#draco malfoy is nice

[mimilind]

A Magical Classmate (Complete)

Summary: Regretting his past actions, Draco Malfoy hides incognito at a Swedish muggle university. You are intrigued by the mysterious new student. What is his secret?

– A sweet, short story with a sprinkle of light angst, written because everyone deserves a second chance.

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Muggle Reader (no specified gender)

Links to Full Story:

AO3: A Magical Classmate

Wattpad: A Magical Classmate

Tumblr Links: [ 1. The New Student ] [ 2. Lab Partner and Party Protector ] [ 3. Circle of Friends ] [ 4. The Morning After ] [ 5. Classical Music and Dancing ] [ 6. A Magical Date ] [ 7. Draco the Death Eater ] [ 8. A Wizard and a Muggle ]

Rating: T

Complete Word Count: 21 800

Tags: University setting, Good Draco Malfoy, Post-Second Wizarding War, Post-Canon, Epilogue What Epilogue (EWE), Secret Identity, Draco Malfoy in the Muggle World, Falling In Love, Dating, Kissing, Fluff, Romantic Fluff, Feel-good, Wholesome

Warnings: None

[appleslightning]

do you remember when we were eleven? let’s go back to that. i’ll throw remembralls into the sky and you can try to catch them.

[ohmycuckoo]

Divination Classes

Drarry is inevitable and everyone knows it✨

Consider supporting me on Ko-Fi, pretty pls?

[ageofstarkey]

blood and cuts ✰ m. riddle

summary: matthéo gets into (another) fight, and you’re there to clean him up

pairing: mattheo riddle x reader

warnings: mentions of mild injuries, nothing else rlly?

notes: hi!! this is the tiniest little blurb ever but i’m down horrendous for mattheo n i think it’s cute so i’m posting!! i also spelled his name as matthéo (pronounced ma-tay-o) bc i headcanon him as french lmfaooo - anyways!! enjoy!!

masterlist

✰ ✰ ✰

you look at matthéo with a soft sigh. “again?” his handsome face is spattered with blood and cuts, and there’s a dark bruise forming around his right eye. tentatively, you step forward, taking his face softly in your hands. you roll his head gently from side to side, intently assessing the damage. another sigh. “i wish you’d stop fighting every person who looks at you wrong”

matthéo grins in that devilish way he always does, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss to your lips. he immediately follows it with a soft swipe of his thumb, gathering the small smear of blood he’d left in his wake. “would you believe me if i said he deserved it?”

“they almost never deserve it, théo.”

he shrugs, settling his hands on your hips. “i tend to disagree.” then he’s tugging you swiftly against him, coaxing an involuntary little squeal from your throat. “i honestly think you would’ve swung on the poor git if you’d been there.”

you roll your eyes fondly, sliding your hands around to the back of his neck. “tell me about it while i clean you up, hm?”

matthéo grins at you tenderly, leaning forward to kiss you again. this time, he lingers a little longer, and you can taste his blood on your lips when he pulls away. “deal”

[kk1smet]

“Give me a nice thing,” Harry said that night.

Draco blinked up at him, sleepy and lazy, like a lizard in the warm. “This is the happiest I’ve ever been,” he said.” - Nice Things, aideomai

Here’s a little gift for everyone here ♡ I’d like to think that often, Draco would stop, pause, and think, it’s a sheer wonder that they get to be together like this.

[yourenothingbutnottome]

A Court of Snakes and Vipers (Part 1?)

Mattheo Riddle x F!Potter

Word Count: 2.9k

Summary: At Platform 9 3/4 and the train ride to Hogwarts for the first day of 6th year, Slytherin bashing, friend bashing, tension with family over house and chosen friendships, establishing deep cemented loyalties to the Snake Gang, bestie Draco x OC, Mattheo/OC mutual pining but worried over the implications of the war, 1POV

Notes: AU, Potter parents alive, Harry!twin OC (Livina Rose Potter, NN Rose, Liv, Livvy), Slytherin, characters aged up, Draco in his bestie era, OC has secret power than can change the tide of the war, Snake crew bloodsworn to Rose TOG style; just a little scene that played in my brain while going to sleep one night, idk if anyone other than me will like it, might not continue but I just wanted to write this out for my own sanity bc I couldn't stop thinking about it, not beta read, bad writing, banner from @sweetmelodygraphics

“What did Malfoy say to you on the platform?” Harry interrogates as soon as the door to our compartments reaches its close. 

“Geez, how long were you holding that one in?” I laugh, taking a seat across from Hermione and Ron, leaving Harry’s spot open for him by the window.

“I’m serious, Liv.” He sits, body entirely facing me.

“Okay?” 

“What did he say?” His voice is harsh.

I roll my eyes and chuckle in disbelief at the way he instantly goes into what I call “Savior” mode.

“Nothing important.” I say with a finality, hoping he dismisses the conversation at that. But of course he doesn’t.

He turns so that he’s addressing the three of us. “I think he’s a Deatheater.” Before I can laugh or tell him how ridiculous he’s being, he continues. “I think he’s a Deatheater and I want to know what he said to you.”

I think back to the brief interaction, mere moments ago when we were saying goodbye to our parents for the upcoming term.

My arms are wrapped around my father in a final hug. He kisses the top of my head and pushes me out to an arms length. “Let me get a good look at you before you go,” he jokes. “Yup, two arms, two legs and oh look at that! A head attached to the rest of your body! I expect all of those things to be there when we see you for Christmas.”

