#future draco malfoy x reader

[talesofadragon]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞

Summary: In the aftermath of the war, Draco is caged in an unrelenting spiral of distaste and distrust. The pervasive tendrils of hatred threaten to incinerate every aspect of his existence, edging ever closer to Y/N. A breakup seemed like the wisest choice. But a few bottles of Firewhiskey later, Draco is faced with something more daunting than his mind’s distorted illusions—a glimpse into his future. 

Warnings: Allusions to sex

Pairing: Draco x Reader

Genre: Angst | Fluff  

Word count: 4K

All Masterlists | Draco Malfoy Masterlist

𝐈𝐟 𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐤, the weight of guilt would have long since dissipated, evaporating into the vast expanse of time.

But tattoos, Draco had come to learn, lived on a polarizing spectrum—either itched by hope’s gentle caresses or marred by despair’s morbid claws. He liked to call them insignias because he knew that, either way, those brands never faded away. And even if, by Merlin’s stupendous power, their ink were to vanish, the tales behind them would eternally reverberate through the most somber corridors of time.

The choices made and the sacrifices offered in their creation were intricately woven into the curvatures of each tattoo, amplifying the weight of these indelible brands.

“Mate, I have never seen anyone treat Ogden’s Old Firewhiskey so foully.” 

Draco’s silver eyes were unyielding in their pursuit of the black snake that slithered into his pale skin. He refused to look away, not when he heard Theodore Nott’s voice and not when he reached out blindly for the silver goblet, determined to drown the lingering traces of Firewhiskey within it.

As the scorching pace of the liquid coursed through his veins, his heart constricted, and his eyes stung. Yet, he paid no heed to the discomfort, having endured far greater pains in the past.

“Maybe if you weren’t a lightweight then you would have known that the whole Slytherin House and half of the Gryffindors treat it with indignation,” Draco retorted.  

Theodore's arms crossed tightly over his chest, his gaze narrowing as he observed his best friend. Draco's weariness was evident, more pronounced than even during the days of the Dark Lord. 

Letting out a sigh of resignation, Theodore settled in the chair by Draco's side. Taking the goblet from his hand, Theodore filled it with some more Firewhiskey. “Not that I am unhappy to host you, but isn’t it time to go back home, Draco?”

Draco’s fingers tightened around the goblet. If he thought the Firewhiskey was testing his endurance, then clearly he hadn’t anticipated the words that came out of Theodore’s mouth. 

“I don’t have a home.” 

“But you do.” 

“No. I do not!” His voice ricocheted against the walls, pained echoes pushing against the boundaries that confined them. Draco’s voice shook, the rage in his words dissolving into meek submission. “Not without her.” 

“Mate.” Theodore watched helplessly as Draco swung his head back to gulp down the entire goblet of Firewhiskey. He violently slammed the empty goblet against the marble of the kitchen bar, gaze stuck far ahead. “This is killing you.” 

“Let it.” 

“Draco—”

“I should’ve died long ago in that war, Theo. Maybe this is retribution for everything I did.” 

“What retribution, you imbecile? Dooming everything you’ve both built after the war?” 

“Do not mention her,” Draco seethed. His bloodshot eyes matched the color of his soul, a violent red that overwhelmed every one of his senses. He’s hated the war for so long—he failed to realize how much it seeped through his soul until he became one himself. “I don’t want to hear it.” 

Theodore scoffed. He reared back, placing his weight on the back of the chair and studying Draco’s hunched posture. “I‘ve known you since we were brought into the Wizarding World, Draco. I know that you didn’t come here to escape the fray.” 

“What finally tipped you off, oh brilliant Rowena? Was it the way I shut down every mention of her name? Or perhaps my defensive stance and guarded demeanor?” Draco mocked.

With an air of indifference, Theodore replied, “You don’t run away from battles, Draco. You wage them.” 

“That was the old me.” 

"If that were truly the case, then why did you declare war on Y/N? What suddenly woke you up, making you realize that you couldn't bear to be with her for another second?"

A flash of irritation crossed Draco's face as he interjected, "I told you not to mention her name."

Ignoring the warning, Theodore continued with a pointed intensity. "Her name itself is a battle, Draco. One you’ve ignited because of the conflict that rages within you, fueled by your selfish desires."

"Selfish?" Draco roared, his anger escalating. In the heat of the moment, he flung the empty goblet against the wall, the sound echoing through the room. His nostrils flared as he struggled to control the tempest brewing within him. "What part of letting her go for her well-being is selfish? She deserves better, Nott. So I gave her better!"

"Better, is a subjective notion.” 

"It's the only notion," Draco countered, his composure slipping as he struggled to rein in his emotions. The veneer of false placidity he had tried to maintain for days proved futile in containing his anger. "You have no idea the price I have to pay for the blood that rests on my hand. For the mark that’s refusing to die with time.” 

“I know,” Theodore whispered breathlessly. 

Draco's head shook with a heavy burden of remorse. "No, you don’t. Because being a Death Eater's son and being a Death Eater are two separate realms. I would trade anything, everything, to return to a time when I was feared and hated. Because now, I have to watch the world extend their animosity to the only woman who was brave enough to try and pull me out of the Dark Lord’s dominion.” 

Theodore pushed himself off the chair, his movements purposeful and determined. With each deliberate stride, the distinct click of his shoes echoed against the ground. "By pushing her away. By hurling venomous words at her. By replicating the very path the world forced upon you, dragging her through darkness and uncertainty."

“She deserves better! Better than a semi-stable man who was a servant of darkness. Better than a wizard whose father is serving a sentence in Azkaban and whose mother is a victim of delirium. She deserves better—”

“Than a man who is stripping her of her choices the same way his lineage stripped him of his.” 

“No.” Draco negated. If only he hadn’t drank this much Firewhiskey, maybe his breath would have come out steadier and his words wouldn’t have grappled with conviction. “I left for her.” 

“You left her,” Theodore corrected. It always amazed Draco how Theodore Nott, the epitome of reticence, became a forceful and impassioned defender when it came to matters close to his heart, including Y/N. “You left her because you’re selfish. Because you craved your twisted path of redemption. Retribution, as you have so masterfully termed it, should not come at the expense of hurting Y/N. She fought for you with everything she had. And if you are so keen on being a masochist, Draco, then have the decency to leave her out of your descent into madness!”

With a final venomous glare, Theodore took a step back and began to march away from the room. Draco, caught in a state of disbelief, felt his hands instinctively fall upon the cool marble surface of the kitchen counter. He pressed his palms firmly against the chilled stone, desperately seeking solace from the tumultuous emotions raging within him.

In an abrupt intrusion, Theodore burst back into the room. Draco barely had a chance to meet his gaze before Theodore snatched the bottle of Firewhiskey from the counter and swiftly left. There was no doubt in Draco's mind that he must have also cast a spell to lock the cellar to deny Draco access to any and every liquor stored in the Manor. 

In that moment, Draco's vision was void of any specific color—not a glimpse of red, black, or any hue in between. His rage transcended ordinary perception, defying quantification by any shade or measurement. All that existed in his awareness was a hazy fog enveloping his sight, a world imploding upon itself.

With venomous intent, Draco's fingers slithered through his hair, viciously tugging at the strands. Curses and fury spilled from his lips, weaving a tapestry of disaster, painted with every twisted emotion inhabiting his soul.

The shattered glass before him mirrored his fractured heart, and the disarrayed furniture reflected the homelessness of his wounded spirit. If he excelled in wars and battles, then he might as well transform this space into a battleground.

He persisted for hours, tirelessly wreaking havoc until Theodore's once-familiar abode became unrecognizable. Yet, the knowledge that a mere flick of his wand could undo this chaos only fueled the flames of his fury even more.

How ironic it was that he could demolish a meaningless space in mere hours, only for his magic to effortlessly restore it in seconds. Yet, the home he had reduced to ashes remained irreparable, defying any spells he cast upon it.

With a heavy heart, Draco sank to the ground, embraced by the unforgiving coldness of the stone beneath him. Leaning back against the chilling marble, he stared vacantly at the ceiling of Theodore's dwelling. It was no longer the familiar dark maroon he had once known, but a mosaic of melancholic hues. It was in that moment, as the taste of salty tears brushed against his lips, that he realized his own hollow gaze had been the architect all along.

As his shuddered breaths gradually calmed, and the twitching of his fingers ceased, Draco couldn't help but feel his heart, exhausted from its rapid sprinting and relentless pounding against his ribs.

Standing up, he reached for his wand. "Scourgify," he commanded. Instantly, his magic eagerly clung to every surface in the room, diligently working to restore order and mend the damage he had caused.

While his magic busily repaired what he had broken, Draco made his way to the kitchen, intending to pour himself a much-needed goblet of water. As he approached the marble counter, his eyes widened in surprise at the sight of a mysterious black box neatly resting there.

“What in Merlin’s name?” It must’ve been hidden somewhere amongst the furniture because even in his stupor Draco would’ve recalled coming across it. 

Gingerly, he pulled the lid up. What he found inside was something akin to a Time Turner, along with a couple of notes. Knowing well that all those magical devices had long been destroyed, Draco’s curiosity peaked. He reached for the notes, eyes trekking along the lines of Theodore’s handwriting. 

“Temporal Surger, experimental prototype number five,” Draco read aloud. He briskly skimmed across the pages, absorbing more and more information. “Contrary to the Time Turner, the Temporal Surger springboards the wizard forward through time. Though the exact destination remains unpredictable, prototype number five provides a ten-minute window for the wizard traveling into the future.” 

Draco discarded the notes in favor of picking up the device. It didn’t look any different from the Time Turner with an hourglass in the middle and golden outer rings surrounding it. Yet, when Draco tried to nudge the hourglass, it didn’t budge. He raised his brows, eyes narrowing down to investigate the object. His fingers lingered on the rings, the pad of his index finger tracing the surface. 

Inadvertently, his fingers slipped, and the outer rings turned on themselves. Draco paid them no heed, though it became increasingly hard not to notice them when their momentum increased as they followed an unfamiliar rhythm. Draco didn’t have enough time to panic before a bright light emanated from the center of the Time Surger, engulfing him whole. 

When the light weathered, Draco immediately sprung out of his seat. Taking in his unfamiliar surroundings, he blinked twice. At first, he thought it was his broken heart playing yet another trick on him till it became evident that the Time Surger had, in fact, transported him to another place.

“Merlin’s beard, Theodore is going to murder me,” Draco said aloud. He immediately clamped a hand over his mouth when it dawned on him that he didn’t even know where he was or who was in the same vicinity as him.

Draco hardly had a moment to register his distaste for the petrifying yellow curtains and cream-colored kitchen walls before he caught the sound of leisurely footsteps approaching from his right.

He sprinted across the room, his entire body whirling around itself until he spotted, what he hoped was, a door that led him to the pantry. He rushed in but left it slightly ajar, enough for him to peek through. A crease etched itself in the middle of his forehead when his eyes met a tall man with platinum blond hair tied into a bun. 

The man was shirtless, tall, and well-built. His back was littered with scars, some seemingly thinner and more recent than the others. He moved seamlessly around the kitchen, without a wand in sight, opening draws and cabinets to prepare some food. Draco tried peering closer to catch a glimpse of his face when the sound of someone apparating startled him. 

“What is Master Malfoy doing here?” a squeaky voice asked. 

Draco’s eyes bulged out of their sockets, rivaling the size of the round plates that man had been filling with fruits. He bristled, the gears in his mind rushing to concoct an explanation. But how was he supposed to explain that he’s acquired a, possibly illegal, prototype of a Temporal Surger created by none other than his best friend?

“What does one do in a kitchen?” Draco heard himself say in a mirthful tone. He sighed in relief at the plausible answer, but his relief proved to be ephemeral when he realized that it wasn’t him who spoke. 

He widened the door a bit further, revealing a house elf standing in the kitchen, gazing up at the shirtless blond wizard. With the man's face now visible, Draco was taken aback by the striking similarities between them. The man was a slightly older version of himself.

“Blinky serves the House of Malfoy. It’s Blinky’s job to prepare breakfast for her master.” 

The house elf, Blinky, attempted to pry the spatula out of the Malfoy Patriarch's hand. He didn’t relent, keeping a firm grip on it and flipping whatever he was cooking in the sizzling pan. 

“Thank you, Blinky. I do appreciate your efforts,” he said over the elf's loud huffs. “But I wanted to cook my wife a special breakfast myself.” 

A loud gasp reverberated in the narrow space of the pantry. Draco stumbled even closer to the door, almost pushing it entirely open. His eyes widened, intently studying the Malfoy Patriarch's hand. And sure enough, a silver band adorned his ring finger, glistening in the light. 

“Mistress Malfoy has woken up?” Blinky asked in her tiny voice. They must’ve not heard Draco’s shock over the sound of whatever it was that was cooking. 

“Hmm,” the Malfoy Patriarch hummed. He had picked up a goblet from the cupboard, filling it with pumpkin juice. “Blinky, could you please get the Mistress’ favorite flowers? I’m sure she’d appreciate the gesture.” 

Squealing in excitement at fulfilling a task for her masters, Blinky apparated out of the kitchen immediately. By the time she came back with some orchids in a small, round vase, the Malfoy Patriarch had already prepared a full assortment of food. From French Croissants to Quidditch Quaffles, he set them all on a tray and merrily exited the kitchen.

Using a disillusionment charm, Draco quietly followed after his older self. He noticed that the house, or rather cottage, was significantly smaller than Malfoy Manor, yet a million times more alluring. It had a cozy and welcoming atmosphere, adorned with bright colors and pictures from his Hogwarts days. Every decorative piece, whether a vase or an ornament, seemed to have been picked with care, making it evidently known that this house was not of his choosing. Whoever his future wife was, he was sure she had to be the one to decorate the house so quaintly and delicately because he could never fill any space with such beauty.

With careful steps, Draco ascended to the upper floor, his attention fixed on each stride. The walls, still adorned in their creamy hue, now bore intricate engravings of an evocative design. The sight of verdant trees and lush bushes lining the hallway welcomed him, instilling a profound sense of tranquility within him.

The Malfoy Patriarch pushed open one of the doors and casually entered. Fortunately, he left it open, making it easier for Draco to hurry inside. He found an equally charming interior, where sunlight streamed into the room, casting a beautiful glow, while the books on the bookshelf created a colorful display like a rainbow.

In the center of the bed, a woman laid peacefully under the covers. Her entire back was exposed, making a pink tint hug Draco’s cheeks. 

The Malfoy Patriarch offered a winsome smile at the painting before his eyes. He placed the tray aside and walked to the bed, letting his thumbs trace the woman’s back.

“Angel,” he called in a soft voice. “Wake up for me.” When the woman didn’t give up her sleep, the Malfoy Patriarch bent down to plant soft kisses on her arm. They were featherlight and soft caresses as if coming out of a dream. 

She sighed heavily, turning on her back. Draco watched his older self laugh, taking this as a chance to kiss his wife’s lips. 

“Draco,” she whined. And Draco had to brace himself against the wardrobe to stop himself from falling to his knees. "Please, five more minutes."

“Y/N Malfoy, you know denying you anything is physically impossible. But I really need you to get out of bed and eat something for me. Now, my love.” 

He heard Y/N say, “Don’t want to.” And Draco’s heart squeezed in his chest because he knew that she was pouting beneath the covers, and most importantly, she was wide awake but trying to get Draco to give her a few more minutes of his attention. 

The Malfoy Patriarch pulled away, surprising Draco. He walked to the tray he had placed aside, grabbing the goblet of pumpkin juice. Y/N opened her eyes when she noticed her husband’s ministrations came to an abrupt end. She hugged the sheets to her naked chest, pouting when she saw her husband against the wall, sipping from the drink.

“This is delicious,” he teased. Y/N made a face. 

“Give it.” She held her hands out, opening and closing her palms in anticipation. Her husband diligently took the whole tray to her side, positioning it on the bed. “I hate you,” she huffed while dipping one Quidditch Quaffle in honey. 

The man in front of her beamed, shaking his head. “You must hate me fiercely, angel. Your ardor set my soul ablaze a million times over yesterday night. And I've got marks on my back to prove it.” 

Both Y/N and Draco choked at the heat that permeated the air. Y/N’s gaze meandered across the room, trying to escape the heat of her husband’s scintillating eyes. 

“Well, you set mine ablaze a million times over every day, Draco! Go put a shirt on instead of teasing me!” Y/N grunted while reaching for the goblet. 

The Malfoy Patriarch’s laugh roared within the four walls of the room, and even Draco had to cover his mouth to avoid laughing at her retort. 

“Is my wife looking forward to dessert already?” 

Y/N let out a sound that was both a whine and a sigh. She pushed the tray aside and reared back, burying her body in the pile of pillows on her bed. Her husband laughed, studying her pout. Her hands rested on her stomach, and if Draco hadn’t been shocked to his core before, he was baffled at the sight of Y/N cradling a very noticeable baby bump. 

“Draco, please.” 

“Please what, angel?” 

“Not that! You know if we do that now we won’t get out of bed for another three hours!” 

“Would it be such—”

“Yes!” Y/N interjected. She looked like an angry little pixie with her narrowed eyes and pointed glare. “It would. Because we have so much to do today.” She went on to explain that she and Narcissa were supposed to meet for tea in the afternoon and that Draco had to finish setting up the nursery. Y/N kept on listing everything they had to do while her husband intently listened without saying a single word. Instead, he watched her, letting one of his hands wander to her stomach and cover hers. “What are you thinking?” Y/N finally asked, coming to grasp with the realization that her husband had zoned out. 

He didn’t answer at first, noticeably lost in his wife’s beauty. “I’m not thinking. I’m feeling.” 

Y/N let out a semi-laugh. “What are you feeling, Draco?” 

“You,” he replied solemnly. He interlaced their fingers together, keeping their intertwined hands on her belly. “Time and time again, I only feel you.” 

“Dray.” Y/N’s expression softened. She tugged on her husband’s hand, and even though she had lamented that they couldn’t stay in bed for long, she let him pull her to his chest while he made himself comfortable on their bed. “I love you.” 

“I love you so much.” It was Draco who said it. With teary eyes and a battered soul, he surrendered to the images of his older self caressing Y/N’s lips and her cheeks. 

“I love both of my girls. And I only hope our little princess can learn to love me despite all my flaws.”

Y/N shot her husband an indignant look, her gaze filled with disapproval. However, a hint of tenderness softened her eyes, conveying a complex mix of emotions. 

“She does.” 

“How do you know?” 

“She's currently expressing her displeasure at your words by stirring up a commotion inside my belly.” 

“Oh, yeah?” the Malfoy patriarch laughed. He tightened his hold on Y/N and pulled her even closer. One hand on her belly and the other in her hair, he peered down at her and locked his silver eyes with hers. “She’s a tornado, like her mother.” 

Y/N chose not to respond, embracing a peaceful silence instead while staring at her husband. He arched an eyebrow in a silent question. “I’m feeling,” Y/N spoke out. “Time and time again, I only feel you.” 

While her husband's gaze fixated on her lips, inching closer to his own, Draco's attention was abruptly seized by the Time Surger stirring once more. His eyes dropped downward, observing the rings spinning autonomously. 

Torn between stealing a final glimpse and safeguarding the precious moment, Draco reluctantly withdrew from the room. Hastening his steps, he hurriedly exited, stealing one last glance at his future self tenderly pulling the sheet away from Y/N's body until a blinding light dissolved the scene. 

The curtain fell, and he found himself back in Theodore's living room. 

Draco struggled to catch his breath, hurriedly placing the Temporal Surger back inside its box. His restless eyes darted across the room, overwhelmed by the torrent of emotions surging through him, dragging him deeper into the abyss. Gasping for air, his head whipped around, desperately trying to make sense of his surroundings.

His eyes landed on the box, the notes still outside. Future, he read in Theodore’s perfect handwriting. 

“Nott, you knobhead. If you were here right now, I would have kissed you with such intensity time would stop. And even your stupidly brilliant Temporal Surger wouldn’t have worked.” 

The numbness of his heart dissipated, and the crippling guilt roaming across his forearm vanished. Draco breathed deeply, embracing the placidity around him. Maybe Theodore’s walls were grim compared to the ones his future self occupied. Yet all Draco could feel was the warmth of Y/N’s voice and the tranquility of the mornings they were yet to share. 

He rushed to Theodore’s fireplace, not bothering to fix himself up. Tossing a handful of Floo Powder into the fireplace, Draco finally spoke aloud. “Take me to Y/N Y/L/N.” 

He finally realized that whether time turned or surged, he and Y/N Y/L/N were bound by a string of fate that was unyielding in its war against the Sands of Time.

------------------

Draco Taglist:

@imabee-oralizard@ameliaphoenix@arcana-greenleaf@dittos-blog-dylanobrien

I have been wanting to write this one for a while! Feels good to be writing again for our favorite Slytherin!🪄

Let me know if you would like to be moved/removed from my taglists.🤍

For those who want to be tagged in my Harry Potter/Marvel works, head over to “The Owlery” section on my profile and send me a message!

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

[thepilotanon]

I have seen you write prompts about kisses for characters so can you do one for Draco? I really like your other post about him

BIG OOF, please let me know what you guys think!

First Kiss. You bit him. Let me explain. You and Draco have always been butting heads a lot in your relationship - even before you two were exclusive - to the point that you've pretty much outdone him and Potter's rounds. He doesn't quite remember what you two were arguing about (either it was him picking on a younger student, he got detention, he ate one of your candies that you were saving), but you were letting him verbally have it...and he just suddenly had the urge to kiss you. He would grab you by the shoulders and give you a kiss - which startles you enough to react by going CHOMP on his mouth. He totally thinks the bleeding lip was worth it, though, and brings it up constantly.

Sleepy Kiss. Draco eventually joins you with studying for his exams, considering his dad sent him a Howler about his grades not being perfect. You have a special nook at a not-so-popular tea shoppe in Hogsmeade that you go to study and bring him with, telling him it's your favorite place to study and relax. It takes hours and a few cups of tea to see you nod off while asking him prep exam questions. Until he answers every question correctly, yawning and nagging, you reach other and kiss his cheek as a reward.

Hand Kiss. He does it when he wants to feel "fancy and eloquent" around you, or when he's teaching you how to dance. Whenever you have a stressful day and see him with his back to you, you go over and slump against him and he takes your hand to give it a supporting kiss to your knuckles. A few times, whenever he has a meeting with his father and the other members of his "social circle", he comes to you and just takes your hand in his. You don't say anything to him, but give him a small smile that has him relaxing his sore shoulders and give your hand a kiss. Hand kisses for Draco says a lot more than actual words, in my opinion.

[iobsessoverfictionalmen]

I'm really excited about doing a Harry Potter reading The Philosopher's Stone fic. I'm thinking that it will be a reader insert where the reader is Luna's godmother and Lucius Malfoy's ex.

Here's a preview of the fic:

"You've been dreaming about my godmother?" Luna asked curiously from behind Harry. The fifth year Gryffindor hadn't had much to do with the fourth year Ravenclaw after their ride to Hogwarts when Harry had found out that the carriages weren't pulled by invisible horses.

"She's such a kind, talented woman."

Harry bit down on his tongue, not wanting to disagree with Luna but unable to see how someone who had dated Draco Malfoy's father in her school days could be described as 'kind.'

Ron however, had no problems voicing his disbelief, "She can't be that kind if she was dating Malfoy Senior," he scoffed.

Luna's usual dreamy expression slipped and was replaced with a judgemental glare, "People and circumstances change Ronald. Or do you only offer forgiveness to those who were Sorted into Gryffindor?"

Eager to change the topic and wincing at the unintentional mention of Pettigrew, Harry spoke up, "How did you know where we were Luna?"

