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starstruckmoony · 2 years ago

Note

Hi, could I request a enemies to lovers with Enzo? Love your writing :))

tysm for the request anon!! i am so so sorry for taking ages to post this but i got veryyyyyy carried away and it may or may not be too long BUT i hope you enjoy it and that it's similar enough to what you imagined <3

king of my heart.

masterlist , requests

pairing - lorenzo berkshire x reader

summary - you and lorenzo are both sore, jealous losers with egos the size of jupiter, so you decide that you hate one another and that academic competing is the way to go. you keep that up for six full years, until something rather unfortunate happens and destroys your entire game plan.

trope/tags - enemies to lovers, rivals to lovers, angst, fluff

word count - 12.8k

warnings - language, smoking

if there was one thing every single person who ever crossed your path knew about you, even if you were barely acquainted, was that you had sort of been raised without the ability to accept that you cannot always come out on top. it was simply incomprehensible. you'd been told that you were a gifted kid from the moment you became aware of your pathetic little existence. it did wonders to your ego. your smarts and determination amused your tutors, petrified them even. and the better you got, the more motivation it sparked in you.

you intended to keep things going your way when your acceptance letter for hogwarts arrived in the mail. you weren't worried, not even a little bit, and neither were your parents. being the best of the best was a running thing in your family.

unsurprisingly, it couldn't have started off better. your professors loved you. other kids envied you. each essay and exam result you'd ever recieved was the textbook definition of perfect. your grades were nicer that aphrodite's reflection in the mirror, as hermione had told you once. it was a lot coming from her. she was also amongst the few of the smartest, most hardworking students in your year, but you never felt threatened by her, or anybody else for that matter. there was, weirdly, no jealousy. on her part, at least, considering you so very effortlessly secured your spot as top of the class and never let anybody take it. she'd always be happy for you like the good friend she was, proudly patting you on the back, yet you couldn't help but think if she ever felt a little angry behind that supportive smile of hers.

and funny enough, you were finally able to stop pretending to know what it was like one fine wednesday before the christmas holidays. you had come into class more confident than ever that morning, smugly waiting for your potions essay results. you were hoping for a hundred, but a ninety nine, maybe even a ninety eight, didn't seem so bad either. that would have been, if lorenzo berkshire hadn't got his essay back with a score better than yours. he, much like yourself, was just another sore loser who craved academic validation like a drug, silently fuming whenever somebody surpassed him. he had dealt it with for months, watching you ace everything from charms to transfiguration, and always being second to you. the jealousy consumed his entire being, and he was kind of going mental, so you one could only imagine how ecstatic he was when he saw your face twist with dread after snape praised him in front of everybody. he wouldn't have hidden that mocking grin on his face if you held a knife to his throat and it made you want to choke him to death, for lack of better term.

"l/n." he sang as he successfully caught you in the corridor right after the said lesson. twat. you ignored him and increased the speed of your steps, biting the inside of your cheek, so hard that it began to sting. you didn't instantaneously realise how desperate he was to get your attention, but it became a lot clearer when he stood in front of you, entirely blocking your path. your little attempts to confuse him and avoid the situation were useless. it was kind of pathetic.

"what do you want?" simply shoving him to the ground and acting like it never happened would have done the job, but god forbid you swallowed your pride for once.

"c'mon, don't be so pissy, i'm just trying to make conversation." you saw right through him, anyone would. him? wanting to make conversation with you? after death-glaring you every lesson for three months straight? and then bursting your bubble and being so smug about it? you almost scoffed, "you're in my way."

"oh, my apologies." he moved to the side and bowed dramatically, waiting for you to leave. you rolled your eyes, and took a single step forward, just to have him come right back to his original spot.

"move." you tried to shove him and even attempted to run for it, but he was faster than you. your nostrils flared, "you know that today was just dumb luck, right?" you crossed your arms, thinking you'd get under his skin, but there was no sign of change on his face. on the contrary, he was more accomplished than ever. you were fuming.

"i wouldn't call it that." he tilted his head to the side, observing your face.

"alright then," you copied his movements, "plagiarism?" his smile fell a little. it made you a lot happier than it should have. you expected victory from that senseless squabble, but lorenzo wasn't the type of person who backed down so easily. that was something you should have known.

"you're projecting." he shrugged, blankly staring at you.

"projecting?" you almost stuttered.

"projecting. pick up a dictionary, yeah?" he gave your head a tiny pat, and left you standing in the hallway, dumbfounded, angry, and a little humiliated.

that moment alone set off a feud that changed the trajectory of your miserable lives forever. each time he did better than you, whether it was on an essay, an exam, flying lessons even, your urge to wipe his existence of the face of the earth got stronger. the feelings were mutual on his part. you went back and forth like that for a while, trying not to be that obvious about it, but one could only hide their true feelings for so long.

it started off with hushed insults, which got strategically thrown around every time you'd cross each other's path. having other people notice your diminishing confidence was proper nightmare fuel, so you kept it as subtle as possible. then it turned into shoving and pushing, which was enough to set off some alarm bells in the heads of your friends. neville had told you that it wasn't worth it, and draco, of all fucking people, had told lorenzo to tone it down, but you refused to listen. you offered a few empty promises, saying that you'll sort it out sooner or later (sort out as in make sure you never let lorenzo get a score higher than yours again, but that was not going to happen).

your sooner or later turned into a few godawfully long years. saying you hated him may have seemed like an overstatement, but there was no other way to describe that burning feeling of i want to fucking kill you that entirely took over you whenever you laid your eyes on him. it kept getting worse and worse, without you realising just how bad it had become. your little competitions had completely lost their significance. it didn't matter who was first anymore. it could be ron or pansy, and you wouldn't bat an eye. all you cared about was surpassing each other, even if you were among the average with your scores.

that being said, it became an open secret of sort. as stupid as you made your classmates out to be, they were not, and they quickly put the missing puzzle pieces together. one of them spread a rumour that you tried to kill lorenzo, or vice versa, you couldn't really remember. and frankly, you couldn't blame them. you had given them more than enough reasons to think that you hated his guts. the most ridiculous instance had to have been the one during potions class when snape assigned you to work together. you could have placed a bet of two million galleons that he did it on purpose. it was like he wanted you to fail.

lorenzo had managed to insult you before he even took a seat at your table, calling you too stupid to work with in front of the entire class. you told him that he was a daft idiot when he unwillingly slumped down into the empty seat next to you, which had only set him off more. you accepted your fates almost immediately, knowing that whatever task snape assigned to you wouldn't be done, even if it cost you your grades.

just like you predicted, you did everything but what you were supposed to; spilled every sort of liquid there was all over each other's things, broke a few glasses, set two notebooks on fire, and burnt a hole in the table. you had stuck him to his chair, too, and lost a few house points as a result.

***

a sane person would have reached a certain point and stopped, pushing all of those stupid grudges aside. forgive and forget, that whole talk. hopelessly, your friends thought you would have got over it as you were growing older and that you would have chosen basic human decency over some hurt feelings and an insignificant competition no one gave a shit about. but no. you were not sane. you were ruthless, and you continued trying to make each other miserable like your lives depended on it. you hated lorenzo berkshire, and he hated you just as much. you were too naive and caught up in it all to realise that it'll come right back for you later.

it was like some sick obsession. from obvious sabotaging during classes whenever you got assigned to work together (followed by unsatisfactory results you blamed the other for) to throwing insults at each other in the corridors where everybody was set to hear you, you had checked every single one off.

you called him a useless arsehole on a daily basis. he called you an insufferable bitch every time he saw you. you had cursed out each other during lessons and done even worse things when nobody was looking. and if anyone did see you and try to get involved and call you names, it was bad news for them. you were each other's enemies to insult and demean and degrade and ruthlessly bully, nobody else's. only you were allowed to call him a cockroach, and only he was allowed to call you a snake. your relationship with lorenzo was nothing you could explain to somebody with a fully functioning brain, even if you tried.

one night in your fifth year, you had successfully snuck out in search of some sort encyclopaedia to help you out with your DADA assignment. none of the books which you were allowed to use did good enough of a job at making it easier, so you were hoping that the restricted section would have something better to offer - which it did. you couldn't recall the last time your trip to the library was that short.

to make things even better, you successfully avoided bumping into an annoying brunette who made your life oh so entertaining (unbearable). lorenzo wasn't anywhere to be seen. you smiled to yourself, feeling a sense of freedom at last. you were praying that the prick got bored of looming around the corridors all alone like a loser, waiting to terrorise you.

you began humming a tune you heard dean play on his old gramophone (one that got confiscated), and skipped around the corner to make your way to the grand staircase. mistake number one. you tripped over something, someone, but managed to stay on your feet as opposed to falling face-first onto the ground. you didn't even have to look back to know who it was.

"my, my, out rebelling again?" lorenzo leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, smirking in satisfaction when he noticed how you were grimacing. he stepped on one of the books you dropped, refusing to move when you tried to snatch it back.

"do you mind?" you spat, aggressively pulling it from under his foot. you straightened out your clothes and dusted yourself off before tucking the literature you had picked up under your arm.

"stealing?" he raised an eyebrow.

"borrowing." you corrected.

"without permission?" he tilted his head to the side in faux amusement, "i wonder what would happen if i alerted a professor about this."

"and you'd tell them what?" you scoffed, barely able to hold your laughter in, "that you saw me stealing while you were sneaking out to go for a casual wank?" what a fucking idiot. you rolled your eyes, turning away from him with the intention to walk away from the scene. you were not in the mood for his bullshit.

"yeah, yeah, run away like you always do." he uttered in disappointment, yawning. he knew exactly which buttons to push, and it wasn't surprising. you were familiar with each other's habits and emotions more than you'd like to admit. you stopped in your tracks. sighing, you set the books down onto the stone tiles, and spun around to face him once again.

"aguamenti." you cast the spell with an evil smile, and in a matter of seconds, a wave of water was shot straight in lorenzo's direction, leaving him soaking wet. he gasped out in shock; his clothes clung to his body. the water was unbearably cold, it was so fucking freezing, he could barely move. the commotion was noisy enough to alert filch and his beloved ms. norris, but those were the last of your worries. your felt rather fulfilled, that was what mattered.

"you asked for it." you shrugged, but did not turn your back on him just yet. that would have been the easiest way for him to attack, so you mistakenly waited, thinking he would strike for you. he dug his wand out of his pocket, and muttered a spell, "vermiculus."

you whipped your head in the direction in which he pointed his hand, realising what happened a second too late. he had turned your precious books into worms. you yelped in surprise and stepped away from the disgusting mess on the ground, your back bumping into his chest. you turned to face him and gave him a harsh push, backing him up into the wall and shoving your wand into his face.

"uncast it." you demanded. he laughed. how stupid did you have to be to even think that he'd listen to you, "no."

"berkshire." your words came out louder than expected. you wouldn't have been shocked if you saw a teacher coming around the corner to reprimand the both of you for looming around so late, but you didn't care.

"undo the damn spell." you repeated, just about ready to strangle him if you deemed it necessary.

"no." he pushed you away and took a hold of his own wand. he tried to disarm you, but failed miserabley. two could play at that game, then "stupif-"

"what's going on here?" filch's scratchy voice stopped you mid-spell. your head snapped towards him, and you instinctively stuck your wand inside of your clothes as if he hadn't already seen it. being too preoccupied by trying to come up with an explanation that you hadn't previously used to get yourself out of trouble, you had forgotten about the slimy creatures crawling on the floor. a worm wiggled towards you, too close for comfort, and you scrambled to get away, clumsily bumping into lorenzo once again. he gave you a somewhat gentle shove to get you away, and you kicked him in response, right in the shin.

"she tried to drown me." he explained with an irritated groan, rubbing the sore spot on his leg.

"he destroyed school property." you added dramatically, wishing to kick him one more time. filch's eyes trailed over to the filth beside your feet, and he made a face of disgust before instructing you both to follow him to dumbledore's office.

the whole ordeal ended with the books being safely returned to their spot on the shelves of the restricted section, a half-assed DADA assignment and the two of you getting put on bathroom cleaning duty for seven days straight (no magic allowed). it was probably the biggest mistake of dumbledore's life.

the bathrooms were not cleaned properly once. in fact, they'd only end up in conditions which were about ten times worse than their default ones. lorenzo was too busy spilling bucketfuls of water, dirty or clean, all over you to care whether he scrubbed the junk off every single sink there was (payback for the stunt you pulled on him in the corridor), and you were too busy hitting him with funny smelling toilet brushes (made sure you got all that rubbish into his hair, too) to polish the tiles and mirrors to perfection like you were told to do. it was disgusting and sickeningly entertaining at once. dumbledore considered punishing you with some other method, but gave up seeing what the boys' toilets looked like after night four. not even detention was able to come between the two of you. limits and common sense weren't either.

***

in your sixth year, the unimaginable happened. there wasn't a single soul who saw it coming, not even yourselves. maybe it was magic. maybe it was a sign from the universe. maybe some higher power did everybody justice. whatever it was, it sent your professors into a spiral. their shitty damage control was finally paying off, as cruel as it turned out to be.

classes had become increasingly more difficult than they were in previous years. to follow, to manage, to keep track of, and everything in between. mcgonagall had pulled you outside twice, asking you what was wrong after she had noticed that you were falling behind. many of your peers were, actually, but nobody would have ever expected it from you. the results you'd achieve weren't always as perfect as they were in your first year, though you had never struggled to get past eighty points until then. it was singlehandedly the worst thing that could have ever happened to you. priorities were hard to sort out, so there was a noticeable decline in your performance. you were absolutely miserable, and it did not get better, only worse. so bad that you had forgotten that you had a certain slytherin to compete with.

it was the day before halloween night, lessons had come to an end. your friends scattered around different places – some to the great hall, some to hogsmeade, some headed straight to bed, all intending to clear their minds after a stressful week of difficult assignments and dreadfully challenging essays. nearly every student left the transfiguration classroom with a relieved smile, happy that even their low scores ensured them a pass. hermione got a ridiculous amount of praise for her outstanding results, and even an encouraging pat on the back from mcgonagall.

so, a wonderful end of october for everybody but yourself. your expectations weren't high when you handed your toughest essay in. you thought you'd get sixty points at best. not hoping for much, yet still trying to ignore the worst possible outcome - one that was bound to get you someday like proper karma. but that wouldn't actually happen, would it? there was no way. it was impossible. you felt like a bloody idiot.

you failed. you fucking failed. for the first time in your life. and it was much more humiliating than you had imagined. you were so upset with yourself that you hadn't even bothered to pester lorenzo about his results, and strangely, he hadn't approached you either. no glances, no death glares, no hushed insults. not during the lesson, not after.

you left the transfiguration classroom trying your hardest not to cry, ignoring all of your friends and wishing to get out of the castle as soon as possible. you needed to be alone. you weren't looking for anybody's comfort, validation or their empty words of sympathy that would lose their meaning the moment you fixed the mess you were in. so you went to the black lake; where very little people preferred spending time, where you could be at peace with your own thoughts, and where you could catch a much needed break, even if it was only for a little while.

you slumped down onto the grass with a thump, bringing your knees up to your chest and letting your tears fall. you failed. for merlin's sake, you failed. it was like everything you had ever known was suddenly gone. you weren't even worried about what your parents or professors would say. truthfully, you couldn't give less of a damn. you were so disappointed that you had blocked out everything and everyone else, or whatever stupid opinion and solutions they might have had to offer. everyone, except for lorenzo and that dumb game you two were, for an even dumber reason, still playing. he must have been oh so happy to hear about your failure. he'd never let you live it down, you knew it.

"l/n?" speak of the fucking devil. he always had fantastic timing.

"get out of my sight before i throw you into the lake." you spat, wiping your tear-stained face with your sleeve, not looking at him.

"shiver me timbers." he sang, not feeling threatened at all.

"berkshire." you warned, turning your head towards him and meeting his gaze. you shouldn't have moved. worry flashed through his face for a brief moment when he caught a glimpse your puffy eyes, and he pressed his lips together, guilty. could he actually bring himself to pester you while you were in such a terrible condition? no, he couldn't, regardless of the resentment he felt towards you.

he cleared his throat and took a step closer. you sighed, staring back at the landscape spread out in front of you without uttering a word, "what happened?" he questioned hesitantly.

"nothing that concerns you." you attempted to shut him down. he raised both of his eyebrows, a little amused, "someone upset my favourite rival," he scoffed, "of course it concerns me."

you rolled your eyes, "just leave, will you?" but did you really want him to? your voice shook as you spoke. you despised the part of you that was wishing for him to stay. you wanted to be alone more than anything, but you knew you'd break down again if he listened to your plea and left you there. you'd take his overused insults over failure any day.

"not until you tell me what happened." your jaw clenched, and you muttered a quiet curse, knowing that he most likely wouldn't let up. as if that one would miss out on an opportunity to annoy you. he settled down in the grass, right next to you, waiting.

you sat in silence for what felt like forever. he didn't push you to speak again, and you were pretty reluctant to say a single thing. not even calling him names seemed tempting. you sighed for the nth time, starting to tear up again, "i got my essay back with thirty points." you sniffled, silently preparing yourself to get made fun of.

"fuck," you heard him mumble, and he scratched his head shortly before speaking, "if it makes you feel better, i got twenty eight." getting on your nerves was always in his best interest. although, having to see you so seriously upset was not on his bucket list, not anymore. you stared at him in shock, frowning, "what?"

he nodded. the look on his face was so sullen that you were starting to believe him, "are you not taking the piss?"

he snorted, "i wish i was," he avoided your gaze, "i, uh," he pursed his lips in thought, letting out a breath of frustration, "i was convinced i'd do well even if i started last minute... without research, but uh, guess i was wrong." you hummed, doubtful.

"why are you telling me all this?" you shook your head and trailed your eyes back to the lake, finding it rather difficult to believe that he was being so... nice. it was your first normal conversation and you had no clue what to make of it.

"who else am i supposed to tell it to?" he responded, annoyed. you bit the inside of your cheek, just as irritated, picking up a pebble. you examined it shortly before throwing it into the water.

lorenzo watched you curiously, having very little to say, which was terribly weird in itself. lorenzo berkshire not having a single unnecessary, offending comment to offer? your failures had truly taken a toll on you, completely.

"i can't believe we both fell off." you said in wonder, throwing another rock below the surface.

"right," he agreed, without an urge to backtalk, "fucking hell, i've no reason to hate you now." he blurted out, horrified by his own words.

"fantastic, now i suck at that too." you let out a dry, emotionless chuckle. you weren't crying anymore, just silently fuming at lorenzo for being the one to stop it without even properly trying.

"you suck at everything." he corrected.

"i take after you." you retorted nonchalantly.

"dumbass." he bit back a smile.

"dickhead." you were struggling just as hard. holding in your laughter was never more challenging, but you were determined not to break character.

you found yourselves in an eerily comfortable silence. by the looks of it, things would be alright. knowing that he messed up too somehow put you at ease. not even because you were happy to him fail, but more at the thought that it just happened to be at the same time as you. you found a certain dose of comfort in it. it was written in the stars, as it seemed.

"get lost now." you broke the bubble you found yourselves in. it was about time you got back on track. there was no way you'd get all friendly and gushy with him, even after whatever that was.

"alright, alright." he stood up, groaning as he did so. he dusted off the pieces of grass that got stuck to his trousers.

he stared back at the lake shortly, waiting to see if you'd say anything else he could offer a witty response to. he was a bit sad when you didn't, and he shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers, sighing, "well, i shall see you-"

"never." you finished that for him.

"perfect." he added, turning on his heel and heading towards the castle. you allowed yourself to glimpse at him one last time, simply not being able to let him have the last word.

