#harry potter christmas oneshots

[sun-kissy]

🧣 remus lupin + "you fell asleep. it would’ve been cute, if i hadn’t been so paranoid you were actually unconscious"! please! 😁

thank you for the request lovely! :)

slumber | r.l.

— “You fell asleep. It would’ve been cute, if I hadn’t been so paranoid you were actually unconscious.”

remus lupin x reader

tw: fluff!

Remus can tell that you’re exhausted simply from your voice when you call out to him. It’s full of love, as it always is, just a little dimmer than it was when he kissed you goodbye that morning.

You enter the house and kick off your shoes. Remus meets you in the hallway, tugging your coat off for you before pulling you into his arms. You go easily.

“Hey, sweet girl.”

“Hi,” you mumble, relaxing into him. He splays one hand out between your shoulder blades, the other on the small of your back.

“Long day?”

You make a soft sound halfway between I dunno and mhm. Something in his heart twists when you look up at him, all droopy eyelids and tired smile.

He hums pityingly. “Wanna talk about it?”

You shake your head. Remus pecks your forehead before pulling away to take your hands.

“Okay, that’s okay, sweetheart. Let’s get some food in you.”

There’s nothing you can do but nod, but that’s enough for him. He all but carries you to the kitchen and hoists you up onto the platform.

He manhandles you in the gentlest way, adjusting your too-tired-to-move body until he was certain your head wasn’t going to hit anything.

“Remember that book fair Sirius invited me to, said it was full of classics and poetry?” he glances at you as he moves away. You nod.

Remus starts to cut up ingredients, goes through the familiar motions of making your favourite soup. He knows you’re not yourself when you’re tired — on a normal day, you’d be chatting his ear off. He’ll talk for you instead.

“… and it turns out he was lying. It was a fucking party, at this huge, loud club. I should’ve known, really, I mean it’s Sirius we’re talking about…” he hopes it’s enough to keep you awake. He isn’t usually one for words, but he’d read novels out loud if it meant you were listening.

Remus continues talking, and you really are trying your best to keep up. But your eyelids feel heavy. So heavy.

Maybe he asks you something, you hear the lilt in his voice at the end of his sentence. You don’t answer, you can’t. Your eyes flutter shut as you’re tugged along by the stream of unconsciousness.

There’s a tingling sensation in your brain, like someone’s pulling your mind out of the depths of sleep. You force your eyes open, squinting as the bright lights of the chandelier in the living room hit your retinas.

“Y/n, sweetheart?”

The vivid light is instantly replaced by your boyfriend’s silhouette as he stands over you. You can’t make out his expression fully, a mix of relief and bemusement and something else you can’t place.

“You’re up, thank god.”

You blink. “What happened?”

Remus gives you a small smile, the skin under his eyes crinkling in slight worry. He helps you up into a sitting position. “You fell asleep. It would’ve been cute, if I hadn’t been so paranoid you were actually unconscious.”

You let out a huff of laughter. “How long was I out for?”

“Three hours.” His expression finally lets up a little, less terse. He sits down next to you, giving you a few giggly kisses before pulling you into his side. “I tried to wake you up more than a few times, dove. But you were out cold. I guess you really were tired, huh?”

“I guess so,” you smile.

“You were,” he grins, rubbing the fat of your arm affectionately. “You were snoring real loud too.”

“I don’t snore!”