"Professor Dumbledore told me to come and find you," the Ravenclaw replied, shifting back to her usual demeanour. "He has a book called Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone. He wants to read the book to everyone in the Great Hall."

If you have any pairing suggestions for the fic, please comment them or send me an ask.

Once you have voted, please reblog so that this poll reaches a wider audience.

[sunnami]

❝i am half-agony, half-hope. . . i have loved none but you.❞

summary: how the marauders loved you in their time. featuring harry potter the time-traveller and sixth-wheel.

pairing/s: poly!marauders + lily x reader.

tags: reader is referred to as she/her and a mother throughout the whole fic[!], reader is a violent gremlin who craves blood but the marauders love you for that, implied child abuse[!], mentions of blood and violence[!], disgustingly sappy poetic fluff, no angst, happy ending, not proofread we die like finnick odair, edited: very minor detail.

note: there is little plot, it’s just the marauders and their adoration for you. thank you all so much for your kind responses to my first marauders fic :(( ilysm! i hope you enjoy this one as well! because there are parts when i was writing that i ended up kicking my feet in the air and smiling to myself.

“MY NAME IS HARRY POTTER. I come from twenty-years in the future, you’re my mum — one of my ‘em, actually. It’s complicated. And you’re married to James Potter, Remus Lupin, and Sirius Black.” 

You blink. 

“Get the fuck out of my room!” 

Harry James Potter has dodged many things in his life. Killing curses, jinxes, girls, Draco Malfoy, and Dudley’s sloppy punches, but he’s never had to dodge his sixteen-year-old mother’s fuzzy slipper before. (Godric, that sounds weird, even in his head.) He doesn’t know precisely how he arrived here. In the Slytherin common room, to be exact, in your dorm. Harry remembers duelling with Death Eaters, Hermione calling his name, and a flash of light hitting him square in the chest, then he remembers waking up in the cold tiles of the snake dungeon. He nearly throws himself off the window when he meets your eyes, bleary from interrupted sleep — it’s not often he gets to meet [read: one of] his dead parents, after all, three had been brutally murdered by Voldemort, and one killed by his own loony cousin. He misses Sirius, though. A lot. And right about now, he could do with some of Hermione’s nagging and brilliant plan-making. 

At present — or past, Harry guesses — he watches you scramble out from your duvet, hand clumsily reaching for your wand as you snarl at him. He wonders if his mother knows that he’s encountered other creatures far more threatening than her. Oh shit, he realizes with all the forces of an angry Hermione Granger, isn’t this the last thing he’s supposed to do? But, well, Harry has given, and given, so much of himself all for the greater good — just this once, he’d like to see his parents alive and well. Even if they were currently trying to blast him into the walls. 

“If you’d just let me explain, mum—!” Harry pleads, nearly dropping his glasses after dodging one of your stinging hexes. Godric, you’re crazy. “Please!” 

“Stop calling me that!” You screech, eyes set ablaze.  Harry finds that you’re quite dynamic with your attacks. A hairbrush, followed by a stinging jinx, then a thick History of Magic textbook — which rudely hits him in the face, but he doesn’t dare complain because you’re his mother, and he’s respectful like that — and after you’ve exhausted your breath, running him into a corner, and your nostrils flare with the stubbornness of a lion, you point the tip of your wand at him. “If this is another one of the Prewett’s shitty pranks, I want you to leave! You are in the girls’ dormitory beyond midnight, and so help me, if you aren’t walking out that door in the next five seconds, I will kill you and string you up by your bottoms for everyone in school to see! Maybe all your stupid rumours of me being a Death-Eater might come true after all!” 

“You’re a Death-Eater?” Harry asks dumbly. 

You growl furiously, and Harry figures that was not the right thing to say. “I wonder what McGonagall would say if I delivered your head to her on a silver platter.” 

“Professor,” Harry corrects with a toothy grin. “Professor McGonagall.” 

You slam his head against the wall.

Definitely the wrong thing to say. 

Harry groans, little Dobby heads floating around his vision. Why was this so much harder than actually facing Voldemort? Quick, he needed to think of something, otherwise he’d end up eviscerated to ashes on your cold, stone floors. Harry is pretty sure you’d use his remains as decoration to send off a message to your enemies. 

“You hate your father,” Harry slurs through the pain, remembering Remus’s stories of how you were the gentlest magical being he’s ever had the privilege to love — now that Harry thinks about it, Remus was being extremely biased, nothing about you is gentle at all. “He’s forcing you to marry someone old enough to be your grandfather. You love to read Muggle literature but had to stop when your father burnt your whole collection of books. Your favorite novel is Persuasion by Jane Austen. It’s the one book you carry with you everywhere, you could never get tired of it.”  

Your grip on his shoulders falters, but the fury in your eyes crackles. “This isn’t funny.” 

“It’s not meant to be funny, mum,” Harry croaks, voice cracking pathetically — strange how this is the most he’s ever uttered the word, mum; it’s a peculiar string of letters, foreign on his tongue. “You have tremors in your left leg from when your father cast the Cruciatus curse on you. One of your dearest friends is a Hogwarts house-elf named Pipley. You cheated on your Transfiguration essay once, and—” 

“That’s enough!” You bark, eyes narrowed in dangerous slits. “I don’t know where you heard those from, you creepy, little stalker, but if you want to keep breathing, then I suggest you shut up.” 

Harry scoffs — you don’t understand. Everything he’s learned about you is from Sirius and Remus. They talk about you with whispered devotion, your name like a prayer on their lips, their eyes glazed with wistfulness as though they could see you reaching out for them — but you were dead in Harry’s time. Yet, you might as well have been alive with their tales of you. 

(“She’s a different kind of beautiful,” Sirius had said, a year after breaking out from Azkaban, sitting by the fire in Grimmauld Place, taking a swig of decade-old firewhiskey, “The kind of beautiful you don’t want to take your eyes off from because you’re afraid she’ll disappear from your eyes. But you won’t forget her, oh no, you’ll memorize the freckles and moles on her skin, the scars from her years, the light in her eyes, and the way she holds her head up high. You should have seen her, James, she. . . she was — is glorious.”) 

“I told you,” says Harry firmly — although he loves his mother very much, she’s beginning to wear him out, “My name is Harry James Potter, I come from twenty-years in the future. You are one of my parents.” A lightbulb flashes in his head. He squirms in your hold, reaching for his robe pocket until he finds the thing he’s looking for. Harry dangles the ring in front of you, grinning in success when your eyes flash in recognition. “It’s—” 

“A family heirloom,” You say breathlessly. The alexandrite winks under the light, a familiar gold band with the Latin inscription of your House words. “Where did you steal this from?” 

Harry rolls his eyes. “You left it for me in my Gringotts vault. It’s my heirloom now. You have to believe me, there’s no way you can deny this.” 

You take a step backwards, nibbling on your lower lip, as you stagger to your bed — Harry nearly stumbling to catch you in case you fell; adjusting to the living proof of time travel was quite difficult, he, of all people, should know. He exhales, dragging a hand down his face. “Magic, amirite?” 

You throw a pillow at him, which he catches gracefully thanks to his Seeker reflexes, as you plop down in the comforts of your quilts. “Sleep. The other girls won’t be back until the end of the holiday. We can deal with whatever this is in the morning. It’s way too early for me to process the idea of a future Potter spawn following me around.” 

Harry smiles. “Yes, mum.” 

ONE THING THAT his fathers failed to tell him about you, and that Harry had to learn himself, was that you took ages to get ready. You sat on the chair in front of your vanity mirror, the birch wood legs whittled with snakes, and it was as though you had a Sticking Charm on the cushion. Harry didn’t know there could be so many creams, oils, and serums, and powders one put on their face. He blanches when you turn to offer him a cream for his under eyes. (“Suit yourself.” You shrug, turning to brush your cheek with dusts of pink. “Just saying, those dark circles aren’t doing you any favors.”)

“What am I like in the future?” You ask, a kind lilt to your voice, much like a warm hug, much like home. 

Harry stiffens, shoving his hands in pockets of the robes that were twice his size — you had given him the garments of Lucius Malfoy to change in, which you apparently had stolen from his room. It’s come full circle, really, the Sorting Hat had once told him he would be great in Slytherin, and now here he was, looking fabulous in green — because he was about to hurl at the feel of the velvet on his skin, knowing slimy Lucius Malfoy had worn it. (“No son—” You pause with a tight purse in your lips, as if you still can’t accept the fact. Harry doesn’t blame you. “—no son of mine will be parading around in red of all colors, future or not.” And Harry finds that he really doesn’t care, so long as you call him your son.)  

“Loved,” replies Harry gruffly, avoiding your eyes in the reflection of your mirror — they were piercing. One look and Harry wanted to spill all of his deepest, darkest secrets. He remembers the photographs in his album, the one he’s stared at so many times as a child. It’s a moving photograph of the five of you, fresh out of Hogwarts, each wearing a smile that stretched from ear-to-ear. Before Sirius and Remus, it was the only semblance of proof that Harry had — that you had once been alive. Remus is holding you by the waist in the picture, twirling you around as autumn leaves fell. You were — are — loved, and Harry thinks there’s no better description than that. 

(“I bloody hated her cat,” says Remus with a roguish quirk to his lips, regalling Harry with more talks of his parents. “Sirius, too. We just never got along with the little creature. But your mother loved it, and we would have done anything to make her happy. She deserved it, you see. She deserved more than what I had to offer her, but still she chose me anyway. And I am a selfish man, Harry, I crave glimpses of her and the whispers of her voice. She has made me a mad man whose only reprieve is her touch.”) 

You hum knowingly. “Stupid question, I guess. Since you aren’t allowed to reveal anything more about the future.” You sigh, gracefully threading your arms in the sleeves of your shirt, a green tie in the center of your collar. “Except, of course, when you gave me a heart attack in the middle of the night by telling me the last thing I want to become — no offense, I just don’t see how a relationship with those rowdy bunch would work. They get on my nerves far too much for me to ever feel anything other than disgust.” 

Harry doesn’t need a mirror to see that his expression has contorted in confusion; brows knitted and upper lip crinkled. By their memories of you, you all were madly in love in Hogwarts. Damn. This just made his trip to the past a lot harder. No maze seems to be ever just a maze. 

Luckily, you don’t notice him brewing a grand master plan to bring his parents together. Instead, you say, “But you don’t seem to be phased by any of this. If I had been thrown twenty years into the past, I would have puked my guts out twice at some point.” 

“Thanks for the image,” says Harry with a scowl. Truthfully, it had either been a present with a noseless Dark Lord to face, trauma to unpack but really never have the chance to, or a past where all of his parents were alive, and a chance to talk with them for however long he has. He knows where he’ll be staying, thank you very much. 

“Anytime,” You reply with an impish smile. 

Your heels pad across the floor as you walk over to him, mouth clicking as you pat the top of his head, full of wild, untameable Potter hair. “You need a trim soon,” You mutter, frowning, as you brush the thick strands away from his eyes, then you gasp — and Harry knows exactly what’s coming next. “Oh, you’ve got Evans’s eyes. That’s freaky.” 

“I know.” Harry grins. 

“Here’s the plan,” You say as you lead him out of your room, making sure no one saw him walking out of your door and getting the wrong impression — because that would be so wrong on many levels, but also, explaining to someone else that the person beside you was a time-traveller was just complicated in general. The Slytherin dungeon is unfamiliarly familiar, eerily quiet, as the two of you made your way out. “Just say you’re Potter’s distant relative, twice or thrice removed, and you’ve always been here. If you lie to their faces enough, they’ll believe it eventually.” 

“Will that work?” Harry doesn’t really mind — he needs a connection to James, his father, if he’s going to work out a connection between you and the others, because at the moment, it doesn’t seem like you’re too fond of them. There’s a tick on your jaw every time you mumble the word, Potter. Nevertheless, Harry decides he’s going to spend the duration of the holiday break trying to set you up with them — on the list of most insane things he’s ever done, living out the Parent Trap was high up the tally. 

You shrug. “They’ve fallen for less.” 

(“She’s got this adorable habit when she lies,” Sirius tells Harry, whipping up a stack of pancakes for their breakfast — Remus browsing through the morning paper. It’s the closest he’s ever been to a normal family. “It’s not obvious to her, of course, but I know her more than I know my own name. So we play along with it.” For a moment, he stops drizzling the maple syrup on the well-cooked batter, gazing at Remus fondly. “D’you remember that, Moony? She led us straight to one of her pranks, and we ended up covered in slug slime. She was so obvious — with her adorable fucking giggles. I need help with Charms, she said, and we knew right away it was a set-up. But it didn’t matter. I’d happily let her lead me to my ruin.”)  

The Great Hall is the same as Harry remembers. Now that most have returned home for the holidays, those who stay back mingle with students from other Houses, sharing meals under the bewitched ceiling, their low murmurs and hushed Christmas greetings bouncing off the walls. Harry scours the four tables to find a hint of blazing red hair, or the scent of impending trouble. Fortunately, he doesn’t have to search very far. As fate would have it, James Potter finds you — and where he is, Sirius Black is sure to follow. 

You’re barely seated when James comes bounding over to your table — more precisely, he struts, and Harry is horrified to ever be proven wrong by Snape, of all people. He ignores the roll of your eyes as he drags a leg over the bench, sitting to face you as Sirius occupies the space to your left before Harry can even sit down. He can’t even fathom how weird it is to see his parents as rambunctious teenagers. Lovesick, rambunctious teenagers. 

“Morning, dove.” James preens under your glare, stealing a grape from your bowl with a boyish smirk. His hair looks as though he’s ran his hand through it many times. “You look ravishing today.” 

“As always,” Sirius pipes in. “But that eyeshadow really isn’t complementing your skin tone, my darling.” 

You smile at him, right before your lips twist into a cutthroat sneer. “Piss off, Black.”

James stifles a laugh as he shovels a mass of potatoes on your plate, then pumpkin pasties, and slides a steaming cup of Dragon Well tea in front of you. 

“What the hell are you doing, Potter?” You reach over to smack his arm when he sprinkles apple slices and bacon on your breakfast. 

“What does it look like?” James smiles lopsidedly. “You need to eat more, honey.”

(In the future, Sirius will tell Harry, “It started off as a joke, a way to get on her nerves — but then, it just became this thing about taking care of her, making sure she got enough sleep before her tests, wondering if she had breakfast or dinner, staying with her in the library, walking her to the Slytherin common room, and sending her stupid notes just to make her laugh. You don’t get it, Harry. I’d give my every breath to ensure her life. We all would.” Harry doesn’t see Sirius any more during that evening, but he hears a bottle crashing against a wall, cracking into a million pieces, and the masked sound of Sirius sobbing, and Harry decides to leave him alone for the night.) 

Then, you tear your eyes away from James — he huffs, pushing your plate to you, mildly annoyed that you’ve deprived him of your eyes; they were his favorite part of you, you see, so expressive and full of life; James thinks you put the stars to shame — and thankfully, you remember that Harry still exists. You lightly smack Sirius’s leg until he gives Harry some room to sit. “Potter, meet other Potter. It’s the holidays, shouldn’t it be the perfect time to let go of House prejudices and spend time with family?” 

James looks at Harry up and down. “You must be from dad’s side of the family with all that hair.” 

Harry lets out a breath of relief. That was easy — way too easy. When he takes the vacant space in between you and Sirius, you dump all the available food on his plate, just as James had done for you. 

“Eat,” You say with a tone of finality. “You look like the wind could snap you in half.” 

“Yes, m—” Harry stops himself before he could finish his sentence, avoiding Sirius’s curious gaze. 

“Wow.” Sirius pokes Harry in the shoulder and in the cheek. “You really look like a mini-James, you’ve even got his terrible eyesight.” 

“Oi!” 

Your fork clatters against the silverware as you turn to Sirius with a shrill. “Not that I do enjoy your company — because, trust me, I do not want you here at all and would very much prefer if you got out of my sight — but why are you here? The Gryffindor table is over there. Unless your housemates finally got sick of you, Potter, which I can definitely see happening.” 

James chuckles, tossing another grape in his mouth without taking his eyes off you. “It’s as you said, isn’t it? It’s the time for putting aside House prejudices. And I think it’s a lovely day to enjoy a meal with my favorite snake.” 

“Drop dead,” You retort, digging into your chicken with a little more force than necessary. 

“Oh, dove.” James shakes his head, a teasing grin pulling at his lips. “It’s cute that you think death will keep me from you.” 

(Harry’s been told before, probably by Sirius, that this line had been wedged into his wedding vows for you. “A dramatic one, James was,” Sirius chuckles to himself one morning, Harry and Hermione listening intently, “He always said he’d rather die than ever hurt her. There was this time in seventh year, they had a fight — it was ugly — and she had ignored him for a week. James cried in Remus’s arms begging him to cut his heart out, saying that he didn’t deserve to keep on breathing, not after making you cry.”) 

“That is so creepy,” You say in disgust, scrunching your nose. Sirius chortles at your side. “I still wonder why Evans agreed to go out with you.” 

“It’s all part of the charm, dove.” James winks. “It’s all part of the charm.” 

Harry wants to barf, actually.

After breakfast, James then decides to introduce Harry to Lily, Remus, and Peter. (He’s gonna need the patience of a saint to not Avada Kedavra that rat on the spot.) Harry had spent the whole morning watching Sirius peel oranges and give them to you with a smitten look in his eyes — naturally, you gave whatever Sirius offered you to Harry, and each time Padfoot would visibly wilt. If he were in his Animagus form, Harry thinks he would be whining by now, tongue out and all. James and Sirius follow after you like lost puppies when you extricate yourself from the table.

“Where are you going?” James calls, hot on your heels as you leave the Great Hall.

“Away from you, Potter!” 

And James actually sighs when you turn the corner and disappear from their peripheral vision. Seconds later, he turns to Harry with a blinding smile, “She’s definitely charmed.”

Harry chortles.

“Well, come on then!” James guffaws as he wraps an arm around Harry’s neck — this is so, so strange. They begin walking in the opposite direction of where you went. “I still can’t believe we’ve got another Potter here and in Slytherin. I think I would have remembered Minnie calling your name during the Sorting Ceremony. What year are you in?” 

He’s supposed to start his sixth-year in a few weeks. “Fifth.” Technically. 

“We should ask Lily,” says Sirius, hands in his pockets and ebony ringlets tickling his nape. “She’s got the best memory out of all of us.”

It’s odd, Harry thinks, meeting the person who’s got his eyes — or the other way around, as people have told him. It’s like someone carved out the emeralds of Lily Evans’s eyes and bestowed it upon Harry for safekeeping. She sits beside Remus Lupin, head resting on his shoulder, hands clasped together, as they enjoy the shade. Nex to them, oblivious to their intimate conversation, is Peter Pettigrew — with his rosy, cherub cheeks and innocent blue eyes; not at all the image of a pathological, cowardly liar. Their heads snap in attention as James boisterously cries for their name. 

“Marauders — and Lily-pad — meet ickle Potter.” James lightheartedly whacks Harry on the back, to which Harry feels his lungs spill out from his mouth, he’s sure there’s an imprint of his father’s hand on his back now. 

“There’s two Potters in Hogwarts?” Sea-green eyes look at him in scrutiny as Lily knits her brows. “How even is the castle still standing?” 

James cackles like it’s the best joke he’s ever heard in his entire life, slapping his knee for dramatic effect. Oh, well, at least they’re buying Harry’s half-baked lie. At this point, it’s not even baked, it’s just wet, soggy, and poorly done. “Good one, Lily-pad!”

Sirius ruffles Remus’s shaggy blonde hair, canines bared in a wide grin. “This one here’s Moony, uptight prefect in the morning and absolute beast in the evening.” 

Harry blanches. Surely he was talking about his furry problem, right? Right? 

Remus doesn’t even flinch, just peels off Sirius’s hand from him and extends his hand out to Harry. “Please do not mind him. Remus Lupin, nice to meet you. Although, I can’t believe this is the first time we’ve met. We would have definitely remembered if we had another Potter in our midst.” 

“It’s true, we Potters are just hard to forget,” says James, smiling cheekily. 

Harry pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue. “Mum didn’t take the Potter name. I’m part Dursley. Muggle.” 

Lily hums, toying at the ends of her bright hair. “Dursley, huh? What a familiar name.” 

“It’s a common one,” Harry assures her — not at all the names of the people who would take him in after they died. And make his life miserable. 

“I suppose you’re right,” says Lily, unconvinced. 

“And this is Peter.” James introduces the boy eagerly, pride in his voice — as though this isn’t the person who literally allies himself with Voldemort. As if Peter won’t betray his friends all because of fear. 

“N–Nice to meet you,” Peter stammers with a nervous fidget, “Any family of James is a friend of ours.” 

Harry’s eye twitches. 

IT IS ALMOST COMICAL — the way their eyes land on your figure, bursting through the courtyard from the corridors, winter cloak swishing with every step, tendrils of hair swaying in the crisp wind, and head held up high, thick books under your arms. You pause in front of the Marauders, face blank, then you turn to Peter, greeting him with a: “Hello, only Gryffindor I can tolerate.” 

Peter’s cheeks burn a saccharine hue of pink. Oh, no, no, no — absolutely not — Harry will not stand for a little crush Peter Pettigrew has on his mother. He needs James to act now. “Hi,” Peter replies shyly. 

Lily quirks her lips. “Hello, princess, see your score for the Astronomy test yet?”

You scowl. “Zip it, Evans.” 

The sound of Lily’s laughter fills the atmosphere — it’s the sort of melody that makes flowers bloom in deserts. “Had a bit of difficulty with the star charts?” 

Sirius pinches your cheek — Harry thinks you’re going to murder him on the spot. “Difficulty? I think this one just slept through the whole thing.” 

James snickers. “Must have been one hell of a nap, princess. You were drooling on my jumper.” 

“I most certainly do not drool!” You gasp, appalled, eyes wide as you step away from Sirius.

Sirius rolls his eyes. “What? Is drooling too barbaric for the pretty, little pure-blooded princess now? Newsflash, pet, you’re just as human as we are.” 

“Oh, you horrible, loathsome, infuriating—” You whip around to beat his chest with the course book in your grasp — it’s the kind of book Hermione would consider for light reading. 

“Irresistibly attractive—?” Sirius supplies for you, grin widening with as he captures your wrist with his hands. 

“In your dreams!” You shrill. 

You exhale slowly, eyes closing, chest rising when you take a sharp inhale. You open your eyes and stare straight at Harry — for a moment he fears that you’ll bite his head off. “Harry, dear, will you accompany me to the library? I think I’ve found something important regarding your situation.” 

Harry nods. “Is it time already?” 

“Yes,” You say firmly. “And time is of the essence. Come on.” 

“Wait!” Lily calls out to you as you turn to head back to the castle, Harry in tow — he tries to avoid the way James is glaring at your linked arms. “Hogsmeade next week?” 

Your jaw falls to the ground — this must have been unrehearsed, if the others’ reactions were anything to go by; Remus had dropped his book in shock, Sirius looked like he couldn’t decide between applauding Lily’s bravery or shaking her, and James was somehow frozen in time. “Excuse me?” 

“You’re excused, princess,” says Lily, dimples poking out of her cheek as she takes another step towards you. “You, me, Hogsmeade. A date. I’m sure you’ve gone on one of those before.” 

Harry elbows your stomach as you stare at Lily in shock. It takes a few moments to break you out of your stupor. “A–And what makes you think I’ll just go with you?” 

Lily shrugs. “I’m fit. Aren’t I, Remus?” 

“The fittest,” says Remus without missing a beat. 

You laugh incredulously. “Do you just expect me to go along with this? You’re mad, Evans.” 

Harry glares at you. You need to go along with this. 

“Are you scared, princess?” Lily’s face is inches away from yours, noses almost touching — Harry doesn’t know if he should keep watching this painful way of flirting — as she grins at you, happiness barely contained within her eyes. 

