hope you were serious about letting me move in with you, Potter.

Because I'm certain I can never come back here.

There's a long moment before Potter responds, and Draco starts throwing the few things she wants to keep from this place into her trunk. It's depressing, how little feels worth saving here.

Her phone buzzes, cutting off that train of thought.

Dead serious, Potter replies. I need you to help me with this place.

And then, Proud of you, Malfoy.

So that's that settled, then.

[zazidot]

The Secrets He Keeps

a/n: super rushed sorry if it’s bad

It started like every other day at Hogwarts. My books were balanced precariously in my arms, my quill tucked behind my ear, and my hair falling annoyingly into my eyes as I hurried to Potions. The corridors buzzed with chatter, students filing into classrooms like clockwork.

And then there was him.

Draco Malfoy.

I didn’t have to see him to know he was nearby. His voice—sharp, arrogant, and dripping with disdain—cut through the noise like a knife.

“Move, Y/L/N. Merlin forbid you actually pay attention to where you’re going.”

My steps faltered, and I nearly dropped my books. Turning, I found him leaning casually against the wall, flanked by Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott. Behind them, Mattheo Riddle and Lorenzo Berkshire snickered, whispering amongst themselves. It was like they traveled in a pack, radiating smug superiority.

“Good morning to you too, Malfoy,” I replied evenly, forcing my voice to remain steady.

He straightened, his sharp features illuminated by the soft torchlight. His gray eyes locked on mine with an intensity that always made me uncomfortable.

“What’s this?” he drawled, gesturing to my books. “Trying to be the next Hermione Granger? Or just desperate to outdo everyone else?”

I clenched my jaw, refusing to let him see how his words stung. “At least I’m trying. Some of us don’t rely on Daddy’s money to get through life.”

A collective “ooh” rippled through the group. Even Mattheo raised an eyebrow at my retort, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement. But Draco didn’t laugh. Instead, his smirk faltered for just a moment—a crack in the mask he wore so effortlessly.

“Careful, Y/L/N,” he said, his voice quieter but no less cutting. “It’d be a shame if you let that big mouth of yours get you into trouble.”

I stepped closer, squaring my shoulders. “Why don’t you try me, Malfoy?”

His gaze flickered to something behind me, and I turned to see Tom Riddle himself walking past, his presence casting an eerie hush over the corridor. The group straightened immediately, their laughter dying as Tom’s cold, calculating eyes scanned the scene.

Draco stepped back, clearing his throat. “Let’s go,” he muttered to the others, his bravado suddenly dimmed.

I watched them retreat, confusion bubbling in my chest. Why did Malfoy insist on singling me out? And what was it about Tom Riddle that made even someone like Draco Malfoy fall silent?

Potions was uneventful—well, as uneventful as a class could be when Professor Snape was involved. I did my best to focus on brewing my Draught of Peace, but I could feel their eyes on me. Draco sat two rows behind, flanked by Theodore and Lorenzo. Blaise worked at the table beside mine, occasionally throwing glances my way.

And Mattheo… he was watching me, too. Not with the smug superiority of the others, but with something else. Curiosity? Amusement? Whatever it was, it set me on edge.

“Need help with that, Y/N?” Mattheo’s voice cut through the silence as he leaned over, smirking.

“I’m fine, thanks,” I said curtly, refusing to look at him.

“Suit yourself,” he replied, his tone playful. “But you might want to stir clockwise instead of counterclockwise. Unless you want to blow up your cauldron.”

I glanced at my potion and cursed under my breath. He was right.

After class, I lingered behind, cleaning up my station. Most of the students had already left, eager to escape the dungeon’s chill. I had just finished packing my bag when I heard footsteps approaching.

“Y/L/N.”

I turned to find Draco standing there, his usual entourage nowhere to be seen.

“What do you want, Malfoy?” I asked, exhaustion seeping into my voice.

His expression was unreadable, his gray eyes scanning my face. “I need to talk to you.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Really? What happened to the insults? Lost your edge?”

He ignored my jab, stepping closer. “I mean it. Just… listen for a second.”

I folded my arms, glaring up at him. “Fine. Go on, then.”

He hesitated, running a hand through his platinum blond hair. For once, he looked unsure of himself.

“I’m… sorry,” he said, the word sounding foreign on his tongue. “For the things I’ve said. For how I’ve treated you.”

I blinked, caught completely off guard. “What?”

“I don’t hate you, Y/N,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I never have. I just… I don’t know how to act around you.”

My heart pounded in my chest as I tried to process his words. “So, what? You’ve been bullying me because you like me?”

His cheeks flushed, and he looked away. “Something like that.”

I stared at him, my mind racing. This was the same Draco Malfoy who had spent years making my life miserable, and now he was standing here, confessing that it had all been a lie?

Before I could respond, another voice broke the tension.

“Well, isn’t this sweet?”

We both turned to see Mattheo leaning against the doorframe, a sly grin on his face. Behind him, Theodore and Lorenzo exchanged amused glances, while Blaise raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed.

“Didn’t know you had it in you, Malfoy,” Mattheo continued, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Pouring your heart out to Y/N like some lovesick Hufflepuff.”

Draco glared at him, his fists clenching. “Mind your own business, Riddle.”

Mattheo laughed, pushing off the doorframe and sauntering into the room. “Relax, mate. I’m just saying—it’s a bold move. I didn’t think you had the guts.”

“Leave,” Draco snapped, his voice cold.

But Mattheo didn’t budge. Instead, he turned to me, his dark eyes twinkling with mischief. “What do you think, Y/N? Should we give Malfoy a chance? Or is he too much of a git to be redeemable?”

I glanced between them, feeling the weight of their stares. Part of me wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the situation, but another part was overwhelmed by the tension in the air.

“I think…” I began, choosing my words carefully, “that Draco has a lot to prove if he wants me to believe a word he’s saying.”

Mattheo smirked, clearly entertained. “Fair enough.”

Draco shot him a withering glare before turning back to me. “I will prove it,” he said firmly. “You’ll see.”

As he walked away, his friends trailing behind him, I couldn’t help but wonder if he meant it. Could Draco Malfoy really change?

Or was this just another game?

End.

[korkiekenobiconfirmed]

funniest nicknames I’ve seen used for snow in the wake of bosas:

Paneminem (specifically in his buzz cut era)

Dictator Draco Malfoy

Yassified Draco Malfoy

Albino Stalin

Cornucopious

Corny Anus

Copulation (atp almost any long c word works)

Caillou (again with the buzz cut)

Cabbage Twink

Nazi Eminem Twink

Peacekeeper Diversity Hire (bisexual)

District 8 Mile (Eminem)

Snow Shady

[asifyoucouldoutreadme]

Hermione Granger is riding a career high: her biography on Voldemort was a smash hit, her agent Blaise Zabini has just negotiated a lucrative new contract with her publisher, and her follow-up work on the writing of Hogwarts: A History already has buzz. She is happy… happyish… content… fine. Definitely not interested in reconnecting with her former childhood bully, even if he possesses a first edition she’d kill to get her hands on. But their explosive reunion poses more questions than answers and Hermione finds herself curious about more than the contents of a book.

OR

Hermione and Draco reunite to heal, write a book, fall in love, and solve a cold case.

6,121 Words (1/? Chapters WIP)

Read the first chapter!

EXCERPT:

“I loved Pureblood Hypocrisy ,” Malfoy muttered, cutting short the spiraling of her mind. His voice was almost lost in the ambient noise of the pub, and she felt him speak more than she heard him.

Whirling in her chair to face him, she caught his eyes completing a scan of the room. His comment had to have more complicated intentions than bearing a compliment, but she was automatically distracted with the reference to her last book.