"you've got some on your arse." you were talking about the remainder of the grass that was stuck to his clothing. he stopped to clean it up, and then flipped you off wordlessly.

you thought that was the last of your civilised interactions. there was no reason for you to bore your mind with it. you happened to fall behind at the same time and it gave you a decent bonding moment, but it was nothing more than that. just two people who claimed they didn't like one another very much talking properly for once. nothing, it was nothing. simple as that. so you weren't able to pinpoint why you kept looking back on it nearly every day, or why you felt so guilty for calling him stupid and useless, or why making fun of him for getting a lower score than you wasn't rewarding anymore, or why competing so fiercly was no longer satisfactory. and why he too, happened to feel just the same. maybe you had grown out of it.

you blamed it on the stress. you did have lots of different things occupying your mind anyway - such as your major arithmancy exam that you decided to pull an all nighter for.

for the first time in a while, you stayed inside the library past closing hours. madam pince wasn't too happy about it, but she liked you enough to let you crash there and warned filch not to throw you outside if he happened to notice you during his nightly patrol. the woman had some interesting tactics up her sleeve, none of which you ever questioned.

you swore, probably for the tenth time in the past two minutes, crumpling up yet another piece of parchment. you had to start over a ridiculous amount of times. the pile of rubbish on the floor was growing larger by the second. ripped up paper, bottles of ink, broken feathers, it was definitely a sight. there was no way you were getting through all of that on your own. and oh how that angered you. you rarely ever needed assistance with anything, but this was just a little bit above your level. that enraged you even more. a helping hand was starting to sound promising.

"you're still here?" you didn't even flinch, knowing all too well who that voice belonged to. did god or the devil just answer your prayers? you never got past your little habits of leaving the dormitories to do whatever there was to be done around the castle almost every night, so there he went, running into you again. lorenzo peeked out from behind the bookshelves in front of you, smiling like a little kid who was just about to do something egregiously silly. you couldn't not grin back, despite being angry.

"you're still here?" you repeated his question, crossing your arms.

"i asked first." he moved towards your desk, pulling out an empty chair and settling there next to you without even asking if you wanted him there. weird, that one.

"alright, and?" you teased further. he bumped your shoulder with his own. he wanted something. punching him suddenly sounded like a fine option. he looked over your arm to examine your notes.

"arithmancy?" he glared at you, kind of bemused. it was another subject he was that awfully good at, unlike you. you weren't terrible, but not exactly the best either. an infuriating thing.

"my favourite." you responded sarcastically, throwing your quill across the table. he hummed, sitting back in his chair, but not taking his eyes off of you. he definitely wanted something.

"what?" you could sense it already. he was gonna mock you again.

"do you need help with that, perhaps?" or maybe not. you looked at him, skeptical.

"from you?" you raised an eyebrow.

"well, i mean, yeah." he shifted in his spot, as if he was anxious. you did a double take, and then burst out laughing, wiping away a non-existent tear. he was just too damn funny. him helping you? that was a good one. you carried on with that little performance of yours for the next minute until it hit you that he wasn't joking.

"are you serious?" you asked, just to confirm. there was absolutely no chance.

"look, i can leave-" he stood up, "no," you grabbed a fistful of his sweater and pulled him back down. he yelped, startled, "what's your deal?" you weren't letting him get away with that so easily.

"what do you mean?" he was geniuenly confused.

"don't play fucking dumb," you jabbed a finger into his chest, "why are you being so kind to me all of a sudden?"

he laughed uncomfortably, scratching the nape of his neck, "well, i thought, you know, since it seems like we're no longer on about hating each other, that-"

"oh." you interrupted him, chuckling in disbelief. you shook your head, rubbing your temples in frustration and then letting your arms fall to your sides, "look, berkshire, just because i'm not trying to kill you anymore doesn't mean i want to be friends."

"what!? for fuck's sake, you're impossible." he stood up once more, this time darting out of your reach.

"here we go again." you rolled your eyes. you just couldn't interact without quarreling, could you? he paced around inbetween the bookshelves before returning to your table, "you're not exactly giving me any reasons to be nice right now."

"i never asked of you to be nice." you argued.

"you could appreciate me trying." he retorted. you had no idea what on earth he was trying to achieve. you could only think of so many explanations, "why? so that you could gain my trust and then stab me in the back when it's convenient for you?"

"that's what this is about?" he muttered something under his breath, "i thought we were past that rubbish."

you wanted to laugh hysterically, "okay, we may have pushed the resentment aside, but you can't exactly expect me to trust you."

he understood that, unbeknownst to you, "i never said that you needed to trust me," he sighed, leaning over the table, "listen, i offered to help you because i can see you're struggling. i'm not here to sabotage you if that's what you're worried about. i'd be wasting my time." he straightened his posture, standing there with his arms crossed.

"because i'm already terrible enough and don't need anyone's interference to properly fuck up, right?" you were prepared to tell him to bugger off if he refused to give you the answer you were looking for, furious at him and yourself.

he paused, hesitant. you were so fucking stubborn, and he loved you for it, "correct." alright then.

you picked up your quill, "sit down."

you got your exam back with a shocking score of eighty-nine, surpassing even hermione. not lorenzo, but you were second, and that was enough to have your ego flying right back through the roof.

i told you you could do it, he said, but not without me, he had to point out. you had to give him that. how could you not? he casually decided to save your life without you even asking for it. if it weren't for him, you most likely would have majorly fucked up on that exam. that's not saying that it wasn't difficult. he had no patience and you had even less, but you had somehow survived that night in the library without biting each other's heads off or getting into any additional fights. he even followed you back to your dorm, an offer he didn't allow you to refuse and one that you were too exhausted to complain about.

in the few weeks that followed, you decided that it was for the best that you block out whatever happened between you that night. christmas holidays were approaching, and you couldn't let that ruin your mood. lorenzo told you that mattheo said that it was a shift in the matrix. you had no idea what that meant, it sounded horrifyingly muggle, but you agreed for the sake of agreeing. a shift in the matrix, bloody nonsense. a coincidence, you called it. an accident, even. an accident that helped you out tremendously and made you reconsider lorenzo on nights when you couldn't sleep, but still an accident.

who were you kidding? something had definitely changed. other students started noticing it too.

you had gradually become somewhat friendly rivals who'd rub their own success into each other's faces for the laughs till they got threatened with a jinx or tickled to death. some occasional name calling too, just not as intense. but you weren't friends. nothing near it. you had done a pretty good job at convincing yourself you never would be. treating him a little better than usual was the farthest you'd go trying to mend all those years of jealousy and grudges. that was what you started living by, pushing away that strange tingling sensation that would coarse through you every time his hands happened to brush against yours when you walked side by side.

it is exactly why you almost spilled acidic liquid all over the table and burnt a hole in it again when he sat next to you during potions one fine afternoon.

snape was visibly mortified by the sight, partially because of that incident from two years prior (when you almost set the entire classroom on fire), and partially because he couldn't believe that mcgonagall was actually onto something when she purposefully failed you both. it would go down in history as one of the most ridiculous moments of his career. he sent a warning glare your way before beginning the lesson.

"excuse you?" you whispered once professor snape finally turned his back to the class, raising both of your eyebrows in question. was lorenzo asking to get violated?

"harry took my seat." he pointed towards the table where he usually sat. and shockingly enough, there was harry, sitting next to draco, for whatever sick and twisted reason. you gaped at them, then at lorenzo. not looking into that deeper was maybe for the better.

okay then. you didn't respond, trying to get into taking some notes like you were previously instructed. that would have been easy (it was for the first quarter of the lesson), if lorenzo's presence wasn't keeping you so alert, stopping you from focusing on what you deemed more important, "merlin, can you breathe a little quieter?" you snapped.

he purposely inhaled louder than he normally would, grinning proudly when your eyes rolled back into your brain. you kicked him under the table. he yelped, but oddly, covered it up with a cough. you glared at him, doubtful. that was not the reaction you were expecting to get.

you resumed trying to copy the crucial bits from the chapter snape assigned you all to analyse, very poorly. it was kind of impossible. you weren't used to having lorenzo sit so close to you for such an extended amount of time. ignoring him was unimaginably hard. your notes had never looked worse. words missing, constant mistakes, sensless scribbles. you reached for a new pot of ink after seeing that you had run out, and then felt his finger poke at your side.

you flinched, catching a glimpse of your professor who's head was still buried in the pile of assignments he needed to grade. he hadn't noticed you. good. but then lorenzo did it again, right where you were most ticklish, because he knew. you swatted his hand away, not missing the way he smiled to himself. little shit.

you reached to poke him too, and when you tried to pull away, he took a hold of your wrist, not letting go. he had a lot of good defense tactics up his sleeve. you didn't try to yank your arm out of his grip instantly, which was the perfect opportunity for him to tickle at your side with his free hand. this time, you held back a startled giggle, kicking him under the table one more time. he snorted, resuming his little game.

you were both sweating trying not to make too much noise, but neither of you was letting up, not letting the other have the satisfaction of winning. he eventually moved his chair closer to yours with the excuse to tickle you more effectively. your legs were touching under the table, but only because it was easier for you to kick him that way. it went on for at least fifteen minutes, until snape finally lifted his head, his eyes on the class. you separated, thinking you were being slick about it, when it was the least fitting explanation for what had been going on. the two of you had your lips pressed together, trying not to laugh. your professor could only sigh in response. at least you didn't set anything ablaze.

hermione tucked her arm under yours in the hallway when your lesson ended, grinning mischevously, "would you like to tell me what happened just now?"

you scoffed, rolling your eyes playfully, "huh? i don't know what you're on about." you played dumb, despite knowing exactly what she was getting at. and you had no idea why. it's not like you had anything to hide.

"i think you do." she pushed. there was not a chance for you to get out of that conversation.

"really? i truly don't." you still tried, though. acting foolish was your only escape route.

"y/n." she dragged out, laughing and pulling you along with her. potions were your final lesson of the day, so you were already able to picture her desperate attempts to pull some information out of you all the way until bedtime.

"what? we were just fighting." you finally gave in. you knew you would have to eventually, but you loved your free time a little too much to let her annoying interrogation tactics drag on for so long.

"so you do know what i'm on about." she teased, scarily invested.

"what else could you possibly be on about?" you snapped, pushing away that uncomfortable feeling that settled in your chest. you had no reason not to tell her anything, so you couldn't pinpoint why you were feeling so guilty all of a sudden.

"the way you two sat closer together than every couple in our year?" she exclaimed, astonished by how shamelessly you were avoiding the subject.

you gasped, feeling a bit offended, or maybe called out. you couldn't tell which one it was, "that is not what happened." that was an overexaggaration if you ever heard one. was she out of her bloody mind? sometimes you thought that she enjoyed setting you off as much as lorenzo did.

you stepped through the portrait hole with the rest of your housemates, pushing through the crowd to get your dormitories faster. you wanted a nice shower, some peace and quiet for reading, and then decent sleep. it was that simple. you survived the walk through the common room without anyone asking additional invasive questions, immediately heading for the toilet once you arrived to your dorm.

you really needed that shower. it made you feel whole again. you stepped out after putting some comfortable clothes on, skipping over to your bed and then cursing out loud when you realised what was on it. amongst your own, there was lorenzo's fucking book. you had accidentally taken it when you scrambled to collect your things once class ended.

you could have just given it to him tomorrow, or not given it back at all. like he'd know who took it. it was incredibly tempting, but it also felt unnecessarily mean. what if he needed it to study that night? you brushed it off, not like it was your problem anyway. you sat down onto the mattress, picking up a novel from your nightstand and throwing the other books straight to the carpet so you could comfortably settle on your bed. you then put it back. you didn't feel like reading anymore. you laid there, thinking. peace was never an option in your world.

you groaned, snatching his book up from the floor and venturing back into the common room. you hadn't bothered to explain yourself to anybody, and you continued trotting over to the dungeons with a neutral expression on your face (neutral as in i am very much internally raging and if anybody tries to talk to me i might use the imperius curse on them). very useless it was, that relaxing shower of yours.

none of the slytherins lounging on the sofa questioned you, your appearance was pretty telling. good thing you ran into mattheo on the way there. getting in wouldn't have been so easy otherwise. you disappeared in the direction of their dormitories, stopping right in front of lorenzo's door. you swallowed harshly, begenning to get nervous. something was wrong with you.

you hesitated before knocking, tapping your foot against the ground furiously as you waited. "one second!" lorenzo yelled from the other side. it sounded like something had fallen over. the noise was followed by a few curse words and some shuffling before the door opened.

much to your dismay, you were met with a bare chested lorenzo, wearing nothing but a pair of trousers which loosely hung around his hips. his hair was wet, and his cheeks were a tinted with a light shade of pink. he had stepped out of the shower merely three minutes before you showed up. you inhaled sharply, swallowing the sound of surprise that almost escaped you and feeling your face heat up. his eyes went wide, given that he was taken aback much like yourself. you were the last person he was expecting to find on the other side of the door.

"hi." he greeted awkwardly, pulling his trousers up a bit as if it would help. you opened your mouth to speak, then closed it. opened it, before closing it again. you were pretty sure you resembled a damn fish. whatever was happening to you, you did not like it one bit.

"i- you- we- ithinkthisisyours." you finally spluttered, slamming the book into his chest. his hand touched yours momentarily when he grabbed it so that it wouldn't drop onto your feet. you felt lightheaded.

lorenzo was kind of freaking out, but only kind of, not even bothering to look at what you had given him at first. he was a little too busy staring at your blushing face, wondering what the hell was going on and why his heart was in his throat all of a sudden, "are you alright?" he queried, concerned.

"i am perfectly fine." that was a lie.

"ah," he nodded, then eyed the piece of literature in his hands shortly as he slowly figured what it was, "oh! thank you."

you laughed in misery, "okay!" before shutting the door in your own face. you tripped and almost fell down the stairs as you ran, still flushed and your heart beating in a way that you found a little too unusual to push away.

you received a few judgemental glares from the students you had run past. the question marks were practically visible above their heads. you were too busy going hysterical to sneer at them for staring. you burst through the door of your dorm, breathless and blushing, "what the fuck?"

somewhere back inside the dungeons, a confused lorenzo turned to face his friends, still holding the book you had given to him. he had no idea what on earth happened, or why you reacted the way you did, or why he, deep down, found it more adorable than he'd like to admit. he groaned, falling face-first onto his bed. what the fuck, indeed. christmas holidays never looked more promising.

and oh how you regretted waiting for them with so much anticipation. you were supposed to get a break. from books, assignments, essays, whatever lorenzo was doing to you. hogwarts was supposed to be all yours. you weren't heading home that year. it was your parents' twentieth anniversary, so there was no point in going back, considering that you wouldn't see them (you didn't exactly have friends in your hometown either). they'd be having the time of their lives in the alps, and you'd be regretting every decision you had made up until that point.

not only because you were already bored out of your mind waiting for your friends to return, but because you saw lorenzo sitting at the slytherin table when you walked into the great hall on christmas eve. the image of him opening the door two weeks prior flashed through your mind. it happened often, in the most inconvenient situations too. you were hoping you didn't look too flushed.

"what are you doing here?" he questioned in amusement once you slid over to him, an equally puzzled expression on your face. "i could ask you the same thing."

"all in good time." he cleared his throat, awkward. it was weird, but you didn't think much of it just yet. instead you sighed, taking a quick look around, and then speaking, "my parents ditched me for a skiing trip."

he snorted, motioning over to the very empty seat beside him. you sat down, no thoughts behind it. he was the only person among the ones who stayed for the holidays who you knew enough to hold a conversation, so it's not like you had better options. besides, that was your chance to see if there was more to his sudden change in behaviour. you were unnerved at the idea of even having the desire to do such a thing.

"what's your excuse?" you reached over his arm to grab a piece of toast, as well as some jam and chocolate spread.

"parents as well." you didn't miss the way he shifted uncomfortably. you put down your knife and propped your arms on the table, eyeing him expectantly. he held back shortly, and you couldn't blame him. who were you to think that he'd trust you with a possible family issue?

"i was told that i'm a disappointment and i'm not allowed home until i get my grades in tact." he stabbed the bacon in his plate aggressively, not looking at you. your jaw dropped in shock.

"in tact?" you uttered in disbelief. it was practically common knowledge that lorenzo exceeded you in a lot of subjects, a little more than half of them actually, so in your mind, this shouldn't have even been a problem. he was one of the top students. everybody knew that. your parents expected you to do well too, but they weren't that pushy or strict. yeah, receiving a howler for momentarily falling behind in october was aggravating, but nothing that you couldn't bear. lorenzo's, however, were crossing a line.

he hummed, picking at his food, "don't say anything." he sighed, it almost sounded like a plea. he couldn't just ask you for comfort, or ask of you to understand. faux sympathy was the last thing he needed.

"no, it's just–" you chewed on the inside of your cheek and picked up your knife again, spreading some jam over the piece of toast you grabbed previously, "you're not a disappointment, that's bullshit." you bit into the crunchy bread, chewing it slowly, a sour expression on your face. lorenzo went a bit red, stumbling over his words before getting out a clumsy i know, followed by a hesitant thanks anyway.

you said nothing for the remaining few minutes of breakfast, just eating in silence while other students chatted in background. when you were exiting the great hall together to return to your respective dorms, you made eye contact with mcgonagall for a brief moment. she offered you a proud smile, yet with a hint of mischief behind it. you had never been more confused.

you spent the first half of christmas day alone in the gryffindor common room, reading some trashy muggle romance novel you found under hermione's bed a couple of nights before. it was one of the worst books you had ever picked up, but there was something so annoyingly addicting about it that you just couldn't give it up. it left you feeling empty and lonely, and with a strong desire to fling yourself straight into the depths of the black lake.

"christ, l/n, why do you look so sullen?" you shut your eyes, exhaling through your nose. just what you needed. you weren't even gonna question lorenzo was doing there. you had a clue.

"you don't wanna know." you tossed the book across the room, internally celebrating when he decided not to investigate further.

he made a face, "merry christmas?"

"likewise." you replied blandly. when you didn't tell him to get lost, he jumped onto the sofa, getting comfortable next to you. he didn't look all too happy either.

you sat there for good twenty minutes, staring at the fire like your entire worlds were crumbling in front of your eyes. it didn't occur to the either of you how awful it would feel to spend christmas all alone for the first time. no presents, no childhood foods, no hugs from mum in the morning. you even missed your spoiled cousins who would nag you to play with them each time you visited their house on boxing day.

it fucking sucked, but god, at least lorenzo was there. you'd push aside everything that happened between you in the previous years just for a twinge of affection. something came over you, and you lowered your head onto his shoulder, almost sighing in relief when he didn't shove you away. he scooted closer and rested his head on top of yours, not speaking.

from that moment onward, you saw each other every day. he'd show up at your dorm at random moments and you'd show up at his at even worse ones. you'd take walks in the snow together and come back with soaking wet clothes and red noses. you'd smoke in the courtyard before bed after making sure the coast was clear. you'd go to hogsmeade and fight over who was gonna pay for the butterbeer until you came up with a nonsensical compromise. you'd sneak out at night to steal books from the restricted section of the library and then read them under covers in the slytherin dorms. you'd sometimes fall asleep next to each other and then act like nothing happened in the morning.

***

you expected it all to fade to nothing once everybody else came back to hogwarts, but then it didn't. you still took walks in the snow and argued over butterbeer and snuck out after midnight (and had to clean several toilets after getting caught almost every time). he still helped you with arithmancy without asking for anything in return, and you'd sometimes kiss him on the cheek if you were in a good mood. you thrived off of the expressions that would paint his face whenever you did that.

but with the return of other students also came whispers and rumours, following you around like shadows. you ignored them tactfully, not wanting to give anybody the satisfaction of confirming that their silly theories may have been right all along. especially not hermione. she wouldn't let you forget that until you perished. she'd probably leave a note on your grave too, so you'd have that humiliating reminder haunting you in the afterlife.