“James, enough,” our mother scolds, humor light in her voice. She smooths Harry’s tie for the 100th time.

“What?! I don’t have to worry about Harry! But, you never know with these Slytherins,” he laughs.

“James.” Mom’s voice is edged and leaves no room for argument. 

“Sorry, honey” He lays a hand on my cheek. “You know I tease. Slytherin or not, I love you. You have a good heart, and you know right from wrong.” He affirms, as if these are traits that Slytherins are incapable of having.

“You know Slytherins aren’t monsters …” I say.

“Of course you aren’t. That’s what I was saying, darling.”

“No. You were saying I’m not a monster. Not Slytherins. Like there’s the rest of them, and then there’s me. A wayward Slytherin. Different.”

“Well, you are different.”

I step back. “No .. I’m not.” My voice hardens, as it always does when I’m forced to defend my house, to defend my friends.

“Let’s not do this now,” mom pleads. I’ve been having this argument the entirety of my academic career at Hogwarts, but it’s gotten significantly worse after the events of last year: the confirmation of Voldemort’s return and the murder of our Uncle Sirius. Harry’s vision had led us to the ministry under a ruse and ever since, dad has been extra tense. 

“No, let's.” Harry interjects. “You know who her ‘friends’ are.” He says the word ‘friends’ as if it's coated in poison. 

My mother attempts to lecture the two of them while I tune their voices out. It isn’t anything different than what I’d heard the entire summer. Instead, I look across the way, meeting Draco’s gaze.

His mother drops him off, rushing to evade the eyes of curious onlookers, but lingering to share the last few moments with her son. Lucius is absent, of course, which is why so many are looking. They know about what happened last year; the paper hasn’t stopped running articles on their family, all centered on his father’s stay in Azkaban. 

Draco hushes his mother’s worrying, and though I am not close enough to hear, I am sure he is reassuring her and putting on a strong face for her. His back is to me as he gives her a hug goodbye, whispering something softly to her that causes her eyes to flash and focus on mine. She gives me a tight smile before turning her attention back to her son. He gently grabs his trolley of luggage, steady hands leaving her shaking ones, giving her the opportunity to apparate away. 

His entire body is stiff, rigged with pressure and expectations that no one our age should carry. Eyes back to mine, I can see everything he’s hiding from the rest of the world. I can see beyond the mask, I can see to Draco. His pain. His mourning. His innocence. His fear. His desperation. His courage. I see him. My closest friend, my brother. I see a soldier, one like no other. 

“Livina Rosalie Potter, you listen to me.” My father scolds. “Stop zoning out. You’ve been doing that all summer.”

“Because you’ve been saying the same things and it’s a bunch of hogwash that I don’t care to listen to all summer.” I respond, full rebellion on display.

He flubbers for just a moment, temporarily speechless. “I don’t care what house you’re in. You are a Potter. You are a symbol in this war. You are a weapon. And you are naive to believe they don’t see that.” 

“Who are ‘they’?” I sass, knowing full well who he means.

His face is tense with a quiet rage. “I will pull you out of school if I have to. I have half a mind to ask Dumbledore a personal favor and have you switched to Gryffindor house so that your brother can watch over you because apparently of the two of you, he’s the only one who can use his brain.”

“James!” My mother gasps, shocked.

“No, Lily,” he hisses. “If Liv can’t take care of herself, then someone else will have to do it for her.” He looks to me again. “You aren’t making smart decisions. You’re putting yourself in incredible danger. They aren’t your friends and even if they aren’t active participants yet, they will be soon and they aren’t worth saving. Don’t you ever forget what a threat they pose to you or how dangerous and violent they can be.” 

My entire being vibrates with a rage so fierce that it feels as if I am boiling straight from my very core. My fingers twitch, clenching and unclenching around an object that isn’t there. I can feel that hidden, secret power within me screaming to be unleashed with my anger, begging to be let free, desperate to defend those it perceives to be threatened. 

Just as I open my mouth to release my outrage, fury coiling inside of me, a strong shoulder rams into mine, causing the trolley that the offending arm was pulling to go tumbling. Trunks scatter. An owl screeches as its cage topples to my feet. Ryu. (Pronounced Rue). Draco’s owl. 

“Sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going,” he apologizes, terse and polite. He bends close to where I had fallen, gathering his discarded items. He looks to me as he feigns struggling with one trunk in particular, and speaks so that no other may hear. “Don’t. Control it. You are strong. Stifle it and wait. You hold the fate of the future within you and this is not our time to fight. You fight, we fight. But this is not that fight.” He stands straight, trolley re-packed and stacked neatly. “Sorry, again.” he says loud enough for my family to hear, standing straight and holding his hand out. 

I place my scarred hand into his, using his strength to both pull me to my feet and to ground me in a wave of calm and control.

“See you in class,” he dismisses and continues his walk to the train.

“Ugh, Harry, will you just drop it? Please?”

“Why? So he did say something to you?’ His eyes narrow as he glares at me. “You need to quit hanging out with him. With all of them. I don’t know why you aren’t taking this seriously. You need to listen to dad, and you need to listen to me.”

“Here we go,” Ron huffs, throwing his hands in the air and leaning back into his seat.