“Is that your biography of the Dark Lord?” Theo asked, embracing the change of topic with an eagerness that made Hermione cringe.

“Yes,” she answered coldly, eyes never straying from Malfoy’s blank face. “As you may recall, I sent you a fair amount of owls to try and schedule an interview.”

“You did,” he confirmed casually. The disregard grated against every single one of her nerves.

“You didn’t feel the need to respond?” Hermione asked, attempting to match his insouciance. She could see from Blaise’s worried face that she wasn’t pulling it off.

“Silence speaks for itself,” he shrugged, watching the remnants of his drink spin at the bottom of his glass before downing it.

“It does, doesn’t it?” Hermione sneered, knuckles white against her mug. “Almost as if you still hold some loyalty to your former master.”

The entire table froze, silent until Blaise forced out a strained laugh.

Malfoy defrosted at the sound, relaxing into his chair and giving her a tight smile. “I’m sure you can relate to finding a topic that hits too close to home.”

“Apt wording, considering you welcomed the man into your home,” Hermione countered.

“It is not a period of time that I wish to revisit,” he gritted out, avoiding her provocation. Somehow it only fueled her wrath.

“Mustn't dwell on the past, not when you're so very culpable,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand.

Malfoy leaned forward, eyes molten and nostrils flaring. She could feel his hot breath on her cheek, sharp with alcohol and faintly minty. “I’ve paid my dues,” he growled.

Hermione laughed. Her mouth curved into a dark smile, but Theo smothered the fire growing on her tongue before she could release it.

“I’ve heard wonderful things!” He nearly shouted, slowly adjusting the volume of his voice as he rambled on. “About your book. I only read when I’m paid to, I’m afraid, but I’ve heard wonderful things. Never been much of a reader, outside of school. More of a numbers man, myself.”

“It’s still on the top seller list, three years later,” Blaise provided helpfully.

Theo gasped, overselling his astonishment. “You don’t say!”

Malfoy rolled his eyes, pushing back in his chair and glaring out at the room. It seemed he enjoyed being managed as little as she did.

[tasteoftheforbidden]

"You are you, Malfoy. I'm sure I don't need to remind you why I never want to have anything to do with you."

Draco was taken aback by the unbridled look of disdain she sent his way. It's been awhile since he's seen such a look directed right at him. Memories of the war came flashing before his eyes, forcing him to look away, pushing back the memories into the corners of his mind.

Hermione watched him tear his eyes away from her own. Every prank. Every mocking remark. Every scathing tease. Every hurtful retort. She remembered it all. And he did it to her for no real reason at all. His actions and words were the root of all her childhood insecurities. Her teeth. Her hair. Her blood. Everything she had no control over he ridiculed. Her hatred towards him and everything he stood for had no bounds. But more than anything, she hated the fact that his words knew just where to hit her to make it hurt.

"Now if there is nothing else–"

"I heard Australia is a wonderful place."

Hermione felt her blood chill all the way down to her bones. She watched as he darted his gaze towards the picture frame on her table, before looking back at her knowingly. He knew. The bastard knew. "You fucking conniving son of a-"

"Before you start thinking about-"

"That was classified information-"

"If you would just listen-"

"How dare you even try to-"

"Would you calm down-"

"I will kill you with my own bloody-"

"Let me explain-"

"Get the fuck out!"

Draco stared at the red-faced woman before him, standing with her wand pointed straight at him. Her eyes were wild and her hair buzzed with sparks of magic. He raised both his hands up in a gesture of surrender.

"I'm not going to hurt your parents, Granger."

"I said, get out." Her tone was low and quiet, but there was a feral undertone to it.

"I'm here to offer help."

"Like I would believe anything–"

"Money, Granger. That's what I'm offering." Draco cut her off as he stood up slowly to his full height, hands still up in the air. "You're researching ways to reverse obliviation." He stated frankly, not bothering to ask for her affirmation. "Your current position at St. Mungos and the salary it provides you aren't enough. There are memory experts all over the world, both magical and muggle. If you're going to explore all possibilities, you would need a nearly inexhaustible amount of money."

Hermione was silent now. She still had her wand pointed at him, but all her anger was gone. She was looking at him with wide eyes, torn between wanting to listen to his offer and wanting to call his bluff.

Draco brought his hands down to his sides, his gaze on her firm and unyielding. "My family's peace, in exchange for your family's reunion."

As much as I adore the 'they were secretly attracted to one another' Dramione stories, I will always prefer a legitimate enemies to friends to lovers set up 💕

Happy birthday to False Pretenses 🎂

[devastatingdraco]

The End of Everything - Chapter One: The Beginning

SHIP | Dramione [Draco Malfoy x Hermione Granger]

CATEGORY | enemies to lovers, romance, angst, EVENTUAL smut, Hermione never went to Hogwarts

WORD COUNT | 8.7k

WARNINGS | temporary paralysis, swearing, rude!Draco, kidnapping, etc. (more coming soon)

SONG REC | hostage — billie eilish

A/N: Thought I would post this here since it's doing well on a03. Enjoy, angels. <3

Hermione always knew that she was different.

Whether it was because the girls at school told her so, or simply because she could feel it in her heart, Hermione always knew.

Her life had been fairly normal up until this point, and she was okay with that. She was a simple girl with simple dreams. Hermione wanted to be a writer. Work in publishing. She wanted to create worlds and weave words together in a way that touched people; that made them truly feel something.

So, she studied. Got good at it, too. Hermione studied day and night, and not having any friends helped. She never got distracted. Sure, she'd get called loser, know-it-all, priss, but the harsh names never stopped her. Because Hermione had a goal, and she never lost sight of it.

Her hard work got her to where she is now: six months post-university. Building up her CV. Living in a flat on her own. Going out occasionally on the weekends.

This is her life now. And she is happy with it.

Only, that inkling, the one that always told her she was different and that she could do things—feel things—no one else could... it never really went away.

That's why, she supposes, she should have seen it coming.

"Petrificus Totalus."

The voice makes Hermione's eyes fly open. She's in bed, but something is off. Different.

Early morning light shines on a figure adorning all black, and the sight makes Hermione scream—except, nothing comes out at all. She can't scream. She can't even fight back as the figure pulls the blankets off of her and pockets something. It almost looked like a thin stick.

Hermione's body is effectively paralyzed and she is unable to move.

The fear that ripples through her body is painful. It makes her heart pound dangerously fast in her chest and her stomach ache. She is scared and there's nothing she can do about it.

It's at this time that Hermione sees where she is.

It's a large room of sorts. Too big to be hers, and cleaner. More... sterile.

The bedposts have thick, lush curtains tied off on all sides and the walls are dark. Hermione doesn't see much furniture in the room except for a trunk at the end of the bed and a wardrobe on the opposite wall. It's not her bedroom, that's obvious. There's no reading chair, no nightstand with her lotions and diary, nothing.

If she could, Hermione would scream til her vocal cords were atrophied.

The figure leaves the room in a flash of monochrome—black and stark white—and Hermione has to take deep breaths to calm down. She looks out of the large window but it doesn't help. She sees rolling hills tilted blue from the morning light. The grass shines with dew. She sees sharply cut hedges and an entangled maze on the property in the near distance. She's in the country, far, far away from London, and alone.

Completely alone.

Hermione wonders, just for a moment, if she's going to die here.

A single knock on the door has Hermione's heart kicking back up, and she watches as the wood swings open, revealing a tall man with thick brows.

"Hello there, dear," The voice calls out. "My name is Helbert Spleen, I'm here to see if you have any immediate injuries."

Hermione can only whimper.

He gives Hermione a gentle nod before pulling out something like what the man from earlier had—a stick of some sort.