"i thought you two hated each other." mattheo deadpanned one evening after lorenzo had brought you to the slytherin common room, straight into the damn snake pit. you were squashed together on the sofa, a large book splayed open across your laps, not getting read. it was one of the stolen ones. all of his friends were there, watching you like hawks.

"we do." you responded nonchalantly, taking the cigarette that lorenzo handed you. you took a long drag before putting it back between his lips.

"then why do you spend so much time together?" draco was very obviously judging you. he of all people should have understood. lorenzo rolled his eyes.

"you are in no place to talk, mister i hate potter but snog him in my off time." blaise took your side, bless his soul, and tossed theodore's shoe in his direction. shutting draco up was easier than you would have thought.

"no, but why?" mattheo repeated draco's question, propping his chin up into his palm and observing you curiously.

"maybe, they're– wait, what do you call that?" theodore leaned into pansy, hoping she had an answer.

"masochists?" she replied casually and lit a cigarette herself.

you choked on your spit. lorenzo almost burnt a hole in the sofa. but then pansy brushed her friend off, staring at the two of you with a mischievous grin, "not really, i think they're just bad liars."

and she was so bloody right. hate was the last thing that could be used to describe your relationship. third year you's biggest nightmare was a better label for it, given that you couldn't even be in the same room as him without trying to turn him into something nasty.

present day you was having a difficult time stopping herself from trying to kiss him whenever he was in her presence. it was that fucking frustrating. you couldn't believe yourself. lorenzo was facing the same struggles, and you couldn't tell if he was worsening or subduing the tension by randomly touching you. not like you minded, you were loving it all and stopped bothering with trying to hide it from him. your ego may have been large, but your crush on him ended up being bigger.

potions class was usually the height of it all, although it wasn't the only period during which you got to sit next to your favourite rival. mcgonagall was was thriving, unlike snape, who simply could not get used to the positive energy surrounding you, or the way you were together each time he crossed your paths. seeing pure fear flash through his eyes at the beginning of every class was hilarious.

when lorenzo arrived, you felt yourself starting to smile and tried to push it away with the most unsettling thoughts you could muster. it did nothing. he sat down with a dramatic groan, and immediately started ranting about some minor issue he had run into that morning. he did that a lot. this time it was about his favourite pair of socks going missing. you sucked in practically everything he said, chuckled at the random curses, noticed every breath of frustration he released as he was rummaging through his bag. you didn't realise you were staring. lorenzo did, but he didn't comment on it. he liked when you were looking at him.

you failed to regsiter that the lesson officially began, but not much was happening, really. snape was telling you about felix felicis and how insanely difficult it was to make, while you were required to write down the most useful bits of the information he was giving out. when he finally sat down after assigning you to read an overly long passage, lorenzo shifted closer to you. you eyed him, puzzled.

"would you kill me if i asked you for a favour?" you focused half of your attention on the writing, half on him.

"depends what the favour is." you shrugged. he put his arm over the text to prevent you from reading. he wanted you to look at him. he had always wanted you to look at him. from the very moment your fued set off, it was one of those little annoying things that made your hatred for him stronger. not anymore, but it was still infuriating in its own way. you gave him your full attention. he may have seen some sparks fly. you had each other wrapped around your little fingers without even realising it.

he shifted even closer to you so that you could hear him better, considering that he had to whisper, "can you come to hogsmeade with me today?" his breath fanned over your ear as he spoke. you didn't respond, so he continued, "none of my friends want to and it would be stupid if i went alone. you do kind of owe me." ah, yes. for that time he saved you from detention after slughorn caught you two smoking in the astronomy tower. you shot him with an annoyed look. you both knew it was exaggerated and what your answer would be, yet you still played around with it. that's the way things went. he smirked. bitch.

"fine." he was so smug about it, you could choke him and snog him at the same time. he got his arm away from your textbook, but didn't retrieve his chair. you were squeezed next to one another despite having more than enough space. your arms were touching, and so were your legs beneath the table. you moved not a muscle, and neither did he. you had grown to like having him sit so close to you. it made you feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside, helping you ignore the freezing winter air and the thick layer of snow covering the ground outside.

you met him in the courtyard after a quick change of clothing following the end of your classes for that week. when hermione asked you where you were heading and why you won't be staying in the common room with the rest of your friends, you told a half truth. that you were heading to hogsmeade, but then bolted out the door before she was able to ask with whom. she would guess either way.

"i forgot to ask you why we were doing this in the first place." you spoke as you left the school grounds, your hands shoved into your pockets and your face hidden inside of your fluffy scarf. you were a little cold. lorenzo was too, his nose was already going red. it was an adorable sight to see, but you weren't dumb enough to say that out loud.

"i wanna pick up a few poetry books." you bit your tongue, trying not to laugh at him.

"didn't know you could read." you snickered, it was stronger than you.

"you're so original," he mocked, "they're not for me. pansy's birthday's coming up so i figured i should get her something."

"oh." the disappointment in your tone was obvious.

all of your willingness to go with him left you in an instant. his presence was more irritating than ever. he furrowed his eyebrows as he watched you chew on the inside of your cheek, wondering if he said something wrong. again... or not. lorenzo was smarter than that.

"what, are you jealous?" he nudged you, teasing. yes. you hated yourself just a tiny bit for that, "no," you scoffed, "in your dreams, berkshire."

"we both know you can't fool me." he kept the act going. you gave him a shove, making him stumble. he almost tripped and fell in a pile of snow. it was very funny. he tried to get back at you, but you slipped out of his reach, laughing when he began chasing you.

spending time with him was like a getaway from all the things that drove you mad, even though he sometimes excelled at that. he became a friend you didn't know you needed and a friend you were pretty sure you were catching some major feelings for.

you entered the bookstore as your unplanned snowball fight came to an end, its warmth immediately engulfing you. after being in the cold for longer than intended, it was just what you desired. you stuck with lorenzo for the first few minutes, helping him out and leading him away from the large isle of erotic novels he accidentally found himself in. people were looking at you weird, especially your schoolmates, so you stepped away from the crowded bits of the shop and decided to check out different sections.

a certain book had caught your eye – its contents intrigued you, but the price did something opposite. you put it back on the shelf without second guessing yourself. you hadn't brought any money with you. you continued roaming through the different isles, browsing through various books while you waited for lorenzo to finish. you lost sight of him for a few minutes, too busy debating whether to make him come back with you here some other time so you could purchase whatever your heart desired.

for the time being, you'd have to leave the shop with empty hands. lorenzo was luckier and ended up getting five poetry books which all seemed to be written by the same author, except for one. he handed you the odd one out. you opened your mouth, ready to complain about your fingers being cold and not wanting to carry it. slowly, you realised what it was. your jaw dropped a little.

he had seen you looking at it ever so longingly when he went to check up on you after realising you had gone off on your own. he picked it up without hesitation. you were too stunned to thank him, too stunned to say anything, for the matter. but he wasn't exactly expecting a thank you. he was just happy that you liked it, grinning when you blushed and struggled to keep it cool.

"you shouldn't have done that." you chastised. those were the only words you could muster. he rolled his eyes, "deal with it."

you punched his shoulder. he didn't even flinch, "you're welcome."

when he threatened to ruin your life when you were twelve years old, this wasn't how you thought it would happen.

"i'm gonna kill you." you weren't exactly addressing him, more like talking to yourself.

"you're still on about that?" he huffed, pretending to be bored.

"lorenzo!" you groaned, he chuckled, "i love you too." your eyes almost popped out of their sockets. his weird confession seemed unserious, but your heart still fluttered. little did you know that he wasn't as oblivious as you imagined.

he was positively glowing at the reactions he was getting from you. his tiny year five crush on you had blossomed into something stronger after that moment at the lake a couple of months prior, and at last, the possibility of you feeling the same wasn't looking so small. if only you saw through his actions. all those offers of help, and his complete dismissal of your rivarly, and his clinginess, and how he stuck to you like glue whenever he got the opportunity.

your walk back to the castle surprisingly wasn't silent. you were chatting quietly, snickering amongst yourselves. your shoulders brushed occasionally, and so did your hands, and you thought your heart might burst. you shivered as the wind got stronger, pressing yourself a little closer to him.

"you okay?"

"huh?" you didn't register what he said at first, "oh, yes. just a little cold, that's all." you explained, not taking your eyes away from the pathway you were pacing across.

"let's hurry up, then." he took a hold of your hand, swiftly leading you back to the castle. you were so, royally fucked. you clutched onto the poetry book tightly, focused on regulating your breathing. your entire face was on fire, your breaths ragged, heart beating rapidly against your ribcage.

four days later, you caught a terrible cold after accidentally falling asleep by the window while you were reading. hermione said that she expected better from you. she was fantastic help. you were pretty sure you were dying. your limbs hurt. your head was throbbing. your sinuses were clogged. your throat felt like someone had stuck a knife into it. but did you skip any lessons because of it or at least visit madam pomfrey to see if she could do anything? no, you weren't that helpless. you'd deal with it on your own.

or try to, at least. you stumbled into class resembling a zombie, eager to sit down and hopefully not do much work for the day. you placed your arms on the desk, laying your head into them and shutting your eyes. you opened them only a few seconds later when lorenzo shifted next to you. you were met with his worried face, just a couple of centimeters away from yours. when you didn't budge, he touched your cheek with the back of his hand, frowning.

"you're burning up." he kept his voice down, but his tone was giving away the fact that your state concerned him greatly. you waved a dismissive hand, closing your eyes again. he poked you to make you look at him.

"have you went to madam pomfrey?" he questioned. you shook your head. if looks could kill, his probably would have.

"i'll go later." you reassured him poorly, just to get him to stop. the last thing you needed was getting all flustered and emotional because he was showing more interest in taking care of you than anybody else in your circle of friends.

"your later usually means never," he was right. you hated that. you grunted, hiding your reddening face. that was both from the fever and from him, "hey." he threw his arm around you when he didn't get a resonse. you leaned into his touch faster than you thought you would, just searching for any sort of warmth there was.

other students were giggling, but he couldn't care less, "y/n."

you lifted your head again, and then allowed it to fall against his shoulder. mcgonagall stepped through the classroom door shortly after that, her mouth dropping a little when she saw the position you were in. she was gonna scold you for displaying your affection so publicly, but lorenzo quickly explained the situation, and before you were able to protest, she shooed the both of you outside.

he immediately intertwined your fingers, walking at a slower pace than usual, not wanting to tire you more. as annoyed as that made you, you didn't pull your hand away, and instead kept your body close to his. he was muttering something, scolding you for being so dismissive and not getting this fixed right away. you were too exhausted to argue, but he was right anyway.

you inhaled sharply as your headache increased in intensity, latching onto his arm and stopping in your tracks. you shut you eyes, thinking it would help and ease it a bit. you felt him move to stand in front of you. his forehead fell against yours and his hands cupped your cheeks gently. you held onto him, taking a few deep breaths through your nose. his thumbs grazed over your skin ever so slightly, as if that his was his way of trying to soothe you.

eventually, your eyes fluttered open, but neither of you let the other go. lorenzo broke the silence between you, "you're so bloody stubborn."

"you're one to talk." you chuckled dryly, hugging him a bit tighter. he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, waiting for you to give him a sign that you were ready to walk again. when you nodded, he took your hand again, leading you to the hospital wing.

madam pomfrey had you going back to normal with a simple flick of her wand after a tiny scolding, and then she pinched lorenzo's cheek and called him a "good boy" for being so caring. the unexpected praise had his eyes going wide and he was blushing madly – you were never gonna let him forget that one.

she instructed you to come back if the cold returned, but she was addressing lorenzo more than she was you. a smart move on her part, the older woman knew you and your headstrong ways well enough. she ushered you out only after she made sure were in perfect shape to head back to class, though you couldn't do it without rubbing her comment into lorenzo face until he turned completely red again. he had to tickle you to get you to stop and you caused a bit of a commotion in the silent corridors, but that didn't matter. you returned to the transfiguration classroom with your pinkies intertwined, all eyes on you. you two really needed to talk.

and what are the odds of him being caring enough to check up on you later that day. he knew he wouldn't find you in your dorm, or the common room, or the library, or the astronomy tower. instead, he headed to the only other place on his mind, where the two of you often hung out on nights when neither of you could sleep.

you were sat on one of the stone walls in the courtyard, a cigarette in your hand, kind of forgotten. you hadn't noticed that it was burning out, or the occasional ash landing on your clothes. your thoughts were going places, recalling the many events that occured during the past few months, and what on earth you were going to do about your feelings. you could hide them from your friends for some time, but not from lorenzo. you blew out a frustrated breath, pinching the bridge of your nose. being straightforward with that idiot was always easy. you never had trouble with telling him exactly what you meant.

the fact that you were anxious about it now was the most maddening thing in the world.

"what a depressing sight." you flinched, whipping your head in lorenzo's direction almost instantly. you couldn't tell if that was luck or misfortune. you snorted, rolling your eyes and offering him the remainder of your cigarette. he gladly took it, joining you in silence.

"why are you here?" you questioned.

"came to check up on you." he replied.

"i can take care of myself just fine." you patted his back. he seemed unphased. of course he was, he knew he'd win that argument.

you glimpsed up at the sky shortly. it was snowing just a little bit. you turned to lorenzo, a pleading expression on your face, "walk with me?"

he nodded, tossing the cigarette butt into the snow. you left the school grounds once again knowing that you wouldn't make it back before curfew, but that wasn't something the either of you dwelled on very much. there were more important things to get worried about.

it was obvious that you kept dodging the subject, settling for talking about things so insignificant that you would probably tell somebody to shut up if they brought them up in conversation on a normal day. being ballsy wasn't your thing anymore, as it seemed.

as cowardly as you felt, the sore winner in you wasn't letting you back down. a long internal debate and a silent minute of self-deprecation was what it took to make you finally speak your mind... to an extent, "have you ever felt incredibly guilty about being wrong about someone?"

lorenzo stared at you as if you were insane. it was a little too early on in the conversation for him to start connecting the dots. his street-smarts were sometimes lacking.

"you sure your cold didn't come back?" he pressed his hand against your forehead. you let out a startled laugh, observing his questioning face.

"what?" you spluttered, shoving your hands further into your pockets. the skeptical look in his eyes was making you nervous.

"you're admitting that you were wrong about something?" he sounded unconvinced, but there was a hint of jest in his voice.

you bit your tongue, clearing your throat awkwardly, "yes." you breathed out. he nodded, a way to tell you to go on. he was definitely interested. you were beginning to suspect that he already knew what you were gonna say.

"i mean," you grunted, cursing quietly, "you know when you spend years convinced that somebody is an awful person and claiming you hate their guts but then end up realising that they aren't nearly as terrible as you thought when you get to know them properly?" you explained frustratedly, resisting the temptation to kick the snow piling at your feet.

his mouth fell open in surprise for a moment, but he quickly shut it, running a hand through his hair, "uh, yeah, actually." he uttered nervously, scanning your face for any sign of humour. but you weren't playing around, and certainly not lying. he had been around you enough to be able to tell when you were being truthful.

you gave him a brief nod, looking everywhere but at him. you barely noticed that your hands were shaking. you contined walking on, not saying a single thing. if he were to tell you that he could hear your heart beating, you wouldn't even have the time to act surprised.

"i have to tell you something." he stopped in his tracks, grabbing your elbow in order to make your steps halt. you faced him, looking down at your feet, waiting for him to drop the bomb. he chewed on his lip anxiously, running a hand through his hair.

"i, um," he was struggling, not exactly knowing how to begin. how to formulate that sentence, even. he wished he could just show you. he reached to take your hand, and you let him, standing there motionless.

it was his turn to panic, "i- fuck." he met your gaze. you knew that look. you knew that bloody look he gave you when you were both thinking the same thing. two years prior it would have been something along the lines of i want to kill you. but it had turned into something that was a lot closer to i want to kiss you. you wanted to fucking cry.

you nodded, breathing out and blinking your tears away. he almost sighed in relief, cupping your cheeks, and that's when your lips pressed against the last pair of lips you thought you'd ever be kissing.

you reached up to touch his face – that pretty face you once hated the sight of, but then couldn't get enough of. you pulled back only for a moment, only to connect again, neither letting the other go. your kisses were unhurried, soft, and loving, despite months upon months of pining, despite the years of pent up hate that was, at the end of day, sort of bound to blossom into love.

at the end of your seventh year, when you were leaving hogwarts hand in hand, mcgonagall stopped you on the way out. it was only then that she told you what had actually happened that gloomy day october, the one that practically sealed your fates for eternity. the overflow of different emotions was too strong for you to have time to act shocked, and you pulled the woman into a big hug, thanking her with teary eyes. for putting up with you for so many years, and for managing to do the unimaginable.

#lorenzo berkshire #lorenzo berkshire x reader #lorenzo berkshire x you #lorenzo berkshire imagine #louis partridge #louis partridge x reader #louis partridge imagine #theodore nott #draco malfoy #mattheo riddle #blaise zabini #pansy parkinson #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #slytherin boys #slytherin boys x reader

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sagewritings · 2 years ago

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Midnight Library - Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader

pairing: draco malfoy x female reader

synopsis: your moment alone surrounded by books quickly ends when your boyfriend catches you sneaking out to the library in the middle of the night.

word count: 2.1k

warnings: curse words, smut, unprotected sex (read at your own discretion!)

a/n: hello everyone! i’ve been wanting to write for another character so here it is. do take note that this fic is 18+ and if you choose to proceed, your media consumption is up to you.

if you’d like to check out my other works, you can check the pinned post in my blog :>

i hope you’ll like this fic! happy reading!

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

“I didn’t expect to see you here.”

You almost screamed, startled by a familiar voice. You looked up from the book that you were holding and turned sideways to face your smirking boyfriend.

“I didn’t expect to see you here either.” You replied, glaring at him for frightening you. It didn’t affect him at all; in fact, Draco seemed amused.

“You might have forgotten that I’m a prefect. I’m supposed to be out here to check if everyone is in their dormitories.” He explained, crossing his arm. “Meanwhile you, darling, aren't supposed to be here at this hour.”

You groaned, leaning back against your chair. “I’m only here to study, okay? I’m not doing anything illegal.”

“Sneaking out past curfew is illegal.” Draco replied.

Well, you know he’s right but you were not going to tell him that, not with his smug face looking at yours for a reaction.

It’s a few minutes past midnight. You were dressed in your night clothes and a sweater to keep you warm, surrounded by at least five books and a lamp. Truth be told, you didn’t want to be here. You’d rather be sleeping in your dorm room than be seated on a hardwood chair with barely enough light. But with your pride refusing you to fail potions, you decided to sacrifice one night of comfort.

Draco walked closer towards you, his face turning in confusion when he read the titles of the books.

“Potions? Are you studying for a test that I don’t know about?”

You sighed. “No, there’s no test. But I got my results earlier and I feel like I’m going to fail.”

“Why didn’t you just come to me?”

“Because, you’re always busy and I prefer to study alone.” You replied plainly.

Draco rolled his eyes. “You have to go back before another prefect catches you.”

“No, they won’t.”

“This isn’t the first time you sneaked out, didn’t you?” He furrowed his brows.

You smiled innocently, not saying anything. He let out a breath, towering over you while you stayed seated.

“Y/n, get back now.” Draco spoke, sounding authoritative.

You shook your head. “What will you do? You won’t dare subtract points from our house.”