“You’re not the boss of me, Harry. Now why don’t you just piss off and leave my friends alone? Why are you like this?”

“Your friends?” he scoffs, unbelieving “They don’t care about anyone but themselves. They’re on the wrong side of this war and you know it! You’re absolutely stupid if you think any different.”

“I’m … stupid?” I question with the eerie calm that got me sorted into Slytherin to begin with. “Stupid because I won’t let my brother, my “Holier-Than-Thou,-Can-Do-No-Wrong” brother tell me who I can and can’t be friends with? I’m stupid ….” my voice rises as I stand in confrontation, “because I’m defending the people I care about? The people who, mind you, you know nothing about. Nothing other than your own prejudice and disgusting bigotry!”

“Bigotry?!” Harry, also standing now, exclaims in shock. “That’s rich coming from the girl defending someone who called Hermione a Mudblood, defending someone who is the literal spawn of the man responsible for this war? All of their parents were in that room last year, hunting us! Hunting you! They killed Sirius! Does that mean nothing to you?!” He huffs again in the pretentious way that only Harry can scoff. “So yes, you’re stupid to continue to associate with people trying to hunt you and your family. You’re stupid for thinking that when the time comes, they won’t hand you over to Voldemort and betray you. You’re stupid if you think they haven’t thought of doing the killing curse themselves! No better way to impress your father than by personally killing his enemies, right?!”

My brows are lifted in disbelief, in complete awe at his ignorance and cruelty. “I’ve known them for years, Harry.” I say softly. “I know them in ways you never will. None of you will. I trust them and I love them. You’re wrong.” I turn to Hermione, “Tell him,” I rush, pleading. Desperate for him to understand. For someone to be on my side. “Tell him how Draco apologized to you! Tell him how Enzo walked you to your dorm after that Ravenclaw was a little too grabby, tell him how the next day that same Ravenclaw was in the hospital wing!”

Hermione glances between Harry and I, uncomfortable and distressed. “Those things only happened because of you. You made them do those things.” Her voice is soft, almost a whisper, as if she didn’t want us to hear, didn’t want to participate in this fight between siblings. She looks at me, eyes soft and shy, but stern. “He’s right, Liv … they’re bad just the same as their parents. They’re dangerous. Being friendly inside of the school walls is one thing …  it’s not going to be the same.” She moves her eyes to look at her hands, hiding from my anger as if in shame of admitting her bias against my friend group. 

I shake my head, looking up so as to restrain the tears that so desperately want to fall. “I’ve never been more disappointed in you .. both of you,” I look to Harry whose face has that smug vindicated look to it. “You don’t know a damn thing. And neither does dad.” I turn, leaving him gaping at me.

I don’t see him rush to reach for his cloak, nor do I notice his unseen presence following me afterwards, lingering distantly enough so as to remain undetected but close enough to not lose me in my fleeing.

I don’t know where I’m going. Anywhere but here. Anywhere that I don’t have to see his face, don’t have to listen to the “Great” Harry Potter spew hate in front of me. He doesn’t know them like I do. He doesn’t know anything. He’s blinded by hatred.

“There you are, beautiful,” a voice wraps around me at the same time a hand grabs my wrist, pulling me in for a hug. “We’ve been looking for you.”

“Well, here I am.” I shrug, falling in step beside him.

His eyes turn to me harshly, “What happened?”

“It’s nothing, Enzo,” I sigh.

“My favorite snake is upset and we haven’t even gotten to school yet. Something happened.”

“You’re sweet to be protective,” I pat the hand still holding on to me, guiding me through the train.

“After everything we’ve been through?” his hand moves to grab at mine. “Always.”

I look into his eyes, steadfast, strong, and loyal. Like all of theirs. A fierceness we all hold connected to each other. “I know,” I soften, “It’s the same thing it always is. The great, ‘open-minded’ Potters. Same thing my dad’s been on and just Harry being, well, Harry.”

Enzo’s face contorts with sympathy. “I’m sorry, dear.” 

We stop at the door to a compartment that I assume holds the rest of our ragtag group. “You ready for the chaos?”

“Always,” I respond, mimicking him, as he slides the door open, using an arm around my shoulder to pull me in alongside him. “Look who I found wandering about all melancholy like!” Enzo announces. I let out a small laugh as I gently slap his arm off of me.

“What’s wrong?” Mattheo asks, eyes flicking to mine with a somber sincerity. I flop ungracefully in the open seat next to Draco, throwing my legs up across the way to rest in Mattheo’s lap. He immediately wraps his fingers around my ankles.

“Just annoying family shit.”

“Been there,” Theo jokes. We all just stare blankly at him. “What?” he defends, “We aren’t making jokes about this mess yet?” He looks at each of us, desperate for just one of us to laugh with him. Draco and I lock eyes and that’s all it takes for the two of us to bust into laughter. The others join in and we all laugh at Theo rather than his poorly timed, crappy joke. 

After the laughter dies down, the mood sobers again as we think on Theo’s words. “How are you guys? Really?” I ask gently.

“We’ll get through it, Bella.” Theo whispers, laughter gone from his eyes.

“Together,” Draco confirms, nodding his head once and gripping my hand on the seat next to him. The others nod in agreement. All but Mattheo. 

“And you, Matty?” I hold his gaze. All of them seem to have lost the light in their eyes over the summer, but him especially. It’s like there's no one home, no fight left. But I know better. I know him better. He feels everything, he feels too much. He’s the strongest and most ruthless fighter of us all. A true warrior.