To your credit, you don’t back down. (Harry has to say this for the masses: he saw your gaze flitter down to Lily’s lips for a split second.) “Stop calling me that, Evans.” 

“One date, then.” 

You growl in exasperation, eyes flickering to the boys behind her back — pretending not to hear their conversation. “I suppose I’ll have to deal with them as well?” 

Lily beams and Harry swears sunflowers could grow in her direction. “We’re a package deal.” 

“Unfortunately,” You utter — but Harry notices it, the lack of venom in your voice. You straighten your posture, nose lifted haughtily, “I choose where we’re going.” 

“Done.” The sun peeks out from the cloud just as Lily smiles at you. 

“And I want to—” 

“Done,” Remus interjects raspily, peering up at you from underneath his lashes. “Anything you want, it’s yours.” 

You fight a growing smile, but continue, “If we’re going out in public, you’re going to have to wear—” 

“Done,” says James giddily, he looks as though he could kiss you in front of everyone without a care in the world.  

“You can’t just agree to anything I say!” You flap your arms in frustration. 

“Yes, dear,” Sirius teases. 

“Do you know how much you piss me off, Black?” You squawk. “Because you are this close to—”

“You are so fucking beautiful,” Sirius confesses, every pretense shed raw from his skin, sincerity pouring from his words. 

“I—” You falter, heat rushing to your cheeks. “You’ve gone mad.” 

“It’s your fault, dove,” says James, eyes twinkling like crescent moons as he smiles. “You best take accountability for this.” 

“You’re incorrigible — all of you,” You say as you avoid their gazes.

(But they were yours. Past, present, and future. They loved you so much that their soul was no longer their own — it was yours; yours to keep, yours to break, and yours to love. It would be unjust to ask them why they loved you. Do we ask why the sun rises each day without rest? Do we ask a daisy to stop blooming, or a tree to stop growing after it has endured storms and floods? After all, we do not ask why humans follow the light in a tunnel shrouded in darkness.) 

“Come on, Harry, let’s go.” You reach for his hand, he notices immediately that the tips of your ears are pink, and your palms are warm with sweat. He barely sees Peter wave goodbye before you tug him in the direction of the castle entrance. 

“Wait up!” Remus catches up to you two in quick strides, offering to carry your books for you — not that you agree, stubborn Slytherin that you are. “I’ll walk you to the library.” 

“There’s no need for that, Lupin, thank you.” You dodge his eyes, lips tightly pressed together, nails slightly digging into Harry’s arm. 

“Remus,” He says with a twinkle. “Call me Remus.” 

“Alright.” You pause. “Remus.” 

(In that moment, Remus wonders if you remember decking Lucius Malfoy in the face to defend him in your fourth year. He didn’t think he deserved to even breathe in the same air as you — the pure-blooded princess, dressed in clothing worth more than his life, adorned in jewelry he could only dream to afford, raised to believe she was better than everyone else. Then, you beat up Evan Rosier the next month in the courtyard, eyes ablaze, extravagant silk marred with grass stains and mud, and knuckles split open. You spit blood on the ground, looking at Lily then back at Rosier. “Red,” You say, kicking him one last time in the stomach, unafraid of McGonagall’s wrath growing louder and louder. “Just like everyone else. Like those Muggleborns you fear. We’ve all got dirty blood, Rosier. Suck it up.” 

“I’ll tell your father about this!” Rosier bellows through bloody teeth. 

“Tell him!” You grab his neck and slam your forehead against his. “Tell him that I decide my own future now!”

Remus doesn’t even have to think about it. 

He falls in love.) 

FUNNILY ENOUGH, IT’S LILY who gives you her heart first, before anyone else does. It’s the last month of her first year at Hogwarts — it still hasn’t quite sunk in yet that she was a witch. Her, not Petunia, but her — Lily Evans, the witch. Apparently, some people can’t believe it either. A girl from Ravenclaw calls her this foul word, she’s heard it a few times now but it always hurts the same. James and Sirius get into a fight for her honor, now faced with detention later this evening. But she can’t help but wonder, what if they were right? What if she really didn’t belong in this world? It was too good to be true, anyway. Perhaps she’ll just run a flower boutique with Petunia.

“Oi.” 

The sound of your voice startles her, and she nearly topples over in the Great Lake. Lily catches sight of your Slytherin colors and resigns herself to another round of name-calling. “What do you want?” 

“They’re wrong, you know,” You tell her, ignoring Lily’s question. You look down on her with your nose raised arrogantly — she wishes she could be like you. Born to be magic. “You’ve got a terrifying brain locked up in your head there, Evans. And they know it, too. They’re scared.” 

Lily scoffs. “I’m just a Mudblood to them. There’s nothing to be intimidated by.” 

You sneer. “Don’t say that word. You’re more than that. More than them. They’ve got long ways to go to prove they have a place in this world. But you — you’ve defied the odds and you were destined to become magic. You don’t have to prove anything. You have the right to be in the wizarding world and no one can take that away from you.” 

Then, you pivot on your heels, not bothering to hear her reply. “You’re my rival now, Evans. Do keep up. We’ve got an Astronomy test tomorrow. I look forward to seeing how you do then.” 

Lily just gapes. She’s certain there’s butterflies in her stomach. Her heart thumps wildly against her ribcage. Lily raises her hands to feel her blushing cheeks. There’s a light unfamiliar sensation in her stomach — like the urge to kick her legs and scream into a pillow, or more precisely, chase after you and hold your hand.

She stiffens.

Oh.

part two

[5sospenguinqueen]

Pocket Money Pt 2 | Lance Stroll x Reader

Summary: After some time apart, you and Lance realise your love and future mean more than fans' hateful comments

Warnings: Swearing. Sexual innuendos? Hateful fans

Female reader. All pics found on Pinterest.

prev.

F1 Masterlist

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astonmartinf1 just posted

liked by chloestroll, scottyjames31 and others

astonmartinf1 fighting for points in imola. lance brings it home in P9, securing valuable points for the team #imolagp

5,396 comments

user1 lance stroll domination might bore some people

lance_stroll the car felt good this weekend. let’s keep it up, team

user2 just me or was lance looking a little happier this weekend than he has recently? 

YourUserName wonderful race result

liked by lance_stroll

→ user3 the first social media appearance we’ve had from y/n in weeks and it was in support of lance?!?! what does this mean

user4 does this mean they’re still together?

→ user5 nah he definitely dumped her ass and now she’s just trying to get him back

user6 y/n commented and lance liked it! please tell me they’re back together. most underrated but cutest couple on the grid

user7 @ YourUserName talk about trying too hard. he broke up with you, sweetie. let it go

user8 i know they’re more private but i need them to confirm they’re still together so i can sleep easy

astonmartinf1 @ YourUserName fancy paying us a visit in canada?

liked by YourUserName 

user9 not a bunch of you switching up like you weren’t calling for her head on a pike

→ user10 literally, you guys are probably the reason they broke up but now you’re acting like it’s not what you wanted, and the end of the world

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astonmartinf1 just posted

liked by YourUserName, lance_stroll and others

astonmartinf1 all ready for race day tagged: lance_stroll, fernandoalo_official, YourUserName

4,889 comments

user11 omg lance looked so happy this weekend and i bet it was because y/n was there

fernandoalo_official y/n looks far better in lance’s helmet

→ YourUserName should put me in his seat next time

→ astonmartinf1 deal

→ lance_stroll my father will hear about this

→ YourUserName okay draco malfoy

chloestroll okay but i think i just fell in love with those eyes

→ scottyjames31 why are you never this publicly obsessed with me

→ chloestroll because you’re not y/n

→ danielricciardo she is the moment

BestFriend do NOT put her in the car. girly barely passed her driving test the second time

→ YourUserName you can shade me in our messages but publicly, you’re supposed to support me

→ lance_stroll you told me you did pass the first time

→ YourUserName no, i told you i tried really hard. and you claim to listen to me

→ lance_stroll i do! 

→ YourUserName it’s okay. i’m still proud of you

→ lance_stroll and i’ll still let you behind the wheel so long as the drive is less than 10 minutes

user12 is this confirmation that they’re back together!!

→ user13 it has to be. not only is she in the paddock but she’s on an official post AND lance commented in response to her

user14 so you’re still trying to tell me she’s NOT a fame whore? she vanishes from social media after being found out as a gold digger to come back on an f1 page

→ user15 seriously, what is your issue? lance looked happier this race than he has in weeks, and he scored some points. there’s obviously only one reason for that

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user1 agreed with @ daddynando. when you search her business, she is literally like second face you see after the ceo. she worked hard and deserves to flaunt it

→ user2 honestly. everyone talks about her being with lance for his money like she’s not loaded herself, and earnt it

→ user3 lance stroll wins for #1 wag because he’s always been so supportive of her and proud 

user4 funny how many of you have switched your opinion since finding out y/n is in charge of running a pretty wealthy company, and has enough money to keep herself comfortable without lance

user5 i also really miss y/n and lance. they were a more lowkey couple but he was always caught in the background of driver clips staring at her

→ user6 i won’t believe in love until they get back together 

→ user9 @ user6 you’re such a hypocrite. you literally have rts from two months ago of hateful tweets about her

user7 i’m so happy other people are finally being supportive of lance and y/n

user8 the way the two of them used to gush about starting a family and growing old together but the internet had to make her feel horrible about being in love 

user9 not that i’m not happy to see all this support for y/nance. i’m just wondering where you were when she was getting death threats?

user10 omg guys, lance just posted! 

user11 aston martin reposted this as well

→ user12 so did f1

→ user13 and mclaren, redbull and mercedes

→ user14 and danny ric, charles leclerc and a whole bunch of the grid

→ user15 they really said, we’re fed up with all of you

user16 people who have actually met her in the paddock say she’s the nicest person ever so idk why all you keyboard warriors thought you knew better

user17 the grid really said “not our y/n”

user18 anyone else feel like that last sentence was a bit of a threat? 

→ user19 it’s because aston martin’s legal team located one of the women who was sending the most threats and served her 

→ user20 i love that the official F1 website did an article about this because it serves as a warning to others

→ user21 lance stroll will find you lol

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YourUserName just posted

liked by lance_stroll, danielricciardo and others

YourUserName here’s what you missed on glee 

3,115 comments

user1 omg welcome back. we’ve missed you 

user2 excuse me but all the lance pictures. my favourite f1 couple are back together! 

lance_stroll my pretty girl 💚 but why did you have to post the ice-cream pic?

→ YourUserName but i also posted that hot pic with the chain 🤤

→ lance_stroll i thought we talked about that emoji

→ danielricciardo don’t try and change her

user3 woof woof (i can’t tell which of them i want to sleep with more)

user4 okay but the black shirt and the chain. i’m starting to see what miss y/n sees him in

YourBrother dude, i do not need to see your underwear on this app. please do not post what are clearly post-sex pics

→ YourUserName they were not! we did that the night before. this was me begging him not to leave for a meeting and get back in bed. he declined :( 

→ BestFriend how dare he! 

→ lance_stroll it was an important meeting! 

→ BestFriend and she’s an important person! 

estebanocon at least lance will stop moping now

→ lance_stroll i think i was allowed to mope! the love of my life was sad and in another country 

→ user5 ladies, get a man who simps over you like lance stroll  

chloestroll um, why am i not included in this photo dump? do i mean nothing to you?

→ lance_stroll how many times do i have to tell you that you’re not her favourite stroll

→ YourUserName it’s actually lawrence 

user6 do you know what i like seeing more than happy y/n and lance? no hate comments on y/n’s post. our queen is being respected and loved as she should be 

user7 excuse me, are those wedding pics in the background

→ YourUserName oops

lance_stroll just posted

liked by alex_albon, fernandoalo_official and others

lance_stroll 💚🤍

4,006 comments

astonmartinf1 everybody stay calm! We are totally normal about this! 

→ user8 admin is all of us 

astonmartinf1 a huge congratulations to the newlyweds but we’re still disappointed that you didn’t have an aston martin themed wedding :( 

→ YourUserName we had an aston martin as our wedding car?

→ astonmartinf1 keep talking

→ user9 not admin acting like they didn't know this prior to y/n spilling on her recent post

YourUserName i love you, my darling husband

→ lance_stroll i love you more, my breathtaking wife. thank you for marrying me

→ user10 get someone who THANKS you for marrying them

danielricciardo what a beautiful day, mate. and what a gorgeous bride 

→ YourUserName no amount of compliments will make me forgive you 

→ danielricciardo i didn’t mean to! i was drunk

→ YourUserName you still kissed my husband

→ lance_stroll you promised you wouldn’t tell the internet! 

→ YourUserName i lied!

→ landonorris this marriage is off to a great start. nice work, ricciardo 

chloestroll have i stopped crying? not really. my baby brother and perfect sister-in-law

→ YourUserName i’m so lucky to call you my sister-in-law. although i think you’d do better as my wife ;)

→ chloestroll there’s still time

→ lance_stroll stop

→ scottyjames31 agreed

user11 i don’t understand how anyone could deny that these two truly love each other. the way they look at each other 

landonorris could you go be ridiculously in love somewhere else?

→ lance_stroll this is my instagram?

user12 omg they still got married on their original date

YourBrother nonna says it’s time for babies now

→ lance_stroll i’m trying my best

→ danielricciardo don’t tell the internet that you’re raw dogging every night

→ YourUserName that’s it. you’re blocked

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YourUserName just posted

liked by lance_stroll, georgerussell63 and others

YourUserName say hi to baby stroll

3,421 comments

lance_stroll my amazing family 🥰 y/n, you have given me the best gift by being my wife, and then by being my partner in parenting. i love you 

→ YourUserName why do you insist on making me cry, my heart. i love you and our family more than anything

user13 excuse me but where was the pregnancy announcement!

chloestroll baby and the bear

→ YourUserName baby stroll loves his bobo bear more than anything 

→ chloestroll what can i say, i’m the ultimate gift giver

→ lance_stroll you gave me an old vogue magazine for my birthday last year 

→ chloestroll yes but for your 18th, i got you a hot date who eventually turned into the love of your life so i think i’m off the hook until the end of days 

→ YourUserName i only agreed to it because i thought i would be YOUR hot date @ chloestroll 

→ lance_stroll i have feelings 

user14 we get their wedding and then we get nothing until they announce a whole ass baby 

scottyjames31 am i still banned from the stroll household?

→ lance_stroll idk will you stop bringing red bull baby stuff into my house

→ scottyjames31 but then how will he show that he’s uncle scotty’s #1 supporter

→ danielricciardo and uncle danny’s 

→ lance_stroll because he’s his dad’s #1 supporter 

→ danielricciardo @ scottyjames31 this is uncle erasure 

user15 when lance told us y/n wasn’t at races for the past 5 months because she was swamped at work, what he really meant was she was hiding a baby bump from us

user16 i knew her showing up in a different team hoodie every race was more than just a running joke! 

→ landonorris she wore those because she loves mclaren! she loves us! 

→ YourUserName debatable

→ landonorris i thought being a mum was supposed to make you nicer

→ YourUserName it did but you’re not my child 

user17 i know this is gross but from doing the math, he got her pregnant on their honeymoon

→ user18 faster than he is on track 

user19 um, mr stroll, we weren’t familiar with your game. those back muscles

→ YourUserName they’re what got me pregnant 

→ user20 um, hello mrs stroll. PR might be after you now 

→ astonmartinf1 she’s off the hook for now. we’re kind of hoping for them to make a grid’s worth of babies

→ user21 lawrence stroll ghost wrote this 

→ lance_stroll sounds like we need to get started on baby #2, sweetheart 

→ YourUserName only if you push this one out 

→ lance_stroll deal

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Hands up if you were shocked by Lance’s contract announcement today 😂 Never saw that coming

Baby Fever Angst Series

F1 Request are open! (They might just take some time)

Tag list

@callsignwidow @luvrrish @evans-dejong @sadsierra2 @justdreamersdream @spookystitchery @dark-night-sky-99 @majusialikesfastcars @luckyladycreator2 @mrosales16 @reguluscrystals @tvdtw4ever @alwaysclassyeagle @gigicisneros @thecubanator2 @goldenharrysworld @awritingtree @jxnellat @lav3nder-haze @hc-dutch @mxdi0 @buckybarnessweetheart @ironmaiden1313 @dreamercrowd @yourbane @glow-ish @g-l-o-b-e-w-h-o-r-e @weekendlusting @lemon-lav @minkyungseokie @bibissparkles @peachiicherries @rosecentury @exotic-iris13

[mrsriddlenott]

~ Costume? That’s Barley Clothes.~

Theo Nott x fem!Reader

[masterlist]

Summary: Malfoy!Reader who’s annoyed that they can’t be Theo’s date to the Halloween party dresses up to get his attention and ends up with more than one set of eyes on her. This is kinda short, I just wanted a Halloween themed oneshot.

Warnings:Possessive Behavior,Jealousy, Secret Relationship,Toxic(ish)Theo,Smut,Choking, Creampie.

“Baby, you know I’d go with you if it were up to me. I thought he wouldn’t be there I’m sorry.” Theo was annoyed to say the least, not only did his plan fail miserably, but you also seemed to blame him for it. The only reason he even wanted to go to this stupid party was for you, but of course Draco just had to decide last minute he wanted to go after all.

“I’m sorry, I know you wanted to dress up but he’s not gonna sit this party out.” You just eyed the much taller boy, he hadn’t put on his costume yet and could easily decide to stay with you but, “He’d get suspicious,” like it would be the end of the world if Draco knew. All you could do was roll your eyes with a sigh, laying down on your bed with a book as Theo watched you.

“Are you gonna say anything?” You just huffed at him, meeting his eyes for a second before returning to pretending to read your book, “If Draco found out I ditched the party he’s gonna come looking, and if he finds he in his little sister’s dorm he’d throw a fit.” You slammed your book shut, crossing your arms with furrowed brows before eyeing him from where you sat.

“His little sister huh?” You were frustrated, you couldn’t tell what he wanted anymore. One minute he’d be calling you his sweetheart, future wife and mother of his children, and the next he’d barley look at you, laughing in the Common Room from jokes Draco makes at your expense. “Just go to your party, I’m not some little kid who’s gonna cry without your attention for an hour,”

You huffed as his jaw clenched, eyeing you with a flash of anger, “I didn’t say you were a little kid, It’s just that if D-“

“Yeah I know if Draco finds out you’re in trouble,” You sighed as you rolled your eyes, slipping off your bed and leaving Theo trailing you with his darkening eyes, “I’m gonna take a shower, have fun at the party.”

Theo grumbled to himself as he left your dorm, slamming the door behind him as hard as he could just as you slammed the bathroom door. You sighed to yourself as you stared into your mirror, you weren’t just gonna sit out on your last Hogwarts Halloween party with Theo and he should have known that. You quickly threw on your costume and did your makeup light, wanting the glittery cat ears on your head to be the center of attention.

You wore a small black dress that could honestly barley be called a dress, paired with black heels that would bring your height to only a couple inches under Theo. You let your hair fall straight behind your shoulders, holding it back with the cat-ear headband, black eyeliner bringing out the color of your eyes with classic red lipstick drawing attention to your lips. You decided for no bra to let the dress hug your figure entirely, pulling it all together with a tight black belt adorned with a sleek black cat’s tail.

Goosebumps covered your skin as you made your way up the stairs to the packed Slytherin Common Room. A haze of smoke flitted over the various packs of dancing and conversing students while you made your way through to Draco and his friends usual spot.

Your skimpy black cat costume was basic, but a classic that was sure to drive Theo crazy. Your eyes met his as soon as the crowd parted to let you through to the group, leaving almost immediately to rake his eyes across your body as you approached. However you completely ignored him, walking up to Draco and announcing your presence before slipping away to get a drink, feeling Theo’s dead eyes stare into your back as you did so.

You hastily filled a glass with spiked punch and leant against the table with a sigh as the lanky figure of Lorenzo Berkshire approached the drink table only a few feet away from the group,“I didn’t know you were gonna be here tonight,” You eyed his loose button up and black jeans, he wasn’t wearing costume and if he was you had no clue what it was but you didn’t mind. He’d do.

“I wasn’t planning to at first,” You lied, turning to fully face the tall brunette, feeling Theo’s burning gaze on you both now, “But since it’s all you guy’s last year I figured I should come to as many parties as possible this year, don’t you agree?”

You maintained eye contact with Enzo as you lightly bit your lip, watching his eyes fall to watch it bounce back in place before meeting yours again. His eyes lingered in yours for a second as a smile slowly grew on his face. “I’m gonna be honest here, I thought you and Theo might’ve had something going on.” Enzo’s voice was low and intoxicating as he inched closer to you. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Theo zoning in on the words spoken between you and his friend with a clenched jaw, no longer trying to hide his annoyance.

You laughed sweetly at up at Enzo as he eyed you with his bloodshot gaze, “Theo? He’s just my brother’s best friend Lorenzo, why would there be anything going on between us?” You had to make an effort to keep your eyes on the lean boy in front of you as his hand found it’s way to your waist, he tugged you closer to him slightly just as the shadow of Theodore Nott engulfed you.

“Walk away Enzo.” The boy in front of you retreated with raised hands and a mocking smile, sending you a wink that made you giggle as he slipped into the crowd, much to Theo’s dismay. Theo’s large hand took in your wrist as he tugged you toward the boys’s dorms. “Aren’t you afraid Draco will see you leave with me Teddy?”

You forced the most sincere voice you could muster, poking out your lip in a dratamatic pout as he turned to you with daring eyes, “I don’t fucking care.” He spat, tugging you into his dorm room before slamming the door shut behind you both.

“What the fuck are you wearing first of all?” Theo snapped, turning to meet your eyes as he loosened the tie around his neck with a huff. You looked down at your dress then back to him with your eyebrows furrowed before simply saying, “A costume.”

“A costume?” He chuckled, poking his tongue into his cheek as he eyed your body again, “That’s barely clothes.” Theo sighed, eyes dead and set into yours before eyeing your outfit again, though this time he didn’t seem to have a problem with it at all.

“It’s the same thing I would have been wearing if you came with me,” You huffed, crossing your arms with a roll of your eyes before meeting his gaze again with a challenging stare.

“That’s different, I’d have been with you.” You narrowed your eyes at him as he spoke, taking in his sentence with a laugh and shake of your head. “So maybe you should have come with me?”

“I would have if it weren’t for your annoying ass brother,” He snapped, stepping closer as you stood your ground in front of his bed. “Speaking of which, I’m just Draco’s best friend now? Last time I fucking checked not all of Draco’s best friends get to fuck you almost every weekend,” He shouted, his eyes bore directly into yours but you didn’t waver. He didn’t scare you and he knew that, but you both knew you probably should have feared him a little.

“Well I guess I could change that couldn’t I, Enzo seemed rather eager, maybe I’ll start with him.” You laughed, biting at your lip and going to turn around before feeling Theo’s large hands dig into your arms, turning you to face him as he shoved you into the end post of his bed.

“Watch your fucking mouth,” His voice was strained, clearly hurt by your jab but you didn’t care, though you probably should have. “Or what?” Your voice dripped with desire as his face edged closer to yours, your thighs clenching together subconsciously and before your knew it his lips were on yours in a hungry kiss. His hands fell to your waist as yours wrapped around to meet in his hair, tugging at it to egg him on as he lifted you just to toss you on his bed.

“You’re a fucking brat.” He growled, crawling up your body as his eyes dug into you before smashing his lips back against yours. Face paint and lipstick smeared together, ending up in each other’s mouths as your teeth clattered together. “Now I’m gonna have to teach Enzo a lesson on who he can and cannot touch because of you.” He whispered into your mouth making you shiver and sending a rush of warmth directly to your core.