“Sure, sweetheart,” he dots a kiss on your nose, “Whatever rocks your boat.”

san’s christmas sleepover

[girllblogging777]

°•*⁀➷ 𝑐𝑟𝑖𝑠𝑝 𝑎𝑢𝑡𝑢𝑚𝑛 𝑚𝑎𝑡𝑐ℎ // my 1k celebration

╰┈➤ mattheo riddle

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

♡ the definition of “i can fix him”

♡ you two were paired up against your will for a potions project, and he acted all annoyed and nonchalant at first

♡ but after spending time with you outside of classes, he understood you weren’t like anyone else he’d ever met

♡ you always validated his feelings, never said anything bad about him or his reputation. you just treated him like a normal person

♡ and he enjoyed it. he enjoyed the way you’d tease him about messing up the potion, or how you’d actually listen to his silly suggestions of adding random ingredients in it

♡ and within a couple of months, mattheo riddle was down bad for you

♡ so, when winter came around, he found himself taking part in all sorts of activities he never thought he’d do

♡ ice skating ? building snowmen ? watching those hallmark movies you love so much ? you name it, he’ll follow you. after all, he wouldn’t wanna lose the best thing he’s ever had

♡ on your newly established weekly dates in hogsmeade, he’d make fun of you for ordering matcha instead of hot chocolate “seriously, love ? it tastes like grass !”

♡ and even though he always makes fun of you and your completely random interests, he always listens and remembers about them

♡ which is why, on christmas day, you’d wake up to find a basket filled with everything you’ve ever mentioned to him

♡ a trinket of that cute animal you told him was your favorite, the new book of a series you read, all sorts of beauty products that were your favourite scent, that piece of jewellery you had eyed the previous week at the store

♡ you ask, he delivers.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

a/n : sorry for not making this too personalised, but i got wayyy too much requests and there’s no way i could think of 40+ scenarios… i did try to make it accurate to what i got, so i hope you’ll like it !

[g1rld1ary]

christmas eve - sirius black x fem!reader

wc: 2405

cw: pure fluff, swearing, you meet sirius' friends on Christmas eve

me: happy christmas eve chickens!!!! hope u r all staying safe and happy and enjoying the holidays!!!! xxxx

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

If you had been asked in school if you would ever fancy Sirius Black, you would have said never in a million years. Sirius Black was a loud-mouthed, annoying, entitled son of a bitch. However, many years later, you would only say your boyfriend was a son of a bitch — you hated that woman.

If either of your respective groups of friends had been asked the same question, you were sure they would have given identical answers. In school you were quiet, polite and stayed under the radar. And Sirius was, well, Sirius. There was no way the two of you would ever get along.

Admittedly, you still didn’t exactly look the pair. Sirius and his dark silky hair, electric silver eyes and intimidating worn leather jacket, and you with your muted colour palette and unassuming appearance. Yet, you thought you went together pretty well. Still, you could both understand that even time and maturity didn’t make your get together more expected. In fact, you were probably the last person the marauders expected to show up to their Christmas Eve dinner.

When Christmas Eve finally came, Sirius and James were busy setting up his and Lily's dining room for the perfect holiday event. Decked in horrendous matching Christmas jumpers with terrible puns stamped across the front, each boy broke into laughter whenever they caught a glimpse of the other’s across the table as they lay down the fancy cutlery. Remus and Lily, cooking in the other room, had opted for more neutral red and green jumpers as a tribute to the season.

“Come on, mate, we’re brothers yet you’ve kept this girl hidden for months now, can’t you just tell me?” James begged, arranging the centrepieces to be spaced how he knew Lily liked.

“Patience, Prongsy, you’ll meet her soon enough. Promise you’ll be nice to her?”

“When have I not been nice?” James cried, hands up in mock offence. Sirius just shook his head, turning to arrange some pillows.

James cast him an inquisitive look, protective wasn’t usually Sirius’ style, which meant that something about you was really different. He’d been considering that for a while, and his suspicions were only confirmed with every passing day.

There were three main reasons that James thought Sirius was (for lack of a better word) serious about you. Firstly, Sirius was healthier. With the family he was born with, it wasn’t surprising that Sirius had a host of trauma and mental health issues. And though he’d tried therapy and meds a handful of times the habit had never really stuck and he’d always had a level of discomfort in his own body. Lately, though, Sirius had seemed more relaxed and in control. James wasn’t stupid, he knew that a partner couldn’t fix anyone, but he was absolutely more inclined to approve of one who made his best friend feel like himself again.