"Don't be afraid, my dear, you'll understand the why of all of this soon enough. I'm just going to do a quick diagnosis."

It's actually not a stick at all.

Hermione realizes this once a pink light slips out of the end and sets her world alight. Her body buzzes and tingles, and Hermione thinks that she might be losing her mind.

The light fades out but her body still feels strange. Her fingers are still vibrating once the man speaks again.

"You're doing well, but I'd watch the heart rate if it keeps up like that. Her Ladyship will be in momentarily."

And then the man slips back through where he came.

Hermione must have been focusing on the foreign feeling in her body for a long time because before she knows it, the door is opening back up again. The person doesn't knock this time, just comes right in and steps up to the edge of the bed, looking down at Hermione.

Another body trails in through the door, but Hermione is entirely focused on the woman looking down at her immobilized figure.

"My name is Narcissa," The woman says, and Hermione can't help but think that that is a strange name.

"Narcissa Malfoy," She continues. "I'm the owner of this manor."

Hermione can feel her eyes drying out. Malfoy. Now, that name is stranger.

"I know you must be very well confused and scared, but I'm going to tell you why you're here."

Hermione keeps eye contact with Narcissa. Maybe, just maybe, if she gets on her good side, she will let Hermione go. She looks nice enough. Hermione doesn't know her, but in time, maybe she could. She thinks that maybe this woman can see reason. Hermione doesn't have to be here. Everything can all go back to normal. They can let her go.

Right as rain.

"As you can see, you're no longer in London," Narcissa sits on the bed. "You're in Wiltshire. That's West of London. You're at a place called Malfoy Manor. Understand?"

Hermione lets out another whimper and Narcissa sighs. She turns to the figure standing in the corner and Hermione's eyes follow.

"Don't ask," He snaps. "We don't know what someone like her will do."

Someone like her?

Hermione studies this man. His hair is so light it almost hurts to look at and he's got this displeased sneer on his face. He's the man from before. The man who paralyzed her.

He has quite light eyes, and Hermione thinks that they might even be pretty if they weren't cutting right through her. This man does not look as nice as the woman.

"Draco," Narcissa says. "She can't speak."

"Good," He spits. "She doesn't deserve to. Filthy little—"

"I don't know what other option we have."

The blond leans back against the wall, arms crossed over his broad chest. Hermione lets out a slow breath.

"She needs to be bound," The man directs. "That way we know she won't try escaping."

Alarm bells go off inside Hermione's head and she watches Narcissa stand. She flicks her wrist while holding a silver and black-looking—thing. Stick wouldn't apply now. It looks too decorative to be a stick.

"Finite."

A white light omits from the end and Hermione feels her body finally relax. She's about to scramble back against the headboard and yell out, but silk threads fly out and find their way around her wrists and ankles, binding her to the bedposts. No one was even touching them.

"What—"

"Pleased to see you're finally with us," Narcissa says. "Can you tell me your name?"

Hermione gulps.

"Why? I don't know you."

Narcissa goes back to sitting on the bed. She looks over Hermione's bound body with a look of... is that pity? Disgust?

Maybe this woman isn't so nice after all.

"I told you my name. Tell me yours."

Hermione stays silent. Narcissa tries again.

"I know that—"

"Oh for fucks sake," The man against the wall growls. Hermione blinks in surprise. Draco crosses the room in three large strides before he whips out his own rod. Hermione still can't place what exactly they are. It doesn't matter, though. She's seen what they can do.

Draco jabs Hermione's throat with the end of it, and her body goes cold.

"Tell us your name or I swear I'll—"

"H-Hermione! Hermione Granger," She chokes out. Draco's eyes flash with something before he looks toward his mother. She looks surprised herself.

"How old are you, Miss Granger?" She asks.

She takes a breath and says, "Twenty-three."

"Can you tell us what you do, Miss Granger?" Narcissa asks.

Hermione is confused, but if there's one thing she knows how to do, it's talk. Maybe talking will save her from this whole debacle.

"I work at a bookstore," She manages. Her voice is coming out in pathetic pants, the kind someone does before they start hyperventilating and crying. "I graduated from university six months ago. I—I just work, that's all I do."

Hermione doesn't know why any of this matters, but the pair share a satisfied look anyway.

"And can you tell us what you studied?"

"English," She coughs. Draco pulls his rod away finally, leaving her with a painful sting on the skin of her throat. She wishes desperately that she could press her hands to it and soothe it right now.

"What did you want to do with your life, Miss Granger?"

The question makes her skin go clammy. Did. Past tense. As in, will not be doing anymore.

Hermione feels tears well up along her waterline.

"I want to be a writer," She grits out.

The blond rolls his eyes and walks back to the wall.

"Muggles and their pathetic career choices."

Narcissa hooks a manicured finger underneath Hermione's chin and pulls her face to look back at her. Then, she pulls out a stack of books, one by one from the floor next to her.

"You're going to be staying here now Miss Granger, by order of Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt of the Ministry of Magic."

These words mean nothing to Hermione.

"We will give you books to read so you can understand our history and this... situation better," Narcissa says. "But what might set your mind at ease right now is knowing that you are not going to die. Not under our watch, at least."

Hermione still feels sick. Maybe death would be better than this.

"You see, Hermione," Narcissa says, leaning in a bit closer. She brushes her black-painted fingernail across Hermione's hairline, moving a strand away from her eye.

"Things in our world are changing. Because of that, you're here with us now."

Narcissa adds to the stack of books with a few newspapers, folders, and leather-bound journals.

"You'll receive a quill later on. We wouldn't want an attempted suicide, now would we?"

Hermione is just working out the logistics of how one would commit suicide with a feather when she hears a snort across the room. Draco. He's shaking his head, giving her another one of those pitiful looks.

"We'll leave you now, Miss Granger. Once we're gone, your wrists and ankles will be freed. You'll be able to acclimate yourself to this bedroom which shall be yours from now on."

"What about my room back home? My life?"

Hermione's broken voice stops Narcissa by the door. She spares a glance back at the girl.

"Everything will be settled, I'm told. It will not do well to dwell on those things now."

Hermione bites her bottom lip roughly. Until she tastes blood.

Narcissa stops at the door one last time as Draco goes, not bothering with Hermione any longer.

"You'll soon find that our world is more important now than yours ever was, Miss Granger. Much more important, indeed."

[inkandincantations]

Draco Malfoy x OC

Chapter 2: Beneath the Veil

───────────────────────────────────

At sundown, the Gryffindors were gathered at the front of their table. Half of the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs had trickled in, mingling amongst themselves. And over at the Slytherin table, Draco Malfoy sat alone.

It wasn’t surprising. Most of their families had been outed as Death Eaters. But Juliette could overlook that. The sins of the parents shouldn’t weigh on the children. She understood the pressure, the evil that lurked at their doorsteps. The choice between kill or be killed. In her eyes, the line was drawn when they took up the torch themselves, revering Voldemort. Only then did they become irredeemable.

Draco’s hands were fidgeting with the cufflinks on his crisp black shirt. The confident mask he wore was barely holding back the tension coiling in his shoulders, as if he were balancing on the edge of a tightrope. The Slytherin banner drifted above his head, dull and lifeless, the snake appearing more like a common worm. The others bobbed vigorously, flaunting their vibrant colors with pride, able to live down their good name.

Juliette couldn’t look away. Countless times before, she’d caught herself glancing toward the same table, the same spot, where candlelight glinted off Draco’s gelled hair. But nothing gleamed brighter than the sneer on the corner of his lips.

Sometimes, he’d catch her gaze. His sneer would falter, lips folding into a frown, disgust etched in the curve of his brow. His lips would shape the word "Mudblood," his friends howling with laughter. Juliette’s stomach twisted at the memory.