His grip on my ankles tightens. “We’ll be okay,” he reassures me, but the sentiment dies there, it doesn’t reach the rest of his face. "Stop flirting with her with your stupid accent." He glares sideways at Theo who throws his hands up in surrender.

“Let’s talk about Harry,” he says, eyes hardening. “What did he say to you?”

“Oh you know, that I’m stupid, have to pick my side, tried to ban me from speaking to you lot, called you all bigots who only think of yourselves, and …” I trail off, hesitant to upset Mattheo further.

“And?” Draco prompts, face stiff, contorted with a silent rage.

“And,” I take a steadying breath, “And he said that you’re only pretending to be my friend until the time is right for you to kill me to impress him.” I roll my eyes at his dramatics in an attempt to lighten the mood. “He’s just pissy because his little crush Ginny is bumping uglies with Dean Thomas and here I am with all you pretty boys fawning over me, desperate for my love.”

The trunks overhead thud around, probably in response to the train vibrating over a particular rough patch of track.

Together, we share an unfiltered laugh at the recurring joke. There have been rumors at school that we’re in some kind of reverse Harem and we think it’s bloody hysterical to push the rumors on. Because what other reason would the toughest guys in school have for wanting to be friends with a Potter? Obviously because we’re fucking. 

“She thinks we’re pretty, awwww” Blaise teases while pinching Enzo’s cheek.

“The prettiest,” I compliment with a giggle.

“But one of us is prettier than the rest, right?” Draco teases from my right, knowing of my affections for one Mr. Mattheo Riddle, who I am proud to say I did not glance to when Draco said that. 

“Oh piss off, Draco. You’re horrid!” I shove him into the wall, as he chuckles at my misfortune.

Mattheo hides a small grin, eyes downcast in an attempt to hide his barely visible blush.

I’ve always been his girl, just the same as he’s been mine. Anyone who matters knows it. But it’s never been said, never truly been claimed or acted upon. At first it was just a youthful bashfulness, a fear of rejection and the potential loss of a sincere friendship. But then as the war grew closer and times became more tense, it became an unspoken but uniformly understood agreement that our connection is already a threat and dangerous enough without adding labels and romance to it. But still, our claim to each other lingers in the air around us, a living thing, the same as the oxygen we breathe: unseen but existing nonetheless.

In fact, each of the boys had tried to push Pansy and I away from them at the very start. But we’re family. We’re loyal and headstrong in our support to one another. They are mine and I am theirs. To the very end. Potter, Malfoy, Riddle, Order, Death Eater. None of it matters. We don’t belong to our names, to our parents or their agendas. We belong to each other and that’s it. A third invisible “side” in this war. Perhaps the most dangerous any of us could be in. Outwardly linked to one, but realistically and eternally, truthfully, bonded to each other. To me. Pansy Parkinson. Lorenzo Berkshire. Theodore Nott. Blaise Zabini. Draco Malfoy. Mattheo Riddle. 

My bloodsworn.

A court of snakes and vipers. 

[newsiesautismfrfr]

I need some kind of animatic/fanfic where Albus doesn’t remember Scorpius after Scorpius finally fixed everything and got Albus back, and it’s based on the song ‘I know you’ from Sleeping Beauty and they dance and Albus falls in love with Scorpius all over again and UGH

Like imagine Albus knowing Scorpius is SO familiar and is like “I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream”

And Scorpius is like “don’t you remember? We’ve met before” “we have?” “Yes, once upon a dream”

LET SCORPIUS BE A ROMANTIC

[annagaw]

This week I discovered (and devoured) Not With A Bang… by megalle, and am pleased to welcome a new addition to my most prized collection: marriage law WIPs I am currently absolutely unhinged about - which also maybe give me stabbing chest pains that I hope are not medically significant.

This fic has a lot of Sad Granger™, done in a very realistic and rather devastating way. Both she and Draco in this fic need endless hugs, like yesterday. If only they could give them to each other…oh how I wish it would occur to them!

This was meant to be a ten minute sketch and…well I  think it’s clear I got a bit carried away. This keeps happening atm.

[short666bread]

More Haunted Harry x Ghost Draco, Myrtle Version under the cut

[nonsensicalnonsense00]

My submission for the Draw Drarry Badly Challenge 😼👨‍❤️‍👨🔥🔥

THANK YOU @julcheninred for hosting this event 😆😆💫

Furthermore 😇🪽

And I had some space left lol ^^✨✨

[mimilind]

A Magical Classmate - Part 8

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Reader

Rating: T

Chapter Word Count: 3500

Parts: [ < Previous Part ] [ Masterlist ]

Full story: [ AO3 ]

Draco and you start dating for real. When he meets an old friend, part of his burdens may be lifted from his shoulders.

8. A Wizard and a Muggle

After Draco made up his mind, it was like turning a switch. He changed from morose to cheerful, and after many more sweet kisses he asked you to follow him home. 

Unlike the last time you were in his apartment, now there was no need for him to hide anything from you. He showed you how he used spells for everything from cooking to cleaning his teeth, and some of his wizard equipment too. He had a clock with strange numbers and symbols, and several sets of black robes which you recognized from the Halloween party.

“No wonder you didn’t know how to use electrical stuff when there are so many spells. And how sly to dress like your real self for Halloween!”