Secondly, Sirius was more private. Sirius had always had an outrageous sense of humour, uninhibited when it came to sex jokes or sharing conquests. But recently James had noticed that while Sirius still made jokes they were aimed at other people, he’d almost completely stopped talking about his own sex life. Of course, when prompted he would boast about how sexy his girlfriend was and how incredible and active your sex life was, but it was never Sirius bringing it up, or making gross comments about your body and what you could do with it.

Finally, Sirius was gentle. He’d always been charming, but the unfiltered adoration in his eyes when he spoke about you took James aback — he’d never seen it in his brother before. It was so pure and well-intentioned that James knew in his core that Sirius was head over heels and the fall was not coming to an end any time soon.

As the clock ticked by the gang all trickled in, the dining room filling with warmth and laughter. At five minutes past nine, you rang the doorbell.

“Is this the girlfriend?” Lily clapped with delight, jumping up and down with Mary.

“I’ll let her in. Play nice,” Sirius said with a stern sweep of the room, satisfied when his friends all played along, nodding solemnly.

Standing on the Potter’s doorstep you were ball of anxiety. You hadn’t seen any of the marauders — apart from your boyfriend — since you finished school, taking a muggle job. Thankfully Sirius opened the door, greeting you with his toothy smile.

“Hi, lovely,” He said, engulfing you in a bear hug. You giggled, wrapping one arm around him, the other holding up a purple umbrella.

“Hi,” You smiled back, “Sorry I’m late, all the houses look the same.”

“What are you talking about? You’re right on time.” A lie, but a kind one so you let it be. You shook the water off your umbrella before stepping inside.

Safe in a warm home you leant up on your tiptoes to plant a kiss on Sirius’ lips as he slid the coat down your arms, hanging it up on a hook beside you. You were half-tempted to just stay in his arms for the rest of the night and abandon the dinner altogether, but you figured that wasn’t possible while you were inside someone else’s house. It seemed like Sirius had the same idea, pulling away with a groan.

“Come on, everyone’s waiting to meet you.” You followed him out of the entryway, calming yourself with a breath.

“Ladies and gentlemen, may I present my girlfriend.” Sirius revealed you dramatically as you waved shyly, shifting in your small brown heels.

“Uh, hey—”

“Holy shit, it’s you?” Marlene slammed her hand on the dining table. You jumped slightly, squinting to figure out what was going on. Your mouth dropped open as you connected the dots and looked up at Sirius.

“Do they not know we’re dating? Sirius!” You scolded him, smacking him on the bicep. Sirius floundered for a moment, struggling to summon the charm that usually got him out of trouble.

“In my defence,” He preached, “Would they have believed me?”

“I would not have,” Peter put in helpfully. You laughed, putting a hand to your forehead in exasperation.

“I guess I don’t blame you. It’s nice to see you, Peter, by the way. Long time no see, I’ve heard so much about you all.” The group all shared a look, something akin to guilt growing that they hadn’t seen someone they graduated with for years.

“And we know nothing about you,” Lily said with an expectant look to Sirius, “Since your boyfriend was so insistent on keeping you hidden away from us.” Sirius just shrugged, lifting his hands in surrender.

“Oh, baby, are you ashamed of me?” You teased with a dramatic pout.

“What’s there to be ashamed of? You’re perfect.” Sirius swooped down to press a kiss on your cheek. You grinned subconsciously as Mary and Marlene mirrored your expression. Sirius had dated a lot of people but they’d never seen him be so gentle.

“Is anyone else scared of Sirius being a normal human being?” James stage whispered and the others all agreed, joking at their friend’s expense.

“Enough gossiping about me you heathens, I’m helping Lily serve up some food. Right, Lils?” Sirius made a summoning motion and Lily followed him, a small smile still on her lips. He’d chosen wisely, Lily was the least likely to tear him to shreds about his behaviour.