Theo’s lips and teeth worked down your neck, nipping at it and leaving a trail of bruises in their wake as his hands worked to push up your dress. You fumbled with his belt, the metal clinking together loudly as you tugged it off of him and tossed it aside before eagerly unbuttoning his pants and pushing them down. Theo quickly moved your panties to the side, lining himself up and meeting your gaze for consent with hooded eyes before filling you up entirely.

He immediately set a ruthless pace, staring into your eyes as he groaned and grabbed at your neck, “If your eyes leave mine you don’t get to come until I say so, understand?”

Your thoughts jumbled together as Theo hit your g-spot over and over, working overtime just to form the word “yes” while Theo picked up his pace. He kept one hand gripping your neck tightly as the other held onto your hip with a brutal grip. “You’re mine Baby, I don’t fucking care who knows anymore. You are mine.” He growled, mostly speaking to himself as he lost himself in your soft walls.

You moaned up at him as you dragged your nails down his toned back pulling a groan from him before wrapping your legs entirely around him and trapping him between them. Theo began speaking Italian down to you, still fucking into you while watching your face intently, you couldn’t understand a single thing he was saying making you glow bright red as he chuckled down to you.

“You’re absolutely gorgeous.” He muttered as his hips smacked against yours repeatedly, filling the room with the obscene combination of the smack of skin mixing with your moans and the creak of the bed drowning out his whispers of praise. “You feel so fucking good baby, I’m gonna fucking cum. Can I fill you up Baby?”

You moaned his named loudly as he tugged you closer to him by your neck, stealing your breath as you desperately mumbled a yes into his mouth. His hips snapped into yours faster as his hand fell between your legs, fingers finding your clit immediately to pull out your orgasm. You clenched around Theo as he hissed and sped of his thrusts, driving into you harder as he stuttered and moaned loudly. Your name repeatedly falling from his lips as he came deep inside of you pushing you over the edge, you clamped around him while your legs shook and your head became cloudy only being able to think of Theo as he fell on top of you completely.

Theo slowly pushed himself up further to look down at you, your face, neck, and shoulders smeared with his face paint and red lipstick just as his was, your hair a mess on his pillows, your eyes teary and staring up at him. He swore he’d never seen anything so perfectly ruined in his life.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” Draco stood in the doorway, sighing into his hand after taking in the scene in front of him. His best friend had his sister in their dorm, that they shared. “Eh put a fucking sock on the door next time or something.”