He deserves this, she reminded herself. He chose calamity over harmony. He chose this when he tried to murder Dumbledore. When he hid away at the Manor. When he ran from the battle.

This was everything that he deserved.

And yet, as their eyes met across the way, all the noise in the Great Hall seemed to fade. Juliette’s stomach twisted as a thousand words filled the space between them. He didn’t glower or snicker at the sight of her. He just– stared.

His eyes were glazed over, blank and departed. Juliette used to know what every expression meant, down to the tone of his voice just by looking at him. But now, for the first time since they met, she didn’t know how to interpret him. It was unsettling.

Even as the conversations buzzed and glasses clinked, she found herself unable to tear her attention away.. Her hands gripped the edge of the table, knuckles turning white. There was a clenching in her chest as she began to feel, of all things, pity. It was hard not to, taking in his pathetic frame and his miserable face. It was easy to forget all of the things he had done to her when he wasn’t being protected by his family name. It almost made him– human. And she hated it.

“Jules?”

Harry’s voice cut through the haze, and she blinked, tearing her gaze from the lone figure at the Slytherin table. She looked up to find Harry standing beside her, a friendly smile on his face. Grateful for the interruption, she jumped to her feet and hugged him. “Harry!”

He stumbled back, not expecting the sudden welcome. “You alright?” he chuckled. “I saw you just a few weeks ago.”

“I’m fine,” she insisted. But as she pulled away, Harry’s brows furrowed. She faltered, her confidence slipping. “I mean I’m– well– it’s just been a long day, is all.”

“Long day, huh?” Harry pressed.

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll find out soon enough,” she muttered under her breath.

“Right,” Harry said slowly. “So, anyway, just wanted to know if you’d like to join us.”

“Absolutely. I wouldn’t miss a chance to watch Ron eat.”

“It’s quite the sight, I will say,” Harry teased back, giving her a nudge with his elbow. Juliette forced a smile and walked with him, fighting the urge to look over her shoulder. Every step felt heavier until she finally plopped down beside Hermione, guilt weighing on her chest.

“Hello!” Ron greeted, though it was muffled by the sound of food he had shoved in his mouth. Hermione scoffed and rolled her eyes at him.

“Seriously, Ron, could you not chew before you talk?”

Ron held up one finger, proceeding to finish his food and swallow it, before opening his mouth again. “Sorry. I just haven’t had these pasties in a long time.”

“You act like you haven’t had food in a long time,” Harry joked, causing Juliette to laugh. Hermione huffed though, clearly not as amused.

Ron managed to throw back another quip at Harry, but Juliette found herself drifting back towards Malfoy. He was harder to make out through the other House tables, and she had almost given up when Hermione made a swift comment.

“I can’t believe he’d show his face here. Why would he show up?”

Juliette bit her cheek, realizing her glances weren’t subtle. Hermione always had a way of seeing through her, figuring out her thoughts before she had a chance to sort them herself.

“Well, certainly not for the company,” Ron chimed in. He reached for another pasty, but Hermione shot him a glare, and his hand dropped back to his side.

“It’s not funny, Ron!” she exclaimed. “He nearly got us all killed!”

“I never said it was!” he argued back. “I’m just saying– I mean– look at him. He’s harmless. Might as well joke about it instead of letting him ruin the night.”

It didn’t feel right. Their words settled in Juliette’s stomach like a rock. The more they talked, the more her frustration grew. They didn’t see it—the exhaustion in his posture, the nervous twisting of his fingers. It was like kicking a wounded animal.

Juliette opened her mouth to speak, but McGonagall’s voice took her place. It came like a lifeline, breaking through the noise in her head. Juliette quickly straightened in her seat, her eyes snapping to the front of the hall, eager to escape the sinking feeling her friends’ words had left behind.

“Good evening,” she greeted, standing tall at the podium. It hadn’t been long since she last addressed her students, her presence commanding and maternal, but time had begun to show its effects.

During her years at Hogwarts, Juliette never saw McGonagall as an older witch. To her, McGonagall embodied wisdom and grace, every wrinkle a testament to knowledge, every word laced with confidence and quick wit. She was the very image of prestige, not a relic of the past.

But now, Juliette couldn’t deny the changes. The intelligence and poise remained, but the signs of age were undeniable. McGonagall’s fingers were more fragile, her hair streaked with silver. Her eyes, once sharp with a hint of mischief, now carried a sadness that Juliette hadn’t seen before.

In all this time, Juliette had focused only on the students—on herself, on her own scars. But what about the professors? They were the ones who fought from within. They witnessed loss, cleaned up the aftermath, and upheld the good name of Hogwarts. They, more than anyone, had to pretend.

“I’m sure you’ve all had a lovely time visiting Hogwarts once again. I am proud to announce that we will finally be reopening tomorrow to allow students to return to the castle.”

The Great Hall erupted in thunderous cheers, a symphony of triumph and pride. McGonagall smiled, letting the joy of the moment wash over the room. “Though we still have much work ahead, the professors and I have decided it is safe to resume classes. In addition to the reconstruction, we are creating a new wing: a Memorial Hall for those who have passed.”

An uneasy shift rippled through the hall. McGonagall’s voice wavered as she paused, taking a deep breath to steady herself. Juliette glanced at Ron, who swallowed hard at the mention of the memorial. In her heart, she knew he had lost the most.

Mentioning Fred was still taboo. Ron didn’t want to remember him; he wanted to pretend Fred was still here. Time hadn’t even begun to stitch that wound together—he was just as broken as when it happened. Juliette worried that if he didn’t grieve soon, he would implode. There was no right way to move on, but it seemed like Ron wasn’t moving at all.

McGonagall pressed on. “As you know, community is a cornerstone of Hogwarts. That’s why we’ve sought only the best professors for our future students. After many interviews and discussions, we are proud to present our impeccable staff. Without further ado…”

As McGonagall called the names, the professors stood one by one: Slughorn for Potions, Flitwick for Charms, Sprout for Advanced Herbology. Familiar names that earned raucous applause for their dedication to the school.

Then came the new faces. “Neville Longbottom, Head of Gryffindor House and Herbology Professor for first through fourth years.”

The Gryffindor table cheered the loudest as Neville stood, beaming as he shook McGonagall’s hand before taking his place beside Professor Sprout.

“Harry Potter, flying instructor, Quidditch referee, and Coach.”

Juliette’s head snapped in Harry’s direction as he winked at her, sauntering up the stairs to thank McGonagall. Her mouth fell open in disbelief—how had Harry taken that position without telling her?

“Juliette Holloway, introducing a new class at Hogwarts, designed to ease Muggleborns into the magical world: Muggle Integration into Magical Society,” McGonagall announced.

Juliette’s Hufflepuff table burst into cheers, and she felt pride swell in her chest as she shook McGonagall’s hand and took her seat beside Harry at the professors’ table.

“So, when exactly were you going to tell me?” she asked through clenched teeth.

“I figured McGonagall would do a better job,” he teased with a grin.

Juliette nudged him playfully before turning back to the podium.

“And finally, Draco Malfoy, returning to Hogwarts as our Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.”

Draco stood as McGonagall announced his name, and a ripple of mixed reactions spread through the hall. While some clapped politely, others exchanged glances, murmuring under their breaths. Draco, however, remained composed, his expression unreadable as he made his way up the staircase to the podium.

"Thank you, Professor," he said curtly, shaking McGonagall's hand with a brief nod before turning to the staff table. He didn’t pause to take in the crowd, walking with purpose to the seat next to Harry.

It was as though a switch had flipped. Just moments ago, he had seemed unsure—vulnerable, even—but now, he moved with a confidence that commanded attention. Juliette watched, almost in disbelief, as he transformed from the guarded figure she'd seen into someone entirely self-assured, as if he were telling the world that their judgments didn’t faze him.