His patience thinning, he leaned down until your eyes were level. One of his hands was placed upon the table, the other was holding the back of your seat. Despite being used to this closeness, you felt intimidated when your boyfriend smiled devilishly.

He closed the gap between the two of you by pressing his lips softly against yours. It took you a second to react, confused that he’s kissing you instead of fighting back.

“What are you doing?” You asked after pulling away from him gently, hands pressed against his shoulder.

“What? Can’t I kiss my girl?” Draco shrugged, standing up again.

You hummed. “Yeah, right.”

“Seriously. We have the entire library to ourselves, we might as well take advantage of it.” He spoke and pulled you up by the hand.

“And what happened to breaking the curfew?” You jokingly asked.

“Fuck the curfew.” Draco replied and pressed his lips to yours once again.

You discreetly pushed aside the lamp and the books, leaning your back against the edge of the table as Draco hungrily kissed you and trapped you with his body. You slowly lifted your hands from his chest to his hair, earning a small groaning sound from the boy.

He deepened the kiss, his hands subtly wrapping around your waist before lifting you up and sitting you down on the table. You wrapped your legs around his hips to pull him close, breathing heavily as he started to kiss the sides of your mouth.

Making out with Draco at the most risky places wasn’t new to you. There’s something about the thrill of getting caught that builds up the heat, and now is one of those times.

You let out a gasp when your boyfriend’s lips went from your mouth to your neck, kissing and sucking your skin softly.

“Hey, no marks.” You reminded him, your breath panting.

“Yes, ma’am.” He whispered, his hands bow sneaking below your sweater. “It’s a bit warm, don’t you think?”

You rolled your eyes but smiled, cheekily removing your sweater and your shirt at the same time. “Happy?” You asked, smirking when you observed his eyes glued to your red bra.

“Very.” He whispered in reply and lowered his head to press small kisses to your breasts.

Your arousal grew when you felt his fingers snaking up your back and within a moment, you felt your bra loosen. You looked down at your boyfriend, catching his smile as he eyed your bra going down. “That’s better.”

You moaned in surprise when his lips wrapped around your left nipple, your back arching as you tried to catch your breath. Without moving his head away from your chest, Draco pulled off his robe while you helped him remove his tie.

“Draco.” You heaved when his mouth attached to your other nipple, his fingers now working simultaneously as he toyed with the other one. When he was satisfied with the attention that he gave to your breasts, he straightened up his posture once more and you took the opportunity to start unbuttoning his shirt. Your fingers worked hastily while your boyfriend admired the hungry look in your eyes.

You quickly get rid of his shirt, throwing it sideways as you turn your focus on his belt.

“Someone’s excited.” He chuckled.

“Shut up and help me.” You spat, dropping his belt to the ground.

“Patience, darling. We have a lot of time.” Draco clicked his tongue. He pecked your lips once before crouching down. “Lift your hips slightly, love. Let me take this off of you.”

You obeyed, pushing yourself up from the table to allow Draco to pull down your pajamas and underwear. You took a deep breath at the realization that you were fully exposed, but paid no attention when you caught Draco eyeing your pussy while licking his lips.

“Well, what do we have here?” He smirked, his right hand landing gently on your thigh.

“Draco…” You whined lowly, growing frustrated as his fingers teased you by drawing random circles along your skin.

“What do you want, love?” He asked innocently.

You groaned. “Stop teasing me.”

He smirked. Draco loves nothing more than seeing you surrender to his touches, your sarcasm staying intact despite being desperate. And right now, he’s enjoying the growing smell and wetness of your arousal.

Removing his hand from your thigh, he pressed a finger against your clit and wrapped his other arm around you to keep you in place. You jolted forward, the pressure alone is enough to stimulate pleasure to your core. “Fuck.”

Draco’s finger gently circled your clit, both his cock and smile becoming larger at the sight of you. He surprised you by pressing two fingers in, his thumb taking over your clit. He began pumping, enjoying your moans mixed with the sound of your wet folds.

“Fucking hell, Draco. More.” You demanded through deep breaths, your chest rising and falling.

Draco didn’t respond, instead pulling out his fingers after a few moments. Your brows pinched together in confusion, looking at him as he brought his fingers to his mouth.

“You taste amazing, darling.” He smirked and watched as you stared at his lips. After licking his two fingers clean, he lifted his hands and brought his thumb in front of your face. “Open.”

Without hesitation, you opened your mouth and took his thumb in. You sucked, tasting yourself and letting out a moan while maintaining eye contact.

“Fuck.” Draco spoke, feeling his cock straining.

After you’re done licking his finger, he pulls down his trousers and underwear. Despite seeing him naked multiple times, you still can’t help but be amazed at his size, your thoughts growing wild with desire.

You watched as Draco kneeled in front of you, his eyes being on the same level as your folds. He pulled you nearer to him, your lower half almost hanging off the edge of the table as he wrapped your legs around his shoulder.

“You gotta keep quiet, baby. We don’t want to get caught now, do we?”

Without any warning, Draco pressed his face to your pussy, his tongue expertly slipping inside and sucking on your clit.

“Fuck!” You moaned aloud, instantly forgetting his words as you pressed your weight against the bookshelf behind you.

Draco slapped your thigh softly. “What did I just say?”

You ignored him, too focused on the pleasure that you’re feeling to control the sounds from your mouth. You squirmed against his lips, grinding your hips upwards to get more. Your boyfriend smiled proudly.

“Yes, yes, Draco…. Shit.”

He pulled one of his hands away from you, lowering it to pump his manhood. His occasional moans caused vibrations throughout your body, your toes curling and your eyes shutting. Whatever information that you got from reading those potions books earlier was now thrown out of the window.

Draco felt your legs shake and he started to pull away. He needed you to cum, but not yet.

“W-what?” You asked desperately, almost whining at the loss of contact.

He gently shushed you, standing up and lining his cock directly at your slits. “Don’t worry, darling. I’ll finish you right here.”

He pushed himself into you inch by inch, your warm folds wrapping around him perfectly. Draco groaned at the damp and tight feeling surrounding him, head falling back in pleasure as he settled perfectly within you.

You moaned once more, loudly this time as he started thrusting, his rhythm steady yet forceful. You repeatedly called his name, hands gripping the edge of the table as you shake in pleasure. Draco looked down to watch himself disappear inside you, eyes filled with darkness and pride every time his hips meet yours. He grabbed your thighs and pushed your legs forward, almost keeping them against your chest.

“That’s right, darling. Moan my name.” Sweat started to form on his forehead, his thrusts becoming harsher and quicker in desperate need. “C’mon, Y/n. Let me see you cum.”

“Draco…” You cried, your cunt clenching and throbbing. He pumped several more times before he completely pulled out, pulling you up with him.

Still dizzy from pleasure, you stood shakily, letting him maneuver your body as he desired. Draco turned you around, both of you now facing the shelves as he pushed your body to lean on the table. He kept your leg foot on the ground while he lifted your right, giving him easy access to your pussy.

He looked at your ass and caressed them swiftly before he entered you again, his thrusts becoming twice as hard.

“Fuck, Draco, please…” You weren’t sure what you were begging him for. All you knew is that you needed a release.

“Yes, baby. Say my name, go on.” He cooed, his hand sneaking up to your front to grab one of your breasts as the other came down to your clit.

The pleasure was overwhelming as Draco focused on every part of you as possible. Both of you panting and covered in sweat, his hands working wonders on your clit and nipple while he perfectly filled your cunt. Your hands grabbed at the bookshelf in front of you, head leaning back to his shoulder.

You knew you were close when you started to feel something up in your lower stomach, the urge to cum increases with every thrust. You knew Draco was close too when you felt him twitch inside you, a warm liquid beginning to leak.

“D-Draco, I’m…”

“I know, baby. Cum with me. C’mon, pretty girl.” He whispered closely in your ear, maintaining the speed of his thrusts as he rubbed your clit faster.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

You almost screamed when you reached your orgasm, Draco following shortly after with a deep groan. Neither of you moved for a while, still breathless and shaking.

Draco rubbed your back and slowly pulled himself out of you, both of you moaning in the process. You sighed and turned around, leaning back against the table once more to keep your balance.

“Are you alright?” Draco touched your cheek, confused and concerned when you didn't say a word.

You smiled back and laughed lightly. “No, I feel like my knees are about to give out.”

He smirked, guiding you to a chair before gathering both of your clothes on the floor. “That’s what you get for sneaking out.”

“If this is the punishment for sneaking out, then I’ll see you again tomorrow night.” You smiled cheekily. “For potions lessons.”

Draco laughed before pulling out his wand and motioning it towards the two of you, your clothes magically reappearing on your bodies. He cleaned the table as well before pulling your hand.

“Let’s go before Filch catches us.”

#draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy fanfiction #harry potter imagines #draco malfoy imagines #draco malfoy smut #draco malfoy x reader smut #draco malfoy fanfic

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atypicalamortentia · 1 year ago

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My Girl || Draco Malfoy

Synopsis - You and Draco have a secret love affair, which all becomes public when he sees you upset in the corridors of Hogwarts.

Warnings - SFW.

Word Count - 0.5k.

[Caffeinate Me]

Draco Malfoy had fallen for you, absolutely and totally head over heels. It didn’t matter what house you were in and it didn’t seem to matter that you were Harry Potter’s sister. None of it mattered. What mattered is that you felt the same way and so, your secret love affair with Draco began.

You were currently walking down the halls of Hogwarts, books close to your chest and tears threatening to spill down your cheeks. You weren’t looking ahead as you walked, instead you were staring at the floor barely manoeuvring through the sea of students. When Draco saw you, his eyes lit up, but he was with his friends. Despite this, he knew he needed to interact with you in some way. “Potter,” he sneered. You ignored him, not up for playing games right now. You shoved past him which left him almost speechless. “Hey, Potter. I’m talking to you,” he called out to you, but you continued walking. Draco saw you wipe your eyes and immediately his heart clenched: you were upset. All thoughts of his image went out of the window as he raced up to you, grabbing your arm and turning you around to face him. “Y/N… What’s wrong?” Draco’s voice held a large amount of care and concern as he spoke to you now. You looked up at him, tears brimming in your lower lash line and just shook your head. “Talk to me.”

“He… He tried to kiss me!” You said quickly, finally allowing the tears to fall from your eyes.

“Who?” Draco asked, his eyes narrowing with fury. “Who tried to kiss you?”

“McLaggen,” you hiccuped. “He cornered me against the wall and tried to kiss me.”

“I’ll kill him,” Draco growled, eyes darting around the room to see if he could see the man in question.

“Draco don’t,” you said quickly.

“Nobody touches my girl and gets away with it,” he snapped, his hands flying to your face to cup your cheeks. “I’ll make him regret ever looking at you.”

You started into his eyes, seeing the pure anger in them. He was serious, deadly serious. “Don’t get yourself into any trouble,” you whispered.

“You’re worth getting into trouble for,” Draco smiled softly, his thumb stroking your cheek gently and wiping the tears that fell from your eyes.

“You mean that?” You asked hopefully.

“Of course I mean that.”

You leaned into Draco’s touch not realising that you had amassed a large number of students watching the tender moment between the two of you, including Draco’s friends. They were confused to say the least. Draco leaned in and pressed a tender kiss to your lips, smiling as he did. He didn’t seem to care that others were watching, he just wanted to make sure that you were okay. You kissed him back eagerly, enjoying the feeling of his soft lips on yours. When he pulled away he chuckled slightly. “What are you laughing at?” You asked quizzically.

“You taste salty,” was all he replied. His hands were still cupping your cheeks. “Seriously though,” Draco said, his tone turning sincere once more. “Nobody, and I mean nobody, touches you and gets away with it.”

“I love you Draco Malfoy,” you whispered, pressing your forehead against his.

“I love you too, Y/N Potter.”

#harry potter #harry potter x reader #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x mc #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy imagines #draco malfoy oneshot #draco malfoy one shot #draco malfoy oneshots #draco malfoy one shots #harry potter draco #harry potter draco malfoy #malfoy #draco #malfoy x reader

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mrypotter · 1 year ago

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Cold Heart

Draco x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Aftermath of a fight, soft angst, that’s all :)

Summary: Reader and Draco have a fight over something they can’t even remember and they sleep in separate beds. But all that changes when Reader has a nightmare.

Note: I don’t use Y/N, if that’s okay :)

***

The feelings inside her chest were unbearable. It was a feeling of loneliness and hurt settling in her chest making her feel uneasy. The tension between them was thick yet awkward at the same time, so thick she didn’t know what to say next. Like if she tried to say something the air would drown out her words and they would be faded before they even reached his ears.

The so called fight was horrible. They both said things they didn’t mean, and called each other names they didn’t really think each other were. Their actions were foolish, getting upset over something that wasn’t important enough to affect their relationship. The thing neither of them would admit is that they didn’t even remember how it started. That was the thing about arguments. Once they start they keep adding up until it explodes, but no one knows what set it of in the first place.

The girl felt small under his sharp gaze, the once soft eyes that looked at her were now hard and stern. The sudden cold air made her shiver but of course he had no reaction. He just stood there, staring her down, making her more uncomfortable by the minute.

She swallowed her regret and pain for the night, deciding to deal with it the next day. “I’ll sleep in the guest room.” She mumbled oh so quietly, not even sure he heard her and slowly made her way to the bedroom, her feet softly padding on the floor the only sound in the room besides Draco’s breathing.

Draco didn’t do anything to stop her, not even changing his body language as a sign he wanted her to stay. It was almost like he wanted her to leave, wanted her to sleep in a separate bed just because they couldn’t act like mature adults properly solving out their relationship problems. So he stood there watching her leave and still watched as door closed, leaving him with the wood staring at him. The man sighed, running a rough pale hand through his even paler hair, tugging at the strands until it hurt. His hand went to his chest next, tugging harshly at the tie that was tied at the collar, something that seemed to be getting tighter each minute. He felt like he was being choked. He untied it and threw it hardly on the ground, the fabric making a sharp slapping noise. He himself was cold, the unexplained breeze sending shivers up his arms as he traveled to their bedroom, totally expecting her sleeping figure to be there, soft skin laying on the silk sheets, eyelashes tangled together as her eyes fluttered from time to time. But he know that even when that happened she wouldn’t wake, for that was a sign she was in deep slumber, not planning on getting out of it any time soon. But once he walked in he found the temperature even colder; the absence of the girl seeming to have an effect on the atmosphere itself. The bed was empty and the sight was unsettling to his chest, almost like her in the bed was something that needed to happen in order for him to feel content.

Sadly the feeling of discomfort didn’t go away even when he decided to sleep on her side of the bed, her scent evolving him like a quilt, the warmth of the smell almost overwhelming. The goosebumps on his skin seemed to go away just by smelling her, like just a piece of her could fix his smallest problems.

Draco slept restlessly that night, his eyes fluttering open every couple hours until he finally found himself falling back asleep again, only to do the same thing a couple hours later.

It wasn’t until he felt another presence in the room, someone’s eyes on him as he slept that his eyes finally decided to stay open for more than five minutes. He glanced at the doorway, the darkness seeming to spread as he focused on one spot. He heard heavy breathing, the person obviously trying to stop it so it wouldn’t wake him up. Little did they know he woke up because he felt her in his presence, not heard it. Almost like he couldn’t just feel her when he’s awake but also when he’s asleep.

“Hey,” he grumbled, his arm coming out of beneath the pillow, the pillow being almost permanently bent because of his arm squeezing it. The girl in the doorway shifted her weight on each foot, her body rocking back and forth as she did so.

“Come here,” he requested, rolling over so she could reclaim her spot. She hesitantly walked over to the bed, stopping when she was next to her side, hands fiddling with her-his- shirt. His hand reached out to her, fingers connecting to her arms, stroking the skin there. Her skin was still warm from the bed sheets, telling him that she wasn’t standing there for long before he woke up.

Silence wrapped around them for a while as his fingers continued to massage her skin, warm against warm. He knew she found comfort in it since she was practically melting into his touch. He wrapped his slender fingers around her wrist softly and lightly tugged as a signal he wanted her to join him in the silky bed sheets.

“Come here,” he grumbled again, fingers going down her wrist to connect his hand with hers. She stepped closer at the repeated request, like she convinced herself that the first one was a misheard, and that she needed reassurance. Her knee stepped up on the bed, arms reaching out to him for a seek of comfort. His arms settled on her hips, guiding her as she settled into bed with him.

She chose to lay on her back, eyes settled on the ceiling but her arm was still touching his. He only noticed then that her cheeks were damp and eyelashes wet.

“Hey,” he said comfortingly, fingers going up to her hair to stroke it out of her face; continuing to do so even after it was out of the way. “No tears, alright love? No tears,”

She sniffed, eyes glazing over but nothing escaping. Her lips parted and she breathed through her mouth for a couple seconds before she spoke.

“I had a nightmare,”

Draco sighed as a sign to say he felt bad, hand moving to her ear so he could stroke it carefully.

“I’m sorry, loves.” He said softly. “I wish I was there when you woke up.”

“I was scared you would still be mad.” She stated anxiously. He shook his head before she could finish speaking, lips leaning forward so he could peck at her cheeks, kissing the tears away one by one. He then backed up but still stayed close by, her right hand coming up to wrap around his neck. His silver orbs met her glossy ones, eyes searching for any emotion in her eyes. “Listen darling, I would never stay mad at you for coming to me for comfort,” he started, rubbing their noses together softly before looking into her eyes again. “You are mine, and if you need anything I’m here to give it to you.”

She smiled ever so softly, fingers stroking at his hair on the back of his neck. “All I need is you, and you already gave that to me. There isn’t anything else I need more.”

#draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy x reader #draco lucius malfoy #draco malfoy #draco malfoy angst #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #draco x reader #stories #imagines #hogwarts imagine #malfoy x reader #tom felton x reader #x reader #reader insert

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loving-daisy · 4 months ago

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Where’s the Trophy? | Draco Malfoy x Reader

loving-daisy masterlist

Words: 8.1k

Summary: Nothing would ever make Draco happy than holding a trophy in his arms. Wait, are we talking about the Quidditch World Cup or a certain Y/N Weasley?

Inspired by Taylor Swift’s song — “The Alchemy”

Author’s Note: I had this in the drafts ever since the 2024 Paris Olympics when edits of players running towards their s/o’s became viral :)

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Draco Malfoy wasn’t the type to shy away from a challenge, and Y/N Weasley was certainly proving to be one.

Draco had noticed her immediately when they first crossed paths at Theodore Nott’s engagement party.

Despite being a Weasley, Y/N became good friends with Theodore after meeting her at some workshop for fellow print editors. Y/N works at The Alchemy, the bestselling wizarding lifestyle magazine of all time.

Every single wizard and witch keep their hands on The Alchemy for it covers basically everything you need to know about the wizarding world from the latest news and trends, ministry politics and foreign affairs, celebrity gossip, and even covering up to the current viral beauty and fashion world. To be featured in the magazine is to be popular and Theodore’s bride-to-be knew that their engagement was to be publicized by none other than The Alchemy.

Y/N was leaning against the wall with an almost bored expression, her sharp eyes scanning the room, never lingering on anything or anyone for too long. Not even him, Draco Malfoy, England’s seeker, king of hearts, and player of all players.

Most women would have been entranced by his presence, drawn in by his reputation and charm. But Y/N? She’d barely acknowledged his arrival, too busy ranting with Theo about the piled up work for all print distributors with the rising tensions of the Quidditch world cup .

Draco had made his way over, cocking an eyebrow as he interrupted their conversation.

“I’m sorry, but I couldn’t help but overhear,” he said smoothly, glancing at Theo, who gave him an exasperated look.

Before Draco was able to continue what he was about to say, he was immediately interrupted by the girl, who didn’t even look up from her drink.