He smirked. “I thought it was a brilliant idea.”

Next he pulled out a photo album where each image moved. Most of them pictured a chubby toddler smiling toothlessly into the camera.

“You were such a cute baby.”

“Really? I think I was ugly. Look, I had no hair at all.” He traced an image with his finger, where baby-Draco was riding a broomstick across a neat lawn. “Flying is what I miss most from my old world; there is this sport we have, where we use broomsticks and different balls and I was rather good at it.” He absent-mindedly rubbed the callouses in his palm. Perhaps he had gotten them from gripping the broom handle.

In the next picture a handsome man with long, platinum hair was posing in a chair, his lips curled in a contemptuous smile. The likeness with Draco was striking, apart from the arrogant expression. It could only be his deceased father. 

Draco frowned and turned the page.

Another photo showed a beautiful woman at a concert piano, her fingers dancing soundlessly over the keys. 

Draco’s frown disappeared and instead he looked sad. “That’s my mum. She taught me how to play.” He nodded at his own piano.

“Do you miss her?”

“Sometimes.” He shut the album closed and put it back. “Want to see my potions? I made most of them myself.”

He had rows of bottles with labels in his neat handwriting. You examined one marked ‘dreamless sleep’. “I can see now why you like chemistry.” 

“The subject has many similarities, yes.” He took the bottle from you and put it back. “I don’t think I will need this tonight.” He gave you a small kiss on the cheek. “I’m glad you came. I always hated sleeping alone.”

“Same.”

His words reminded you of how late it had become. With everything that had happened you weren’t sleepy at all.

“Shall I put out an extra mattress or will we share my bed?” Then he quickly added: “I meant for sleeping, not…” His voice trailed off and his cheeks colored rather cutely.

“We can share.” You were secretly relieved he had no other expectations; you didn’t think it a good idea to rush it and sleep with a guy on the first real date.

Preparing for the night together with Draco was very different this time. Now you were sober, and had all the things he told you still fresh in your mind. When he undressed and exposed his tattoo you now knew the meaning of it, and though the sight of him in a tank top still gave you butterflies, it also reminded you of his dark past.

It felt a bit awkward and embarrassing to take off your pants and socks in front of him, but that disappeared when you slid under the comforter and was met by Draco’s warmth and now familiar scent. You edged close and pressed your nose against the crook of his neck, and he put his arm around you, softly stroking your back over your t-shirt.

Despite the late hour, neither of you were tired. Protected by darkness you talked, sharing more about yourselves; childhood memories; hopes and fears; personal things you had never told anyone before. 

When you could think of nothing more to say, you started kissing again. Lengthy, intimate kisses, so gentle and soft your heart swelled with fondness. 

After a while the kisses changed, becoming more intense. Draco raised himself on his elbow, leaning over you to deepen the kiss, slipping a hand under your t-shirt to caress your bare skin. 

You responded with the same eagerness, mimicking his movements. When you explored his broad shoulders and hard, flat chest, and felt his heated skin against your fingertips, new emotions stirred in you.

Draco drew back first. “Maybe we should sleep,” he mumbled breathlessly. “It’s already past sunrise.”

You willed your heart to slow its pace, glancing at the windows where a faint light spilled in. Seagulls squeaked outside, a common sound around dawn in this city. You estimated it was three or four in the morning. 

“Sure. But this time of year it’s always past sunrise.” You gave him a last, sweet kiss. “Good morning then, and sleep well!”

“Good morning,” he replied with laughter in his voice, looking adorable with mussed hair and chapped lips from all the kissing. 

Not long afterwards you fell asleep in his arms with a smile lingering on your face.

You were surprised with how easy it was to get used to dating Draco. How his magic became part of your everyday life in the same way as his company grew familiar and comfortable. It soon felt completely natural to let him warm and dry you with charms after a cold swim, or eat a meal he used spells to cook. When you had a headache you swallowed a potion rather than medicine, and if you wanted to get somewhere it was very practical to ask Draco to apparate you instead of taking the bus, even with the nausea you got from the teleportation.

Draco adapted to you in a similar way. Under your influence, he learned to dress like a muggle and how to use all the electrical appliances in a normal home. He bought a TV, a mobile phone and a Playstation, and no longer had to be bored when alone in his home. Not that he was alone much; the two of you alternated between staying at your apartment and his, and you rarely spent a night on your own.

This day was warm and sunny; Sweden was showing its best side. You were at a beach not far from the city with Catrine, Andreas, Martin, and Martin’s boyfriend.

Draco lay stretched out on his back on a patch of grass between the bare, smooth cliffs, closing his eyes against the sun. He wore only swimming trunks and had used a spell to hide the Dark Mark; it was apparently a bit of a hassle to keep up which was why he normally preferred long sleeves.

You took the opportunity to admire his body, rare as it was to see him shirtless outdoors. You found him especially attractive now, in an adorably scruffy way; his hair disarrayed and damp from bathing and his jaw covered in stubble, and a healthy tan contrasting with a scatter of fair hairs on his chest and stomach that continued in a thin line down to his trunks. The sunshine painted his ripped torso golden and the mesmerizing sight gave you flutters. 

Suddenly you wished you were alone at the beach.

He opened his eyes. “I’ve been counting back. We’ve dated for two months today.”

Catrine made two thumbs up. “Yay! This calls for a party.”