Juliette couldn't help but admire it—this iron-clad performance he put on for the world. His chin tilted up, a quiet challenge written in his every move, daring anyone to question why he was there.

She knew better, though. Behind the curtain of confidence was a boy still haunted by what others thought, by the mistakes that lingered like a shadow too close to escape. But for now, all anyone saw was the man, not the cracks in the armor.

“That will conclude tonight's events,” McGonagall announced with a smile. “I wish you all nothing but good fortune. And remember, Hogwarts is always your home.”

The Great Hall filled once more with celebratory sounds. Juliette watched as old friends embraced each other tightly and the tables began to disband towards the enormous doors. Draco snatched his journal and quill, following their lead, his black cape billowing behind him.

“You didn’t seem too surprised,” Harry pointed out, facing Juliette.

“I might have known,” she admitted.

“Oh. And you didn’t think that was something I needed to know?” he joked.

“What?” she exclaimed, though a laugh escaped her lips. “The nerve, Harry Potter! You failed to mention that you were going to be working alongside me this year. I think that far outweighs my recent discovery.”

“You know now,” he chuckled.

“Right back at you.”

As the hall cleared, Juliette and Harry began to rise along with the other professors. But two people remained. Ron, still seated, and Hermione, arms crossed defiantly, lips pressed into a tight line as she glared at the staff table.

"Miss Granger? Is there a problem?" McGonagall asked, her calm demeanor unshaken by Hermione's stance.

"Is there a problem?" Hermione scoffed, her eyes darting around the room, clearly offended by the question.

Sensing the tension, McGonagall raised her hand, dismissing the remaining professors. They hurried toward the side doors, heads together in whispered conversations. Harry and Juliette stayed beside McGonagall, waiting for the next move.

“I presume you are upset about my choices,” McGonagall said, her tone measured.

"Upset doesn’t begin to describe it," Hermione shot back, her voice cracking as the candlelight flickered against her glassy eyes. "How could you pick him? Out of everyone?"

McGonagall’s eyes flashed briefly. “I assure you, Miss Granger, that Professor Malfoy was selected after much consideration. He has earned this position and is more than capable of filling the role.”

“Capable?” Ron muttered under his breath. “Since when does ‘capable’ include being a Death Eater?”

Juliette felt the tension tighten around the podium, and she exchanged a glance with Harry, who looked ready to defend McGonagall’s decision. “I suggest if you ever want to move forward, that you try and look towards forgiveness.”

Hermione whimpered, a single tear escaping down her cheek—years of heartache distilled into one drop. Juliette recognized that pain all too well. Neither of them fully belonged anywhere, and Draco’s presence only complicated things. Reconciliation would take time, if it ever came.

“Why should I have to forgive him for his actions? He’s the one that hurt me,” Hermione said, her voice breaking.

McGonagall stepped down from the podium, crossing to Hermione with a gentle grace. She placed her hands on Hermione’s shoulders. “Redemption is not a gift we give freely, but a choice we all must make—to offer it, or to withhold it. And sometimes, the hardest part of healing is allowing someone else the chance to heal as well.”

Though the words were meant for Hermione, Juliette felt their weight. It was like the doubts she'd been wrestling with all night had finally found an answer. It didn’t mean she was ready to embrace Draco with open arms, but perhaps, in time, she could allow herself to consider his second chance.

Hermione tried to pull away, but McGonagall’s hands remained steady. She wasn’t upset or sympathetic—just reason. She patted Hermione’s cheek lightly before stepping back. "We have a big day ahead. I trust you’re all prepared."

With that, McGonagall opened the back door and disappeared. At the same time, Hermione stormed out, Ron chasing after her, calling her name down the hall. Juliette and Harry were left standing, absorbing the whirlwind of events.

"We’d better head to our quarters. We’ll need to be sharp tomorrow," Harry suggested. Juliette nodded, excitement stirring in her chest for the year ahead.

"Oh, I forgot! I left my bag in my classroom," Juliette exclaimed. "I’ll have to catch up with you tomorrow."

"Alright, I’ll see you at breakfast," Harry said with a smile as they parted ways.

Juliette hastened down the halls. The castle felt smaller now that she had grown. She remembered the fear of her first days, wondering how she’d ever navigate such a labyrinth. Every corner had looked the same, every stone identical to the last. It had been a maelstrom of confusion and nerves.

But now, Hogwarts was like an old friend. She moved with ease, each shortcut and corridor mapped out in her mind. The familiarity of it all was comforting in a way few things could match. This place had always been home.

Her classroom was just a few steps away, and she slowed her pace as she approached. But as she reached the archway, a flicker of light caught her eye. She turned and saw a door across the hall, barely ajar—the door to the Dark Arts room.

She shouldn’t. She told herself that again and again, yet her feet carried her closer. Before she knew it, she was beside the door, peeking through the gap.

There he was.

Draco sat slumped over, his usually perfect black shirt undone, cufflinks discarded beside his elbows as he rested his head in his hands. His hair was a tousled mess, his leg bouncing restlessly. His breath was steady, but there was something raw and broken in the way he sat—like the weight of everything had finally caught up to him.

Juliette’s heart ached as she watched, McGonagall’s words echoing in her mind. She knew this wasn’t meant for her to see, that she should turn away and give him privacy. But the vulnerability of him in this moment—the way he was feeling everything so deeply—pulled her in.

Maybe she didn’t have to forgive him right now. Maybe she didn’t have to be his friend. But watching him like this, forgiveness didn’t seem as impossible as it had just hours ago.

And in that moment, she realized that perhaps the cracks in his armor weren’t just his—they were hers, too.

@hagridshaircare ❤️

[eastwindmlk]

Chapters: 1/2 Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy Characters: Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy Additional Tags: POV Hermione Granger, Curse Breaker Hermione Granger, Curse Breaker Draco Malfoy, Co-workers, Banter, Flirting

Summary:

Hermione Granger is one of the most successful researchers in The Department of Enchanted Object Salvage and Magical Extraction. She and her partner boast one of the highest success rates they've ever seen. Which she attributes to her impeccable planning and meticulousness. From her office, she guides her partner through all the challenges he faces in the field. All the while maintaining a steady stream of banter. Something that is easier said then done when your partner is Draco Malfoy.

Looking at the brief in front of me, the parchment already littered with notes that I meticulously colour-coded over the past forty-eight hours. The mission is straightforward, navigate through the cave, grab the artefact and get out. A regular Tuesday for the most successful team that The Department of Enchanted Object Salvage and Magical Extraction has seen in a decade.

The job required a certain level of elegance that only comes from painstaking research and near seamless teamwork between me as the Artifact Retrieval and Intelligence Analyst, ARIA for short, and my Paranormal Artifact Recovery Agent. The only problem? My PARA is a haughty blonde with a pension of going off on his own.

Just then, the earpiece buzzed to live in my ear, meaning that boots were on the ground. Draining the last of my water when the voice on the other end pulls me into work mode.

“Alright Granger, sing to me?”

For a moment, I wondered idly why he always sounded bored. Especially when making his silly little inside joke. He’d been excited about this when we got the briefing. In his own way. I could see it in the way his eyes lit up and the corners of his lips turned up into that signature smirk.

There were little artefacts that predated Merlin. This piece was not only historically significant, though. But it was also shielded from all usual scans, and probing had given little to no information. It was almost a complete mystery. The sheer potential of what this could be was exciting to the both of us.

At the time, it had seemed like Draco had been like a kid on Christmas. So, why was he suddenly back to indifference? I inhale sharply, close my eyes and push his mood from my mind. Focus on the task at hand.