“And yet, you’re interrupting,” she replied dryly, her voice cool but with just enough of a bite to show she wasn’t amused.

Draco smirked, leaning against the wall beside her. “Well, Darling, what better way to write about Quidditch than with a Quidditch player himself? Not to mention, me, the star of every game.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “You’re really not as charming as you think you are, Malfoy.”

“I beg to differ,” he said, leaning in slightly, his tone lowering with that touch of arrogance she had come to expect. “Most women find me quite irresistible.”

Her lips twitched, but she didn’t rise to the bait. "Good thing I’m not most women,” she replied, turning her attention back to Theodore, clearly uninterested in his game.

Usually, Draco wouldn’t even bother wasting a breath on a Weasley but Y/N had dismissed him all too quickly. She had dismissed him, England’s heartthrob, as if she wasn’t interested in his good looks, or fame, or even popularity.

Salazar, she wasn’t even interested in writing about him for The Alchemy.

Draco Malfoy was not accustomed to chasing anything—or anyone. He had always been pursued, whether for his status, wealth, or simply because of his name. Relationships had always been transactional for him: a game of give and take, of power dynamics that were easy to navigate. But Y/N Weasley… Y/N was different.

At first, Draco had been intrigued. She was sharp, unyielding, and completely immune to his usual charms.

Where most women melted under his attention, Y/N only rolled her eyes or gave him a withering look as though he was just another distraction to be dealt with. He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had dismissed him so thoroughly, and it had started to feel like a challenge for reasons he couldn't quite explain.

But it wasn’t just that.

The more she resisted, the more he wanted to see if he could break through that impenetrable wall she’d built around herself.

Over time, his interest became more than a game. She challenged him, called him out on his arrogance, and refused to let him get away with half-truths or polished façades. For the first time in years, Draco felt like someone saw him for who he really was—and she didn’t flinch.

Y/N Weasley wasn’t having it.

“You’re wasting your time,” she told him one evening at a café in London, where they’d both ended up after a mutual friend’s birthday gathering.

“Am I?” he asked, his smirk tilting into something softer.

“Yes,” she said firmly, taking a sip of her wine. “Whatever this is, it’s not going to happen.”

Draco only shrugged, undeterred. ‘We’ll see.’

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“Still writing about why men are hopeless, Weasley?”

Y/N looked up to find Draco Malfoy standing there, effortlessly stylish in a tailored coat and scarf that probably cost more than her entire wardrobe. His silver-blond hair was tousled in that maddeningly perfect way, and he wore a smirk that could charm or infuriate—depending on his mood.

“I wasn’t,” she replied smoothly, “but if you’re volunteering as a case study, I can adjust.”

Draco chuckled, pulling out the chair across from her without waiting for an invitation. “I’m sure your readers would love to hear about my charms. But I’d much rather give you a private demonstration.”

Y/N arched an eyebrow, feigning disinterest even as her cheeks flushed. “Is this your idea of flirting, Malfoy? Because it’s not exactly groundbreaking.”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table and fixing her with his piercing gray eyes. “Oh, I can be groundbreaking when I want to be. But I’ll save that for when you admit you’re intrigued.”

“Who says I’m intrigued?” she countered, her quill tapping against the table's edge.

Draco smirked. “That little blush on your cheeks does.”

Y/N huffed, pretending to go back to her notes. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet,” he said, sliding a piece of parchment across the table with his contact information scrawled in elegant script, “you haven’t asked me to leave.”

With a wink, he stood and adjusted his scarf. “I’ll leave you to your article, Weasley. Don’t work too hard. You’ll need your energy—for when I take you to dinner.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Y/N had no idea why she was even scrolling through the gossip pages of Witch Weekly. It was supposed to be a lazy Monday morning—tea in hand, parchment in front of her—but instead, her attention had been snagged by a headline she couldn’t ignore.

England's Star Seeker Draco Malfoy Spotted with Mystery Blonde at Exclusive London Bistro!

Her stomach twisted as she stared at the accompanying photograph.

There he was, Draco Malfoy, sitting across from a gorgeous woman who was laughing at something he’d said. His trademark smirk was firmly in place, the same smirk he’d aimed at her not two days ago.

Y/N snapped the magazine shut, annoyed at herself.

What did it matter who Draco Malfoy spent his evenings with? He was arrogant, self-absorbed, and entirely too charming for his own good.

At least, that’s what she told herself.

But the universe wasn’t done testing her resolve.

Later that week, as she walked through Diagon Alley, the sight of Draco leaning against a storefront with another witch at his side stopped her in her tracks. This one had dark hair and a melodic laugh that carried across the street. Draco held her hand, his expression warm and relaxed in a way Y/N hadn’t seen before.

She quickly ducked into a nearby shop, her heart racing. Malfoy was a flirt, and she wasn’t naïve enough to think he didn’t have other women hanging on his every word.

The next morning, another headline greeted her in the Prophet: Malfoy’s Match: Which Lucky Lady Has His Heart?

Y/N threw the paper aside with a frustrated groan.

Over the past months, Draco had been bothering her. The last thing she wanted was to have him bothering her even when he’s not here. The girl swore to herself that she won’t read gossip columns ever again.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Y/N was sitting in her cozy office at The Alchemy, the latest drafts of her article spread across her desk, when her fireplace flared green. She was startled as Draco Malfoy’s face appeared in the flames, his usual smirk firmly in place.

“Busy, Weasley?” he drawled.

She sighed, leaning back in her chair. “Malfoy, have you ever heard of knocking? Oh, wait—no doors on fireplaces. How silly of me to expect manners.”

He chuckled. “If I knocked, you’d have an excuse to ignore me. This way, you’re forced to hear me out.”

“Lucky me,” she replied dryly, crossing her arms. “What do you want?”

Draco’s smirk softened, turning into something almost—dare she say it?—earnest. “I’ve got a match in two weeks. England versus France. It’s a big one. It’s the finals.”

“And?” Y/N prompted, arching an eyebrow.

“And,” he continued, “I thought you might like to come. Watch me fly circles around the other Seeker. Cheer me on. That sort of thing.”

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. “You mean sit in a crowd of rabid Quidditch fans and feed your already oversized ego?”

“Precisely,” he replied, undeterred. “I’ve reserved a seat in the VIP box just for you. You’ll have the best view in the house.”

She tilted her head, studying him. “Why me?”

“Because,” he said smoothly, “you’re the only person I know who can’t stand my ego—and yet, you’ll be impressed anyway. Admit it, Weasley. You’re curious.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at her lips. “My answer is no.”

Draco grinned, pointing a finger in her direction. “I see what this is. This is you trying not to fall in love with me when you see me in action.” He concluded, earning a groan from the Weasley girl.

“There are a lot of other witches out there already in love with you, Malfoy. Surely, you don’t need another one.” She asserted, shaking her head at the Quidditch star.

Draco blinked, his smirk faltering for a split second before he recovered. “Ah. You’ve been reading the gossip columns, I see.”

“Hard to avoid when your face is splashed across every page,” she shot back. “Or when I see you holding hands with someone else in Diagon Alley.”

“Jealous, then,” he said, his smirk returning, though there was a flicker of something more serious in his eyes.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Malfoy,” Y/N snapped. “But if you’re going to act like you’re interested in me, maybe try not to make it so obvious that you’re playing the field.”

Draco exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “You think I’m playing you?”

“I think I don’t like feeling like an idiot,” she said, her voice quieter now but no less firm. “So if this is some kind of game to you, just say so, and I’ll be on my way. Or better yet, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

For once, Draco didn’t have a quick retort. He stepped closer, his expression softening in a way that caught her off guard.

“Y/N,” he began, his voice lower now, almost tentative. “Those other witches? They don’t mean anything. The dinners, the pictures—they’re just...part of the circus that comes with this life.”

She arched an eyebrow, not entirely convinced. “And me?”

Draco hesitated, then met her gaze head-on. “You’re different. You’re not part of the circus. That’s why I keep coming back, even when you’re determined to push me away or even make me work for it.”

Y/N wanted to believe him. She wanted to believe those gray eyes weren’t just feeding her another line. But trust didn’t come easily. Not with someone like him.

“Prove it,” she said finally.

Draco’s lips twitched into a small, almost shy smile. “Challenge accepted.”

And with that, his face vanished from the flames, leaving Y/N shaking her head and wondering how Draco Malfoy always managed to get under her skin.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Over the next few weeks, his persistence continued. He sent her notes with witty remarks, often mocking her serious work at The Alchemy, trying to provoke a reaction. He’d casually show up at places where she might be—often appearing just at the right moment to interrupt her morning coffee or during late-night discussions about the Quidditch finals. At first, Y/N remained distant, always with a polite but unyielding air.

“You’re insufferable, Malfoy,” she’d said, her eyes narrowing as he leaned casually against her desk at her office.

“And yet, here I am,” he’d replied smoothly, smirking when she rolled her eyes.

“You know, Weasley,” Draco said casually, his voice low, “if you spent less time pretending to dislike me, you might realize you enjoy my company.”

Y/N looked up at him, her gaze steady but not unkind. ”I doubt that,” she said, her lips curling into a smirk. “You’re a master at charming people, but I’m simply not impressed.”

Draco’s lips curved into a small smile. “You know, you are the first person in a long time who doesn’t buy into the act.”

She raised an eyebrow. “What act?”

“This,” he gestured vaguely, smirking. “The smirking, the charm, the headlines. It works on most people. Not you.”

“Maybe because I know better,” she replied with a teasing smile.

“Exactly,” he said, leaning forward slightly. “You see through it. That’s why I…” He hesitated, then shook his head with a soft laugh. “Never mind.”

“Why you what?” Y/N prompted, her curiosity piqued.

Draco met her gaze, his gray eyes unusually serious. “Why I care what you think of me. More than I probably should.”

There was silence between them for a moment—an odd tension in the air as Y/N considered his words.

It was the first crack in her walls. Draco showed the briefest flicker of vulnerability.

But Y/N wasn’t going to make it easy.

As much as he tried to provoke her, as much as he coaxed her with his charm, he could see that she was starting to fight back. She wasn’t giving him an inch, which only made him want to push further. After all, Draco Malfoy didn’t back down easily, especially not when he was so invested in winning.

Yet, he knew—deep down—that if he ever wanted to break through to Y/N, he’d have to stop playing the game so much. He’d have to show her that, beneath the arrogant exterior, there was more to him than the world had ever known. And maybe, just maybe, that was precisely what she needed to see.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Y/N sat in her favorite corner of the café, her fingers drumming absently against her coffee cup as she stared down at the latest email from her editorial director at The Alchemy. It had been a long day, filled with deadlines and constant back-and-forths about articles. But this new email was different.

She had expected another mundane assignment, a piece on some new wizarding fashion trend or the latest potion craze. Instead, her editor’s words jumped off the screen with a new challenge:

“Ms. Weasley,

It has come to my attention that despite England’s star seeker Draco Malfoy coming in-and-out of your office, no story is being written about him for The Alchemy.

We need you to write a feature piece on Draco Malfoy.”

She blinked, rereading the message a few times, convinced she had misread it.

“Draco Malfoy?” she muttered to herself, her eyebrows knitting together.

What the hell?

Her first instinct was to toss the email aside. She wasn’t a gossip columnist, and she wasn’t the type to write puff pieces about famous Quidditch players. Y/N prided herself on the hard-hitting, serious stories she was known for—pieces that explored deeper issues, not the insipid celebrity profiles that others at The Alchemy seemed to thrive on.

But then, as much as she hated to admit it, the thought of writing about Draco Malfoy intrigued her. He wasn’t just some athlete who smiled for the cameras and spouted the usual soundbites. No, Draco had always been a more complex figure—a product of his family, his upbringing, and, she suspected, his own inner demons. She had seen the way he carried himself, the mask he wore, and the way he navigated his fame. There was more to Draco Malfoy than people realized.

Still, writing about him felt… strange. She hadn’t forgotten their previous encounters, where he’d flirted with her relentlessly, trying to get a rise out of her with his usual charm. And every time, she had shut him down. She wasn’t interested in him—at least, not in the way he clearly wanted her to be.

But now, she was being asked to dig deeper, to find the story behind the public persona. Her professional side told her it was just another assignment. The personal side of her couldn’t shake the unease in the pit of her stomach at the thought of spending more time with him.

The first meeting with Draco was set for the following week. She walked into the private room at the trendy restaurant where they had agreed to meet, her mind still swirling with questions. Draco was already there, sitting at a corner table, his signature smirk plastered across his face as he saw her approach.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite Weasley, the woman who can’t be charmed,” Draco teased, his voice low and smooth. “How long did it take for you to come up with a way to make me sound interesting?”

The girl narrowed her eyes as she sat down, trying not to show discomfort. “You’re not the story I want to write, Malfoy,” she said, her tone sharp. “But my director seems to think you’re worth the ink.”

Draco chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “Of course, they do. Who wouldn’t want to write about me?” His eyes twinkled with his usual cocky confidence, and Y/N couldn’t help but feel the familiar irritation bubble up.

She set her notepad on the table and gave him a pointed look. “So, tell me, Malfoy. What’s it like to be the golden boy of Quidditch? The press loves you. The fans adore you. But what’s going on behind that perfect smile of yours?”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by her directness. “Is that your first question, then? Going straight for the jugular?”

“Why not? I’m here to get the truth, not some carefully rehearsed spiel.”

His eyes softened for a moment, an almost imperceptible shift in his expression, but he quickly regained his usual cockiness. “Alright, alright. It’s true—being the best is exhausting. All the expectations, the pressure to perform perfectly, to look perfect. It’s a lot more work than people think. But, hey, it’s worth it when you’re the best.”

The girl jotted down some notes, but she couldn’t help but notice the faint flicker of something in his eyes—something real, something raw. It wasn’t the image of the perfect Quidditch star she expected, but the glimpse of someone who might be tired of being in the spotlight. It was a side of Draco Malfoy that was difficult to ignore.

She pressed on, determined not to be distracted. “England’s making history with how it’s the first time that the team has entered the world cup finals. How do you feel about this?”

The boy grinned, crossing his arms in amusement. “It’s only been my 2nd year playing for England as the seeker so it honestly brings me great joy to be part of this historical event.”

Nodding, Weasley continued, “Do you have a personal goal for the upcoming match?”

Draco exhaled, running a hand through his hair, making Y/N look up at him with a raised brow. The boy was about to say something until he hesitated for a moment, gears running in his head as he thought about his answer.

“I want the trophy.” He finally answered. “Nothing else would make me happier than raising the trophy with my own hands above my head. It’s my ultimate goal. I’ll be content for life once I finally make that happen.”

The girl continued to write in her notepad, nodding at every word the Quidditch star had spoken.

“And what about your personal life, Draco? Your time at Hogwarts? Your family?”

Draco leaned forward, his smirk playing at the edges of his lips. “Now, you’re getting personal. I see how it is.”

“Just trying to get the truth,” Y/N replied, not backing down.

He met her gaze, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. ”Maybe you’ll have to dig a little deeper to get that, Weasley.”

As the conversation continued, Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling that Draco was letting her in, just slightly more than he had before. But then, as quickly as the walls came down, they were back up again. He was a master at keeping things just out of reach. She could see that now.

But there was something else—something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. For all his bravado and charm, a vulnerability lurked behind his eyes. The question was whether she could uncover it—and whether she even wanted to.

Draco stood to leave as the interview wrapped up, giving her one last lingering look. “Well, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” he said with that trademark smirk.

The reporter gathered her things, her mind racing. She’d gotten the surface-level story she expected. But something told her there was more—much more—to Draco Malfoy than she’d ever realized.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

A few weeks after the first interview at the restaurant, Y/N sat next to Draco in a quiet corner of a rooftop bar, sipping wine while the city of London stretched out before them. The sound of distant laughter and clinking glasses filled the air, but in that moment, it felt like it was just the two of them.

Draco had been quiet for most of the evening, a rare occurrence for him. His usual cocky smile was replaced with a more relaxed, contemplative expression as he stared out at the skyline. Y/N found herself watching him, the way the soft glow of the city lights illuminated the sharp angles of his face, the way his eyes flickered with thought.

“You’re quiet tonight,” she remarked, setting her glass down.

He shrugged, but there was a softness to his movements. “Just thinking.”

“About what?” she asked, intrigued despite herself.

He met her gaze, his eyes intense. “About how you’re the only person I’ve ever met who doesn’t seem to expect anything from me.”

Y/N frowned. “That’s not true. I expect plenty from you, Malfoy.”

His lips curled into a smile, but it was different than usual—less smug, more genuine. “What do you expect?”

“I expect you to stop acting like you have to be some perfect, untouchable person,” she said, her voice quieter now. “Because no one’s perfect, and no one’s untouchable. Not even you.”

Draco’s expression softened, his gaze flicking away for a moment before he turned back to her. “I don’t want to be untouchable. Just…” he paused, then looked down at his glass, tapping it lightly with his finger. “Just don’t let me screw this up.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat, though she quickly masked it with a teasing smile. “I think you’ve already screwed it up a few times. C’mon, do you think mocking some of my work at The Alchemy just to get my attention would actually make me fall for you?”

He smirked, but there was no malice in it. “True. But I’m trying.”

Y/N wasn’t sure why, but something in his tone—something in his eyes—tugged at her. She wanted to resist, to remind herself that she couldn’t afford to get caught up in someone like him. But with every word, with every glance they shared, the walls she’d carefully built around her heart seemed to crumble just a little more.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

As the days passed, Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling that she had just scratched the surface of something much more complex. Draco Malfoy was precisely as she’d expected in many ways: confident, charming, and completely self-assured in the public eye. But the moments between his carefully constructed exterior, the fleeting glances and small gestures, had made her realize something deeper lay beneath.

The next few weeks were filled with interviews, photo shoots, and press events. Draco’s schedule was packed with appearances, leaving him little time for anything other than his public image. But Y/N managed to secure more time with him, squeezing moments between his practices and press conferences.

Each time they met, the conversation deepened slightly. But for every step he took toward vulnerability, he seemed to retreat just as quickly.

Y/N had asked about his past and his family—subjects that usually turned him distant and defensive. Yet there were moments when she saw a flicker of something else, something more human. He’d speak of his childhood with a mixture of bitterness and longing, a sense of loss that cut deeper than she had expected.

“My father was never proud of me for anything except Quidditch,” Draco had said one afternoon, his eyes dark as they stared into the distance. “I could win every match, and he’d still find something to criticize. I never could escape his shadow.”

It was the first time he had shared anything personal, and it had taken Y/N by surprise.

“Do you remember how I told you that nothing would make me happier than the world cup trophy?”

Y/N nodded as an answer, her gaze focused deeply on Draco.

“To earn that trophy is to finally let go of my father’s disappointment in me.” He confessed, taking a big gulp at his firewhisky afterwards.

Y/N had been so used to Draco Malfoy, who prided himself on his self-sufficiency, the one who lived in the limelight and was always in control. She had never considered that, beneath all that, he might be carrying around the weight of such a complicated family history.

Yet Draco cut the conversation short the moment she let herself lean in, to ask more, to dive deeper into that pain. “Anyway, enough about that,” he’d said, standing up and brushing off the moment as if it were nothing. “What else do you want to know?”

And so, the reporter continued to write. At first, she focused on the public figure of Draco Malfoy—the successful, well-loved athlete who was more than just a face in the crowd.

But with every interview and moment spent with him, she started questioning what she was genuinely uncovering. She was digging, yes, but she wasn’t sure whether Draco Malfoy's story intrigued her—or the man himself.