Theo turned quickly as the door slammed shut before he could glimpse his friend, “Does that mean he’s not gonna hex me?” Theo asked, eyes fixed on the cloak swinging back and forth on it’s hook on the door.

~~~~

-HP Taglist-

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[mattyriddlesbitch]

Just discovered you and love your writing! Was hoping to request something for when you have the time or desire to write 😊

Could you please do a Slytherin boy being betrothed to the reader where they know about each other and are in the same friend group but they never want to outright acknowledge it. They both secretly like each other but try to date other people because they dont want to be forced into being together.

Maybe someone gets too jealous and mad and then things escalate 😋

Thank you for considering 🥰🤩

I was having a hard time choosing which boy, so I hope Draco works. If not, send me another request! <3

Possessive

Draco Malfoy x F!Reader

Warnings: Oral(male and female receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, cream pie, cussing

18+ Minors DNI!

The Malfoys and your parents had arranged for you and Draco to get married after you guys graduate. You never hated Draco and he never hated you, but the thought of being forced into a marriage with someone was something that pissed you off.

You both were friends and that never did change after the arrangement, even if it did get a little awkward. It made your friend group a little weird for a bit since they all knew, but no one dared to speak about it since both you and Draco threatened them if they mentioned it again.

Normally, Draco wouldn’t go against his parents, but having his future already decided for him made him start rebelling. Even you started to as well. You both would date, makeout, hookup with other people, trying to ignore the other person. You knew you were going to be married anyways eventually, why not experience other people before that?

But, deep down, both of you liked each other. As much as Draco didn’t like the idea of his future being controlled, he really did love that it was going to be with you. And same with you, you were happy you were going to be with him, you were just mad at your parents for forcing this onto you.

Even though he was trying to ignore you and have fun with other people, he was really falling harder for you. The way you’d smile and laugh when hanging out together with all your friends. Your jokes. Your personality.

Something snapped in him one day when he saw a guy hitting on you at one of the Slytherin parties. He tried pushing the jealousy away. You were his fiance, after all. He’d have you in the long run. But then the guy started touching you. A hand on your waist. He was going to cut his hand off.

Before he even realized it, he was walking towards you. He grabbed your arm, pulling you away from the guy.

“What the fuck?” You asked Draco as he was dragging you away, guiding you to his dorm. “Let go, Draco!”

“No.” He said coldly. He brought you in his room, closing the door.

“What the fuck was that about?” You yelled, pulling your arm out of his grip.

“You can’t do that! You’re fucking mine!” Draco said angrily.

“You’ve been dating and hooking up with other people, too. You can’t say that to me!” You crossed your arms in front of your chest.

“You’re going to be my fucking wife!” Draco said as he grabbed the hair on the back of your head possessively, making sure you looked up at him. “Not his. Not anyone else’s. Mine.”

“That’s not fair, Draco.” You said calmly, looking into his eyes. “You’ve been doing the same.”

“I’m done with them. I don’t want them anymore. I want you.” He matched your calmness, but kept his grip on your hair.

“You can’t just do that, Draco. I’ll be yours in the future, let me have my fun.”

“I can give you your fun, though.” He used his hand in your hair to tilt your head back further, moving his head to start pressing kisses to your neck. “Let me show you. If you hate it, I’ll leave you alone until the wedding.” 

“I…” You were struggling, partially from hesitation, not knowing if you should. The other part was because of the way he was kissing your neck and the hand in your hair.

“Come on, darling. Just once.” He whispered.

“Fine.” You agreed, uncrossing your arms.

He didn’t say anything, but moved his hands to pick you up and dropped you on the bed with him hovering over you. He spent a few moments just running his hands over you, like he was happy to finally have you all to himself, even for just a little bit.

“I'm gonna make sure you want no one else but me now.” He said as he started to undress you. “So fucking stunning.” He ran his hands all over you again once he got you naked. He wanted to worship you, kiss, lick, bite, touch all over you.

But he had to prove a point, he needed to show you who you belong to. And he really needed to feel you.

He got undressed as well, letting you rake your eyes over him. God, he loved seeing your eyes running over his body.

He leaned back down to start kissing you. His hands ran down your body again, giving your breasts a good squeeze before continuing its path down. He pulled away and moved to lay down beside you, moving you so your pussy was right above his face and you faced towards his lower half. He didn't waste any time before licking your cunt, moaning at the taste. You started moaning above him as you placed your hands down on his chest for support. He urged you to lean further down with a gentle hand on your back. You knew what he was going for and leaned down, wrapping a hand around his dick before spitting on cock then taking him in your mouth.

You both were pleasing each other with your mouths. His tongue alternating between licking at your clit and fucking your hole while you bobbed your head up and down his dick. Your moans were muffled by his cock as he moaned into your pussy. His mouth on you was so distracting, even his hands grabbing your ass were drawing your attention. Your movements were faltering and he started thrusting up into your mouth, making you gag on his cock.

“Come on, darling. I know you can do better than that.” He said as he gave your ass a spank.

You moaned and tried focusing back on sucking him off.

“That's my girl. Don't stop.” He said before putting his mouth back on your pussy.

He was still helping by thrusting into your mouth, it’s like he wanted to hear you gagging and moaning around him. His mouth continued its attack on your pussy, licking and sucking and prodding at your hole. It was getting distracting again. Draco noticed and flipped you to lay beside him, quickly settling back between your legs as he continued licking at your clit. He pushed two fingers inside you, too, looking up at you to watch your face.

“My mouth too distracting for you, love?” He teased before sucking on your clit.

Your hands went to his hair, arching into his mouth. “Shit! Yes!” You answered with an eager nod.

“And you wanted to have fun with someone else tonight.” He said after he let go of your clit. He continued licking and sucking, hearing all your pretty moans. 

He had you cumming on his mouth and fingers like he knew your body perfectly already. You cried out his name as you trembled, gripping his hair tightly. He helped you ride it out, using his free hand to rub your thigh.

He pulled off of you and flipped you over, pushing on your back gently to get you to lean down into the pillows.

“You're so gorgeous. I can't believe you were letting other people but me touch you, angel.” He said softly, but you could feel his anger and jealousy seething from him.

He pushed into you, definitely not as gently as his voice. You yelped at the intrusion before moaning at how nice his dick felt in you. He barely gave you a moment to adjust before he was thrusting in you. His cock was hitting deep in you, making you grip at the sheets below you as you moaned.

“Draco.” You moaned his name. “So deep. Fuck.”

“Yeah? Never had anyone this deep in you before?” He asked, gripping at your hips.

“No. Shit!” You cried into the pillows as you buried your face in them.

He wasn't having that and grabbed your hair again, pulling your head up from the pillows. “Wanna hear you, darling. No one's ever made you feel this good?”

“No! No! Just you!” You cried out, moaning from his brutal pace.

“Just me? Do you wanna fuck any of those other assholes anymore?” He moved his hand on your hip to your clit.

“No! I don't!” You were teetering on the edge now.

“Good. Who do you belong to, darling?” He asked, feeling how you were clenching on him as he groaned.

“I belong to you, Draco!” You cried out.

“You gonna cum? Gonna cum all over my cock, sweet girl?” He asked, his own thrusts losing tempo.

“Yes! I'm gonna cum!” He kept his pace as best as he could before you came, trembling and crying his name with a few curses.

He was right behind you, filling your sweet pussy with his cum. He rode out his high before pulling out and watching his cum dripping out as he rubbed along your back gently.

He never wanted anyone else to touch you again. You were his future wife. You belonged to him and him to you.

[sundrop-writes]

My Bleeding Heart

Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader

Summary:

When Draco finds out that you are pregnant, he can't bring himself to be happy about the news because he doesn't want to bring a child into this wartorn world just to be another pawn in the Dark Lord's games. So, then and there, he makes a very important decision to risk everything in order to protect you and his future child.

Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader. Arranged Marriage. Angst (with a Fluffy Ending). Set during Deathly Hallows.

Word Count: 3,400

Harry Potter Masterlist | AO3 Link

This fic now has a prequel - Downhill. This fic can be read as a standalone oneshot, or you can read the prequel first and come back to this one.

Full list of warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: the reader is pregnant in this fic; this is set during Deathly Hallows and there are a lot of themes from that era - death, blood purity ideals, general violence, murder, mentions of Draco being tasked with killing Dumbledore; Draco and the reader live in an environment where they fear for their lives because they don't believe in Death Eater values completely and fear being killed for it; Draco and the reader are in an arranged marriage meant to carry on blood purity - but they have fallen in love in the marriage; the reader is a pureblood, but I have not mentioned her being related to any canon characters, so her appearance/race is not defined; general emotional angst - Draco fears for his own life, your life, and the fate of your unborn child if they are born into pureblood society; in the first half, there is some arguing/tension between Draco and the reader (but it's mostly due to the emotional tension of their situation); mentions of Dumbledore's death; non detailed mentions of sex (that's how we got the baby, duh) (sadly no smut); passing mention of abortion/pregnancy termination (they both want the child but fear for the child's safety in this environment); semi-graphic mentions of consensually inflicted injuries - Draco gets the reader to cut off the skin with his Dark Mark on it so that he can't be tracked or summoned with it; these warnings make it seem like a really dark fic but the ending is really fluffy I promise; toward the end, the reader and Draco have a toddler who refers to them as 'Mummy' and 'Daddy', and I think that is about it.

Author's Notes: The prompt of 'character finds out you are pregnant' was originally from the fluff prompts list, but because this is Draco, I couldn't help but to throw some angst in here. Because I imagine that if Draco was still living with his parents and surrounded by Death Eaters and the blood purity ideals, he would be very hesitant to want a child of his own because he wouldn't want a child to be tainted by all of it the way that he had been. Because at a certain point, the pride he felt turned sour. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy because this does get fluffy toward the end.

...

Terror. 

That was the very first thing Draco could tangibly say that he was feeling. 

The last two years of his life had been a sickening rollercoaster of utter chaos, and quite frankly, he had become numb to it all. He had to force himself to be numb, otherwise he wouldn’t have survived. And currently, survival was his only feasible goal. But this - this news touching his ears was one thing that woke up his senses from that numbness and sent him rocketing into the harshness of reality. This made him feel again, in the worst ways. Suddenly he was nauseous, shaking, blood rocketing against his ear drums, creating a harsh thumping in seconds. 

He wished that he had heard you wrong. 

“Are - are you sure?” He stuttered out, feeling his hands becoming exceptionally clammy as he clutched them around nothing, his feet unsteady on the ground. 

You saw him becoming remarkably pale for someone who was already so papery toned on a normal day, and you worried that he was going to faint. You worried that his harsh reaction meant that he hated the idea of you being pregnant - that he was angry with you. Of course, you realised that the fault wasn’t all on you, that was just nature. But part of you thought that he put the onus on you to take care of birth control, using potions or spells, because he had been worried about so many other things since the start of your relationship. 

Up until now, you weren’t sure if you wanted what they wanted. You weren’t naive enough to look beyond the reason you had married Draco in the first place. You were there to produce the next pureblood heir with him. Originally, you had thought it was romantic, in a sense. But when you had met Draco’s family, the people he was surrounded with, the people who called themselves Death Eaters - you realised that it most certainly wasn’t an ideal environment to bring a child into. 

Killing at the drop of a hat, torturing, murdering the innocent - those weren’t ideals that you wanted your child to be brought up on. 

“Draco, sit down, please,” You put a hand on his shoulder, trying to usher him toward one of the expensive chairs sitting in the corner of his room. 

You had stolen him away for a rare moment of privacy between meetings and Death Eaters traipsing around the house. These days, his parents always demanded that the two of you make good on appearances because you were supposed to be the sweet young couple, the future of the pureblood line. 

“Are you sure?” He whispered the question much more harshly, the words hissed through his lips like pure venom as he desperately waited for you to confirm it. 

He let himself be guided by you and collapsed down into the chair, sitting with his head in his hands, ruffling up his usually neat, slicked-back hair with rough, stressful fingers through it. 

Your stomach twisted with your own unique stress as you watched him. You hadn’t seen him so distraught since his first failed attempt on the mission he had been given last year. 

“I’m sure.” You said. “I went to the apothecary and got one of the test potions-” 

“A store bought test potion?” Draco hissed. 

He gave you the harshest glare that you had ever seen from him, which was saying something considering the looks of pure disdain he had given you upon first meeting. His jaw was set so tightly that it looked as though his molars were going to crush in on themselves at any moment. 

Your posture shrunk back, desperately trying to hide from his invasive stare. You wished that you could have burrowed under the floorboards at that point. 

You knew that it was fear and panic about the situation at large, all the death you had been surrounded with compounding onto him. But you hated that he was inadvertently taking it out on you. 

After a moment of you not speaking, Draco continued. 

“I should have made it myself, if you had just told me-” 

“Yes, and nobody would have become suspicious if you were mulling around, gathering the ingredients for a pregnancy test potion.” You snapped back. 

Draco’s face grew even more sickly at this, and you knew that you were both silently on the same page - nobody else in the house could know that you were pregnant. If they even suspected it, then it was over. 

He heaved a sigh, gathering all of his thoughts before he chose one to bring to open air. 

“Were you seen?” He asked, still tearing into you indignantly, talking to you as though you were stupid. 

“No.” You told him, entirely certain. “I wore a large cloak with a hood, it was dark. Nobody recognized me.” 

He gave you a distinct frown that said he was unsure of the truth in your words, and you rushed to trample over his potential sarcastic remark with your own. 

“I suppose they don’t recognize me when I’m not on your arm, anyway.” 

You scoffed out the last part, talking about this fact with distaste even though in actuality it was something you loved. You felt safe when you were with Draco. You couldn’t imagine facing the scowling faces without his arm around you. 

But you knew that’s all you were in this society - Draco’s wife. That’s all you had been labelled as since you had been shipped over from America by your godmother. 

You were the last of your noble pureblood family’s line. Your parents had been killed by Aurors in the name of Voldemort’s cause during the first war. After their deaths, you had been sent to live with your godmother in America, never truly understanding how your parents were killed or why.

The whole reason you had met Draco in the first place - an arranged marriage. Something that would have honoured your parents, apparently. 

The Malfoys had been looking for a pureblood match around Draco’s age, and they had once known your parents, and thought of you as a good prestigious pureblood girl to marry their son. It didn’t take them long to find you, even though you didn’t mingle in pureblood society like they did. (Something they found to be a big shame and a horror upon your parents’ memory.) 

Your godmother sold you out for a ‘dowry’ of two thousand Galleons, and from there, your life became a living hell. 

Strangely enough, Draco had been the one anchor keeping you alive in it. 

Most would say that it was because he was kind by comparison, but truly - he was easy to fall in love with when he was compassionate, sweet, loving in the smallest ways that made you feel safe during some of the most hectic times of your life. 

Draco had never intended to get attached to you. 

But like anything in his life - pining for the crumbs of his father’s approval, digging under all the proprietary for a single genuine gesture of affection from his mother - Draco’s heart kept beating as much as he tried to turn it off. He convinced himself that he was solid stone, but apparently, you were the pickaxe that made him crumble to pieces. After meeting him, you burrowed through the layers of snide coldness and dark humour that he used in an effort to put you off and you found that still beating heart. That soft thing that he hated so much about himself. 

You dug that heart out of his chest, and - despite his best efforts to fight you off, you nursed that heart back to health. And you gave him the closest thing he had experienced to ‘love’ in years. 

On the day the two of you got married, when Dumbledore’s dead body was barely cold, Draco said his vows to you with nothing but honesty in his heart. And that night, he made love to you with intense passion, held you in his arms as though you might slip away if he didn’t grip onto you tight enough. And only after you had fallen asleep in his arms, was when he allowed himself to cry. Because he knew that they now had one more way to make him hurt if they wanted to. They could kill him, they could stop the breath in his lungs, but he would die a million deaths through you being hurt in the smallest of ways before that happened. 

And now - with this utterly horrifying revelation, they had new ways to hurt him. He should have died a lone man. He should have let them kill him instead of agreeing to any of this in the first place. He shouldn’t have learned to love - he shouldn’t have grown these new limbs that they could cut off savagely and tear apart in front of him. 

“I got another one.” You announced when the room had grown too quiet, silent tears streaming down Draco’s face as he sat in intense contemplation. “Another test potion. An extra. I figured you’d want to see it with your own eyes.” 

Even though the two of you had only met two short years ago - you knew him too well. You knew that he would want visual confirmation before his own eyes. 

“Get it. Please.” He said, trying his best not to let his throat drown in these tears. He wouldn’t be reduced to sobbing. 

You went to your cloak, which was hung on a hook in an opposite corner of the room, and grabbed the potion vial out of your pocket. Your shoes clacking against the floor made a terribly hollow soundtrack to the whole thing as you ripped off the small tag that was tied to the neck of the potion bottle and handed it to Draco. He read the instructions on it while you uncorked the potion. 

It was simple: you put some sample of your DNA in the bottle - a hair, a small bit of blood, something like that. And then if the potion changed colours to glow white, it meant that you were pregnant. If it made no change from its original, soupy grey colour - then you weren’t pregnant. 

He watched, holding his breath as you plucked a single hair from your head and then dropped it into the now open top of the bottle. When the hair made contact with the liquid, it bubbled slightly as it dissolved. Then - after only a moment, the bottle began to shake roughly in your hand as it changed colour, and surely enough - it glowed brightly white. 

You were definitely pregnant. 

Draco’s nausea increased. And then - in a moment, he felt a fierce sense of protectiveness wash over him. It was as though he had been slapped sharply across the face, woken up from the blind numbness he had been feeling. He knew at that moment that he needed to take action. He couldn’t simply stand by and let things happen around him anymore. He could simply sit around hoping for safety, hoping for some miracle to save the two of you. 

“Happy?” You scoffed. 

You took Draco’s lack of words as a negative - a sign that he was certainly unhappy with the news. 

Not that you were entirely thrilled under the present circumstances - you were scared, stressed, and hating it because you had always wanted children, but not like this. 

You placed the potion down on the nearest table and stormed off to the bathroom attached to Draco’s bedroom. He chased you, catching the door before you could slam it closed and lock it. 

You conceded to his movements quickly and simply turned to face the sink, unable to look at him right now. You turned it on, splashing cold water on your face, trying your best not to freak out because clearly he was already playing that role. He walked up behind you, gently pressing his body into yours. Even under these circumstances, you found his presence so comforting. You found his body behind you to be nothing but a wall of safety, and you couldn’t help but to lean back into him, your eyes still tightly closed. 

Draco reached around you and gently pressed his hand into your stomach - you held back tears of your own now. Clearly, you were both thinking the same thing. Thinking of the unborn child that you both needed to protect. You placed your hand over his, seeking comfort in his touch as he flattened a palm across your stomach. 

It was a world shattering revelation to know that his child was resting under his hand. 

“No one can find out about this.” He muttered quietly into your neck. 

It was something Draco dreaded - them finding out about your pregnancy. 

This is what they had been waiting for. This was the reason for the marriage in the first place. This was the pureblood heir - this was their chess piece. 

Draco wouldn’t let his child become another pawn in their games. 

“It’s still early.” You choked out quietly. “There are other potions. We could-” You choked on your own words, unable to even speak it aloud. 

Draco dug his fingers into the fabric of your shirt protectively, quite insulted at the insinuation. 

“No.” He replied, his voice rough with anger. “Unless the idea of being pregnant with my child is so utterly horrible to you-” 

“It’s not that!” 

You screeched, forcefully turning in his arms, wanting to face him. He kept one hand on your hip, and moved the other up to gently grasp your cheek, thumbing away your tears as they gathered. It was that gentleness that always got you. His natural instinct to comfort you.You leaned into his touches as you continued. 

“I want this baby more than anything. I - I’m just terrified they’ll see that as a weakness.” 

You knew it was the truth. Especially when Draco’s sullen face confirmed it. In this circle, loving anything or anyone was a weakness that could be exploited. 

Draco leaned in and kissed your forehead. You closed your eyes, letting the single, solitary moment of peace wash over you. 

“I’ll protect you.” He declared, his voice whisper-quiet, but nearly broken with the intensity of his words. “Both of you.” He added this on as he brushed his palm over your stomach once again. 

Again, you laid your hand over his, uttering quiet assurances of love toward your unborn child. 

“Draco, how-?” 

He didn’t let you finish the question. 

“We’ll leave. We’re leaving. Tonight.” He declared firmly. 

It was something you had suggested before - to protests from Draco, many scathing comments poking holes in your plans. His parents would be killed if he left. At this point, he had to surrender to the idea that they could take care of themselves - that they had made their bed and they had to lie in it. But now that he had the Dark Mark, they would be able to find him, wherever he went. But he would find some harsh way around that. 

Now that he had so much more at stake, he couldn’t care if his parents died because of his actions. He had so much more that he had to protect. 

“I’ll cut off my bloody arm if I have to.” Draco mumbled quietly, and then turned sharply from the bathroom, leaving to pack. 

… 

“Daddy, Mummy’s not being fair! She won’t let me play with the jellyfish!” 

“Draco, can you please explain to your daughter that jellyfish are dangerous and she can’t play with them?” You replied, trying your best to haul your toddler away from the rough rocks at the water’s edge where the creature had washed up. 

“Love, why don’t you come and play with your toys over here?” Draco posed, trying to draw her attention toward something else. She was much like himself as a child - determined, stubborn, and wouldn’t do anything unless she believed it was her own idea first. “Come and show Daddy how to build a sand castle, hmm?” 

She seemed to perk up at this. She was clever, and over-eager to show off her skills. More than eager to show her father how to do something properly if she felt that he wasn’t doing it right. This happened with everything from the way he spread marmalade on his toast to the way he tied his shoes - something she had just learned how to do that she was eager to show off her expertise in.

As she tore out of your arms and trudged across the beach to scoop some sand into her bucket, Draco had to be thankful as he watched you follow slowly behind. Purely thankful of the fact that the biggest danger your daughter had to worry about was something like a stray jellyfish washed up on shore. 

Three years after escaping a life of servitude toward the Dark Lord in England, you and Draco enjoyed a quiet life with your daughter Aster in France. 

You sat down beside Draco with a huff, picking up the book you had previously been reading. You flashed him a grateful smile as he listened to Aster’s detailed instructions about how they should build their castle. He gave you a wide grin in return, and you felt your insides tingle. His smile used to be something as rare as a Basilisk, but now he wore it proudly and more often - he wore his happiness without restraint. 

With the short-sleeved, light linen shirt that he had on for the beach, the scar on his forearm was fully visible. It reminded you of the brave choices he had made on that night three years ago. 

You had convinced Draco not to cut off his arm completely, but the two of you knew that the Dark Mark needed to go. Otherwise, the two of you could never run far enough, you would have nowhere to hide. So now he sported a large scar where you had held him down and cut the skin off with a sharp knife. That night, his parents had found his room empty, save for the flap cut-off skin in the middle of his bloody bedroom floor. Luckily, you had a talent for healing spells and Draco had been able to knick a few good potions from his family’s cupboards before the two of you left. 

On the outside, it was jagged and ugly. But when he looked at it, it reminded him of nothing but freedom - of the love you had committed to him that day, to your unborn daughter. 

With a couple thousand Galleons in gold taken from his parents’ stash, the two of you started a new life. You were untraceable and happy. And though there was intense relief when you read in the papers that Potter had succeeded in defeating the Dark Lord and that meant the war was over - the two of you didn’t have any plans to go back to England anytime soon. 

Not when your new life was this good. 

“-and see, you need to dig down until you find the sand that’s wet, that makes a good castle-” Aster drawled on, piercing her toy shovel into the ground frantically as she spoke. 

Draco nodded, giving her a smile as he followed her instructions. “Yes, yes. I see. Very smart girl.” 

He had gotten the two of you away from that life, and not for a moment had your daughter ever known the kind of pain or fear that you had. 

“Daddy’s learning a lot today, isn’t he?” You remarked, giving Draco a sly grin. 

“Good thing I’ve got this smart girl here to teach me,” He said, leaning over and giving Aster a kiss on the forehead. 

That was another thing that made you fall even deeper in love with him - the droves of affection he gave to his daughter. Now that he wasn’t being watched so closely, now that he wasn’t expected to be the picture perfect son, he could love her exactly how he wanted to. He didn’t have to worry about propriety or appearing weak. 

Aster giggled at this, and Draco blew raspberries on her cheek before kissing her again. She then rallied Draco up to go to the shoreline for a bucket of water. As you watched them walk hand in hand, you felt your heart ache from how overwhelmingly full of love you were. 

Somehow, you found yourself endlessly thankful for the rocky road of fate that had brought you here.

[iamthemain-character]

Dragon Bite

draco malfoy x reader she/her TW: highly suggestive (no smut), biting, draco is lowkey insane, i put 5k words in this bad boy, this was written for my favorite critic so i couldn't get her to proofread this is a request. you know who you are. <3 image used was found on pinterest, linked in the image :)

harry potter masterlist

Draco is a constellation in the far northern sky. Its name is Latin for dragon. It was one of the 48 constellations listed by the 2nd century Greek astronomer Ptolemy, and remains one of the 88 modern constellations today. The north pole of the ecliptic is in Draco.[1] Draco is circumpolar from northern latitudes, meaning that it never sets and can be seen at any time of year.

In some settings, dragons tend to guard hoards of treasure — typically by lying on top of it.

It was one kiss. And not even a real one. Being drunk on firewhiskey and giving into a dare didn’t count. Everyone had a Spin the bottle or Seven Minutes in heaven story, nobody was more stupid than sixth and seventh year Hogwarts students. And you were no different. It had been one of the illicit parties happening in the Hufflepuff common room, with drinks and magical concoctions flowing far too freely. But everyone was ready for graduation, high on life and the prospect of the future. So when a dare–or maybe it was a game, you couldn’t really recall–had pushed you and Draco Malfoy together, your usual logic and apprehension were absent from your thoughts. What you did remember, however, was his lips. They were soft, which had surprised you, and much like his skin, they were a little cool. But things had heated up plenty in the moment, as he had taken charge, maneuvering your mouth together in a way that was far too good for a casual kiss. You could remember the way his hand had cupped the back of your neck, ringed fingers catching in your hair as he directed you. You couldn’t recall if the kiss had lasted a second or an hour, but when the two of you had broken apart, he was gone in an instant, leaving nothing but a tingling sensation on your lips. 

Your heart had given you plenty of trouble after that night, fluttering frustratedly every time you saw him after that. But he had never acknowledged it, had never even so much as looked at you again, so you stuffed those feelings away, refusing to let one kiss with a snobby boy ruin your life. And after graduation, you moved on, and it became easier to forget the blonde boy with the delectable lips. 

That was, until now. 

After leaving Hogwarts, you had become an author, receiving notable acclaim with your most recent book documenting the history of potion making and how it differed according to the geographical region. The newfound fame and fortune had certainly been overwhelming at times, but you were grateful for the new doors and opportunities your success had brought. What you weren’t enthralled about, however, were the numerous events you suddenly had to attend. Your agent assured you it was good for publicity, but you honestly didn’t care for the rooms full of stuffy air and stuffier people. Though it was a good excuse to get glammed up with professional makeup and designer dresses. 

The glitter and satin soon lost their shine as you sat in the crowded ballroom. The aesthetic hors d’oeuvres sat half touched on your plate, the little delicacies not nearly as tasty as they looked. And even if they had been delicious, your stomach was currently housing a storm worthy of the anger of poseidon. To top it all off, the room was hot, the sea of black suits and neutral toned dresses taking up too much space, a little too close to you. Even your agent had abandoned you to do some “networking”. 

Unceremoniously, you threw back the last of your champagne, rising from your little spot of isolation to try to find a restroom. You bore your clutch as your shield, protecting you from the stray elbows and backsides of the crowd. Eventually, you emerged on the other side, quickly exiting out the side door. 

The hallway was darker, and much more quiet than the ballroom. A few stray people lingered here and there, but they were much too engrossed in their own conversations to pay you any mind. As you wandered around the hall, however, you soon realized that this elaborate building had no signs. Countless doors lined the hallway, leaving you clueless as to where a restroom would be, not to mention if it was even in this section of the historic house. 

Taking your chances, you opened the first door you saw, slipping inside. Inside was not a bathroom, but rather a study, with ornate carved wood shelves lining the walls. Antique books filled every space, stirring delight within you. In the middle of the room there was a dark mahogany desk, the carefully placed decor indicating it was more for aesthetics than real use. 