“The cave should be clearly marked. J- ”

“Yes, yes, it is a tourist trap. I am aware.”

His sharp tone cut my sentence short with a dismissive remark. I click my tongue, not caring that the earpiece will pick up on the sound. It isn’t like he isn’t aware of what I think of his attitude. What comes as a surprise though is the chuckle that follows and the amused tutting.

“Are we there already? Sweet Salazar, Granger we barely got started.”

I know he needs to keep his voice down, a ‘notice me not’ charm was only going to do so much. His running his mouth could risk this entire operation. But the hushed tone tickles the back of my neck distractingly.

“Malfoy, because it is a ‘tourist trap’ as you so eloquently pointed out, we need to get in during operating hours. Since you refuse to dress like a normal person -”

My jaw tightens when his voice cuts in for the second time in a handful of minutes. Like he cannot help himself but correct anything and everything I am saying. Especially when I am trying to tell him something.

“Like a muggle, you mean?”

“Yes, and no. A normal person. You’re the only person I know who insists on wearing dragon hide.”

Read on here

[poeticvortex]

Unbreakable Bonds - Harry Potter x gn!reader

Word Count: 5065

Trigger Warnings: Panic attack, anxiety, self-doubt

Main Masterlist / Harry Potter Masterlist

The Great Hall buzzed with excitement as students filled the long tables, their voices blending into a harmonious symphony. Y/N, a dedicated Gryffindor student, found solace in the bustling atmosphere of Hogwarts. However, on this particular day, anxiety crept in like a shadow, threatening to engulf her entirely.

Y/N had always struggled with self-doubt and insecurities. She was intelligent and kind-hearted, but she couldn't shake off the fear of being judged by her peers. Draco Malfoy, with his silver-blonde hair and cutting remarks, seemed to sense her vulnerability like a predator sensing weakness. And today, he had struck a nerve.

As Y/N settled into her seat, the whispers around her grew louder. Her heart raced, her breath quickened, and the room began to spin. A panic attack was imminent, and she had no escape. All eyes were on her as the panic reached its peak, and she clutched her chest, gasping for air.

Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, sat a few seats away, engrossed in conversation with Ron and Hermione. But something caught his attention, a shift in the atmosphere that made him look in Y/N's direction. Harry's emerald eyes widened as he witnessed her struggle.

Without a moment's hesitation, Harry pushed his way through the crowded Great Hall. As he approached Y/N, he noticed the fear and shame etched across her face. Ignoring the whispers and stares, he reached out a comforting hand.

"Y/N, are you alright?" Harry asked gently, his voice a beacon of calm amidst the chaos. The room fell silent, watching their interaction with curiosity and concern.

Y/N's tear-filled eyes met Harry's unwavering gaze, and a wave of relief washed over her. She nodded, unable to find the words to express her gratitude. Harry's warm smile reassured her that she wasn't alone.

Gently, he guided her away from the prying eyes and into a secluded corner of the Great Hall. The noise faded into the background as they found solace in their own private sanctuary. Harry's touch and presence were a balm to Y/N's wounded soul.

"Hey, it's okay," Harry whispered, his voice filled with genuine concern. "Panic attacks can happen to anyone. You're not alone in this, Y/N."

Y/N let out a shaky breath, her body slowly relaxing under Harry's reassuring words. She felt safe with him, like the world outside couldn't touch her. It was a feeling she hadn't experienced in a long time.

"I'm just so embarrassed," Y/N finally managed to say, her voice trembling. "Everyone saw, and Draco..."

Harry's expression hardened, his grip on Y/N's hand tightening slightly. "Don't worry about Malfoy. He's just trying to get under your skin. You're stronger than you think, Y/N."

Y/N's eyes filled with gratitude as she absorbed Harry's unwavering support. In that moment, his words felt like a shield against the insecurities that plagued her.

"You really think so?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Harry nodded, a determined look in his eyes. "Absolutely. You're brave, kind, and deserving of all the happiness in the world. Don't let anyone make you believe otherwise."

They sat in silence for a while, the weight of the world slowly lifting off Y/N's shoulders. Harry's presence was a calming force, grounding her in the present and reminding her of her worth.

But as the minutes passed, Y/N's mind kept replaying the conversation that had triggered her panic attack. It had been with her supposed friends, Lavender and Parvati, who had made an offhanded remark about her abilities in class.

"You know, Y/N, you're usually so smart. What happened today?" Lavender had said, a smirk playing on her lips.

Parvati had joined in, adding, "Yeah, we thought you were better than that. Maybe you're just not as talented as we thought."

The words had cut deep, igniting the insecurities that Y/N had worked so hard to bury. She had been consumed by the fear of not being good enough, and the panic had taken hold.

Y/N couldn't help but let a tear escape, the hurt from the conversation lingering in her heart. Harry noticed her distress and reached out to wipe away the tear gently.

"What happened, Y/N?" he asked softly, his voice filled with concern.

Y/N hesitated for a moment, unsure if she could bear to relive the painful exchange. But she trusted Harry, felt a connection with him that she couldn't deny. With a deep breath, she found the strength to share her story.

"Lavender and Parvati... they said some things that made me doubt myself," Y/N admitted, her voice quivering. "I've always struggled with feeling like I don't measure up, and their words just confirmed those fears."

Harry's expression softened as he listened intently, his thumb caressing the back of Y/N's hand in a comforting gesture. He understood all too well the weight of expectations and the power of hurtful words.

"You are more than capable, Y/N," Harry reassured her, his voice filled with sincerity. "Don't let anyone define your worth. You have so much to offer, and you deserve to be celebrated."

Y/N's breath hitched as Harry's words sank in. She felt a glimmer of hope ignite within her, a newfound strength blossoming from his unwavering support. In that moment, she realized that she didn't have to face her insecurities alone.

With a mixture of determination and vulnerability, Y/N looked into Harry's eyes, searching for the courage to voice the unspoken feelings that had been growing within her.

"Harry... I... I want to thank you for being there for me," she began, her voice filled with gratitude and something more. "You've shown me kindness and understanding when I needed it the most. I've come to realize that... I care about you, more than just a friend."

Harry's eyes widened slightly, his gaze locked with hers. Y/N's heart raced, her pulse quickening with anticipation. She had bared her soul, laying her emotions bare for him to see.

A soft smile tugged at the corners of Harry's lips, his voice filled with a mixture of tenderness and honesty. "Y/N, I care about you too. More than you can imagine. You're an incredible person, and I'm grateful to have you in my life."

Y/N's breath caught in her throat as she processed Harry's words. The unspoken connection between them suddenly felt palpable, an invisible thread that had bound them together through their shared struggles.

In that moment, everything seemed to align—their friendship, the unspoken desires, and the comfort they found in each other's presence. It was a slow burn, a connection that had blossomed gradually, deepening with each interaction.

Without further hesitation, Y/N leaned in, closing the distance between them. Harry's eyes widened in surprise, but he responded to her unspoken invitation. Their lips met in a gentle, tender kiss—a culmination of shared understanding, comfort, and a burgeoning love.

The world around them faded away as they lost themselves in the sweetness of the moment. Time seemed to stand still, the weight of their past struggles lifting off their shoulders. In that stolen embrace, Y/N and Harry found solace, a sanctuary of love amidst a world filled with uncertainties.

As they pulled away, their eyes locked, their hearts beating in sync. Y/N felt a newfound sense of strength and confidence, knowing that with Harry by her side, she could face any challenge that lay ahead.