“Why not? You’re all welcome to my place tonight, then.”

It became a wild, but fun party. The morning after you were tidying away empty bottles and scores of burst, heart-shaped balloons (a gift from Martin), feeling perfectly well thanks to a dose of one of Draco’s amazing potions, when he came out of his lab looking slightly concerned. “This was the last batch; from now on we’ll have to resort to muggle medicine.”

“Can’t you buy more?”

“No, I can only get the ingredients from a wizard apothecary and if I show up in the magical community my cover will be blown.” He sighed. “I wish I had polyjuice potion; then I could have gone there looking like someone else. As of now, I’ll just have to make do without potions.”

You didn’t like the sound of that at all; you had gotten too used to his potions to give them up. 

You pondered over it for a few moments. “What if you use that concealing spell? You could go to the apothecary and take it off long enough to buy what you need.”

“Hmm. I doubt any shop owners in this country know me by sight… it might just work.” A pleased smile broke out on his lips. “I could buy more glassware as well, and a new cauldron.”

“Can I come too? I’d love to see a part of your world.”

He firmly shook his head. “No. Too risky.”

By now, however, you had become an expert persuader, and Draco clearly had a weak spot when it came to obliging you. It didn’t take long for him to budge.

“Alright then,” he acceded in mock exasperation. “You’re too curious for your own good.”

Draco chose an early Saturday morning for your visit since he figured the place would be basically empty at that hour. He apparated you to the entrance, which was located downtown in an underground garage. When you arrived, fighting your usual nausea from such transportation, a sickening smell of stale urine worsened your condition.

“I had imagined it to be a bit more stylish,” you said, covering your nose.

“Wait to judge until you see what’s on the other side.” He went over to one of the walls and stood in front of a spot that appeared no different from the rest of the whitish-gray surface. Using his wand, he tapped a pattern.

“There; it’s open.” He took your hand. “You need to trust me for the next part.”

“Always.”

“Then close your eyes.”

You closed them only partly; you didn’t want to miss what would happen, but when he commenced to lead you through the wall they squeezed shut by their own volition at the last moment.

You opened them again at the other side – widely. “Oh my God,” you breathed.

Entering the Swedish wizard shopping area felt like being transported back in time at least a century. The buildings were quaintly mismatched, with pillars, turrets, and decorative trim, and the street was paved with uneven cobblestones. 

“Welcome to Trollstavenyn. Pretty neat, eh?”

Under the disillusionment charm, and a silencing spell to hide your voices, Draco could show you around, explaining what was in the shops, and you gaped at everything with excited awe.

“Amazing. I wish we could go into them all and look more closely.” You pressed your nose against a window with an assortment of animals inside. 

“We’d better not.” He took your hand again. “Let’s shop for potion ingredients now. I’ll need to remove the muffliato charm so remember to keep very quiet.”

The apothecary was even more intriguing than the other shops you had passed. On the crowded shelves you saw jars and bottles of everything imaginable, from powdered spiderweb to unicorn lashes soaked in rum. 

Draco pointed his staff to himself, turning visible again, and walked up to the counter where an elderly witch was labeling glass bottles. “God morgon,” he greeted in Swedish. “I need some ingredients.” He handed her a list. 

He was waiting as she packed his purchases into a bag when the doorbell rang and a beautiful witch entered. Unruly curls cascaded down her back almost to her waist.

“Draco?”

You went cold. Oh no! This was exactly what he had feared. To be recognized. Would he have to move away now? You couldn’t stand the thought of losing him!

On hearing the witch’s voice, Draco’s frame grew rigid, his features undergoing a strange transformation from neutral to haughty. 

He slowly turned around with a contemptuous sneer on his lips. “Why, if it isn’t Granger,” he drawled.

She closed the distance in two long steps, looking genuinely delighted. “I can’t believe I found you of all people, here, in this small town! Where have you been these years? How have you been? You just disappeared. Everyone wonders what happened to you. And your mum… I used to work with her and even she doesn’t know where you are.”

His sneer immediately disappeared. “Mum… works?”

“Yes, can you believe it? But she’s changed. A lot.”

“Is she, uh… well?” His voice was neutral but his face betrayed his coiled tension.

“She’s worried about you. And misses you, of course.”

“Oh.”

The look on Draco’s face wrought your heart. You slipped your hand in his, squeezing it. 

The witch narrowed her eyes. “Is someone there?” She looked vaguely in your direction and you held your breath, keeping as still as you could.

Draco frowned. “I have to go.”

“Wait… It’s been so long. Can we talk over a butterbeer or something? I want to put your mum at ease. Please.”

You squeezed his hand again, looking at him encouragingly. His cover was already blown; he might as well talk to her and find out more about his mother. You knew he missed her too and regretted he had had to leave. Whenever the topic of parents came up, he would grow rigid with repressed emotions.

“Alright then,” he muttered.

As the witch led the way to a nearby inn, you were dying to ask Draco about her. Was she one of the kids he had mentioned who would pretend to be his friend because they envied him? Or was she one of those he had bullied? But if so, she wouldn’t have looked so glad to see him…

The inn was small and cozy, with wood paneling and a merry fire burning in the fireplace despite the warmth of summer. Draco and the witch received their drinks, and you eyed them curiously. They smelled sweet, like toffee. Maybe you could try one too after the witch had left. 