On the far side of the room was a tall window, the delicate panes allowing the moonlight from outside to shine in. The moonlight was silhouetting a figure standing by the window, back leaned against the alcove. The white light was bright as it highlighted the figure’s nearly-white blond hair, neatly combed back, brushing the collar of their suitcoat. It was a picturesque scene, but you had no interest in making small talk, so you reached for the handle behind you. 

The figure, however, took notice of your presence. Turning their head, green-gray eyes land on you, and your heart suddenly meets the pit of your stomach. There was only one man who had ever had eyes like that, eyes that lingered deep in the back of your mind, reminding you of a “meaningless” kiss. 

“It figures Lady Anorak would find her way into a library.” The taunting tone remark only solidified the identity of the glowing figure. 

“Draco Malfoy.” You greet, straightening your shoulders. It had been years since you had last seen the man, and the time had been kind to his features. His bone structure was strong and sharp, his lips still perfectly pink as they curled into his signature smirk. His eyes once again brought butterflies to your stomach, the way they shamelessly glanced you up and down. You couldn’t quite tell, however, if he was checking you out or judging you. 

“I’m surprised to see someone like you here.” Draco remarks, pushing himself off the wall, sauntering over to you. 

You huff, crossing your arms. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

His amusement only grows as he gazes down at you, an unreadable expression behind his eyes. “Usually these events are for notable members of society. Stuffy, boring, too long. Not for someone as...free spirited as you.” 

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms defensively in front of you. “You’ve lost your tact with insults.”

“Who said I was insulting you?” Draco replies, his face not giving away any insight as to what he was really thinking. 

“So you’ve grown out of that now?” 

His smug smile grows, tugging up one side of his mouth.You can see the sharp little points of his canines, giving him a slight vampiric look. “Only as much as you’ve grown out of being such a wonk.” 

“Well, being a wonk happens to be the reason that I’m here in the first place.” You retort, tossing your head a little. It's infuriating, how easily Draco is riling you up again after all this time, but you just pray that your old crush on the man doesn’t return. 

“Is that so?” Draco asks, lifting one of his brows, looking a little curious. “And how is that, Lady Anorak?” 

“I wrote a book.” You explain, summoning all of your pride to fuel your confidence. “The Melting Pot: A study of potions across the globe. Perhaps you’ve heard of it? It was featured in The Daily Prophet.”

The corners of Draco’s mouth turn down as he considers your words, turning them over in his mind. “Was that you? I suppose you have a bit more acclaim than I gave you credit for. But it's still a very bookish bore thing to do.” He glances back at you, taking in your body for the second time. “You don’t seem to be basking in the evening’s glory, however.” 

You grimace, thinking of the suffocating room you had just fled from. “I wasn’t aware there was much to bask in other than excessive egos and endless champagne.” 

If you hadn't known better, you would have said the slight shift of Draco’s chest would have been a laugh. But his face remains unchanged, that damned small smile on his lips. “And so you decided to come steal my hiding spot?”

You roll your eyes, uncrossing your arms and meandering over to the desk, leaning against it. You could feel Draco’s eyes watching your every step, eliciting a strange feeling of both attraction and nerves in your chest. “I didn’t know it was your hiding spot.” 

Draco just shrugs, running a hand over his hair, slicking back a small piece that had fallen out of place. “Well, now you’re trespassing, so if you’re going to stay, you’ll need to pay the fine.”

Now it's your turn to lift your eyebrow, your stomach giving a little flip as you think of just how many things you could give Draco Malfoy. “And what is this mysterious price for such a grievous crime?” 

Draco takes a few steps closer to you, his eyes burning up your skin as he looks over you a third time. “Trespassing on my personal hiding spot, and you’re unremorseful. I’m going to need substantial repayment.” He says, his voice lowering a little. 

Your stomach twists, and you mentally scold yourself that it's in desire and not in anxiety. Yet when you look into those gray eyes, their greenish hue glinting in the moonlight, you can’t help but feel that pull towards him you felt all those years ago. 

But just like that moment all those years ago, the moment is cut short by a female voice at the door. “Draco? Are you in there? The Vickorat family wishes to congratulate us on the engagement.” 

Your stomach twists, a feeling of nausea burning your insides, replacing the excitement that was just there. 

Draco’s face immediately is schooled back into a blank, calm and even expression. “Coming Astoria.” He says, his tone lacking any of the warmth or playfulness it had just a moment ago. He looks back at you, his eyes study yours. “It seems I will concede this time, Lady Anorak. Enjoy your books.” With that, he turns and leaves, walking out of your life for the second time. 

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The intense interaction between you and Draco didn’t leave your mind in the coming weeks, but you packed it away with the other memory of him. Instead, you threw yourself into the preparations for your second book.

You were sat in the aesthetic office of the publishing house you went through–Bramble Sons & Co.-sitting in front of a woman named Christine, who had been working with you since your first book. 

“We honestly think your ideas for the second book are great, but we did have a few questions from the editor about the manuscript.” 

You sighed deeply, steeling yourself for the critiques to come. You already second guessed your writing constantly, and going through the editing process had nearly broken you last time. Still, you straightened your shoulders, preparing for the barrage of comments. 

As you did, however, movement caught the corner of your eye. You glanced over to the hallway outside the office, spotting a man walking past the large glass windows who looked suspiciously like Draco Malfoy. 

“Excuse me one moment.” You said to Christine, getting up from your chair, trying to subtly speed walk over to the hallway. 

As you glanced after the disappearing figure, you spotted the familiar combed back blonde hair, and your heels clicked on the wooden floor as you approached behind him. 

“Draco.” You called, and you almost misstepped as he turned around, looking down at you. 

His damnable suit adorned his lean figure, his hands stuffed in his pockets. “Lady Anorak.” He replied casually, as if his presence at the publishing house you worked with wasn’t odd. 

“What are you doing here?” You queried, arching your brow at him. You crossed your arms over your chest, trying to calm the pounding of your heart. 

Draco shrugs, irritatingly composed as he continued to gaze down into your face. “Am I not supposed to be?”

“You and I both know that this is not a place you regularly frequent.” You retort, your tone unamused as you glared at Draco. “So why are you here?”

Just in that moment, Ms. Wasthdrop, the manager of the publishing house, stepped out from her office. She smiled brightly as she saw you, approaching and coming to stand beside Draco. “Ah, Mr. Malfoy, I see you’ve met our new star author.”

“Indeed I have,” Draco says calmly, but you see the glimmer of mirth in his eyes. 

“I actually was going to reach out to the authors today.” Ms. Wasthdrop continues. “We have exciting news to share. Mr. Malfoy is the new owner of Bramble Sons & Co.” 

Of all the reasons you could think of Draco being at the publishing house, this was not one of them. “Oh.” Was all you could manage to say, trying not to let your confusion show through your expression You could almost see the ghost of a smug smile dancing on Draco’s lips. “Welcome...Mr. Malfoy.” You add, trying your best to seem polite. 

Draco gives a small nod in return. “Thank you. I look forward to seeing more from our...star author.” 

Your cheeks flush, and you watch as Draco and Ms. Wasthdrop disappeared into the latter’s office. You weren’t exactly sure how to feel about working with a company that Draco now owned. It felt odd, like he had some sort of claim over you. You couldn’t yet decide if you liked the feeling or not. 

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

It just so happened, however, that the universe gave you an out. You received a letter from an alternative publishing house, Thornston’s, offering to buy you out. They were offering a better cut of the profits to you, and you couldn’t help but wonder if this was your chance to remove yourself from Draco. But at the same time, did you really want to do so? He hadn’t changed anything with the publishing house, hadn’t made any new demands for your books. Maybe he was just into investing suddenly. 

It was with these warring thoughts that you agreed to meet an associate of Thornston’s to discuss your possible switchover. 

“I am so grateful you’ve taken the time to meet with us.” The rotund man you’d come to know as Mr. Peasley stated, folding his hands on the table. “Unfortunately, I cannot say I bring good news. We recently had a change in ownership, and our new owner has informed us to retract our offer.” Mr. Peasley stated, looking genuinely a little guilty. 

New owner? You pause, leaning your head towards the man across the table. “Did Mr. Richmond retire?”

Mr. Peasley shakes his head, looking eager to share the gossip as he also leaned in. “That’s what he’s claiming. Yet I heard from his assistant that our new owner offered Mr. Richmond a substantial sum of money to sell immediately.” 

You tried to keep a nonchalant demeanor as you continued digging. “So, who is this mysterious new benefactor?”

Mr. Peasley glances around. “Well, it’s supposed to be kept hush-hush, but…”

You place a hand on the man’s arm, offering a friendly smile. “I promise, my lips are sealed.” 

Mr. Peasley returns the smile, his excitement evident. “The young Mr. Draco Malfoy purchased the firm.” 

The confirmation of your suspicions fills you with a myriad of emotions. You kept your expressions carefully schooled into casual interest, not letting the surprise nor the irritation show. “Oh, really?”

Mr. Peasley nods, continuing on with little encouragement. “The strangest part is that Mr. Malfoy doesn’t seem to be doing anything different with our company. He simply just up and bought it.” 

“How strange.” You remark non committedly. Inside, your mind was a whirl of activity. First, Draco purchased your original publishing house, also seemingly for no reason. And now he purchases the one you were switching to, but forces them to retract their offer. No matter how you turned it in your head, it felt like he was trapping you in a corner, and you didn’t appreciate it. 

By the time you bid farewell to Mr. Peasley, you were pissed. You weren’t sure what game Draco was trying to play, but he was mistaken if he thought you’d simply lay by and be a piece for his amusement. You got in your car, immediately heading for his townhouse. 

The elegant building sat in a row of similar townhouses, the neighborhood having belonged to rich pureblood wizards for decades. The door of the Malfoy flat was painted a dark green, a gold M swirling with snakes. You had always noted that the door was indicative of the dramatic nature of the family who it belonged to. 

Now, however, you didn’t give a second thought to the decorative entrance nor the snakes that hissed at your approach. You knocked on the door–the harsh sound echoing in the quiet neighborhood–and you tapped your foot impatiently as you waited. 

To your surprise, it wasn’t a house elf that answered the door, but Draco himself. You took notice of his black slacks that sat temptingly on his hips, slouching a little with the lack of a belt. Additionally, his white shirt was tight across his pecs and shoulders, his lean muscle flexing as he crossed his arms. “Lady Anorak, to what do I have the plea-”

“What the literal fuck Draco.” You snap, eyes dark with anger as you glower at him. He may have looked attractive always in this moment, but you weren’t going to disregard his blatant disrespect for your literal career. 

He raises his eyebrows, smirking a little at your spiteful words. “Something amiss in your potions, darling? Mixed up a real worm with wormwood?” 

You push your way past him, and he just smiles more as your shoulder brushes his chest. He closes the door, looking over you as you stand in his foyer, displeasure written in the wrinkle of your brows. “Care to explain why you’re trying to ruin my career?”

Draco quirks an eyebrow, sticking his hands into his pockets. “Last I checked, I’m helping you publish your books, so-”

“I know you bought out Thornston’s.” 

Draco’s expression flickers, his smile fading and being replaced with a stony blank expression. “Who told you that?” 

“Does it matter?” You scoff, irritated at his lack of remorse. “You purposefully denied me the opportunity to have greater pay, to possibly advance my career. What could I have possibly done to you to make me want to suffer this way?”

Draco straightens up, his green eyes shadowed in the antique lighting of the hallway. “Oh, I’m sorry that I’m ruining your life, keeping you loyal to the company that gave you your career.” His voice is low, a little rough as he speaks. “And here I thought the Lady Anorak would be smart enough to know a good business opportunity when she sees it.” 

“Don’t try to make this about some nonexistent morals!” You snap, annoyed at him trying to make you feel guilty. “This is about me having the opportunity to do more than just get by. Though I suppose someone who was fed with a silver spoon his whole life wouldn’t understand that.”

His sharp jaw twitches, and he strides forward, quickly towering over you. His eyes seared into you, as if he could read your beating heart. “You want money? Fine, you have it. I’ll double whatever portion you receive. You want more creative freedom? I’ll fire your editor. You want to run the damn house? We’ll put your name on the door. Right under mine.” He leaned in even closer, his face dangerously hovering over yours. “You work for me, and only me. You don’t get to go run off and sign with a different publishing house. I’ll buy out every last company in London if I have to.” His words were a growl by the time he finished, his eyes narrowed on you. “You’re mine.” 

Your anger was dwindling, being replaced as you became more perplexed by his actions. It didn’t help that his words stirred up a flutter in your lower belly, heat blooming up to your ears. You jut your chin out, looking up defiantly. “I don’t belong to you.” 

He lets out a dark laugh, his hand coming up, caressing your hair back, then grasping it at the back of your head. “And that’s the problem. I need you to belong to me. My Lady Anorak.” He murmurs, his eyes glancing over your features, as if he’s drinking in a piece of fine art. 

Your heart gives another treacherous leap, your skin tingling as the cool touch of his fingers in your hair burns into fire in your veins. “You shouldn’t say things like that.” You say quietly, your voice firm. “The only woman that belongs to you is Astoria.”

Draco’s jaw twitches again, the sharp edge even more apparent as he tenses. “Astoria doesn’t belong to me, or with me.” He takes in your surprise, giving a little huff. “Do you really think I could keep her after I saw you in that study? Looking so fierce, so alluring in your perfect little dress. I couldn’t keep my ring on another woman’s finger when all I could think of was if your lips still taste the same.” 

You feel like the breath has been taken out of your lungs as you blink a few times, your lips parting in surprise as you hear Draco’s words. “You...you broke up with Astoria?” 

“The same night. I may be an arse, but I know when I can’t be loyal to another woman.” He replies, his hand moving to your neck, his thumb running over your lower lip. His pupils almost swallow up his green irises, the flame of desire evident as he stares at you. 

“Because you...” You can’t bring yourself to say the words, feeling like you can’t trust the feelings brewing up in your chest.

“Because I need you.” Draco breathes, and you can smell the mint of the tea he must have been drinking. A smell that haunts you every time you’ve brewed amortentia. His hand tightens slightly on your jaw, his nose brushing against your cheek. “I need you in my life, in my hands. So no, I’m not sorry for preventing you from leaving Bramble Sons. I’d do it again if it means I get to keep you close.” 

The words make your body feel warm, that spark of hope you tried to bury long ago rising up. Draco continues to hover his face tantalizingly close, his eyes flicking over your features like he’s deciding which one to kiss first. “Do you have any idea what you did to me at that party?” He murmurs, his voice husky. Your heart skips as you realize he thinks about that drunken kiss as much as you do. “Walking away from you that night nearly drove me insane. And I have been losing my mind more and more, haunted by how it felt to have you. And then, you walked back into my life, looking so perfectly beautiful in your little dress, with your smartass remarks and incredible mind. And all I have been able to think about is having you again. And I’m not walking away this time.”

He’s ridiculous. And a little crazy. But you’d always known that, and yet your heart still flutters for him. So you don’t leave, instead taking the small step to close what little remaining space was between the two of you, your chest pressed up against his. “You could have just asked me out like a normal person.” You murmur, leaning up, his lips just a touch too high to meet. 

He smiles, giving a huff of laughter. “It’s much easier to get you to say yes if you have no other option.” His voice is a low rumble, pride clear in the quirk of his lips. 

“I wouldn’t have said no either way.” You tell him, your hands sliding up his arms, resting on his biceps. 

He shivers at the sensation, closing his eyes for a moment before they refocus on you. “No? You agree then, you’re mine?”

Your heart squeezes in your chest, the words that have lingered on your tongue unspoken for six years ready to pour out. “All yours.” 

What little restraint Draco was practicing snaps at that. He dips down, pressing his lips against yours. His hand shifted, the thumb and pointer finger that had been framing your jaw sliding downward, until he was holding your neck firmly in his grasp. His lips demanded yours to part, his own pulling at your lower lip a little. He kept moving your mouths together, as if he couldn’t quite settle, craving more, needing more.

Draco pushed you back, until you were pressed up against the wall, his other hand coming up to grasp your hip. His fingers dug into the soft curve, like a dragon’s talons staking claim of their treasure. Your hands went to his chest, clinging at the thin white material, trying to ground yourself as Draco’s demanding kisses turned any thoughts into hazy ideas. He growled at the touch of your hands, his hands slipping down to your thighs, grasping them firmly as he lifted up. You wrapped your legs around his hips, using the wall and his hands support your weight. His desire was obvious as your center pressed against the front of his trousers, a jolt of desire running through you as you feel his hardness. 

He groaned, and he pulled his lips away from yours, moving them over your jaw, pressing a trail of open mouth kisses down your neck. His teeth scraped over the tender skin, and you could feel his two pointed canines pressing into your flesh. Before your brain could register any pain, however, he was soothing the spot with his tongue, swiping it over the red marks. He kept working downward, not stopping until there was a path of love bites from your jaw to your collarbone. He smiled proudly, his eyes dark with possessive admiration. “So beautiful.” He murmured, running his fingers over the tender spots. 

“Oh, so now I’m beautiful?” Your voice was breathless, but your teasing nature couldn’t even be hampered by the heat Draco elicited in you. 

The sound that escaped him was caught between a growl and a groan, and he pressed his body into you again, his hand tightening on your throat. “You know damn well what I mean. You’re fucking breathtaking.” 

“Do I know?” You continue, your voice and eyes challenging him. You know you’re playing with fire, but you’re too lost into the moment to really care. 

Draco’s eyes darken, and he pulls you away from the wall, moving to the stairs. “You’re going to know exactly what I think about you by the time we’re done.” 

He carries you up the stairs, not lessening his grip on you until he throws you onto the bed. He doesn’t hesitate a moment, crawling on top of you, caging you in with his arms, his hands on either side of his head. “You look so fucking good like this.” He murmurs devouring you with his eyes. “I should have done this a long time ago.” His hands slip under your dress, running up your thighs, playing with the waistband of your underwear. 

Heat flares in your body, a little tremble of excitement running through you. “You should have. Now you have to make up for lost time.” You breathe out, your heart delighted with the fact that you finally are in this moment with Draco. You reach out to the top button of his shirt, undoing it, watching his reaction. 

Draco’s hands tighten on your hip, his eyes intensifying with hunger. “That is an incredible idea.” He murmurs, his voice husky with desire. “But only if you want me to.” He’s aching to have you, but he refuses to let go fully until he’s sure.

You lean up, pressing a kiss to his lips. “I want you to. I want you.” 

Draco groans, and he dives deeper into the kiss with you, finally letting go of any hesitation as he lets himself take you. Your clothes quickly end up scattered around the room, the air hot with the movement of your bodies. 

By the time the passion calms down, the two of you are thoroughly blissed out, your bodies feeling the delightful ache of being known. Draco lays down on top of you, pressing his face into your neck, his lips administering sweet kisses. “You’re so perfect. So beautiful, so smart. God, I’m never letting you go again.”

You smile, running your fingers through his hair. The pale strands are soft to the touch, deliciously messy from your touch. It's such a contrast from his usually perfect slick back, filling your heart with warmth as you relish in the fact that you alone get to see him like this. “I think I’ll let you keep me.” You tease. 

Draco smiles, lifting his head so he can gaze down at you, his hand drifting over your waist and hip. “You better. Or else I’ll have to keep you locked away, all for myself to indulge in.” 

You softly laugh, your smile growing. Your heart feels light, content and happy in this tender moment, your bodies warm together in the sheets. “Only if I get to keep you too.” 

Draco’s eyes soften, and he nods, dipping down and pressing a soft kiss against your lips. “Always.”

[marypaol]

Glistening White

Draco Malfoy x fem!reader

Summary: Draco invites Reader to a party, something she’d never think of herself being at. But soon she gets drunk and things take a turn.

Warnings: Drinking underage, people being drunk, party behavior, tension. I think that’s all???

Note: Thank you so much for requesting! I hope you enjoy it, I think it was a lovely idea. :)

Note #2: This is the first time in making an exception when it comes to my requirements, I want it to be my last, but we’ll see how future requests go.

This is to the wonderful @wenclairwednesday! I hope you liked it, and I’m sorry in advance for the not-so-happy ending. Hehe.

Masterlist

“No.”

A dark chuckle was heard in response, and, turning to the boy next to her, sees his eyes roll back in soft annoyance.

“It’s better than staying here in this gothic room. It’s lonely.” He said, eyes moving to the ceiling to emphasize his point. It did seem a little dark, but it couldn’t help it when the sun went down, revealing the darkness of the emerald green that surrounded the room.

She took her turn to roll her eyes. “It’s not lonely.” She stated, a small pout showing on her lips. “Besides, there’s that Charms essay I have to finish.”

Draco had a small smile on the corner of his mouth, blinking soft showing his tiredness but she bet he would still be awake enough to go the party he so wanted to go to.

“You and your bloody homework. Just copy off me tomorrow at breakfast.”

She scolded immediately. “No, Draco! Professor Flitwick-”

“I was joking, loves.” He laughed at the look on her face, desperate to do her own work and not copy another student’s.

“My answer is still no.” she said bluntly, grabbing another chuckle from him as she looked back down at the book she had her hands, a sign the conversation was over.

“But Crabbe and Goyle don’t want to.” He decided to point out, head bending down to meet her eyes under her eyelashes. She spared a glance at him before looking back at the pages.

“So?” She asked plainly and ridiculously. He groaned soft.

“So, I’ll have no one to annoy.” He replied, smirking when she glared at him, lips in a thin line. “And I want you there.” He added quietly. Her eyes softened upon the sight of him now, no longer trying to send daggers out of her pupils.

“Really?” She said, hesitant at his act he was potentially putting on. He nodded, locks bouncing.

She sighed, snatching the bookmark he was fiddling with and marking her page. “Fine, but if you do one stupid thing, I’m out of there. Hear me?”

He grinned. “Crystal.”

“I hate it here.”

The soft emerald light blared the room, lighting it up in the best way. It lit her up in the best way, Draco’s eyes scanning down her face every chance he got.

The room was full of people, music pounding the floors and walls, giving the space a heartbeat.

He chuckled nonetheless. “We just got here.”

She nodded, painted lips pursed. “Yeah, and I’ve already decided that I hate it here.”

“Can’t turn back now,” Draco pointed out, grinning. “I haven’t done anything stupid yet.”

He was rewarded another glare, dark eyes framed around long black lashes, making them easier to get caught into.

“I’m getting a drink.” She mumbled, desperate to try to calm herself down, and Draco could tell. She was biting her lip, chewing the flesh gently between her teeth, having no idea how much her anxiety habits affected him. Draco quickly sat down on a nearby sofa, squirming to find a comfortable position.

She soon came back, her body moving like liquid in a glass throughout the room, gliding to him with little to no effort.

Her stained lips were no longer displaying a nervous look, but a smiley one. Her teeth were showing, flashing him with happiness he didn’t know he could feel.

“This is good!” She blurted, mouth around a glass rim of a glass, throat bobbing as she took in the liquid, sitting down next to him, their legs brushing. The fabric of her dress was smooth like silk, and if only he could feel it through his slacks. His available hand though crossed across his lap, now fidgeting with the material, oily between his finger tips.

Draco laughed at her outburst, other arm that wasn’t touching her dress’ material on top of the couch, hand coming in contact with her hair strands, pushing it out of the way so he could see her sparkling eyes. He was seeing a new side of her, normally used to seeing her snappy and stubborn, quiet and stern when it came to school work. Now she was giggly and courageous, already springing up to get another glass after she heard his response.

She came back for the second time, this time sitting back, her spine against the armrest of the sofa, toned legs coming up to rest on his lap. She sat pretty close to him, so her knees were on top of his, and if she leaned only a little forward he would be able to feel her breath on his cheek. His hands subconsciously moved to her legs, fingers stroking the soft skin there. He didn’t even take a single sip of Fire Whiskey and he was already drunk on her.

Her gaze was on him, eyes forcing him to look back at her. His silver eyes met hers, chest twisting in the most perfect way possible, enough to make a rush of unknown emotions flood his senses.

Her arm stretched out to put her glass on the table next to the sofa, but his eyes didn’t dare to move from her face.

Once the glass was discarded, her butt moved forward on the couch, eyes not moving from his. A invisible string tired their eyes together, neither of them being able to look away. She slowly sat up, on her knees now, and Draco found himself following her movements with his sight, not wanting to miss a single thing.

Her right leg swung over his lap, now strangling him. Draco sucked in a sharp breath, welcoming her in by doing so, hands practically shooting to her waist, stroking her dress fabric. She grinned, eyes clearly no longer looking at his eyes, but at his flushed mouth.

She lent forward, lips coming to his left ear, flesh touching the skin briefly; Draco felt a spark of warmth and excitement roll down his back, then shooting back up to meet his heart.

“Kiss me?”

Draco sucked in another breath at the request, sharper than last time, this time holding it. His back shot from the couch, chest meeting hers, and he felt the heat from her skin vibrating against him.

She said it so innocently, like she had no idea what she was doing to him. She didn’t demand it, or order him to do it, she asked. And for some reason the innocence in her tone made Draco flush so much more.

She leaned back from his ear, eyes twinkling like a star in the night, but they were so full of want as she looked at him that it made him buff out the breath he was holding, right in her face, hair blowing against her cheeks. He looked at her, straight in the eyes with such tension he felt like there was a block of butter in between them, so thick and tense he could take a knife and glide right hrough it.

He swallowed, just then realizing how dry his throat was. He wasn’t one to get nervous, not to mention flustered, but here he was, melting like frozen water in a hot place.

“W-we- I mean, I-I can’t.” He sputtered, voice soft and shaky, and her eyebrows raised in question. Her hands went to his hair, pure white strands tangling themselves in her fingertips, softly scratching at his head, and Draco couldn’t stop his eyes moving to the back of his head, tipping back until he felt his hair touch the back of the couch. He composed himself despite the continuous sensation, making eye contact with her once again. It was only then did he see the soft motion of her bottom lip jointed out, making it look bigger in size. She was pouting.

“Why not?” She asked again, hands moving from his hair to the front of his suit he slipped on, rubbing at the collar, dangerously close to his neck.

He held his breath again for a good few seconds before breathing through his nose.

“Y-you’re drunk.” He reminded simply, swallowing again when she scanned face, stopping at his lips. She kicked her own before meeting his gaze with her eyes, innocence shining within them.

“No I’m not.” She protested softly.

“Yeah, you are.” Draco managed to speak firmly this time, despite his never ending efforts in his prior responses. She simply shook her head, leaning forward until their noses brushed, the innocent skin to skin touch was breaking the way through his chest, straight to his heart, making him feel something he didn’t normally feel; her lips were so close to his-

He broke away.

He shoved her off his lap, a soft gasp escaping the very lips he was so close to touching, the silk of her dress gone from his very fingertips.

His hands brushed the skin of her arm when it flew up, but he was quick to make the touch a brush in the first place.

Those hands went up and buried themselves in his hair, cheeks flaming as his feet began to make a massive effort to leave, but not until a hand held him back.

“Wait! I’m sorry.”

Her voice.

He turned to look at her, his eyes now surprisingly blurry from the extremely unwanted tears threatening to spill, but he couldn’t dare to let them do so.

She looked sobered up enough, the harsh shove she didn’t deserve snapping her out of the daydream she was in. Her eyes too were glossy but not from tears, but from drinking. Well, to be literal, Draco didn’t know the real reason for her blurry eyes but he didn’t want to admit she was in the same condition as he was.

“J-just stop. I don’t need that right now.” He spat, surprising both of them at his outburst that was way out of expectation.

“Need what, exactly?” She tried to pry, her stained lips quivering and his chest squeezed at the very sight.

“Your pity, that’s what.” He replied quite sharply, and he hardly ripped his hand out of her grip, a not so satisfying sting buzzing his skin at the action.

Her eyes broke, displaying the deep feelings that were flooding in her chest. He always found her eyes so expressive compared to his, his being so cold and empty, while hers were so full and lovely, just like her.

And unlike him.

So he left the room, quite quickly, leaving her broken eyes, silky dress, and the glistening white of her heart behind.

[theostrophywife]

silver lining.

pairing: draco malfoy x reader

song inspiration: bathroom by montell fish.

author's note: this is just filth. don't imagine draco looking at you like the cover picture when you're on your knees for him. don't do it.

The rosewood door clicked shut as Draco hastily ushered you inside. Your heels echoed against the marble tile, the train of your velvet dress kissing the floor as you faced your boyfriend with anticipation.

Beyond the lavish bathroom, the sounds of the soirée filtered through the packed halls of Malfoy Manor. Nearly everyone who was anyone in the upper echelons of society was present for tonight’s festivities, which meant that you were supposed to be on your best behavior.

A task that you so arduously failed the second you caught sight of Draco. 

In truth, you couldn’t be blamed. Your boyfriend had no business looking that delectable. When he greeted you at the door earlier that night, you nearly swooned. The suit that adorned his body was perfectly tailored, showing off his lithe and lean frame. It cinched at his midsection, sending your gaze further down and letting your imagination run wild with images of you wrapping your legs around his trim waist. The deep navy color accentuated his silver eyes and they flashed like streaks of lightning as his gaze descended on you. 

Mischief danced on his features as Draco indulged in the sight of you, his gaze snagging on your curves, perfectly hugged by velvet fabric that matched the color of his suit. The dress was delivered to your door early that morning along with the diamonds that dripped from your ears and fingers. The pièce de résistance, a gorgeous sapphire necklace, hung proudly around your neck. It was easily recognizable as a Malfoy family heirloom. One that Narcissa had worn out and about in countless society events. Draco’s message was clear. He intended to make you a Malfoy soon enough.

The note that accompanied the necklace said as much. Your boyfriend simply wrote: A jewel for my jewel. See you tonight, my future wife as though he hadn't splurged a year's worth of wages on the dress alone. To Draco, money wasn't an object. Not if it meant making you happy.

As the Malfoys welcomed your family into the manor, Draco swept you in by your waist. He caressed your cheek, the cold bite of his rings kissing your skin as his fingers slipped down to wrap around your neck possessively. 