Unbreakable bonds had formed between them—a connection that transcended words, offering solace and understanding in the midst of their shared vulnerabilities. And together, Y/N and Harry embarked on a journey of self-discovery, love, and the unending power of their unbreakable bond

[roseyreveries]

Far Away - 16

Draco Malfoy x Fem!Muggle!Reader Previous Part <- click! Summary: You wake up inside the Harry Potter universe without any explanation as to why you're there. Disclaimer: All characters are being aged up for PLOT (1st years are 15, 7th years are 21) but characters may act immature and childish in the beginning at times to keep their character development. Not accurate to the books or movies. CW: crying, dumbledore being a bitch Directory <- click!

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The Great Hall buzzed with the usual energy of dinner, the clinking of cutlery and chatter echoing off the enchanted ceiling, which reflected a crisp, starry night. I sat beside Lila at the Slytherin table, a plate of roast chicken and mashed potatoes in front of me as the two of us laughed over some ridiculous story Lila was telling.

“And then,” Lila said between bites of pumpkin pasty, “he actually tried to hex me in the middle of the library. I mean, who does that? I barely even said anything to him.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “You probably deserved it.”

“I probably did,” Lila admitted with a smirk, “but still. The nerve.”

Before I could respond, someone slid into the seat across from us, the movement smooth and casual. I looked up to see none other than Draco Malfoy, his blond hair perfectly in place as usual, though there was a faint, almost imperceptible tension in his expression.

“Am I interrupting?” Draco drawled, his eyes flicking between us as he reached for a goblet of pumpkin juice.

“Always,” Lila said without missing a beat, her tone sharp but not entirely unfriendly.

Draco smirked, taking a sip of his drink. “Don’t let me stop you, Rivers. I’m sure your tale of mediocrity was riveting.”

Lila’s eyes narrowed, though there was a playful glint in them. “You know, Malfoy, one day I’m going to hex that smug grin right off your face.”

“Is that a promise?” Draco shot back, raising an eyebrow.

“Keep it up, and you’ll find out,” Lila retorted, though she was smiling now, her tone still serious.

I watched the exchange with equal parts amusement and confusion. There was something about the way they spoke to each other— sharp, pointed, but not entirely hostile— that felt like a game I wasn’t privy to.

“You two always like this?” I asked, glancing between them.

“Only when he’s around,” Lila said with a mock sigh, stabbing a roasted potato with her fork.

Draco leaned back in his chair, looking entirely unbothered. “Rivers can’t help herself. She’s been obsessed with me since we were kids.”

Lila let out a bark of laughter. “Obsessed? Please. The only thing I’ve been obsessed with is figuring out how someone as insufferable as you managed to get sorted into Slytherin.”

I snorted into my drink, earning a glare from Draco. “What’s so funny?”

“You two,” I said, grinning. “You act like you hate each other, but you’re both still sitting here.”

Draco’s gaze lingered on me for a moment before he shrugged. “What can I say? I’m a glutton for punishment.”

Lila rolled her eyes. “More like you enjoy annoying me.”

“Maybe,” Draco admitted, his smirk widening slightly. He turned his attention to me, his grey eyes glinting. “And what about you, Thunderbrooke? Have you figured out how to keep your broom off the ground yet, or do you need Rivers to hold your hand next time?”

Lila snickered, and I groaned. “Are you ever going to let that go?”

“Not a chance,” Draco said smoothly. “It’s far too entertaining.”

“Well, enjoy it while it lasts,” I said, picking up a roll and tossing it at him. He caught it easily, his smirk never faltering.

“You know,” Lila said, leaning forward with a sly grin, “for someone who claims to find her so entertaining, you sure seem to talk about her a lot, Malfoy.”

Draco’s expression faltered slightly, though he quickly recovered. “Hard not to when she’s always throwing herself into my business.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but Lila cut me off. “Sure, sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Draco shot me a look, but there was no real venom behind it. I watched them with a small smile, the tension between them oddly familiar but not entirely unpleasant. For all their bickering, there was an odd kind of understanding between Draco and Lila, like two people who knew each other better than they cared to admit.

“Well,” I said finally, breaking the moment. “As entertaining as this is, I think I’m going to grab dessert before you two start dueling.”

“Coward,” Lila teased, though her grin was genuine.

“Enjoy your pudding, Thunderbrooke,” Draco added, his smirk returning.

I excused myself from the Slytherin table, the buzz of conversation fading as I made my way out of the Great Hall. The corridor was quieter than usual, the flickering torches casting long shadows on the stone walls. I hummed softly to myself, my footsteps echoing as I turned toward the nearest bathroom.

Pushing the heavy wooden door open, I stopped short. A quiet sniffle reached my ears, followed by the unmistakable sound of someone crying.

“Hello?” I called out softly, stepping inside.

My gaze swept the room, and then I saw her— Hermione Granger. The Gryffindor girl was on her knees in front of one of the sinks, her head bowed as she wiped furiously at her face with the sleeve of her robe.

“Hermione?” I said gently, approaching her.

Hermione startled, looking up with wide, tear-streaked eyes. “I—I’m fine,” she stammered, her voice trembling as she quickly turned away.

“You don’t look fine,” I said, crouching down beside her. “What’s going on?”

“It’s nothing,” Hermione insisted, though her voice cracked. “Just… go back to your table.”

I ignored the dismissal, sitting down cross-legged on the cold stone floor. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what’s wrong.”

Hermione hesitated, her hands twisting in her lap. “It’s stupid.”

“It’s obviously not if it has you this upset,” I said softly. “Come on, talk to me.”

For a moment, Hermione didn’t respond. Then, her shoulders sagged, and the words came spilling out. “Ron Weasley— he… he said I didn’t have any friends. That no one could stand me because I’m so… so bossy and insufferable. And maybe he’s right. Maybe I don’t have any friends.”

My heart clenched at the pain in her voice. I already knew the situation, but again, it's different actually being involved in it. It's one thing seeing it on a screen but something else living through it.

I reached out, placing a gentle hand on Hermione’s arm. “Hey, that’s not true.”

“It is,” Hermione said bitterly, fresh tears slipping down her cheeks. “I try so hard to be good at everything, to prove that I belong here, but no one cares. They just think I’m a know-it-all.”

“That’s their problem, not yours,” I said firmly. “You’re brilliant, Hermione. And if they can’t see that, then they’re not worth your time.”

Hermione sniffled, her gaze flicking to the reader’s face. “Do you really think that?”

“Absolutely,” I said with a small smile. “And for what it’s worth, I think you’re pretty great. Bossy or not.”

Hermione let out a shaky laugh, wiping at her face with the hem of her robe. “Thanks.”

“Anytime,” I said. “Now come on, let’s get out of here. Sitting on this floor is freezing.”

Before Hermione could respond, a loud, guttural roar echoed from somewhere nearby, shaking the walls. My blood ran cold, and Hermione’s eyes widened in alarm.

“What was that?” Hermione whispered.

“I don’t know,” I said, standing quickly and pulling Hermione to her feet. “But I don’t think we should stick around to find out.”

As they headed toward the door, the ground shook again, and the sound of heavy footsteps thundered closer. My stomach twisted in fear as the door creaked open, revealing a massive, lumbering troll.

“Oh my god,” Hermione breathed, her voice barely above a whisper.

The troll’s dull eyes swept the room before landing on us, its mouth twisting into a grotesque snarl. It let out another roar, swinging its enormous club with enough force to splinter the sink beside us.

“Run!” I shouted, grabbing Hermione’s hand and pulling her toward the far corner of the room.

The troll lumbered after us, its movements slow but powerful, each step making the floor quake. My mind raced, panic clawing at my chest as I tried to think of a way out.

The troll roared, advancing on Hermione and me, its heavy club swinging wildly and smashing another sink into rubble. My pulse raced as I pulled Hermione further back into the corner, my mind scrambling for a solution.

“Stay behind me,” I said, my voice steady despite the panic swirling in my chest.