It wasn’t until one late evening, long after the sun had set that Y/N realized just how much her feelings for Draco had shifted. She had been assigned to cover a charity event where Draco was being honored for his work with the wizarding community. The room was filled with celebrities, athletes, and wealthy families, all gathered to celebrate Draco’s accomplishments. It was the perfect opportunity for him to shine and be the golden boy again.

But there, at the back of the ballroom, she caught him standing alone, leaning against a column with a glass of champagne in hand, his eyes distant, staring out over the crowd. She had always thought of him as the center of attention, always surrounded by people who wanted to be near him, but this moment—how he looked almost… lost—took her by surprise.

The girl approached him cautiously, unsure if this was the same Draco Malfoy she had spent the past few weeks getting to know.

“You look like you’re having the time of your life,” The girl remarked dryly, unable to help herself.

Draco’s lips curled into his trademark smirk. “Oh, you know. Just enjoying the company of people who love me.” He replied.

But the lightness of his words didn’t quite match the heaviness in his eyes. The girl caught a glimpse of the façade he had built so carefully—he was pretending, and she saw right through it.

“Do you really enjoy these things, Draco?” she asked, her voice softer than she intended.

He looked at her then, really looked at her, as if weighing her words. There was an unsettling quiet in the air between them, and for a long moment, neither of them spoke.

“It’s what’s expected of me,” he finally said, his voice low.

Y/N’s heart softened at his words, and she could feel the walls he had built around himself, those barriers keeping everyone at a distance. This was a side of Draco she hadn’t seen before—the vulnerability, the uncertainty.

Before she could say more, there was a call from across the room—another colleague, another guest. Draco straightened up, wiping the moment away like it had never happened. “Duty calls” he said, his mask back in place. “I’ll see you later, Weasley.”

But as he turned to walk away, Y/N felt the weight of the unspoken words between them. She was beginning to realize that this story she was writing about Draco Malfoy wasn’t just about uncovering his public life. It was about something far more complicated that had crept up on her without warning.

She wasn’t just writing about Draco Malfoy anymore. She was trying to understand him.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

It was a quiet evening when Draco invited Y/N to a secluded spot near a pub, a place far from the bustling streets and prying eyes. She had been hesitant at first—Draco Malfoy didn’t exactly seem like the type to indulge in quiet, intimate settings—but something about the way he had asked, the sincerity in his voice, made her say yes.

When she arrived, she was surprised to find that it wasn’t a grand, lavish affair. It was just a small, private garden lit by hundreds of softly glowing lanterns, the gentle hum of music in the background. Draco was already there, standing by a small stone bench, a hesitant look on his face as if he wasn’t quite sure what to expect.

“Malfoy, what is this?” Y/N asked, her curiosity piqued as she took in the peaceful setting.

He gave her a small, sheepish smile. “I thought you might like something...different. Somewhere, we could talk without the usual distractions.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You? Trying to be quiet and intimate?”

Draco chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “I’m trying something new. I don’t exactly have a lot of experience with...romantic gestures.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. That was the last thing she’d expected him to say. Draco Malfoy—arrogant, smug, unapproachable Draco—admitting he didn’t know how to do this. For a moment, the world seemed to stop, and all she could see was the vulnerability in his eyes.

He stepped toward her, offering her his hand. “I thought we could start with a walk. Maybe later we can... see where the night takes us.”

Y/N hesitated, but then she found herself taking his hand, her pulse quickening as his fingers brushed against hers.

They walked through the garden together, the soft glow of the lanterns casting a golden light over them. The path was lined with roses and jasmine, their sweet scent filling the air. Draco occasionally glanced at her, his smile more natural now, and Y/N found herself smiling back without even thinking about it.

After a while, they reached a small gazebo, draped in ivy and surrounded by flowers. Draco led her to the center, where a small table had been set up with a single candle flickering in the center. He pulled out a chair for her, a small gesture, but it made her heart flutter in a way she couldn’t explain.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” Y/N said softly, her voice betraying the warmth she felt. “It’s…”

“Something I wanted to do,” Draco interrupted gently. He placed his hand on hers, his touch warm and reassuring. “Something I wanted to show you. That I can be more than the person you think I am.”

Y/N looked up at him, her breath catching in her throat as their eyes locked. There was no smugness in his expression now, no arrogance. Just sincerity—something she hadn’t expected from him, but found herself yearning for.

“I know I’ve messed up,” Draco continued, his voice low. “And I know I’m not perfect. But I want to try. I want to prove that I’m not just some spoiled, arrogant Quidditch player. I’m someone who’s willing to do this...to try for you.”

Y/N felt her walls begin to crumble. Every part of her had been bracing for him to let her down, for this to be just another game, another way to keep her interested. But something about the way he was looking at her, the way his hand remained gently resting on hers, made her believe him.

“You don’t have to prove anything, Draco,” she said quietly. “I just need to know you’re not playing games.”

He smiled, his eyes softening. “No games, Weasley. I’m not that stupid.”

The way he said it—so earnestly—left no room for doubt. She could feel the truth of his words, and for the first time, she realized how much she wanted to believe in him.

The evening went on, the quiet intimacy of the garden wrapping them in a cocoon of soft light and silence. It wasn’t grand or extravagant, but it was enough. Draco had finally shown her a side of him that was real, and in that moment, it felt like the world was just the two of them.

By the end of the night, as they stood together under the stars, Draco took a deep breath. “So, what do you think? Is this enough to make you reconsider that I might be worth it?”

Y/N’s heart fluttered, and she smiled, the answer already clear. “I think I’m starting to believe you.”

Draco’s face lit up, and he pulled her in for a hug, one that felt more tender than anything they’d shared before. And as Y/N rested her head against his chest, she realized she wasn’t just falling for him—she had already fallen.

“You have no idea how much I want to kiss you right now,” he murmured, his voice rough with desire, but still holding back, as if waiting for some sign from her.

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat, and she opened her eyes to meet his, the raw emotion in his gaze pulling her in even deeper. “Then why don’t you?”

The words had barely left her lips when his other hand slid around her waist, pulling her closer, until there was no space left between them. She could feel the heat of his body against hers, the tension crackling between them, making it impossible to think clearly.

Draco leaned in, his lips just inches from hers, and Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. For a moment, everything seemed to slow—time stretching out as they hovered on the edge of something they both knew could change everything.

A sudden sound broke the silence. The rustling of leaves. A faint cough.

Y/N and Draco both snapped their heads to the side, a rush of disappointment and frustration sweeping over them. Standing just at the edge of the garden path, a figure was barely visible in the dim light.

"Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt."

It was a familiar voice—one Y/N would recognize anywhere.

"George?" she called out, her words laced with a mixture of surprise and annoyance.

Draco stiffened beside her, his eyes narrowing as he turned to face the intruder.

"Couldn't find you two anywhere in the pub, so I figured you might be here," George Weasley said, stepping fully into the light with his characteristic grin. He raised a hand in apology. "Did I ruin something?"

Y/N let out a soft sigh, the tension that had been building between her and Draco instantly evaporating. The weight of the moment slipped away, replaced by the sudden, unwelcome intrusion of her older brother’s presence.

"Bloody hell," Draco muttered under his breath, rubbing his forehead in irritation. "I was about to—"

George, completely unaware of the emotional wreckage he’d just caused, smiled and raised an eyebrow. "About to what? Kiss her?" He gave a teasing glance to Y/N. "I mean, that’s the only reason I can think of you two standing so close."

Y/N could feel her cheeks burning, the awkwardness of the moment too much to ignore. "George," she said, trying to keep her voice steady, "what are you doing here?"

"I told you, I was looking for you," he said with a shrug. "But I’m happy to leave you two to whatever… this is." He made a small gesture between them. "Just don’t do anything I’d do, alright?"

Draco shot him a glare, clearly less than thrilled with the interruption. "You know, George, I’m really starting to wonder what exactly you’re insinuating."

George chuckled and held his hands up in mock defense. "Nothing, nothing. Just wanted to make sure you weren't tying my little sister up in some crazy love affair."

Y/N couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “Can’t you go bother Fred?” she said, hoping to push her brother along.

But George just shook his head. “Nah, he’s busy at the shop. Anyway, I’ll leave you two to it. Just don’t blame me when it’s not my fault you two don’t kiss already. It’s been hanging in the air since I walked up.”

With that, George turned to leave, his footsteps growing quieter as he disappeared down the path.

Y/N exhaled, feeling a mix of relief and annoyance flood through her. "Well, that was awkward," she muttered, running a hand through her hair.

Draco’s posture had relaxed, but he was still watching her with an amused yet frustrated expression. "I can’t believe that just happened."

And just like that, the moment was lost—not by their own choice, but by fate and the mischievous timing of her brother. Yet, in that space between them, something still lingered, the anticipation hanging in the air like the faintest whisper of what might come next.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

As the season finale approached, excitement buzzed throughout the wizarding world. The final game of the Quidditch World Cup was drawing near, and Draco Malfoy’s England team was on the cusp of victory. Every publication and every media outlet, was buzzing about the upcoming match. It was a culmination of years of hard work, and Draco was poised to lead his team to the win.

But as much as the excitement of the game filled the air, it wasn’t the only thing occupying Draco’s mind. Y/N Weasley had been a constant presence over the past few weeks, her insightful questions and perceptive eyes causing something inside him to stir.

It wasn’t about the chase anymore; it was about how she made him feel like someone with something real to offer, something that had nothing to do with his past. With Y/N, he wasn’t Draco Malfoy, the heir to the Malfoy fortune, the former Death Eater, or even the star Seeker of the England team. He was just Draco.

And now, as the final match loomed closer, something in him knew that he needed her there. He wanted her to witness the moment he had been working toward his entire life, to see him in his element at the peak of his career.

There was a vulnerability in that—asking her to witness his success, to be there as something more than just the journalist writing on his feature for a magazine.

The question came as a text one evening, just a few days before the big game. Y/N was sitting in her apartment, reviewing her notes for her article, when her phone buzzed.

“You’re coming to the final game, right?”

The girl stared at the message momentarily, her fingers hovered over the screen as she debated how to respond.

“I wasn’t planning on it. You’ve got plenty of people in your corner already.”

She hit send before she could second-guess herself, but a new message appeared from Draco moments later. “And you think they’re the ones I want there? You should come. I want you to see it. All of it.”

She felt a strange flutter in her chest at his words.

“Fine, I’ll be there. But don’t expect me to cheer for you.”

Draco’s reply was quick, playful, but there was an undertone of sincerity. “I’ll take what I can get. See you there, Weasley.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The day of the match arrived, and Y/N found herself standing in the VIP section of the stadium, her heart beating faster than she would have liked. The atmosphere was electric, the stands filled with enthusiastic supporters. Draco had ensured that she had the best seat in the house—front and center, right near the team’s private box.

As the match kicked off, Y/N was fully aware that she was there not just as a reporter, but as someone who was beginning to care, in a way she had never intended. She watched Draco carefully, noting the way he moved with precision, the intensity in his eyes, and the confidence in every pass, every dive, every goal.

There was something magnetic about watching him play, not just for his skill, but for the quiet determination that seemed to flow from him.

During the halftime break, Y/N made her way up to the private box, where Draco was standing alone, looking out over the field. He had removed his goggles and gloves.

“You’re doing well,” Y/N said, stepping up beside him, trying to keep her tone casual.

“You came,” he said, his voice a mix of surprise and something else. He looked at the girl carefully. There, Y/N stood, wearing a black England Quidditch jersey with Draco’s last name on the back, the number 7 emblazoned proudly across it.

His heart skipped a beat. He hadn’t expected her to wear it, let alone wear it like she was wearing it for him. A small thrill ran through him.

“I said I would,” Y/N replied, her voice steady despite her heart racing.

Draco gave her a broad smile. “You look cute with my last name on your back.” He complimented, Y/N’s cheeks immediately turning red.

Silence engulfed their atmosphere for a while before Draco decided to break it.

“Do you think I can win?” he asked quietly, a rare moment of honesty breaking through his usual bravado.

She met his gaze, her own heart unexpectedly softening. “I think you’ve already won,” she said with quiet certainty. “No matter what happens in the game, you’ve already proven everything you set out to achieve.”

For a moment, Draco said nothing, but his eyes softened, and Y/N saw the vulnerability he had kept hidden. He took a step closer to her, his voice low. “That’s the thing about winning, Weasley. It never feels like enough. Not until I’ve got everything I want.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The game resumed, and Y/N’s focus shifted back to the field as Draco and his team pushed forward, the final match unfolding before her eyes.

On the pitch, Draco kept his focus sharp, scanning the skies for the glint of gold, but his mind wandered to her more often than it should have. Was she watching? Was she rolling her eyes every time the announcers praised him? Did she regret coming at all?

When he finally spotted the Snitch, his heart surged, not just with the thrill of the chase but with the knowledge that Y/N was here to see him succeed. He dove with precision, ignoring the French Seeker on his tail, and his fingers closed around the Snitch in one fluid motion. The crowd erupted, and his teammates surged toward him, but Draco’s gaze immediately lifted to the stands.

As the crowd cheered, Y/N found herself caught up in the moment's energy, but it wasn’t the victory that held her attention. It was Draco. She watched as he raised his arms in triumph, his face a mix of relief and elation, his hard work finally paying off.

The crowd erupted as the final whistle sounded, the golden snitch clutched tightly in Draco Malfoy’s hand. The scoreboard flashed the win: England - 310, France - 290. The stadium was a cacophony of cheers, chants, and magical fireworks lighting up the Parisian sky. His teammates swarmed him, their triumphant shouts blending into the roaring crowd. But Draco’s mind was already elsewhere.

He didn’t hear the commentators dissecting his final play or the announcer calling his name as the match’s MVP. All he could think about was her—Y/N Weasley, standing just past the enchanted barriers separating the players from the spectators.

As the crowd surged forward, Y/N made her way down to the field, determined to catch him before the madness of victory consumed him completely. She found him near the edge of the pitch, his teammates surrounding him, all celebrating their victory. But Draco’s eyes found hers immediately, cutting through the noise and the chaos.

For a moment, the world around them seemed to fade away. There was no crowd, no reporters, no fans clamoring for his attention. There was just Draco and Y/N—two people who had been circling each other for weeks, testing boundaries, pushing limits, and now, standing on the edge of something neither of them were prepared for.

Draco handed off the snitch to a teammate, brushing past the photographers calling his name. “Where are you going, Malfoy?” one of his teammates shouted, but Draco didn’t bother answering.

The trophy could wait. The celebrations could wait. Everything could wait.

By the time she saw him weaving through the crowd, his hair mussed from the game, a bead of sweat tracing his temple, he was already too close to ignore.

“Where’s the trophy, Malfoy?” she asked, her voice teasing and dripping with sarcasm but her eyes betraying the pride she felt.

“Don’t care,” he said simply, his chest still heaving.

“What kind of star player skips the celebration?” she quipped, but her words faltered as his hands found her waist. In one swift movement, he pulled her over to him, his fingers curling into the soft fabric of her coat.

“The kind who’s got better things to do,” he murmured, his voice low.

Her witty comeback dissolved as his lips crashed into hers, the kiss hard and desperate, as if he’d waited his whole life for this moment. The stadium, the cameras, the spectators—all of it faded into the background. It was just them, wrapped in the kind of alchemy that couldn’t be planned or controlled.

She tasted like red wine, and Draco thought, for once, he might actually have won something worth keeping.

When they finally broke apart, Y/N’s breath caught in her throat as she saw his gray eyes. “You’re insane, Malfoy,” she whispered, her fingers still gripping the front of his jersey.

“Maybe,” he replied, brushing his forehead against hers. “But I’m yours.”

As the crowd chanted his name and his teammates hoisted the trophy, Draco stayed rooted in that moment with her, knowing that whatever happened next, nothing could compare to the magic of Y/N Weasley in his arms, grinning at him.

He looked at her for a long moment, and then, in a move that surprised her, he leaned in, brushing his lips lightly against her cheek in a far more intimate gesture than anything he had done before.

“Thank you, Y/N.” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion she hadn’t expected. “For being here. For seeing me.”

Y/N stood there, her heart racing as she tried to process the shift in their relationship. She hadn’t just witnessed his victory. She had seen him, indeed seen him—for the first time. And now, everything was different.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

On my final conversation with star-seeker Draco Malfoy, there I stood, on the sides of the Quidditch pitch, asking him “Where’s the trophy, Malfoy?”

But guess what? He just comes running over to me.

signed,

Y/N Weasley | Senior Editor at The Alchemy

#draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy au #draco malfoy imagines #draco malfoy #draco lucius malfoy #harry potter au #harry potter imagines #loving-daisy works #weasley reader #post war hogwarts #post war #quidditch #seeker malfoy

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frenziedfireworks · 2 years ago

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Bad Decisions

Draco Malfoy x Reader

Summary : You get a bit tipsy and seek out the company of the infamous fuckboy, Draco Malfoy.

CW : SMUT, 18+ Characters, Praise/Degrading kink, spitting in mouth, creampie/breeding kink, a few slaps, drunk!draco & reader, it's smut with a tiny bit of plot LMFAO, typical draco ego as well

masterlist

The lights blared as you chugged another drink. Your face felt hot and your blurry vision skimmed the crowd for white hair. You knew it was wrong and yet you had still came in hopes of seducing him. You knew his reputation and yet you really could care less.

Your eyes landed upon the infamous Slytherin and you practically drooled. His suit clung to his form and his grin made your heart flutter. He had to be yours tonight and you would stop at nothing to make that come true. Your feet walked over to him before your mind could even process.

“Draco..” You whispered and his cool eyes met yours. His friends seemed to have an amused smile as they pushed him away and continued the conversation by themselves.

“Y/N, I didn’t take you for a party-goer.” Draco’s speech slurred and you just shrugged. “Maybe I had a reason.” Draco’s eyebrow raised at the comment and his fingers came to trace your arm.

“Care to enlighten me?” His face was desperately close to yours now and you could smell the fire whiskey.

“How about I show you instead?” You gripped at his wrist and leaned in for a kiss. Draco was quick to respond, his hands yanking at your waist and the other trailing the bottom of your shirt.

“You know I won’t be able to stop.” His grunts filled your ears as you grinded up against his erection. Your hips were sure to be bruised tomorrow with the pressure of his grip.

“Then don’t stop.” You whispered and Draco all but groaned. He pulled you along through the crowd and out of the party. Before you knew it you were being thrown against his dorm bed.

You watched in awe as he whipped the door locked and slowly took off his shirt. His eyes never left yours as his hand messed with the zipper of his pants and he smirked.

“Tell me what you want.” You all but moaned as his trousers hit the floor and your mind fluttered with even more sinful thoughts. “I don’t have all day princess. Use your words.” Draco’s hand trailer across the bottom of your leg and you bit your lip. This is what you wanted after all.

“You.”

Your simple words seemed to work because Draco was everywhere at once. His lips trailed down your neck as he frantically rid you of your clothes. Your hands gripped at his hair as his tongue circled your pert nipples and he smirked.

“You like that? You want more?” He bit at the flesh of your breasts as his fingers traced the hem of your panties. You were well aware of the wet spot growing and how bad you needed him in you. You bucked your hips into him and pleas started to leave your mouth.

“Draco.. Draco please. I need you so bad.” Your hands clawed at his boxers and he all but shook his head.

“So desperate. I knew you’d come to me sooner or later.” Usually his egotistical comments would rub you the wrong way but you couldn’t even care in the moment. The only thing your fuzzy brain could think about was getting railed by the man on top of you.

“J-just fuck me!” You rasped and his chuckles filled the air. He didn’t need to say anything because he actions spoke louder than any words. You felt your panties being ripped off you and watched as his cock slapped against his stomach. His eyes devoured your nude form before leaning closer. His shaft rubbed through your folds and your head flew back. You couldn’t take his teasing.