“You look ravishing, darling.” Draco said as he pressed a chaste peck against your lips. The kiss was soft and gentle, likely for the benefit of your parents. You doubted that Draco’s usual affections for you would be deemed appropriate in their eyes. Your boyfriend seemed to know this too because he smirked, lowering his voice so only you could hear. “I can’t wait to rip this dress to shreds tonight.” 

That little comment ignited a fire within you. As the night progressed, you couldn’t stop staring at your boyfriend. Thinking of all the filthy things you’d rather be doing in his bedroom instead of paying attention to the millionth what a beautiful couple you make or how refreshing it is to see young love at work comments that various guests showered you with. You already knew that you and Draco were the perfect couple. He repeated this sentiment to you every day. Not just with words, but with his actions as well. 

Draco was possessive in every sense of the word. Like his namesake, there was a dragon underneath that handsome face, hoarding his most prized possession—you—with unmatched devotion. Your boyfriend showered you with affection and you loved every second of it. Selfish as it was, you weren’t well pleased at the prospect of sharing his attention even for a few hours. You were utterly spoiled, to be sure. But Draco had made you that way. 

By the time that dinner started, food was the last thing on your mind. You probably would’ve been more well-behaved if your friends were present to help take your mind off of things, but traitors that they were, they had left you all alone to simmer in your sinful thoughts. Pansy and Blaise were off on holiday in the Maldives while Theo, Enzo, and Mattheo disappeared soon after their required appearances. Knowing the boys, they were probably in the gardens getting higher than a hippogriff. 

You felt envious. The last thing you wanted to do was sit through a stuffy dinner, smiling cordially at the high profile guests around you and acting like the prim and proper aristocrat that your parents raised you to be. Draco was certainly faring better than you at the moment. The charm and confidence came naturally to him. He leaned back against his wingback chair, sipping red wine and conversing with the Minister of Magic like it was the most natural thing in the world. 

Through the crystal glass, you examined him with a smile. His platinum blonde hair was slicked back and not a single strand was out of place. Silver rings adorned his knuckles, which were loosely curled around his wine glass. You couldn’t help but think that his fingers would look better wrapped around your neck, but perhaps that was the alcohol talking. 

Draco licked his lips, which were now stained a pretty crimson color. You wondered if he'd taste like wine when you kissed him, which you couldn't wait to do. Kiss, lick, suck. All over. Every single inch. You flushed as Draco's gaze trailed over to you. A sly smirk curled against his lips as he leaned in. 

“Darling, is everything alright? You’ve barely touched your food and yet you look absolutely ravenous.” His cold breath tickled your cheek. “Hungry for something else, are we?” 

A devious expression flickered through his features as your cheeks heated. Your boyfriend knew exactly what he was doing. He was being a tease, plain and simple. 

“What if I am, Draco?” you replied, placing your hand on his thigh. Draco’s breath hitched as he looked down at your perfectly manicured hand. 

His voice was low and husky, tinged with need. “You can devour me all you’d like after this dinner, princess.” 

“You know I’ve never been patient.” You pouted, causing Draco to chuckle lightly. “And I’ve been waiting all night.” 

Draco chuckled darkly, patting your hand. “Behave, darling. I promise to reward you after.” 

You weren’t satisfied with that answer. Draco was determined to leave it at that, but you had other ideas. Dating him meant that no wasn’t really in your vernacular. Draco doted on you, spoiled you beyond belief, and most importantly, he never made you wait. You were used to getting what you wanted, when you wanted. Tonight would be no different. 

As Draco returned to his conversation with the minister, you busied yourself with the guests around you. The Greengrass sisters were gushing about the dresses you had all picked out for the Yule Ball, while their parents commented on your recent charity work. You took it all in stride, accepting each compliment gracefully while inching your hand higher up Draco’s leg. 

Lucius had joined the conversation, bragging about Draco’s most recent accomplishments. Narcissa smiled fondly at her beloved son. 

“We’re quite proud of our Draco,” she said with a smile. The older woman looked positively regal and intimidating as always, but there was a warmth to her as she turned in your direction. “Especially since he’s brought the wonderful Y/N into our lives. If he plays his cards right, then we may be adding another Malfoy to our midst soon. Though I already think of her as a daughter.” 

You beamed. “Thank you, Cissy.” 

Draco cleared his throat as you inched your hand higher, toying with the seam of his pants. The minister was none the wiser as he turned his attention towards the both of you. 

“You two make a very handsome couple indeed.” 

You flashed the minister a charming smile as you palmed Draco through his trousers. He was hard as a rock and positively delicious against your palm. You rubbed over him slowly, making him jolt from the contact. “Do you hear that, Draco? Why, I think we have the minister’s approval.” 

Your boyfriend nearly spilled his glass of wine when you squeezed him between your fingers. 

The minister furrowed his brows in concern. “Are you quite alright, Mr. Malfoy?” 

“Splendid,” Draco replied through gritted teeth. “Though I just recalled, Y/N and I must check up on dessert. She needs to practice if she’s to be lady of the manor soon.” 

Draco subtly removed your hand from his lap. Ever the perfect gentleman, he stood up and gallantly offered you his arm. “Shall we, darling?” 

Hiding your smirk was nearly impossible. Though he appeared calm and collected, you knew Draco well enough to clock the tick in his jaw. Your boyfriend was pissed. This was further confirmed by the silence that followed as he escorted you through the halls of Malfoy Manor. Not a single word or glance was spared in your direction. 

Instead, Draco opened the door to the bathroom and watched as you ducked inside. Before you could even speak, Draco pushed you against the door. One hand wrapped around your throat while the other gripped your waist. 

His silver eyes flashed with anger. “You want to tell me what that was back there, princess?”

The anger radiating off of him in waves awakened a sick sort of thrill within you. You lifted your chin defiantly, nearly putting a crick in your neck as you glanced up at Draco. Every in your tallest heels, he still towered a good foot over you. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Draco. It’s not my fault that you’re all hot and bothered over a simple touch.” 

“A simple touch?” He asked, quirking a pale brow at you. From his tone, you could tell that his patience was wearing thin. “Darling, you were practically clawing at my trousers. In front of our parents. In front of the bloody minister. Are you so desperate for me that you couldn’t wait until the end of the night?” 

“What if I was? What are you going to do about it, Draco?” 

He flashed you in irritated glare. “You’re playing a very dangerous game, my love. You know better than to test my patience.” 

“Oh, but it’s so much fun.” 

“Is it? Well, it isn’t fun for me.” Draco grabbed your hand and ran it over his length. “Do you feel that? You’ve caused this problem, darling. By acting like a needy little slut all night and riling me up. Now you’re going to fix it.” 

“And if I say no?” 

Draco squeezed your throat so hard that your air supply was momentarily cut off. “Then I’ll just have to put you in your place.”

You smiled. This was exactly what you wanted. Draco clocked your satisfied little smirk. “Don’t think I don’t see that smile. You think you’ve won, don’t you? Well, you won’t be smiling once I fuck you throat until you’re crying and begging me to stop. I’ll make sure you won’t be able to talk for days, let alone grin.” 

“It would be a genuine pleasure, Dray.” 

“Such a smart mouth on you, hm?” Draco released you from his hold and stared down at you with a menacing grin. “Get on your fucking knees, princess. It's about time you remembered your place."

The words sent a shiver down your spine. You were so turned on that you could barely breathe. As you knelt on the cold tile, Draco unbuckled his belt. You looked up through your lashes with a lust filled gaze as he freed his cock from the constraints of his meticulously pressed trousers. Draco pumped himself and the sight made you groan with need. You tried to reach for him, but he swatted your hand away. 

When you whined, Draco responded by taking fistfuls of your hair and yanking your head back. “Open your mouth like the pretty little whore that I know you are.”

Without warning, Draco shoved his fingers into your mouth. You whined, wanting much more than just his digits. He tilted your head back, those silver eyes flashing with irritation at your bratty behavior.

"You think I'd give you my cock without making you work for it first?" He asked with a sneer. "Show me that you can handle my fingers and maybe I'll let you suck me off. I'd like to see if you can still mouth off to me with your lips wrapped around my cock, you fucking brat."

You moaned in response, peering up at him through your lashes as you sucked on his fingers. Draco watched hungrily as you flicked your tongue over his silver rings and wrapped your lips around the Malfoy family crest. He hissed as you coated his digits with saliva, letting him gag you with his long fingers while you gazed lovingly up at him.

"Look at you. You're fucking filthy, darling. Putting on a show for me, hm?" Draco laughed when you nodded eagerly. "I bet you're soaked, princess. So turned on and all I've done is gag you with my fingers. You're such a whore, aren't you?"

You looked up at him and smiled, kissing the tips of his fingers. "Only for you, Draco."

This seemed to please you boyfriend because he leaned down and rewarded you with a sloppy kiss. With a hand around your throat, Draco slipped his tongue into your mouth and groaned when you sucked on it.

"Come on then, darling. Let me fuck that pretty throat."

You swallowed thickly, your lips barely parting before Draco shoved his way in. You gagged as he hit the back of your throat with a sharp thrust. He groaned and picked up the pace. There was no precursor. No gentleness. This was just Draco selfishly abusing your throat for his own pleasure and you loved every second of it.

Draco held nothing back. While he was quite domineering in bed, you’ve never seen him unleashed like this. Your boyfriend was feral, roughly fucking into your throat like it was his god given right. Tears and snot quickly covered your face as he rutted into your mouth over and over again. You were slobbering all over him, leaving lipstick marks all over his cock. 

With a particular sharp thrust, Draco flashed you a vicious smile. The hand that wasn't gripping the back of your head tugged the straps of your dress off of your shoulders. He pulled the fabric down, exposing your breasts to the cool air. You hissed as he roughly squeezed your tits, alternating between them with equal attention. He flicked his thumb over your stiffened peaks and hit the back of your throat with brutal force. You cried out, your words nothing but an incoherent stream of pleading and pleasure.

“Isn’t this what you wanted, princess? You talked up such a big game, but now you’re crying like a desperate little slut. Oh, you can’t take any more? Am I bruising your pretty little throat? Well, too bad. You asked for it by acting like such a fucking brat. Now you have to deal with the consequences of your actions.”

You moaned at his words, making him throw his head back at the vibrations. His perfectly coiffed hair was now a mess. Platinum locks framed his handsome face, looking like some unholy angel. He panted and moaned, signaling his release. Draco pulled out and positioned the tip of his cock onto your tongue. 

“Swallow, darling. Every single fucking drop.” 

You were shaken. Your knees ached. Your throat was definitely sore. But it was all worth it to watch your boyfriend come apart above you. Draco’s lips parted, releasing an animalistic groan as he spilled onto your tongue. His eyelids fluttered as he came, those pretty silver eyes rolling back until they disappeared. 

Draco looked down, watching intently as you flashed him the load he’d emptied into your mouth before you swallowed obediently. He smiled proudly. 

“That’s my good girl.” 

He picked you up off of the floor and kissed you, groaning when he tasted himself on your lips. Compared to his earlier actions, the kiss was rather affectionate and endearing. After you had a chance to catch your breath, Draco cleaned you up. With a quick incantation, he vanished the evidence, wiping away the snot, tears, and mascara until you appeared pristine again. 

Draco smiled, wrapping a possessive hand around your throat as he kissed your forehead. You whimpered at the slight pressure. 

“Poor baby, but you had it coming. Told you I’d ruin your throat.” Your boyfriend murmured, trailing kisses down your neck. “Have you learned your lesson, darling?” 

Your voice sounded rough and scratchy when you spoke. “Mhm, I learned that I should make you mad more often. That was so fucking hot, Draco.” 

Draco chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re hopeless, princess. But I love you anyway. Now come on, let’s get back to dinner before anyone suspects the ungodly things I’ve just done to you. If you’re good, maybe I’ll make you see heaven later.” 

You leaned up and kissed him on the cheek. “I’ll hold you to that, Draco.”

[talesofadragon]

In case you missed it🖤

𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐬

Summary: Like the ebb and flow of the tides, matters of the heart prove to be fickle. Y/N finds herself caught between the fear of losing a friend and the allure of her silver dreams, putting her future to the ultimate test. As the path ahead becomes a dwindling maze of secrets and emotional infidelity, she realizes that some promises need to be shattered for others to be forged anew.

Warnings: bring tissues

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Reader, Theodore Nott x Reader

Genre: Angst | Hurt/Comfort

Word count: 1.2K

ACT ONE Why am I afraid to lose you when you're not even mine?

Silver Promises Masterlist | All Masterlists 

𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐞𝐜𝐡𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬. 𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐞𝐜𝐡𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐝𝐞-𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐝, I stood frozen as my boyfriend knelt before me, holding my possible fate in his hands—a velvet box cradling a bright emerald set in a silver band.

My breath caught in my throat, my heart threatening to burst from my chest. Tears hovered on the brink of my lashes as thoughts whirled tumultuously in my mind.

Draco's smile remained unwavering, the hope in his intense gaze growing with each passing moment, oblivious to the inner turmoil consuming me.

"Will you marry me?" he had asked a minute ago, or perhaps it was five—I couldn't tell. Time seemed to elude me, slipping away faster than I could grasp.

I struggled to form a coherent response, my mind overwhelmed by the weight of his words.

Will you marry me?

Will you marry me?

Will you marry me?"

The question echoed relentlessly, each repetition more piercing than the last.

As if his piercing gaze wasn’t enough, I suddenly felt thrust onto a stage, a spotlight illuminating me, exposing me to the scrutiny of countless eyes.

Hesitation flooded through me, my veins pulsating with uncertainty. I was trembling uncontrollably. There was no other way to explain how everyone around me could sway so violently.

My eyes darted between the shocked yet hopeful faces surrounding me—each look weighing heavily on me. Draco's parents stood together, his mother's shining eyes and exuberant smile challenging me, while my parents' expressions told a tale of contrasting emotions—a mother's joy and a father's reticence.

Pansy, my closest friend, who felt more like a sister, regarded me with an inscrutable look in her eyes. Was it empathy? Anticipation? Perhaps even fear?

She quickly averted her gaze, prompting me to follow her line of sight until I found him.

An involuntary whimper escaped my lips as the enormity of the decision I was about to make settled over me like a heavy blanket.

Theodore, my best friend of thirteen years, my first kiss, my first love, stood before me with a forced smile plastered on his face, and I cursed our ability to read each other like open books.

His tight-lipped smile clashed with the iron grip he had on his goblet of fae wine. If I didn’t know any better, I'd say the chalice was ready to explode from the pressure of his fingers. Despite the curt nod he gave me, the crease between his eyebrows betrayed his inner turmoil. His clenched fists were hidden in his pockets, and the tension in his shoulders spoke volumes. 

The fear lurking in his dark hazel eyes was unmistakable even in the dead of the night.

A gentle yet suffocating grip on my hand pulled my attention away from him and back to the question I dreaded answering.

“Darling, what do you say?” Draco's voice broke through the haze of my thoughts.

How could I say no? 

How could I refuse my boyfriend, who had put so much thought and love into this moment, who had gathered our families and friends to surprise me? How could I break his heart?

A salty taste on my lips signaled that tears had escaped. 

‘But how do you say yes?’ a voice inside me whispered. ‘You're accustomed to kissing his warm lips, but have you grown accustomed to the emptiness that follows, the absence of fireworks that should ignite your heart?’

Am I ready to say yes? Am I ready to feel his lips roaming outside the boundaries of my own, exploring my face and tracing the outline of my body? 

Theodore. The thought of him swept into my mind, bringing memories of that foolish kiss we shared when we were fifteen during that ridiculous game we coerced ourselves into at Hogwarts.

My gaze shifted from Draco to my best friend, and suddenly, it all came rushing back to me like a violent wind. The warmth of his lips, the tenderness of his touch, the magic in his eyes, and the fluttering in my heart.

I remembered growing up with Theodore—our jokes, our pillow fights, our Quidditch matches, and our midnight broom rides beneath the stars. It felt like every moment we shared was etched into my memory.

"Y/N, you are the definition of crazy. Bloody hell, how do you always manage to get me into these messed-up situations?" Theodore had tried to sound stern, but his escaping smile gave him away.

"Yeah, maybe I am," I had replied, propping myself up on my elbows after collapsing onto the ground. "But it's not my fault you blindly follow me."

He chuckled and plopped down beside me on the grass. "Yeah." Pausing, he lay back, gazing up at the stars. "That's what happens when you love your best friend too much."

I knew he didn't mean the "I love you"s the way I wanted him to, but deep down, I wished he did.

As I glanced at him once more, I couldn't shake the feeling that he, too, was realizing something—that I might be slipping away and that he never tried to hold me back. Perhaps, he regretted not holding me back.

Memories crashed over me, accompanied by an onslaught of voices in my head, each one clamoring for attention.

My mother's voice echoed, praising Draco and insisting he'd bring me happiness. His parents' joyous declarations welcoming me into their family mingled with my father's urging to give Draco a chance, citing Theodore's apparent lack of admission to feelings towards me. According to him, it was time to "live up to the expectations of our family's last name and preserve our lineage."

Then came Blaise's solemn confession, "They’re my best friends, and I never want to choose between them. So, I can imagine how it is for you. But Draco doesn’t love you like Theo does. Not in the way you or he thinks."

Amidst the senseless chatter of my friends extolling Draco's virtues, Pansy swore that Theodore and I had harbored love for each other all along, too afraid to admit it aloud. And Theodore. His absence in the conversation was deafening, yet his presence weighed heavily on my mind.

I wanted to flee, but I was trapped within the confines of my own body.

I longed to scream, but the cacophony of voices drowned out my own.

I yearned for Theodore's touch, but Draco's grip felt like it was tearing me away from my thoughts, pulling me back to reality.

"I—" The word hung in the air, barely escaping my lips. I could have sworn Theodore's grip on his goblet tightened for a moment, but the tears welling in my eyes made it difficult to see clearly.

My knees gave out beneath me, and my heart followed suit, the world fading into piercing screams as my eyes rolled backward and my body braced for an impact that never came.

Instead, I found myself enveloped in someone's arms, their scent of musk and berries flooding my senses, a stark contrast to Draco's familiar fragrance. Instinctively, I nestled closer, tightening my grip around my savior's neck as they whisked me away, their whispered words a soothing melody I couldn't quite decipher.

His embrace tightened as I caught fragments of his reassurance, "You're safe, little sprite. I've got you."

At that moment, there was no one else I wanted beside me, holding me, touching me. As he gently laid me down on the silky sheets of what I presumed to be my bed, his warm breath carried the lingering scent of fae wine, further intoxicating my senses.

And it was then that my heart knew the answer long before my mind could comprehend it.

No, Draco. I can't marry you.

Hi witchlings!! This baby has been sitting in my drafts for two years! I toyed with the idea, with no set protagonists in mind, but I find that this fits our favorite Slytherin boys perfectly. This fic is going to be a two-shot, with possible outtakes/extras if anyone is interested in diving more into this love triangle's story.

Hope you liked it!

All-Works Taglist: @xxrougefangxx

Draco Taglist: @imabee-oralizard @ameliaphoenix @arcana-greenleaf @dittos-blog-dylanobrien @ye0nvibezzn

[princesskenny1998]

Harry Potter | Draco Malfoy x pureblood!Reader ~ Promised One

Growing up in a prestigious pureblood family, you had known Draco Malfoy almost your entire life. Both of your families were ancient and influential in the magical world, with histories that stretched back hundreds of years, and the arrangement between the Malfoys and your family had been made long before either of you could remember.

The first time you were introduced to Draco, you were only five, and he was a year older than you. You didn’t know it at the time, but you were both being introduced as future partners. Your parents had emphasized the importance of keeping family lines pure, maintaining the power of the blood, and protecting the family name. Draco had been told something similar by Lucius and Narcissa.

Summers became the time you were always forced together. Your family’s home in the Russian countryside had long, sunlit days that were spent mostly outside, exploring the gardens or playing games under the watchful eyes of your parents. At first, Draco had been something of a mystery to you. He was brash, opinionated, and seemed to take pleasure in teasing you. As you grew older, though, that teasing started to feel less like a childish bother and more like something... interesting.

One summer afternoon, when you were both thirteen, you were sitting on the grass beside a sprawling garden of enchanted white roses. Draco had just made a remark about your Russian accent, imitating it with a smirk on his face. You’d rolled your eyes, used to his teasing, and shot back a quick remark about his pronunciation of certain charms — a sore spot for him, considering how seriously he took his studies. He’d laughed, and you realized then that his teasing was almost affectionate, in a way.

When you reached fourteen, your parents’ efforts to push you together became even more obvious. They started planning more activities, often giving you time alone together in the expansive rooms of Malfoy Manor or your family’s home. At that age, you and Draco both understood the implications of your families’ plans for the future. You had moments where the idea of being tied to someone so arrogant grated on you. But there were also times when you looked at him and felt strangely comforted by the familiar presence.

One summer day, during the warm month of August, you found yourself in the sitting room of Malfoy Manor, watching Draco as he read a book on magical history. The air was thick and still, and you found yourself growing restless.

“Is this what we’re going to be doing every summer?” you asked, breaking the silence. “Sitting around, reading, waiting for our parents to tell us what to do next?”

Draco looked up from his book, one eyebrow raised in amusement. “What would you rather do, then?”

“Something exciting,” you replied with a slight grin, standing up and walking to the window. “Surely, with all the magic we have at our disposal, there’s something better than sitting around.”

He closed his book and stood up, crossing the room to stand beside you at the window. “I suppose we could explore the manor,” he suggested. “There are places even I haven’t been to.”

Intrigued, you agreed, and the two of you ventured into the depths of the manor, laughing as you slipped past portraits and explored hidden rooms. At one point, Draco dared you to go down a narrow, winding staircase that led to a shadowy room filled with dusty old relics from the Malfoy family’s past. The air was thick with mystery, and you couldn’t help but feel a thrill of excitement.

When you turned to Draco, he was watching you with an intensity that caught you off guard. “What?” you asked, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

“Nothing,” he replied, but his gaze lingered, a small smirk playing on his lips.

As the years went by, your connection deepened. You saw each other’s flaws, yes — you knew he could be arrogant and quick-tempered, and he knew you could be stubborn and sharp-tongued. But there was a familiarity that came with growing up together, and it made you feel closer to him than anyone else.

During the school year, while he was at Hogwarts, letters became your main form of communication. He’d send brief notes, detailing his experiences at school, and you’d reply with stories of your own studies and family gatherings. There was something comforting in the routine of it, in knowing that you’d hear from him every few weeks.

Then came the summer of your sixteenth year. You arrived at Malfoy Manor, expecting the usual formal greetings and small talk with his parents, but instead, Draco was waiting for you in the gardens. He looked different — older, more serious. The playful smirk that you were so accustomed to seeing was gone, replaced by a somber expression.

“You’ve heard about what’s happening, haven’t you?” he asked quietly, once you were out of earshot of the others.

You nodded, understanding the gravity of his words. Voldemort’s return was no longer a secret, and the pressure on the Malfoy family was growing. “Yes. My family… they’ve spoken of it.”

For the first time, you saw a crack in Draco’s confidence. He looked away, his hands clenched at his sides. “It’s... complicated,” he admitted. “The expectations, the pressure. It feels like... I don’t have a choice.”

You stepped closer to him, placing a hand on his arm. “Draco, I know. We were both born into this. But maybe... maybe we don’t have to follow the exact path they set for us.”

He looked at you, surprised. “You think so?”

You nodded, giving him a small smile. “There’s always a choice. And whatever happens, you won’t face it alone.”

In that moment, an unspoken understanding passed between you. Despite the weight of the expectations placed on both of you, there was a sense of unity, a feeling that you could face whatever came your way — together.

That summer was different from the others. Your interactions took on a new depth, a sense of shared struggle and understanding. Draco confided in you more than he ever had before, and you found yourself opening up to him as well. Late one night, as you sat in the library, he turned to you and said quietly, “You know, I used to think this arrangement was just... something our families imposed on us. But now…”

He trailed off, looking away, and you felt your heart skip a beat. “Now?”

He met your gaze, a rare vulnerability in his eyes. “Now, I think I’m actually glad it’s you.”

The words hung in the air, and for the first time, you allowed yourself to fully acknowledge the feelings that had been growing inside you. This wasn’t just an arrangement anymore. It was real.

When Draco returned to Hogwarts that autumn, you felt the ache of his absence more than you ever had before. Letters came, but they were fewer, more guarded. You knew things were becoming more dangerous, that the world he was returning to was growing darker by the day.

One winter night, as you were reading by the fireplace, an owl arrived with a hurriedly scrawled note from Draco. His words were brief, but they conveyed a desperation you’d never seen before.

“They’re expecting things from me that I don’t think I can do,” he’d written. “I’m trying to protect my family, but it’s getting harder. I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up.”

You read his words over and over, your heart aching for him. You wanted nothing more than to be there, to offer him some comfort, but there was only so much you could do from afar. Still, you wrote back immediately, pouring as much reassurance and strength into your words as you could.

The next summer, when he returned to Malfoy Manor, you saw the toll the past year had taken on him. His face was pale, his posture tense, and there was a haunted look in his eyes. But when he saw you, some of the weight seemed to lift from his shoulders.

You spent long hours together, walking through the gardens, talking about everything and nothing. He confided in you more than ever before, sharing his fears, his regrets, his hopes for a future that seemed increasingly uncertain.

One evening, as you sat together under the fading light of the setting sun, he reached for your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours. “I don’t know what the future holds,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I know I want you there, whatever happens.”

You squeezed his hand, feeling the truth of his words resonate deep within you. Despite the shadows that loomed over both of your families, despite the uncertainties that lay ahead, you knew one thing for certain: you wanted to face it all with him by your side.

In that quiet moment, under the soft glow of the twilight, you found solace in each other. And for the first time, you allowed yourself to hope — to believe that maybe, just maybe, the two of you could carve out a future of your own choosing.

[ms-snape]

Lucius x Reader in which Draco hypes him up to court the Reader. Maybe she is Lucuis old hogwarts crush who is visiting the manor with her family for pureblood stuff, (No hating on Narcissa tho,)

Title: Old Crush

Warning: none

Words Count: 3000+

Masterlist

---

The Malfoy Manor stood tall against the waning twilight, its grand silhouette casting long shadows over the carefully manicured grounds. In the distance, the dark stone walls of the estate loomed, holding secrets—secrets that had been carefully locked away for years, only to be stirred up by a seemingly innocuous dinner invitation.

Lucius Malfoy was pacing inside the drawing room, the ornate chandelier above him casting a soft, golden glow over the room. His fingers tightened around the edge of his crystal tumbler, the amber liquid swirling inside as he tried to focus on the current matters at hand. His thoughts, however, were elsewhere—toward a time long ago when his life had been less complicated, when the future had seemed as bright as the stars themselves.

The evening had been meticulously planned. The table was set with the finest silver and crystal, each piece gleaming under the soft, flickering light of candles. The house-elves had been instructed to prepare a banquet of the highest quality. The guest list had been carefully curated, and there was one particular name that occupied Lucius’s mind: Y/N.

Y/N.

The name had not crossed his mind in years, not since their last encounter at Hogwarts. It was a memory he had buried deep, choosing to focus on the present rather than the past—on the rise of the Dark Lord, on the responsibilities of being a Malfoy, on marrying Narcissa, and eventually having a son. Yet now, with her impending arrival at the manor, the memory resurfaced in a wave of nostalgia that caught him off guard.

It wasn’t just the passing of time that had changed things. It was the sudden realization that, all these years later, he would see her again, this time as an adult, no longer the shy, innocent girl from their youth. The girl who had unknowingly occupied a special place in his heart, a place he had tried—unsuccessfully—to forget.

Lucius adjusted the cuffs of his pristine robes, his long fingers brushing over the fine fabric, his mind returning to their last interaction as teenagers. He could still remember the way she had looked—radiant, graceful, the very definition of elegance. Her laughter had been soft, like the gentle tinkling of silver bells, and her smile... he had always wondered if she even realized how her smile had haunted him.

He had never acted on his feelings for her, never had the courage to tell her how much he admired her. But now, years later, the same inexplicable pull he had felt back then was beginning to return. He wondered what had become of her, what path she had walked after Hogwarts, and whether she would still remember him, or whether he had faded into the background of her life as the years passed.

There was a knock on the door, snapping Lucius from his reverie.

“Master Malfoy,” the voice of the house-elf called through the crack in the door. “The guests have arrived.”

Lucius straightened, inhaling deeply, before giving a subtle nod. “Show them in.”

It was time.

The grand double doors to the drawing room opened slowly, and there, standing in the doorway, was Y/N.

Lucius’s breath caught in his throat.

She looked exactly the same—yet not at all. Time had sculpted her into someone more refined, more poised, but the essence of the girl he had once admired was still there. Her hair, long and dark, cascaded down her back in soft waves, her eyes gleaming with that same quiet intelligence he remembered. She was dressed in a deep sapphire gown that complemented her complexion, her posture exuding the kind of regal confidence only a powerful pureblood could possess.

Her presence filled the room, commanding attention effortlessly. Lucius found himself momentarily lost in her gaze, his heart racing in a way he hadn’t experienced in years.

Behind her stood her father—an older, more imposing figure—and her mother, a woman whose face was lined with the wisdom and grace of decades spent in the company of the finest families in the wizarding world. But it was Y/N who held Lucius’s attention.