“What are you doing?” Hermione hissed, her eyes wide with fear.

“Just trust me,” I said, gripping my wand tightly. I raised it, my hand trembling, and shouted, “Stupefy!”

A bolt of red light shot from my wand, striking the troll squarely in the chest. It stumbled back a step, grunting in confusion, but it didn’t fall.

I just need to hold it off until the boys get here.

“Stupefy!” I yelled again, this time with more force. Another blast of red light hit the troll, making it sway on its feet.

“Stupefy!” I screamed a third time, my voice echoing through the wrecked bathroom. The troll finally staggered, its massive legs buckling as it fell backward onto the floor with a deafening crash. Dust and debris filled the air, and for a moment, the room was eerily silent.

I stood there, my wand still raised, my breathing ragged. Hermione clutched my arm, her face pale with shock. “You— how did you—”

Before she could finish, the bathroom door slammed open, and Harry and Ron burst in, followed closely by Dumbledore and several other students.

“Merlin’s beard,” Dumbledore said, his sharp blue eyes taking in the destruction and the fallen troll. “What happened here?”

Hermione stepped forward, still trembling. “The troll— it came in, and— and she—” She gestured to me. “She used the Stupefy spell. Three times. She stopped it.”

Dumbledore’s gaze shifted to me, his expression unreadable. “Is that so?”

I swallowed hard, lowering my wand. “I… I just did what I could. I didn’t want anyone to get hurt.”

Ron stared at the fallen troll, his face pale. “Bloody hell. You took down a troll? How— how did you even know the spell?”

Hermione turned to me, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Yeah. We’re not supposed to learn Stupefy until at least fourth year. Where did you—”

“Enough,” Dumbledore said, his voice calm but firm. He raised a hand, silencing the murmurs spreading through the group. “I believe this situation has caused enough excitement for one evening. All students are to return to their dormitories immediately.”

“But—” Hermione began, glancing between me and Dumbledore.

“No arguments, Miss Granger,” Dumbledore said, his tone leaving no room for debate. “Off you go.”

Harry and Ron exchanged confused looks but obeyed, ushering Hermione out of the room. The other students filed out quickly, leaving me alone with Dumbledore and the still unconscious troll.

“Miss Thunderbrooke,” Dumbledore said gently, “please follow me.”

My stomach churned as I nodded, tucking my wand into my robes and stepping carefully over the debris. Dumbledore led me out of the bathroom, his pace steady and unhurried despite the chaos we’d just left behind.

The walk to his office felt like an eternity, the silence heavy between us. When we finally arrived, Dumbledore gestured for me to enter first. I stepped inside, my gaze darting around the room filled with whirring contraptions and shelves lined with mysterious objects.

“Please, have a seat,” Dumbledore said, settling into his chair behind the grand desk. His usual twinkle was absent from his eyes as he studied me carefully.

I sat down, my hands gripping the edges of my chair. “Professor, I—”

“You cast Stupefy,” Dumbledore interrupted, his voice calm but probing. “A spell you have not yet been taught. How did you know it?”

I hesitated, my heart pounding. “I- I remembered from the movies... in my world....”

Dumbledore’s gaze didn’t waver, and for a moment, the room felt impossibly still. Then, he leaned forward slightly, his voice softer. “Miss Thunderbrooke, there are things about you— about your presence here at Hogwarts— that are… unique. This is one of them.”

I frowned, “I understand.”

Dumbledore sighed, his hands folding neatly on the desk. “I understand none of this makes sense to you now and I will explain in time. For now, I ask that you keep this to yourself. Your abilities are remarkable, but they must remain between us.”

“But—” I began, my frustration bubbling over. “Why can’t you just tell me? Why am I here? Why—”

“In time,” Dumbledore repeated, his tone kind but firm. “For now, trust that you are here for a reason. And that reason is not yet ready to reveal itself.”

I stared at him, my chest tight with a thousand unanswered questions. Finally, I nodded, though it felt like the only answer Icould give. “Alright.”

Dumbledore smiled faintly, the warmth returning to his expression. “Thank you, Miss Thunderbrooke. You may go. And… well done tonight.”

I stood, my legs shaky as I made my way to the door. As I stepped out into the corridor, my mind raced with everything that had happened. The troll, the spell, Dumbledore’s cryptic words— none of it made sense.

But one thing was clear: my time at Hogwarts was far more complicated than I’d ever imagined.

Read the next part here! Join my Taglist! @ferntv @Katie_kinz @malfoy-mrsdracomalfoy @rea-the-person @strbrrylmnadee @jazzywinter @harddonutalmondhound

[aspirationatwork]

[Image Description: three movie reviews of "The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes that read-

nazi eminem twink

cunty draco malfoy discovers fascism and masculinism

never trust a man during his buzz cut era

End Description.]

IM CACKLING

[kiwichuchu]

Toothbrush

Chapter Five

Third-Person POV

Draco Malfoy stirred awake to the soft hum of an alarm clock. Groggy and disoriented, he reached out and fumbled for the source of the noise, his fingers brushing against Y/N’s phone on the bedside table. As he silenced the alarm, a text message preview caught his eye. He squinted at the screen, trying to shake off the sleepiness.

It was from Pansy.

“Do I still have to bribe you with red velvet cake to date Draco?”

Draco’s heart sank as the message registered. The playful tone was a stark contrast to the sharp pain he felt in his chest. He had been under the impression that Y/N’s interest in him was genuine. To learn that it had started as a dare, a mere bribe, was like a cold slap in the face. He lay back down, staring at the ceiling, his mind racing with hurt and disbelief. The image of Y/N’s smiling face, the way she looked at him, now felt tainted by the knowledge that it all began as a game.

Y/N’s POV

The week that followed was marked by an uncomfortable distance between Draco and me. He was uncharacteristically cold and distant, and I couldn’t figure out why. His responses were curt, and he often seemed lost in thought. I tried to brush it off as stress or perhaps a lingering issue from one of his many commitments. It wasn’t until he started pulling away from our shared moments that I grew increasingly concerned.

One night, as I lay in bed, my phone buzzed with a new message from Draco. He wanted to talk. I felt a knot of anxiety tighten in my stomach as I read the message. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but I braced myself for a serious conversation.

When Draco arrived at my dorm, his expression was unreadable. We sat across from each other, the silence stretching uncomfortably between us. Finally, he broke the quiet with a voice laced with hurt.

“Y/N,” he began, his tone flat, “I need to know something. Was this whole thing just a dare? A game to you?”

I felt my heart drop. “What are you talking about?”

“I saw a message from Pansy,” Draco said, his eyes cold and accusatory. “It said something about needing to bribe you with red velvet cake to date me. Is that what this was? A joke?”

I stared at him, stunned. “Draco, it’s not what you think. I didn’t—”

He cut me off, his voice rising. “I thought we had something real. I thought you were genuinely interested in me. To find out that it was just a dare, that it was all a game—”

“Draco, I’m sorry,” I said, trying to reach out to him. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It started as a dare, but I really did develop feelings for you. I swear it.”

Draco shook his head, his eyes filled with a mix of anger and sadness. “I can’t believe you’d play with my emotions like that. I can’t do this anymore. We’re done.”

The words hit me like a physical blow. “Draco, please—”

But he was already turning away, his face set in a grim expression. “I hate that I let myself fall for this. I hate that I let you into my life, only to be treated like a joke.”

As he walked out, the door closing with a heavy thud, I felt a profound sense of loss. I had no idea how to fix what had been broken, or even if it was possible to mend the rift that had opened between us. All I knew was that the hurt in Draco’s eyes mirrored the pain in my own heart, and the future of our relationship was now a painful question mark.

—

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