The witch sipped her butterbeer. “I still can’t believe I chanced to meet you. I’m only here for a brief visit to learn about the Swedish Short-Snout dragon’s healing properties. For my research.”

“You study healing, then?”

“Yes, and soon finished, too. This research is for my final thesis.” She continued talking, first about her studies, then mentioning several names, relating what they did now and who dated whom – small talk, that you had a hunch was mostly meant to make Draco at ease. 

When she was done, a silence ensued. He shifted uncomfortably, trying to take another sip but the bottle was empty. 

“Draco…” She leaned across the table, becoming serious. “I’ve been meaning to thank you, but you disappeared so soon after the war there was never an opportunity.”

He blinked. “Thank me?”

“For not turning us over to… him. That time in your manor. We were caught, and I know you recognized us, but you said you weren't sure who we were. You saved our lives.”

“Oh.” He shifted his stance again. “Well, then we’re even, I guess… You guys saved my life in the war too.”

“Have you been in Sweden all the time since it ended?”

He shook his head. “I went to South Africa first, to a sanctuary for magical creatures. I, uh… volunteered, actually. After Dad died, I just wanted to get away from everything. Get a fresh start.” He looked at his empty bottle, twirling it in his hands. “It didn’t work too well, as it were; as soon as people heard I was British I’d get questions about the war. All the questions I didn’t want to answer… Then I figured with my looks I might pass as a Swede and moved here instead. Unfortunately the language was complicated as hell so I thought ‘screw it, I can’t pretend to be from here’, and joined a muggle university as an exchange student.”

“A muggle university? You live among muggles?” The witch’s eyebrows rose so high they disappeared under her curly bangs.

“I know; ironic, isn’t it? I thought it would be the last place anyone would look… But, getting to know some muggles, I found that… It became more than just a hiding place.” He glanced at you. “I’ve made friends here.”

”There is someone there! I knew it.” Her piercing eyes brushed over you again. ”You can show yourself; I don’t bite.”

Draco and you exchanged gazes and you nodded your head. He could reveal you; the room was empty and your table wasn’t visible to the innkeeper. And you didn’t think this woman was a threat. 

He touched you with his staff.

The witch gaped at you. “You brought a muggle with you? You really have changed, Draco… I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes.” She stretched out her hand. “I’m Hermione Granger. Pleased to meet you.”

You recognized the name; she was one of the three who had been Draco’s chief adversaries at school. He had recounted to you many of his past squabbles with the trio, sometimes with amusement when he described the more harmless pranks he had put them through, other times with obvious guilt over his behavior. 

That considered, you were surprised Hermione acted so friendly. You didn’t think the warmth was feigned.

“I suppose I have changed, yes,” he said. “It’s been liberating to be an unknown nobody. And to do some good.”

Hermione smiled. “You’re so much like your mum. She’s a volunteer at St Mungos Hospital and works with patients who were injured in the war. She feels guilty for being part of the side who did that to them.”

He looked thoughtful at that.

“Can I tell her about you? I don’t want to expose you if you don’t want to.”

Again you were baffled over the kindness and consideration of this woman. If she kept his secret Draco wouldn’t have to leave you after all. Relief filled you.

Draco seemed to have similar thoughts. He met Hermione’s eyes for the first time, replying with gratitude in his voice. “You can tell her I’m well and that I’m happy, but please don’t give away that you know where I live… you can say we met at Gringotts or something, and I didn’t give you the details.”

“Alright, I will.” She rose. “Can I send you an owl the next time I’m in the vicinity? I’d love to keep in touch. If it’s alright with you, of course.”

“Sure.” He suddenly blushed, dropping his gaze again. “Hermione… For what it’s worth. I’m sorry for everything… I was a jerk. I don’t deserve your kindness, really.”

”Think no more of it. And I’m sorry too; my friends and I could be a bit harsh at times. Everything was either black or white when we were kids. But we all grew up, thankfully.”

“Surprisingly, we did.” he smiled wryly. “If you see Potter, tell him I still think he’s a twat but that I’m sorry.”

She grinned. “I will. But you should tell him yourself or he won’t believe me.”

When she had gone, Draco renewed the charm that hid you, and bought another couple of drinks, handing one to you. It tasted like it smelled, sweet and syrupy.

“Well, that was awkward,” he said.

“She seems nice. And you did well; apologizing like that was brave. I’m proud of you.”

“I’m honestly a bit proud too.”

“Will you go see your mother?”

He looked thoughtful. “Maybe. I don’t know.”

You leaned your head against his shoulder and he put his arms around you.

“I support whatever you decide.” 

Draco was silent and brooding the rest of that day. In the evening when you lay in his bed, he kissed you with unusual tenderness. Like the first time. 

“I’m so grateful for this. For you, for my friends… I’m a lucky bastard.”

“You deserve it.”

“I disagree.”

“No, you really do. You saw what kind of person you were and left him behind together with the rest of your old life. You became a new, better you. After giving so much up, you deserve everything good coming your way. You deserve friends. You deserve forgiveness.” You looked deep into his eyes. “You deserve love.”

He replied with a long kiss, overflowing with feelings.

You responded, and then gently pushed him onto his back. You kissed a trail down his neck, and each of his many tiny scars and nicks from hexes thrown on him in the war, and then the faded Dark Mark. Showing him how none of his past mattered. 