“Y/N,” Lucius finally managed, his voice low, almost tentative. “It’s been so long.”

Her smile was warm, though it held a certain distance. “Lucius,” she greeted, her voice just as melodic as he remembered. “It’s good to see you again.”

The formality of the greeting did not go unnoticed. Lucius gave a polite bow to her parents, who had entered the room behind her, before turning back to Y/N.

“I trust the journey was comfortable?” he asked, his tone polite yet undeniably genuine.

“It was, thank you,” she replied, her smile never faltering. “Your home is as magnificent as ever.”

Lucius chuckled softly, though a pang of nostalgia tugged at his heart. “I suppose I have to keep up appearances.”

It was then that Draco entered the room, his steps light but deliberate, his eyes scanning the group before landing on Y/N.

Lucius’s son, now a young man on the cusp of adulthood, had been observing the scene quietly from the corner. He had never met Y/N before—his father’s feelings for her were not something he had been made aware of—but there was something in his father’s demeanor that immediately caught Draco’s attention. The way Lucius stood a little taller, the subtle way his gaze lingered on Y/N, the shift in the atmosphere that seemed to hum with unspoken tension.

Draco’s sharp eyes didn’t miss a single detail. He could feel the unspoken history between the two, even if he didn’t fully understand it.

After a moment of awkward silence, Draco’s natural instinct to break the tension took over. He gave a slight smile and extended a hand to Y/N. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Y/N. I don’t believe we’ve ever had the honor of crossing paths.”

Y/N’s smile was kind but polite as she took his hand. “The pleasure is mine, Draco. I’m sure we’ve heard much about each other.”

Draco gave a small laugh, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “I imagine the stories have been exaggerated.” His tone was light, but there was something calculating in the way he observed the interaction between his father and their guest.

Lucius’s expression shifted subtly, a flicker of annoyance flashing across his face before he masked it. It was clear to Draco that something about Y/N had affected his father deeply. And given that Draco had never heard of Y/N before, this piqued his curiosity even further.

As the dinner began, the conversation turned to more mundane topics—the state of the Ministry, the ongoing political shifts, and the upcoming Quidditch season. Lucius was doing his best to appear composed, but his attention kept drifting toward Y/N.

There was no ring on her finger.

It was a detail that had not escaped his notice. Lucius had always assumed that, by now, Y/N would have married someone, settled down, perhaps had children of her own. The absence of a ring intrigued him, though he told himself it was of little consequence. The years had passed, and his life was no longer the one it had once been. He had responsibilities—his son, his family, his position in the wizarding world. Yet there, sitting across from him at the table, was Y/N, and he found it impossible to ignore the feeling that something had been left undone between them.

Draco, ever the observant one, had been watching his father closely. He could sense the shift in the air, the subtle tension that lingered around Lucius whenever Y/N spoke. It was as if his father was trying to suppress some old, long-forgotten feeling.

Draco’s mind worked quickly. He didn’t know what had transpired between his father and Y/N in their youth, but it was clear that there was unfinished business between them. And Draco, ever the opportunist, decided to play the matchmaker.

As the meal progressed, Draco made several subtle attempts to draw Y/N into conversation, asking her about her travels, her work, her family. Each time, he steered the conversation back to his father. He did it casually, but with a knowing glance. Lucius, however, was hardly aware of his son’s matchmaking efforts, too focused on Y/N.

Finally, after dessert had been served, and the conversation had shifted to lighter matters, Draco leaned back in his chair, a mischievous glint in his eyes. He smiled at his father, and then at Y/N.

“You know, Father,” Draco began innocently, “I was just telling my friend Theodore Nott the other day that it’s high time the Malfoy family expanded its connections. The right connections.”

Lucius’s eyes flicked to Draco, an eyebrow quirked. “And what do you mean by that, Draco?”

Draco’s gaze flicked to Y/N, and then back to his father. “Oh, just that perhaps some old friendships could be revisited,” he said casually, but with an unmistakable undercurrent of mischief in his voice.

Lucius froze. His heart thudded loudly in his chest. Draco’s words were carefully chosen, and Lucius couldn’t help but feel a growing sense of discomfort. But Draco’s eyes were innocent, yet there was something knowing about them—something that suggested he had picked up on the tension between the two.

“Perhaps,” Lucius replied, his voice tight, “it’s best to leave the past where it belongs.”

Draco merely shrugged, but his eyes gleamed with a kind of satisfaction.

The evening wore on, but for Lucius, time seemed to stretch on forever. His thoughts were consumed by Y/N, by the memories of their youth, by the realization that life had led them both down different paths. Paths that, now, perhaps, could intersect once more.

The evening ended on a polite note, with guests exchanging pleasantries and preparing to depart. Lucius stood by the door, his eyes lingering on Y/N one last time. She was the same woman he had admired all those years ago—yet she was so much more now. There was an unspoken understanding between them, an awareness that something had shifted, though neither spoke of it directly.

As Y/N reached the door, she turned back to Lucius, her gaze softening.

“It was a pleasure, Lucius,” she said quietly, her voice filled with an emotion he couldn’t place. “Perhaps we should not wait so long before we meet again.”

Lucius’s heart skipped a beat. There was something in her words, in the way she said them, that held promise. The past wasn’t quite finished yet, and neither, it seemed, was their story.

As she walked away, Lucius found himself standing there, staring after her, unable to shake the feeling that his life had just taken an unexpected turn.

And so, as the last echoes of footsteps faded from the Malfoy Manor, Lucius Malfoy found himself at a crossroads—one that he had never anticipated, but one that was now as inevitable as the coming dawn.

--

Weeks passed after that fateful dinner at the Malfoy Manor, and life returned to its predictable rhythm for Lucius. The manor remained pristine, his family’s reputation intact, and his position in the wizarding world unchallenged. But there was a lingering thought, a feeling that refused to dissipate, a presence that had subtly taken root in his mind—Y/N.

Lucius had tried, with all his might, to push aside the memories of their evening together. He had responsibilities, his son to guide, and the political landscape to navigate. But every time his gaze caught a glimpse of something familiar—a sapphire blue cloak, a flowing dark mane, or even the scent of lilies—it reminded him of her. Of their past.

It had been years since he had thought of Y/N with such intensity. During their days at Hogwarts, their lives had been shaped by their families' ambitions and the great conflict that loomed over them. But now? Now, after the passage of so much time, it seemed the possibility of a future, or at least a rekindling of something, hung in the air.

The moment came, unexpected and seemingly out of nowhere, one crisp autumn morning in the heart of London. Lucius had been summoned to the Ministry of Magic for a series of meetings with various department heads. The Ministry had always been a place of both opportunity and political minefield for someone like him—navigating it required a careful dance of diplomacy, subterfuge, and a very keen eye on potential allies and threats.

Lucius arrived in the Ministry lobby, his steps deliberate as he made his way past the statues and glittering marble. His robes whispered across the floor as he passed familiar faces, most of whom nodded respectfully at him, knowing his status as one of the most powerful purebloods in the wizarding world. His mind was preoccupied with the matters he had come to discuss with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and he paid little attention to the mundane sights of the bustling Ministry.

But then, as he rounded a corner, he nearly collided with a figure emerging from an adjacent hallway.

Y/N.

It happened so quickly that Lucius barely had time to register the shock of her sudden appearance before their eyes locked. Her figure was as striking as ever—tall, composed, with an air of quiet authority that could command a room without a single word. But it wasn’t just the years that had passed that changed her—there was a subtle maturity about her now, a sense of self-assuredness that radiated from her, it was second time he noticed it, the first itme being during that dinner, and now...

“Lucius,” she said, her voice softer than he remembered, though still carrying that familiar warmth.

“Y/N,” Lucius replied, his voice a mixture of surprise and something deeper, something far more personal.

The moment stretched between them, brief but intense. It had been years since they last spoke, just the two of them, no one else around, but in that instant, Lucius was reminded of their time together in their youth—the secret moments shared when the world had seemed so much simpler. Now, it was as if no time had passed at all. But the world had changed, and so had they.

The noise of the Ministry seemed to fade as Lucius and Y/N stood there, as if the room itself had quieted in reverence of this unexpected encounter. But the spell was broken when a voice called out to Y/N from behind.

“Miss Y/N! We’re running behind on the schedules for today’s meeting. Shall we?”

Lucius’s gaze shifted slightly as the interruption pulled him from his reverie. The speaker was a young, eager-looking wizard, dressed in a crisp, understated suit—clearly someone in a position of power, though nowhere near the caliber of Lucius himself.

Y/N smiled politely, though Lucius could see the slight tension in her posture as she turned her attention back to him.

“I’m afraid I’m needed elsewhere,” she said, her tone apologetic. “But it was good to see you again, Lucius.”

Lucius nodded, though a part of him felt as though he had just missed the opportunity to truly speak to her, to catch up.

“I didn’t know you worked here at the Ministry,” Lucius remarked, his voice smooth but tinged with curiosity.

“I’ve been here for several years now,” Y/N explained, a faint but knowing smile on her lips. “I’m in the Department of Magical Transportation. It’s... far from the more public-facing departments, but I find the work fulfilling.”

Lucius’s brow furrowed in surprise. He had assumed, given her background, that Y/N would have found herself in a position more aligned with the prominent pureblood families—perhaps a post in the Department of International Magical Cooperation or even within the Wizengamot. But the Department of Magical Transportation was far more obscure, dealing with the intricacies of portkeys, apparition regulations, and other aspects of magical transportation that most wizards never gave much thought to.

“Magical Transportation?” Lucius repeated, almost incredulously. “I must admit, I didn’t think you would be in such a... practical department.”

Y/N laughed softly, a sound that brought a flash of warmth to Lucius’s chest. “I suppose it’s not glamorous,” she said. “But it has its own importance. Not all of us are eager for a hight and important place as yours.”

Lucius’s eyes searched her face for any hint of irony or regret, but there was none. She seemed perfectly content with her life, though he wondered what had brought her to such a quiet corner of the Ministry. Had her path truly diverged so completely from his own? Or was it by choice that she had stayed out of the political spotlight?

“Well, I won’t keep you from your duties,” Lucius said, though the disappointment in his voice was clear despite his best efforts to mask it. “It was good to see you, Y/N.”

“You as well, Lucius.” Her smile was warm, but there was a hint of sadness in it, as though she, too, regretted the brief nature of their meeting.

With that, she turned, and her figure disappeared down the hallway, her footsteps echoing softly in the vast corridor.

Lucius stood still for a moment, his thoughts racing. The encounter had been so unexpected, so fleeting. He couldn’t help but feel the weight of the years between them, the paths they had taken that had led them to such different places. But in that brief moment, it was clear to him that whatever distance had grown between them in the past, it hadn’t erased the connection that still lingered, hidden just beneath the surface.

Later that day, Lucius sat in the sterile, polished offices of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, going over the details of an ongoing case. But his mind was elsewhere, occupied by the encounter with Y/N. He found it difficult to concentrate, to keep his thoughts fixed on the matters at hand. His gaze kept drifting to the corner of his desk, where a small piece of parchment sat, untouched—a note that had arrived earlier that day, courtesy of Y/N’s office. It was a formal request to discuss some bureaucratic matters between their departments, a rather innocuous request in the grand scheme of things. But for Lucius, it was a lifeline—an excuse to see her again.

He hadn’t forgotten the way her smile had made his heart race, how the years seemed to melt away when their eyes met. She was more than just a former acquaintance; she was a reminder of something he had long buried—a part of his past that, despite his best efforts, refused to stay buried.

Lucius sat back in his chair, steeling himself for what would come next. He knew he would have to play the game carefully—after all, Y/N wasn’t just a passing fancy. She was someone who had the potential to change everything. He wasn’t the same man he had been at Hogwarts, and neither was she. But their meeting was proof that the threads of their past hadn’t unraveled completely. There was still something there.

And Lucius Malfoy, despite his carefully curated life and responsibilities, was beginning to wonder if that something was worth exploring.

[dracowars]

miracle | draco malfoy

pairing: draco x reader

word count: 1,5k

summary: where draco and y/n save christmas in hogwarts

a/n: a little christmas surprise for you <3 i haven't written for draco in a long time due to no inspiration and wanting to write for other characters, but i admit that i missed him so here we are with a short and sweet christmas story with our favourite boy, hope you enjoy!! ♡

warnings: none

universe: harry potter

The wind howls through the dark castle, gusts of snow whiz past the window, the snowflakes whirling around wildly. The frost climbs up the windows and the candles flicker in the late hour of the evening.

A snowstorm has been raging outside for several hours - something you really don't need right now. Yesterday was the last day of school at Hogwarts before the Christmas break, but this raging snowstorm is ruining all of your plans. The headmaster has forbidden anyone to leave the castle because it is far too dangerous to go out in this weather. But that also means that you are stuck in here. All of you.

Because no one can apparate out of here and the Hogwarts Express, no matter how magical it may be, cannot withstand this weather either.

Of course, Hogwarts offers the opportunity to stay in the castle over the holidays if you do not want to visit your relatives or simply have no one to visit. However, you know that many of your friends have been looking forward to their departure, preparing for weeks.

Even though Hermione is engrossed in one of her books right now, you see from the expression on her face how much it hurts her not to be able to see her parents, at least not in the foreseeable future. Harry and Ron are busy playing a game of Wizard's Chess, their board placed in the middle of the huge Gryffindor table in the Great Hall. Harry would have spent Christmas with the Weasleys this year.

On one of the benches you watch Cho Chang and Hannah Abbott talk to each other, but they do so with sad faces. Over at the Slytherin table, the mood is also gloomy, their quiet murmuring washing over to you. But the worst thing is looking at the faces of the younger students - first to third years - and seeing the frustration and sadness in them.

After Dumbledore had you gather in the Great Hall earlier and informed you of these unfortunate circumstances, hardly anyone left the hall. Many were too shocked, too sad, too surprised or even too overwhelmed to leave.

Which leaves you with a lot of sad, even bored figures who seem to have completely lost the Christmas spirit.

But you weren't chosen as Head Girl at the beginning of the school year for nothing, and that's the reason why you suddenly find yourself at the Slytherin table, with none other than Draco Malfoy in your sights.

At first, he doesn't even notice you. He has his chin resting on his hand and looks up sullenly at the candles floating under the ceiling. Apparently, this situation doesn't even leave his dark heart cold.

"Can I talk to you for a second?", you ask, catching his attention. Draco's grey eyes wander to you, but he doesn't move. He doesn't have to, because his intense gaze already makes you shudder and your heart beat faster.

Yes, you admit it - you had a crush on him for a while. But that was only from fifth to sixth year, because suddenly everyone was swooning over him. Well, your heart apparently hasn't yet understood that this crush is long gone and no longer relevant.

Whoever decided that Draco should be Head Boy in your final year remains a mystery to you. (You know it was Dumbledore. After all, only he can fill that position, but still.)

The others at the table give you looks that you can't quite interpret. But you don't have time to do that anyway because Draco finally stands up from his seat at the table and gently places his hand on your arm. Then, he leads you away from the table to prevent the others from overhearing you.

"What's wrong?", he asks and if you didn't know better, you'd think he sounds almost worried. He doesn't ask what you want in that characteristic snarky tone of his, but what's wrong with you specifically. Suddenly you feel seen and suppress a blush before you sort out your thoughts and turn to the problem at hand.

"We have to do something. I can't bare to look at another sad face. The younger students in particular are desperate to go home", you explain to him, holding his gaze while he looks at you with peaked interest. "So I thought we might as well try to make the best of it?"

It's more so a question than a statement, but something inside of Draco's eyes lights up at your words.

"What do you have in mind?", he asks in a lowered voice and bends forward so that his face is now much closer to yours. His pale skin shines in the candlelight, his eyes standing out even more because of the black and green uniform.

To your surprise, Draco actually likes all your ideas, he is almost enthusiastic about them. While you tell him about them, he folds his arms in front of his chest and looks at you intently with a slight grin playing around his lips. Only when you ask him for his opinion does he seem to come back to reality and straighten up.

"I'm in", he winks at you with a genuine smile and immediately gets to work. Within a few minutes, the Great Hall is even more festive than before. With the help of the other Slytherins, Draco lets snow fall from the ceiling.

The Gryffindors, together with the Ravenclaws, are taking care of further Christmas decorations. They are lighting more fires in the fireplaces all around so that it is cozy and warm in the big hall. The Hufflepuffs, on the other hand, have been given a very important task - together with the house elves, they are carrying numerous baking utensils onto the huge tables.

After a while, some of the teachers have also heard about the celebrations going on in the Great Hall and are gradually joining in. Professor Flitwick is teaching some of the second years a Christmas carol while the choir is already getting into the mood.

With the help of Professor Snape, who looks as grim as ever and thus looks very similar to Ebenezer Scrooge, the Slytherins conjure up a huge ice surface in the entrance to the Great Hall. The students immediately go out onto the magical ice with ice skates that appear out of nowhere and do their laps. The snow piles up in some corners, leading to several snowball fights. Due to the snow being magical, no one gets cold or wet. Laughter echoes through the hall, and you are suddenly met with happy faces everywhere.

"Well done, Head Girl", Draco nudges you with his elbow as he suddenly appears next to you. You didn't even hear him approaching you, too busy watching the students doing pirouettes on the ice rink. The warmth emanating from him by your side makes you feel content.

"Couldn't have done it without the Head Boy", you smile at him, nudging him back playfully.

"If I didn't know better, I'd think you just complimented me", Draco laughs and his eyes have that sparkle again. His laugh is something you see so rarely that you are rendered speechless for a few seconds.

"Don't get used to it, Malfoy", you reply once you have rediscovered your voice. Draco looks at you with that intense look again and you have the feeling that only the two of you exist in this very moment. That's why you are glad when you see something out of the corner of your eye, a distraction.

The house elves have been helping the students bake cookies on the huge tables. However, it has obviously gotten out of hand because a first year walks past you, completely covered in white. Not from snow, but from flour.

Startled, you run towards the tables and demand that the children stop, but it is far too loud for them to hear you. And you doubt they would even listen to your words if they did.

Draco, who is standing next to you again, is watching the events in front of you with a grin tucking at the corner of his lips. Whether it is because of the flour fight or the fact that no one is listening to you, you don't know. You look at him for help, but instead of helping you, he picks up one of the finished cookies and holds it in front of your nose.

The sweet, delicious smell fills your nose immediately and calms down your nerves. As soon as you take a bite, the chocolate, which is still a little warm, melts on your tongue.

However, you can't enjoy it much longer as a cloud of flour suddenly breaks over the both of you and completely covers you and Draco in white powder.

With your mouth open, you look at Draco in shock, who stares at you with a similar look. Then you both start laughing loudly at the exact same time. You are white from head to toe, the children around you giggling as well.

"Merry Christmas, Y/N", Draco speaks through your laughter, catching his breath while gently removing flour from the top of your head with his hand.

"Merry Christmas, Draco."

[yanxidarlings]

YANDERE HP GOLDEN ERA: SLYTHERIN BOYS X DORMMATE READER PT2

so more of the slytherin boys was in the lead last night and inspiration struck, but i still will be doing whichever option has the most votes by the end of the week, and eventually i'll probably have all of the concepts up, if you haven't already you can vote here.

so i did more reading up on mattheo and lorenzo, and i honestly don't know where to pick up from, i'm thinking of making this my main concept for yandere hp and building on it.

the last post specified the darling as the dormmate of our dear slytherin boys here, but many of the headcanons can be applied to a fem darling, or darling from another house. it's quite intriguing to imagine someone who had grown up close to draco, theo, ect. getting sorted into a different house; i can honestly see this being a trigger for the boys' yandere tendencies to develop.

sure theo was attached before, but he had never even entertained the possibility of not getting sorted into slytherin together. and what do you mean the darling won't be there to knock draco down a peg when he won't stop talking down to goyle?. how is blaise supposed to get through seven years of not watching his darling everynight whilst they sleep?

i might expand on this in my future ravenclaw (possibly hufflepuff) posts. for now i want to delve into the individual yandere characteristics of each slytherin (i'm considering adding pansy, adrian, other slytherins) to the concept if anyone else is interested.

DRACO MALFOY (cast tom felton):

i think i've made it painfully obvious draco is alot to deal with as a yandere. he's got a bit of everything and even more; but overall, he is overwhelmingly obsessive. his obsession is driven by irrepressible thoughts of his darling. ever since he was a child, separating from them has simply felt wrong, i think he's likely to have known the darling the longest, perhaps having grown up close to them.

maybe his darling is a member of the black family, or a lestrange, or hails from another prominent family, thus he has been brought up closely next to them.

there's no one he feels more comfortable around, his darling is his home, which would be sweet if he weren't willing to kill and maim others to keep his darling with him.

his darling was probably hoping, praying to get sorted into any house but slytherin, it didn't take a ravenclaw to know draco would only get worse if they shared a dorm/common room. immediately, he claims the bed next to his darling, and already has pestered his father into arranging them a private dorm together, but that old oaf dumbledore refused because "all students must be treated equally." what bullshit. if you ask draco.

he won't let his darling interact with anyone "don't lower yourself and associate with the likes of them" and socially isolates them. don't you dare wander off, it'll end in the biggest tantrum, and don't even think about dating, the entire slytherin dorm will implode on itself.

draco needs constant attention, his darling is all he thinks about so he expects them to only think about him as well. you'll quickly learn that it's best to give draco the attention he wants. it's not that he plans to give his darling a hard time, but he becomes moody, both mean and clingy at the same time. he'll have his arm around his darlings waist whilst accusing them of being a blood traitor, and attacking their insecurities, then a few hours later he crawls into bed whispering sweet nothings.

it leaves his darling on the edge, because sometimes these mood swings happen even when paying him the attention he so desperately craves.

this could lead to his darling keeping a facade up in front of him, so he has less ammunition during his mood swings, but if he suspects his darling of not being as open and comfortable around him as he is them, all hell breaks loose.

THEODORE NOTT (fancast lorenzo zurzolo):

but he's not as sensitive about his darlings perception of him as theo is. perhaps sensitive isn't the correct word as much as demanding. theodore demands his darling be open and honest with him, he wants to know about every ache and thought they have. however he is best characterised as a possessive yandere. above all he cannot live with the thought of sharing his darling with anyone.

sharing, in theo's mind, is anyone even casting a glance upon his darling. why isn't his company enough? why does his darling have to interact with undeserving rodents like malfoy, potter and the weasleys? he would completely abandon his life outside of his darling if they just asked would anyone else do that for them? no!.

they're the person that matters most to him, and he wants to be the only person his darling cares about as well.

theodore has likely known his darling since childhood, perhaps they shared similarly harsh parents/guardians, and bonded over that. it would make it all the more easier to theo to manipulate them into staying close to him.

his company is not as dreadful as draco's, and he doesn't demand physical affection and praise as much as the latter does, not if his darling is not willing. but there is still a part of him that yearns to press up against them and never let go.

he simply cannot handle his darling distancing themselves from him, and is quick to resort to threats, blackmail, emotional manipulation, anything that he thinks will keep him and his darling close.

he is another one who will shamelessly confess his love and attraction to his darling, and has already 'claimed' them in a strange way; everyone at hogwarts seems to identify theo out of the slytherin boys as the one the reader is 'dating', to theo's delight. his darling doesn't have to agree with the rumours or even think of them as a couple, as far as he's concerned, they've been together since they met.

MATTHEO RIDDLE (fancast benjamin wadsworth):

the only one who i imagine the darling meets when they start at hogwarts is mattheo. whichever year he starts at hogwarts, he's immediately intrigued by them (for whatever reason). maybe the rest of his dormmates take poorly to his blood status, and the darling is the first to welcome him, or maybe ol' moldy voldy has tasked him with extracting something from the reader.

no matter what jumpstarts his obsession, it develops at an alarmingly fast rate, one week he's glancing over at them in class, the next he's invading their thoughts whilst they sleep and following them in the halls.

his darling likely won't take too easily to his sudden interest in them, they've already been dealing with several unsettling slytherins for years, and are probably always on guard.

not like mattheo cares. if he wants to be close to them, he will. he knows draco and his gang have to treat him with courtsey if they want their families to stay in the dark lords good graces, as does his darling. so he inserts himself (quite violently) into his darlings life.

it should be harder than it is considering his short temperament and his darlings cautious nature, but he's able to understand his darling on an intense level due to his inherited legilimency.

no matter how uncomfortable his darling is around him, he can just invade their mind and lock them in a room with him if he wants to spend time with them. and he always gets what he wants.

he seldom reveals that he is reading their mind, lest they feel the need to develop occlumency. it also gives him a kick knowing their raw thoughts, he could never even say a word to his darling and still know them better than anyone else does. including the other slytherins.

deep down mattheo's incredibly insecure about his connection with his darling; out of theo, blaise, goyle, enzo, draco, he's known them for the least amount of time. he's the only half-blood. he's evil incarnate son of the dark lord himself. he'd only bring them pain and suffering but he can't bring himself to let go of them either.

whilst theo, draco, enzo and even goyle will confess their affection for their darling, and perhaps admit to what they've done, mattheo will only do the latter, and does not provide any context as to why he hexed weaslette after the darling complimented her quidditch skills, nor will he elaborate on why he must take showers at the exact same time as his darling everyday.

BLAISE ZABINI (cast louis cordice):

blaise shares his concealed affection for the darling. you could be none the wiser to his deep seeded affetion for you for years only to suddenly be told that he's your betrothed and now he refers to himself as your fiance and invites you to sleep in his bed as if it's the most normal thing ever.

among them all, blaise is the most calm and calculated. he knows that following his darling around and monopolising their interactions makes him look bad but sometimes he just can't help it. he has to sneer at granger who the darling got paired with in potions, and make remarks about how disgusting muggle and mudbloods are.

but he doesn't think he's better than muggleborns; he thinks he's better than everyone. i think blaise is the most likely to develop an obsession for a shallow reason, maybe the readers is aphrodite personified, hails from a prominent pureblood family that his mother is encouraging him to marry into or is incredibly intelligent, their actual character couldn't matter less to him. from the moment he decides they're his, they're his.

blaise is uniquely one of the only ones who actually wants his darling to love and show him affection of their own accord (meaning he would be nice enough to give them amortentia).

he wants them to be happy, but he also wants them to be entirely dependent on him. he takes on a sort of big brotherly role, he encourages them to eat and sleep well. he wants to be the one they ask opinions on outfits, schoolwork, ect. he thinks if they rely on him for everything, it'll be impossible for them to leave.

LORENZO BERKSHIRE (fancast louis patridge):

out of all of them, enzo is by far the 'softest', as mentioned in the previous post, he's the 'sane, normal' one out of all of them. he doesn't act strangely creepy (sorry blaise it's true), disturbingly controlling (don't deny it mattheo), possessive, obsessive or devoted to them. he comes across as the 'best friend', the sidekick in every romance novel that offers advice and stays out of the drama.

this is because he initially see's his fixation on his darling as nothing but a desire to protect them from those lunatics he and his darling call 'friends'. but why does his heart drop when he see's them getting pulled into a room by mattheo, or when blaise stares at them as if they are a veela. it's not jealousy it's concern for his poor mate. yeah, that's it.

and why can't he stand to be left out of their attempts to evade the others, or when they don't confide in him, whether their troubles are slytherin related or not.

he's probably the only one who realises how messed up what they all do is, the rest justify it, but when enzo eventually gives in to his obsession he doesn't pretend to be in the right. he's apologetic but he just can't let them go.

the only thing that would set him off would be them distancing themselves from him. he can handle sharing, but the idea of his darling avoiding him, not viewing him as the safe haven from the rest really drives him to insanity.

i also think lorenzo would be the one who convinces everyone to share their darling once shit hits the fan and everyone wants to take the reader for themself.

GREGORY GOYLE (cast josh herdman):

goyle is honestly just happy he gets to be around his darling. yeah, it would be nice if he could have them to himselves, and not just be a lackey for draco to sabotage the others. maybe his darling treats him with a bit more benevolence and he's grown attached to them over the years.

always willing to lend a helping hand, i think he's the least possessive out of all of them, and is best characterised as a devoted yandere. whilst the rest of them want to maintain some level of control over the reader, he's content just being near them. he doesn't even have to talk to them but it's a plus.

i wonder if he's actually as bad at school as he acts or if he just doesn't bother listening so that the darling has to dedicate time to tutoring him. no one knows.

goyle will really have to fight tooth and nail to be apart of the sharing arrangement enzo, draco, theo, mattheo and blaise somehow eventually come to. (that i will expand upon in a future post because this is getting long).