“Dray-“

“Be quiet before I shove my cock down your throat.” Draco’s hand slapped at your thigh and his tip prodded into your entrance. You felt your eyes widen as he pushed fully in, bottoming out in a delicious fashion. Your walls clenched and Draco moaned.

“Keep that up and I won’t last five minutes.” His voice was hoarse as he slowly began to pull in and out. Your body jolted as his pace got more rough and desperate and you felt any thoughts you had slipping away.

“Fuckkk.. Take it. Take it like a good girl. Knew you’d love my cock.” Draco’s hand gripped at your jaw, opening your mouth. You watched as he spat and forcibly closed your lips. “Swallow.” You did as he said, moaning as he slapped your hip and smirked. “Good fucking whore.”

You felt the string in your stomach get tighter and tighter with each thrust. Draco’s pace became more sloppy and you knew both of you were on the verge.

“Fuck darling. C-can I cum in you?” Draco all but whispered as he chased his own high. You nodded quickly and clung to his body as his fingers rubbed at your sensitive nub. “F-fuck. I’m cumming. Take it..” Draco’s pace faltered and you felt his warm ropes of white fill you, your body finally reaching its euphoria.

Your body relaxed against the bed and you turned to get comfortable in the sheets. Draco slid in next to you and pulled the curtains around the bed for your privacy.

“Thanks darling. We should do that more often.” Draco’s voice cut through the silence. You rolled your eyes as you yawned. Tonight was not your best decision but you weren’t exactly denying the thought of another round.

“I’ll think about it Malfoy.”

“I’m sure you will.”

#draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy imagines #draco malfoy smut #draco malfoy x reader smut #draco malfoy x you smut #harry potter imagine #harry potter imagines

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rottenherbs · 5 days ago

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Dreamweaver

Paring: D.M x TimeJump! Reader Tags: Time Split // Slow Burn // Angst Summary: Draco Malfoy begins dreaming of a girl he’s never seen before. At first, it’s fleeting. Then it becomes constant. He’s never spoken to her in real life—or seen her for that matter — he’s sure of it. So why does she feel more real than anything else? W/C: 3.2k A/N: I kinda wanted to do a spin on reality jumps // shifting ! Reader is briefly labeled ravenclaw but can be any house! Very very brief [masterlist] Much Love, Saige

Draco Malfoy wasn’t one to believe in signs or fate or anything half as ridiculous as prophetic dreams. That sort of thing was reserved for mad Divination students with cloudy eyes and steaming teacups.

But that didn’t explain you.

It started with a whisper. Not even words—just the shape of someone else’s breath in a place he was sure he had never been: a high, round tower where the moonlight streamed in like spilled milk. There was always wind. Cold and rushing. And a figure standing near the window, her back turned.

You.

In the first dream, you didn’t look at him. Just stood there with your hands behind your back, hair lifting in the wind.

In the second, you glanced over your shoulder. Brief. A flicker of curiosity—or maybe recognition.

By the third, he remembered your eyes when he woke.

———-

“Malfoy, you look like hell.”

Draco didn’t answer. He didn’t feel like hell. He felt… tired, yes. But also aware. Like he was finally paying attention to something that had been happening under his nose for years. Every morning he woke up searching for your face in the hallways, on the grounds, across the Great Hall—but you weren’t there.

You weren’t anywhere.

And yet, at night: there you were.

Always in the same place. Always a little closer.

Sometimes you spoke, but the words were muffled—like they were underwater or in a language he’d forgotten in a past life. Sometimes you laughed, and it haunted him all the next day.

————

It was a Friday night when things changed.

The dream was sharper, deeper. Draco felt the chill of the tower stone through his shoes. The wind tugged at his robes. This time, when you looked at him, your mouth moved.

“Do you remember me yet?”

He jolted awake in bed, breathing hard. The name—your name—was on the tip of his tongue. He swore it had started with a hum.

But no girl at Hogwarts had that name. He checked, or so he thought.

———

Weeks passed. He started falling asleep during lessons, sketching your face in the margins of his Transfiguration notes. You were becoming more familiar to him than people he saw every day.

Until one afternoon, halfway through winter term, he saw you.

Not in a dream.

In the hallway outside the library, wearing Ravenclaw blue and hugging a stack of books to your chest. You passed him without so much as a glance.

Draco stopped in his tracks.

That was you.

His heart thundered. He turned. “Hey—”

You paused, brows furrowed like you felt something strange, like déjà vu clawing at your throat.

But then someone called your name. Not Y—but something else entirely.

You looked away.

And the moment was gone.

———

Draco told himself it had to be a mistake.

A trick of the mind. Some pretty girl with a similar posture or the same hair from behind. He was sleep-deprived, stressed. That’s all.

But then it happened again.

Three days later, on the way to Potions, he saw you.

Not standing still this time. Moving. Turning a corner just ahead.

Your robe trailing behind you, your hair catching the light the same way it always did in his dreams.

He froze, chest tightening. His fingers curled around the strap of his bag like it was the only thing anchoring him to the present moment.

It couldn’t be you. You were just a dream. A memory that didn’t belong to him.

And yet—

Your head turned slightly before you disappeared around the bend.

And in that moment, he knew.

————

That night, the dream was sharp enough to draw blood.

You were crying. For the first time. Silent tears running down your cheeks as you sat on the floor of that same familiar tower, knees drawn to your chest.

Draco didn’t know what to do. He stepped toward you, hands slightly outstretched, heart pounding in his chest like it wanted to crack his ribs.

“Why do I remember you?” he whispered.

Your tear-soaked eyes met his.

“Because I’ve always been here.”

He woke up with his jaw clenched and his heart splitting wide open. He was furious.

At himself. At the dreams. At you—for existing like this. For taking up space in his mind when you barely even looked at him in the real world.

What kind of magic was this?

Was he cursed? Enchanted? Going mad?

Or worse… was this something real?

————

The next afternoon, he saw you again.

This time, there were no crowds, no teachers, no noise. Just you—standing at the bottom of the staircase near the greenhouses, reading something scrawled on parchment with a thoughtful crease in your brow.

He could’ve walked away.

He should’ve walked away.

But something tugged at him—an invisible thread woven through dream after dream.

He stepped forward.

One.

Two.

Three—

Your head lifted at the sound of approaching footsteps.

Your eyes met.

And Draco’s mouth parted slightly, breath caught in his throat.

It was you.

There was no denying it. No trick of the light. No imagined face.

Just you.

Real. And looking at him like… like you recognized him, too.

But before he could speak—before he could ask anything—you turned, brows furrowed, and quickly slipped around the corner.

Gone again.

———

He didn’t hesitate this time.

Draco followed you around the corner, quick and silent, like something in him had been waiting for this exact moment. His pulse beat in his ears, but he barely noticed.

You were already halfway down the next hallway, your robes catching the breeze as you walked briskly, as if sensing him behind you.

“Wait,” he said, voice low and urgent.

You didn’t.

“Hey—” louder now, echoing off the stone, his tone sharper, more commanding. “Stop.”

You froze.

Slowly—cautiously—you turned.

And there it was again. That flicker in your eyes. Recognition. Not the surface kind, not polite or passing. Something deeper. Something old.

Draco stared at you like you might disappear again if he blinked. His chest rose and fell with restrained emotion he couldn’t name.

“You…” he said, almost to himself. “You’re real.”

Your brows pulled together. “I—I’m sorry?”

“I’ve seen you before,” he said quickly, taking a step closer. “Not here. Not like this. In dreams. For weeks.”

You opened your mouth, but no words came out. Because you’d seen him, too. At first, only faintly—a figure watching you from the shadows of the same tower over and over. Then closer. Then speaking.

But you hadn’t told anyone.

“How do you know that?” you asked, voice hushed.

His eyes locked with yours, grey and stormy and entirely serious. “Because you’ve been in mine. Every night.”

Silence.

The hallway seemed to narrow, air thick between you.

Draco swallowed hard, trying to push the surreal weight of it off his shoulders. “You asked me if I remembered you.”

Your lips parted in shock. “I said that… in the dream.”

“And I didn’t,” he admitted. “But I think I’m starting to.”

You stepped back slightly, like it was too much—too sudden, too strange.

But Draco didn’t move.

“Tell me I’m not losing my mind,” he said. “Tell me you’ve seen it too. The tower. The wind. Me.”

You hesitated. Then: “Yes.”

A pause. The sound of your heart between your ears. The look in his eyes was no longer cruel or distant or sharp-edged like everyone said he was. It was… haunted. Raw.

“Why us?” you asked quietly. “Why now?”

Draco shook his head. “I don’t know. But I’m not going to let you walk away again.”

Just as his hand reached out to yours, the room snapped, both of you surprised by the noise falling to your feet.

Looking up was surreal. Neither of you could see the other. Lost in time, lost in the moment, afraid that the other ran in fear.

———

In a daze, you shifted your legs and sat against the wall, trying your best to remember what just happened. You crammed your hands against your ears and focused - replaying the event.

You could hear him behind you—the deliberate footfalls, the familiar voice calling out. You told yourself to keep walking. That it couldn’t be what you thought.

But when he said “ wait ,”

your body obeyed before your mind caught up.

And when you turned… you saw him.

The boy from your dreams.

Every detail was perfect. The silver-blonde hair. The sharp cut of his cheekbones. The storm behind his eyes. His presence had always felt distant, ghostlike—even when you stood inches apart in dreams. But now, he was real. Solid. Unmistakably him.

And he was looking at you like you were a secret he’d been trying to remember for months.

“You’re real,” he said, like a confession.

You couldn’t breathe.

“I’ve seen you before,” he continued, stepping closer. “Not here. Not like this. In dreams. For weeks.”

Your heart stuttered in your chest.

Because you’d seen him too.

It felt painful to remember, like the moment was being slipped from your grasp.

You thought you were imagining it—that your mind had attached itself to the image of someone you’d never spoken to. Someone cold, untouchable. Someone dangerous. You thought maybe your subconscious had picked him out of some dark corner of the castle and spun him into something else.

And you couldn't wait to sleep again just to have the chance to see him.

———

He met you in the Astronomy Tower.

You don’t remember how you got there. One moment, you were curled in your bed, reading by candlelight. The next—wind in your hair, the scent of night blooming flowers from the greenhouses below, and him.

Draco.

He was already waiting, hands shoved into the pockets of his robe, eyes fixed on the stars as if they might give him answers he hadn’t yet dared to ask.

When he turned to you, something shifted.

“I was afraid you wouldn’t come tonight,” he said.

“I didn’t mean to,” you admitted. “I didn’t think i fell asleep.”

That caught his attention. He stepped forward, studying you closely. “So this is… what? A dream inside a dream?”

You shook your head, heart pounding. “It feels real.”

He nodded slowly, jaw tightening like he was trying to hold something back. “It is. I know it is.”

You stood side by side at the railing, both of you silent for a moment, watching the stars. Something about this night felt heavier than before. Like the air itself was charged.

Then he said, almost carefully, “What year is it for you?”

You blinked. “What?”

He glanced at you. “I mean… at school. What year are you in?”

You opened your mouth, but something cold twisted in your gut.

“Seventh,” you said. “But it’s… it’s 2001.”

His brows furrowed. “No, it’s not.”

You turned to him, confused. “What do you mean?”

“It’s 1995,” he said. “October.”

The wind seemed to still around you.

You stared at him, waiting for the joke—but there was no flicker of mischief in his eyes. Only seriousness. Confusion. Realization dawning like a slow sunrise.

“That’s not possible,” you whispered.

“It has to be.” His voice was barely audible. “That’s why I couldn’t find you. That’s why no one’s ever seen you. Because you’re not here. Not really.”

Your knees weakened slightly, and you braced yourself against the stone ledge. Time—it wasn’t just that your dreams had brought you to him, but that they had brought you through something. Some tear in magic. Some forgotten spell or cursed stitch between realities.

You weren’t just slipping into dreams.

You were slipping through time.

“We only meet when we dream,” you said slowly. “When the veil is thin.”

Draco swallowed, his expression tight with something that looked like pain. “And it’s not going to last, is it?”

You didn’t answer.

Because the wind changed. The sky rippled. You felt it—like something pulling at your ribs, at your spine, tugging you backward through invisible thread.

“No,” you gasped, stepping away from him. “Not yet—”

He reached out without thinking. His hand met yours—and for one moment, it was solid. Real. Warm.

“Wait—” he said.

But your fingers were already fading. Your breath caught.

“I don’t want to go,” you whispered.

His jaw clenched, and he pulled your hand tighter against his chest.

“I’ll find a way,” he said fiercely. “I swear to you, I’ll find a way to bring you back.”

And then—

Darkness.

The wind. The stars. The tower.

Gone.

And you were alone in your bed again. The candle flickered. The night was silent.

But your hand still felt warm. Like he had held on. Like maybe—just maybe—

he still was.

———-

The next night, you dreamed of nothing.

No tower. No wind. No Draco.

You woke with the ache of absence like bruises beneath your ribs.

Every part of you wanted to close your eyes again, to chase him through the darkness until your lungs burned from trying. But the dream wouldn’t come.

And you couldn’t keep waiting.

You sat upright in bed, heart pounding with sudden clarity. There had to be a way to reach him.

If the dreams weren’t strong enough—if time was growing more stubborn—you’d try something real. Something rooted in the waking world.

You slipped quietly from your dorm, ignoring the sharp chill of the castle floor under your feet, and made your way to the library. Madam Pince would’ve had a fit if she saw you barefoot and sleep-rumpled in the Restricted Section, but you didn’t care.

You found it in a dusty, thin book wedged behind volumes on theoretical arithmancy—Temporal Echoes: Magic that Lingers Through Time.

Most of it was academic nonsense. Theory and speculation and spells long lost. But in the margins of the final page, written in ink that was faded but strangely warm under your fingertips, was a note:

“What is written with intention may be heard across years—if the soul listening knows the sound of the voice.”

You stared at the words, heart thundering.

It wasn’t much. But it was something.

So you wrote.

You borrowed an old quill and a piece of parchment, and returned to the Astronomy Tower—this time in your world, your year, empty and wind-swept and eerily still.

You sat where he always stood.

And you wrote.

Draco, I don’t know if this will reach you. I don’t know if you’ll ever see it. But I miss you. Not just in the way you miss something you’ve lost— but in the way your chest feels empty when you remember what it was like to be seen. You said you’d find a way. I believe you. I’ll be waiting. —Y/N

You folded the note and wedged it between the stones of the ledge where he used to lean, whispering a soft enchantment to hold it there, invisible to all but the one it was meant for.

Then you pressed your palm flat to the cold stone, closed your eyes, and whispered his name.

And far, far away in a different year, a boy sat alone in the same tower—eyes closed, breathing shallow—when he felt something tug at his chest.

He opened his eyes.

And saw the faintest shimmer between the stones.

His name.

Your handwriting.

Your voice in his head.

“I hear you,” he whispered.

———

He hadn’t meant to return to the Astronomy Tower again.

But he couldn’t help it.

It was the only place where your presence still felt close. The only place where the line between dream and reality blurred just enough for him to breathe like you might appear beside him.

The wind was sharp tonight. The sky, cloudless. And Draco was cold in a way that had nothing to do with the October air.

He leaned against the stone ledge—your ledge—and closed his eyes. He didn’t say your name aloud this time. He didn’t have to. It was already in his head, wrapped around his thoughts like ivy.

Y/N.

He could still feel your hand fading in his. He could still hear your voice, the way you’d whispered “I don’t want to go”.

Neither did he.

Something shifted.

He felt it—not with his body, but with something deeper. Like a memory slipping into place.

He looked down.

The stone beneath his hand was warm. The faintest shimmer danced across it like starlight on water. And then—there it was. Folded parchment. Familiar handwriting.

Your handwriting.

He stared at it as if it might vanish.

Carefully, he pulled it free.

The moment he touched it, your voice filled his mind. Soft, aching, real.

Draco,

I don’t know if this will reach you…

He read it once. Then again. And again. Every word etched itself into him like runes carved into bone.

By the end, his chest ached.

You believed in him.

Even when the world, the years, the laws of time itself stood between you—you believed.

His fingers curled around the letter. He pressed it to his chest and closed his eyes.

He didn’t cry. He couldn’t. But something in him cracked open, and all he could think was:

I need to see her again.

No more waiting. No more dreaming blindly into the dark.

He left the tower with your letter burning in his pocket, the echo of your words carrying him down every corridor. He needed a spell. A theory. A breach. Something reckless. Something powerful enough to tear open time itself.

The castle shifted around him. Walls groaned. Candles flickered. The very air seemed to lean in.

And far away—in another year—you felt it.

The magic.

The moment he decided not to wait anymore.

———-

You weren’t asleep.

You weren’t awake, either.

It was like slipping beneath a tide you didn’t see coming—soft and slow at first, then sudden, crashing, whole. The air around you changed. The candlelight in your dorm flickered and turned to moonlight. And when you turned your head—

He was there.

Draco.

Just across the corridor, shadowed by the edge of a stone archway. The world between you shimmered like heat off pavement—warped and silvery. His eyes found yours instantly.

You didn’t speak. You couldn’t. Neither of you moved.

But every part of you ached with knowing. Like you had lived lifetimes beside him, and forgotten every one until now. Like your soul sighed at the sight of him—finally.

His expression was unreadable at first, carved in half-light, brows furrowed like he didn’t believe it was real. Then something cracked through the disbelief, and you saw it:

Recognition. Longing. Relief.

He took one step forward.

And so did you.

But time is cruel.

The air between you quivered. You could feel it happening—the magic unraveling, the thread between you fraying under the weight of too many impossible hopes.

“No,” you whispered, reaching for him. “Not yet—”

Draco’s mouth moved, silent through the shimmer. You couldn’t hear the words. But you knew what he said.

You always knew.

“Don’t go.”

Your fingers stretched toward him.

His hand reached back, fingertips nearly grazing yours.

And then—

gone.

Just like that.

Your knees hit the floor. Cold stone. Quiet.

Tears stung, hot and helpless. Not from fear. Not even from grief. But from the cruel, beautiful truth of it:

You had found each other.

You were real.

You loved him—and you didn’t even know when it started.

And somewhere in a different year, a boy stood breathless in the dark, clutching at air that once held your warmth. Heart pounding. Eyes burning.

Both of you, whispering the same question into the silence:

What are we to each other?

And the world, soft and old and watching, whispered back:

Everything.

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malfoy-mrsdracomalfoy · 9 days ago

Text

Race You To The Top!

Pairing: Bestfriend!Draco Malfoy x Fem!Ravenclaw!Reader

House: Ravenclaw

Warnings: Some cussing

Word Count: 4425

Summary: Draco and reader are just friends... right?

Author's Note: This is part one of three.

PART TWO PART THREE

PART ONE

Reader's Point Of View:

Draco walks into my dorm unannounced, greeting me with the nickname I hate.

"Hey, lovebug." I roll my eyes and pretend to gag myself.

"Do me a favor and never call me that again. It's cringe." He flops down on my bed, grinning widely. I look at him silently for a few moments before deciding he's too cute to be annoyed at. Seeing my resignation, he gives me a wink, tucking his hands behind his head and leaning against the headboard. He knows he's my soft spot.

"What brings you to my neck of the woods? And take your shoes off. Why are they on my bed?" I ask, incredulous, before heading into the bathroom. Once I grab my curling iron, I turn to face the mirror. He laughs sheepishly, sliding off his shoes before laying up against the headboard again.

"Do I need to have a reason to pay you a visit?" His tone is playful, but there's something almost... soft in his eyes. "Anyway, Hermione sent me to check on you." I wrap a strand of hair around the barrel while looking at his reflection.

"She did?" I ask, surprised. "That's unusual." He chuckles, putting a pillow beneath his head.