“I love you,” he mumbled thickly.

Your chest filled with warmth at hearing those words for the first time. “I love you too.”

When you started to doze off in his arms a long while later, you felt happier than you thought possible. Draco loved you. Even if he decided to return to his own world you were certain he would take you with him now. 

You also felt hope for him, for a happier future. Hermione’s visit had shown him he wasn’t as hated as he had thought. He would get closure eventually. A chance to make everything right again. 

He deserved that.

A/N:

I'm leaving it open whether Draco returns to live in the wizarding world or stays in the muggle one. But you, Reader, will be at his side, no matter what. :)

Thanks for reading, and don't hesitate to comment! I always love to hear from you and what you think about the story.

Note: The wizard town Trollstavenyn is a pun, “trollstaven” = the magic wand, and “Avenyn” is a famous Gothenburg street. :) My husband made up the name for me, so I assume it’s peak dad humor. XD

Parts: [ < Previous Part ] [ Masterlist ]

Full story: [ AO3 ]

[lilithofpenandbook]

I'm sorry, the way he's smiling when talking about her?

The way he's acknowledging their relationship and how this will make her happy?

The way he says this about her and has no mention of ever being connected to Lucius?

My heart can't take this at all

[itsphantasmagoria]

Absolutely can’t post this without the music that will be stuck in my head for the next two weeks

I love when I come across a prompt that speaks to me (thanks frotcott lol)

[basiatlu]

Day 29: Pollen (Part 2 Preview)

Harry: now with Draco’s ‘undivided’ attention, feasting, and devoting to a much more pleasant bud of sorts.

Click the link to check out the full drawing for today’s prompt! Rated E for ‘everyone over the age of 18’ obviously

[underwittingly]

搬个csm

[tripably]

A Very Drarry Holiday Season

I got tagged to do the Holiday season Drarry fun by @kamaela and @soliblomst and @its-the-allure - THANK YOU BABES I LOVE IT <3

I'm going to mix the challenges together due to an excuse that sounds believable and is also funny being the way that I am.

Tagging: @mallstars @thusspoketrish @ghaniblue <3

Actual entries under the cut because the length of this got way out of hand, whoops. It's apparently the theme of the day, for me. :-D

Because This River Is Wild

The first Christmas after Pansy and Luna's wedding threatens to be an awkward one, mainly because they're both dancing around the topic. Among other ones.

Harry is dead worried about making jumpy assumptions about Draco wanting or not wanting to spend the holidays with him. In the process he absolutely fails to actually ask Draco what he wants to do, instead looking for clues in everything he says or does, starting somewhere mid-November. His not-making-any-assumptions assumptions start going up the walls approximately a week before Christmas. The signals are signalling so very conflictingly. Harry is a mess.

Draco, on the other hand, is pretending very hard not to let it show how much he needed to make plans and preparations weeks and weeks ago. Because clearly Harry is more a live-in-the-moment kind of person who does not need to decide on his holiday plans in advance, and Draco can be casual, too. Definitely. Unfortunately, his inbred unchill starts going more and more haywire as time progresses, and finally escapes its enclosure the day before Christmas Eve.

This, their very first Christmas as a couple, is an important teaching moment in trust that, for the first time in their mutual history, doesn't end in a disaster.

It takes a few years still for Harry to let go of his aversion for asking questions, and for Draco to stop guarding himself so closely. But, I mean, isn't wedding planning a crash course in personal growth and an excersize in relationship functionality by design?

Seven Hectare Heart

The most brilliant idea of his life comes to Harry on one of the nameless, faceless days between Christmas and New Years. He immediately goes to Malfoy’s, even though it’s hours before his usual dinner time. Although, who cares about the concept of usual time, anyway, when the only commitments you have are to yourself? “I have a proposition,” he states as he sits down in his spot at the bar. And actually, isn’t that a lovely thing to have? Malfoy doesn’t even blink an eye, which, isn’t that also quite lovely? “Should I be worried?” Harry takes a deep breath and leans against the bar.   “You should invent a spell that stops the masses from gathering at my house every bloody Halloween.”

Love the way you're running out of life

On the first hour of 2010, under the full moon, Draco learns what life tastes like, and what it's like to be treated as such in turn.

He had clocked Potter's actual presence around him a few moon cycles back. He'd thought it was a hallucination, first, a fever dream and a sign of his impending insanity. He thought the sweltering heat of the late August night had gotten to his head, had fried his neural pathways, that his mind had finally given up on reality.

But the whispers of Potter didn't dissipate, and they did not stay to one any sense. A blur of motion on the corner of Draco's eye. The gentle swish of fabric-on-skin. Air moving like breath on Draco's neck. The static of a fingertip not quite touching the small of his back.

First, it was only on that clearing on the Manor grounds. Then, slowly, boldly, elsewhere.

Once Draco learned to recognize the feel of eyes on him, of being watched, he knew.

The truth of it was infuriating. It was unfair.

It was, above all, extremely erotic.

Had Potter always been there? Draco had to assume so. Did Potter know what he was doing to him? He must have, it had to be intentional. Did he not understand the danger it posed on — oh. Not danger, then. Or, rather, not on Potter.

Not solely on Potter.

And so it became a game, one Draco didn't know was designed to end up in the mutual victory of a torturous, exhilarating, consuming mutual destruction.

The why of it never crossed Draco's mind. It didn't have to.