"Yeah, apparently she thought I'd be less intrusive than her showing up announced." His gaze follows my hair curling. "Why are you doing your hair?" He asks, clearly deflecting. He's lying, I know it. That does not sound like Hermione at all. He came to see me because he wanted to, and is making up an excuse to avoid looking overly-attached. I give him a prolong look, wondering if I should humor him or call him out. I decide on the former.

"I guess so. You do show up unannounced far more often than she does." I tease, dropping the curl and wrapping another strand. "And I just felt like doing my hair today. Jealous? It must be because your hair looks like a bird's nest." I jest. He rolls his eyes, but I spy a small smirk playing on the corner of his lips.

"Terribly funny." He says sarcastically before running a hand through his hair, trying to smooth it down. "I just think it's... different." He looks at me, and I witness an internal struggle before he asks, "Are you headed to see some bloke?" with an air of indifference.

"I know, I don't do it often. I'm just so perfect without all the extra effort." I joke. He stares at me, eyebrows slightly furrowed.

"Right..." He says, trailing off. "Merlin forbid you put in "effort". As if you're not perfect even without any." He says, catching himself with a grimace, but it's too late. I already heard it.

"Dragon." I coo, looking over my shoulder at him. "That was so sweet." He rolls his eyes, feigning nonchalance.

"Don't let it get to your head." He says, sitting quiet a moment before deciding something. "You didn't answer my question." He declares, firmer now. I raise a curious eyebrow, wondering why he's pressing the issue.

"No, I am not getting ready just to go see some guy." I say slowly, reassuring him. His face smooths out in relief immediately. How peculiar. A genuine smile crosses his face and he lets out a sigh, getting comfortable in my silk sheets as per usual while he watches me in the mirror.

"You know what I was thinking?" I say, eyes meeting his in the mirror. He raises an eyebrow, intrigued.

"What were you thinking, oh great and flawless one?" He teases, but his tone is light and playful.

"We should do something different. Spice it up one day by not following a routine." I start, knowing we are both type A people. "Does that sound... fun?" I ask, hopeful but preparing for a resounding no.

To my great surprise, his eyes light up with interest and he sits up on the bed, suddenly more alert. "Not follow a schedule?" He grins mischievously, already seeming to enjoy the idea. "Do something spontaneous for once?" He asks, after some thought- hesitating momentarily like a true type A would at this idea. If his thought process is anything like mine right now, he's probably already planning how to be spontaneous. The irony is not lost on me, and I want to break out of that mold- just for a day.

"That's exactly what I mean! How does that sound? Terrifying?" I ask, giggling slightly and bouncing on my heels. He grins wider, standing up and walking over to me- his eyes sparkling with excitement.

"Terrifying, yes. But bloody brilliant." He says, his voice low yet enthusiastic. "Let's do it. No routine, no plans. Just... whatever happens, happens..." He trails off- an underlying tone present but not obvious. What's on his mind?

I finish my hair and twirl towards him, squealing in delight. I take the few steps that exist in the space between us and wrap my arms around his shoulders, my small bounce now becoming more contained so I can hug him without bouncing him up and down with me.

"What if we start off by going flying? You, me, our brooms?" I say against his chest, still wrapping him in my arms. Draco and I aren't the affectionate type, so I'm taking advantage of this small moment where he's tolerating it from me. He catches me in a tight hug, a genuine, carefree laugh escaping him. "Fuck yes." He says, grinning down at me, his earlier nonchalance forgotten to reveal genuine enthusiasm.

"Shall we have our spontaneous day... today?" I pull back slightly to look up at him, tilting my head to the left- eyes wide and hopeful. His eyes slightly widen and his eyebrows shoot up for a second before he covers it with a laugh, his arms still wrapped around me.

"Today it is, lovebug. Let's not waste another bloody minute." He pulls back slightly, his eyes meeting mine sincerely. "Give me five minutes to grab my broom and we'll meet at the Quidditch pitch." I ignore the stupid nickname and kiss his cheek in excitement.

"Go, quickly! We're burning daylight." I spin out of his arms and head towards my wardrobe. "Lose the slacks and button-down and wear some comfortable clothes! Who knows where today will take us." I call over my shoulder, already planning an outfit in my head. He chuckles and stands there a few moments, watching me flit around the wardrobe, collecting various pieces of my outfit.

"Right. Comfortable clothes it is." He turns and heads out. "See you at the pitch!" He calls over his shoulder, already down the hallway- easily covering the distance with his long legs.

I change into my favorite casual chic outfit, pulling my freshly curled hair half up and adding a claw clip. Taking a moment to appraise my outfit in the mirror- I catch myself feeling hesitant. 'What if he doesn't like it? Will he think I look cute?' I think to myself before I could stop it.

"Why should I care?" I say out loud, forcing some laughter out and shrugging while looking at myself in the mirror. "It's only Draco, after all." I find myself nervously pacing the bathroom a few moments, gathering my thoughts. Once I feel in my right mind again, I spray my favorite perfume on all my pulse points- wanting to smell good if Draco gets close to me.

I halt. 'Why am I thinking like this?' I wonder to myself, knowing I need to pull it together. I take those thoughts and shove them aside and with a deep breath, I head out- looking forward to my day with Draco.

When I approach the pitch carrying my broom, I spy Draco looking at his own broom intently, as if contemplating something on it. When he hears me approach, he looks up and his eyes widen as he takes in my appearance, and he swallows hard. He temporarily looks... flustered? It's probably nothing. I'm imagining things.

"You like it? Not like my usual attire, hm? I can be versatile!" I joke, wanting to alleviate the tension of this moment with laughter. "Ready then?" He swallows hard once more before schooling his features to his usual playful demeanor he saves just for me.

"You can wear a bloody potato sack and still look good. Yes, I'm ready."

"Race you! 1, 2, 3- GO!" I say, mounting my broom and flying off without giving him a chance to comprehend what I said. I hear him laugh in surprise, quickly mounting his own broom and taking off after me. He catches up easily, matching my speed as I fly through the open sky.

"You cheated you little-!" He starts, only to be cut off as I suddenly dive toward the ground. I cheer as I descend, laughing and waiting until the last second to pull up my broom and launch myself back up to the sky. He follows my sudden dive, our hearts racing with adrenaline. He copies me, and pulls up at the last possible second.

He laughs loudly, the sound echoing through the air as we fly in and out of clouds- getting damp in the process but not caring at all. "Show off!" He calls to me, chasing after me as I perform risky loops. He follows suit, keeping up better than I thought he would be able to. I hover for a moment, keeping my eyes trained on him, impressed and amused. "Now who's showing off?" I call to him playfully.

He laughs as he does several tricks I'm sure he learned in Quidditch. Once he notices my eyes are following his every move, he deliberately speeds up, attempting a daring aerial roll to show me exactly how skilled he is on a broom. "I'm just matching your absolutely mental piloting." He says, voice erratic as he rolls.

"People better stay out of the skies today, or they'll be in our way!" I say, wind carrying the laughter in my voice as I fly up and do a reverse roll. I hear him laugh, a genuine sound of joy. He mirrors my reverse roll effortlessly, his broom handling the maneuver with precision. "Today is our day to own the skies!" He says, grin fully in place and voice filled with exhilaration. I laugh and watch him with admiration.

"Our day." I repeat, giving him a warm smile. His grin softens to an affectionate smile as he catches my expression. For a moment, we forget we're flying at dangerous speeds and performing risky maneuvers. It's just us- two best friends sharing a special moment.

"Ours." He repeats one more, voice affectionate as we hover facing each other, the tops of our brooms nearly touching. After a charged moment, I give him a meaningful smile and launch off once more, doing an elaborate loop-de-loop to distract myself from the feelings bubbling in my chest.

I feel his eyes on me as the sun catches my face and when I look towards him, I'm stopped dead in my tracks with the look he's giving me. He's never looked at me so intensely. It makes my heart race and breath catch in my throat. Feeling stunned, I stop flying and sit there on my stilled broom, hovering. He hasn't moved from his position where our brooms were nearly touching only minutes ago. For a moment, we're frozen- eyes locked and wearing matching expressions. It's clear these looks aren't platonic.

I watch the breeze ruffle through his platinum locks, his hair glowing like an angel's halo. His eyes are so pale blue, they're nearly indistinguishable with the sky around us. The clouds rival the whites of his eyes and teeth. The sun shines on his face and his skin glows ethereally. He's so beautiful it physically hurts. Unable to look away, my eyes stay glued to him- wide and adoring. I feel myself trying to take in his every feature, to bottle this moment in my mind. Without realizing it, we've both hovered towards each other.

Two best friends floating among the fluffy clouds, the pleasantly warm sun catching our silhouettes, bathing us in flattering lights- our features artfully glowing and enhancing both our appearances, and seeming to heighten our feelings for one another.

The breeze caresses our hair and strokes our skin as we lean towards each other- eyes glued on one another- entranced. The magnet pull drags me in and I see Draco has fallen victim to it, as well. Within seconds, our lips have found each other. He's kissing me. My best friend, Draco Malfoy is kissing me right now. I have to will myself to take this moment as is, remind myself to just enjoy it while we're present in it. For a few moments, we lose ourselves in the sensations of one another. All I feel is the softness of his lips and face, and the gentle tickling of my hair and his getting slightly intertwined as the breeze envelops us. I hear his heart pounding, and I'm sure he can hear mine, too. His quiet breaths mingle with mine as we gently express how we feel about one another.

This moment feels perfect. Too perfect. I halt, pulling myself out of a reverie. He seems to sense the shift and gently pulls away, but he keeps his eyes on me. For a few moments, we stare at each other. Faces filled with unspoken thoughts and unexpressed emotions. We don't know where to go with this. The risk is high, but the reward can be, too.

He breaks the moment this time, following the loop I completed prior to this moment, his face deep in thought. I think he's just taking a breather, and I decide to follow his lead.

We fly separately for a few minutes, both unsure how to break the charged silence that's now befallen us. We meet each other's eyes after a little while- finally brave enough to risk it- and somehow something has shifted again. We're both unwilling to think on this further- and have silently agreed to make the most of our day. This isn't exactly a discussion to be had hundreds of feet in the air.

"Race you to the top!" I say as I point at the mountain's peak about a mile ahead of us, finally breaking the silence.

"You're on!" He shouts, pushing his broom to speed up as he races me towards the mountain's peak. His competitive nature takes over, but he keeps his lopsided grin on his face. Flying together... it's one of the best feelings in the world. I wink at him and fly past him, body leaning forward as I dart off- quick as lightening.

His eyes widen in surprise and amusement as I zip past him like a shooting star. He lets out an incredulous laugh, immediately pushing his broom faster to catch up. "Cheater!" He calls out, his voice carrying on the wind and echoing on the mountains as we fly through the middle of them.

"Those are fighting words!" I call to him, thankful we're back to our playful selves. He grins fiercely, gaining on me rapidly.

"And I accept the challenge!" He calls back, performing a sudden sharp turn to cut me off. The mountain peak looms closer, and it's clear he's determined to win this race. "See you on the other side!" He mocks, laughing as he pulls ahead. I raise an eyebrow and drop a couple of feet. He turns to see where I'm at but has fully lost sight of me because I'm flying beneath him in the shadows.

He looks confused, head facing forward to watch where he's going but flicking back to see if he spots me anywhere. He glances up, thinking I'm above him. I raise my broom, exiting the shadows and flying directly in front of him- taking the lead once more.

He lets out a surprised laugh, impressed by my maneuver. He shakes his head, trying to keep up with me as I take the lead- again. "Bloody hell, woman. Where did you learn to fly like that?" He calls out playfully, pushing his broom to match my speed.

"Maybe it's just a gift?" I look over my shoulder at him, hair whipping behind me as I smirk. So much for the curls I put in them earlier. He smirks back, his competitive nature fueling his determination.

"Or maybe you're just a natural born cheater!" He teases, his broom inching closer to mine as we race through the final stretch up the side of the tallest mountain. "But I won't lose to you that easily."

"Oh yes you will." I lean forward, determined to win. I sense his competitive spirit flaring, watching as his jaw clenches in determination.

"In your dreams." He scoffs.

"Dreams can become a reality if you work for it!" I say as I speed up, mere feet from our finish line. He pushes his broom to its absolute limit, his face contorted with effort and determination. He's right beside me, our brooms passing each other inch by inch as our race stays tied. We're evenly matched.

I take moment to look at him, and when he catches my eye, I send him a wink and push forward to victory- successfully beating him to the mountain's peak.

Draco watches in disbelief as I surge forward, beating him by mere inches. He pulls up short, his broom hovering just below the summit as he stares at me in shock. "You actually did it. You actually beat me." He says in disbelief. I fly down to him, stopping next to him as I hover in the air.

"Of course I did." I say, leaning towards him. "Good race anyway." His shock melts into begrudging smile as I lean toward him. He shakes his head, his mouth growing into a genuine grin. "Good race? You hardly gave me a chance!" Despite his words, there's no venom in his tone, only playful accusation. I look at him for a moment, running my hand through his hair.

"You look disheveled." I say softly, suddenly feeling affectionate. He freezes at my touch, his breath catching slightly before he leans into my touch ever so slightly. I give his blonde head a small scratch and he laughs gently, eyes sliding closed for a moment before meeting my gaze again.

"You don't look nearly smug enough for someone who just beat me." He says, eyes soft and trained on mine- still leaning into my scratching hand. I laugh and slide my fingers up through his hair, slowly this time.

"You're entirely too calm for a Slytherin who just lost to a Ravenclaw."

"Maybe I'm not your typical Slytherin." He murmurs softly, reaching for my free hand, once it's securely in his own he says, "I guess not all Ravenclaws are show offs who are bad at flying." I stop sliding my fingers through his hair and instead caress down the side of his neck to his shoulders to adjust his shirt slightly.

"You're right about that." I say softly, watching his eyes flutter closed briefly as my hand makes its decent on his skin. He swallows hard, likely trying to ignore the shiver that I felt run down his spine.

"Is that so?" He murmurs, his voice slightly hoarse. "And here I thought you were just lucky today." I laugh softly, sliding my wandering hand to his shoulder and leaving it there. "Lucky? More like skilled. Admit it." I tease.

"Merlin forbid a Malfoy admitting a Ravenclaw is good at something other than being an insufferable know-it-all." He teases back, no bite to his words. His eyes briefly dart to my hand on his shoulder then back to mine, and I catch a small, sheepish smile cross his face before being replaced with his teasing grin. "Answer me something honest?" He says, voice calm.

"Sure, what is it?" I slowly caress his shoulder with my hand.

"Why did you even bother racing me if you knew you'd win?" His tone is light, genuinely curious. "And don't say it's because you love competing."

"Easy. I didn't know I'd win." I say, smirking and leaning forward to be closer to him. "You're quite the competition." His smirk matches mine, and he leans in himself- enjoying the close proximity.

"I thought you were going to say something like 'I never back down from a challenge.'" He tells me, using his free hand to reach for a small section of hair that's dangling in messy, wind-blown waves against my collarbone.

"Well, that's true too." I admit with a laugh, appreciating the feeling of his fingers twirling around the strands. He can't help but chuckle, shaking his head at my admission.

"Your ego rivals Snapes'. And that's saying something." He jokes, letting his eyes look over my features appreciatively. I gasp in mock shock, dropping his hand and sitting upright on my broom again.

"You wound me." I say, dramatically, taking my hand that was placed on him to instead lay against my forehead, feigning feeling faint. He bursts into laughter.

"I'm sure you'll survive that injury." He teases, tucking the section of hair behind my ear, letting his fingers graze and linger on my skin.

"Of course I can. I'm used to it. My biggest bully also happens to be my best friend." I watch his face soften, turning affectionate for a moment before he clears his throat, trying to play it cool. "Well, someone's got to keep you in line."

"You fancy yourself that person?" I say flirtily. He smirks, dropping the 'cool' facade and showing me his true self again.

"Absolutely. Who else would put up with your competitive arse, your know-it-all brain, and your god-awful taste in music?" He grins, waiting for my reaction.

"That last insult felt personal." I say, laughing.

"It was." He retorts, his laughter joining mine- the sound of our combined joy echoing around the mountains that surround us. "You really do have the worst taste in music."

"You mean best." I say, playfully flicking his shoulder. He rubs the spot dramatically, as if he's hurt gravely.

"In your Ravenclaw dreams." He fires back. We love these moments, where it's just the two of us, joking around like this.

"My dreams are full of victory and you always happen to be the loser in them." I tease.

"Oh? Well in my Slytherin nightmares, you're a bloody awful dancer who trips over her own feet." He says, clearly enjoying this as much as me. He reaches out and playfully taps my nose. "You know what they say about Ravenclaws..." He trails off.

"That our brain is the only thing that rivals our beauty?" I tease. He laughs at my retort, shaking his head.

"You shouldn't be able to keep up with the likes of me so easily." He says, joking. I never take anything he says personally, he means none of his insults.

"No? Well, I just did. What are you going to do about it?"

Draco rolls his eyes dramatically, but his smirk betrays his amusement. He leans in closer, as if whispering a secret.

"Nothing. Arguing with a Ravenclaw is pointless. Especially when they know they're right." He taps my nose again playfully. I smile sweetly at his gesture, taking a moment to look at him.

"You know, this is a good look for you. Maybe better than your well-pressed suits." I tease, looking over his smart casual style. He looks really attractive, so I let my eyes linger to get a thorough look. He laughs, ruffling his hair self-consciously. He's not used to casual attire, and he's become slightly sheepish.

"Shut up." He mutters, his cheeks slightly flushing for a moment. "You look the same in everything... boring Ravenclaw blue..." He says, attempting to deflect by insulting me even though I have no blue on me whatsoever. I throw my head back laughing, not taking his jab personally. "That's because I can pull off anything!" He takes a moment to take in my appearance, the sun has now wrapped us in golden hour. He quickly looks away, trying to maintain his cool facade. 'When did he start pretending around me?' I think to myself. Draco has never been anything other than his authentic self. His voice betrays him when he says, "A Ravenclaw showing off. How predictable."

"You love it. No one else can keep up with you like I can."

"That's true." he mutters softly. He knows I'm the only person that can take his insufferable mood swings, his strategist ways, his crude jokes, his competitiveness, his smart mouth and quick wit. He grins mischievously, seeming to follow my train of thought.

I playfully push my hair off my shoulders and sit up straighter, pretending to be arrogant. "And don't you forget it." He laughs at my false arrogance, eyes following my playful gesture.

"You'd never let me even if I tried." He says, leaning backwards and stretching his legs out. I mirror him for a moment, and watch his profile as his eyes scan the horizon. Golden hour has given us a beautiful glow, bathing us in rich golden hues that wrap around every strand of hair, every finger, every lash. Every time I think he cannot look any better, he stumbles into some more flattering light.

"You know what we should do now?" I say, getting an idea.

"Hmm?" He says, turning his gaze back on me. I stare into his blue eyes for a moment- the silver in his eyes are more pronounced and his eyes look particularly captivating.

"We should have a picnic up here on the mountain's top. We are already up here, after all. What do you say?" I ask, shifting uncomfortably on the broom. I would love a softer surface to sit on, even if it's just for a little bit.

His face breaks into a genuine smile. "A picnic? Here?" He looks around, taking in the breathtaking view. "Truly?" He asks, already getting off his broom and standing up, dusting off his clothes.

"Truly." I say, jumping off my own broom, reaching for his then setting them both against a nearby tree.

I look around at our surroundings- we are completely isolated up here. I turn to Draco to see his mischievous facial expression watching me back.

"We should take advantage of this, right?" He says suggestively, smirking.

I think I know what he has in mind.

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