You sat shyly on one of the couches in the Potter’s living room, studying your nails as you tried to come up with conversation.

“So, are you working, studying?” Remus asked kindly, putting you out of your awkward misery.

“How’d you and Padfoot meet — again?”

“How’d a twat like Pads score a girl like you?”

“I’m working, I run a muggle bookshop. Sirius came in one day by chance and just kept returning until eventually we started going out.”

“Sirius reading?” Mary asked incredulously, drawing laughter from you. You nodded happily, glad to talk about your boyfriend.

“Surprising I know, but he’s been really into it over the last few months!”

“Can I just defend myself and say that I was shopping for Remus’ birthday gift the first time,” Sirius popped his head through the door, “I didn’t start reading until I wanted to get her to like me.” You shook your head with a smile, rolling your eyes playfully.

“I was going to say I couldn’t imagine Sirius perusing a book store for fun, but it makes a lot more sense when you say it’s for a girl,” Marlene teased, popping up to help Sirius bring the dishes to the dining table.

“Hey! I’m an intellectual now, you arse.” Sirius pulled out your chair for you as the group migrated to the dining table.

“Yeah, okay, Padfoot,” Remus snorted and Sirius scoffed in false annoyance before you all fell silent, devouring the meal.

You ate and shared stories for hours and you felt strangely at home among the group. At some point Sirius, sitting beside you, threw an arm over your shoulder and you cuddled into his warmth.

You loved learning about the Marauders, you only remembered fragments from school since you were never close with any of them. James being an auror made perfect sense when you remembered his amazing DADA performances, and Remus becoming a teacher was a wonderful sequel to his long tutoring sessions in seventh year. Lily expecting a baby so young had shook up their home life but the house had clearly started getting child-ready even though it was months away. Regardless, the group welcomed you warmly and you felt immediately at home.

“I just can’t believe that you of all people are together. I mean after all this time, how you both were in school… what are the odds?” Peter asked, reaching over the table to take another scoop of vegetables. You bit your lip and tried to control the heat creeping up your neck.

“I think we balance each other out,” You reasoned, “Sirius is such a… distinct character that he needs someone boring like me to bring him down.”

“You, boring? You’re the daughter that everyone wants!” Marlene laughed, sipping a red wine.

“I couldn’t function without her.” Sirius laced your fingers together, gaze heavy on you. “She reminds me to take care of myself, go to bed before three A.M., and of course, is hot and sexy as fuck.” That was the Sirius his friends all knew, but the school-era immaturity was gone. No longer was it the ladies-man Sirius Black trying to get into someone’s pants, instead, it was Sirius making a dumb joke with someone he loved.

“Sirius!” You cried, covering your face with both hands, including the one Sirius had attached to yours. Times like these you could feel the differences between you — Sirius was known for his crude humour, you would never bring up how sexy you thought Sirius was, joke or not, especially not in front of people you didn’t really know.

The night progressed with more reminiscing and storytelling, and you listened enraptured as they told story after story of pranks and parties, a life you were unaware of being led right beside you at school. You all ended up tipsy, an embarrassing stack of empty wine bottles building up at the end of the table.

As you were told was a common occurrence, the group all decided to just stay over at the Potters, pulling out mattresses and spots on the sofa with practised speed. You took the place they gave you, grateful to still be welcome.

Swaddled in blankets, Sirius was the first asleep, dead to the world in a matter of moments. For someone who stayed up half the night, he really did pass out as soon as his head hit the pillow. Whenever he was with you, anyway.

Someone across the room called your name in a whisper, wand faintly illuminated. You sat up to look their way, finding the rest of Sirius’ friends looking at you.

“We just wanted to say we really like you, and we’re really happy for you and Padfoot, even if we were weird at the start,”” Mary said and you couldn’t contain your grin.

“And why weren’t we friends in school? We would’ve gotten along great,” Remus added, rubbing tired eyes.

“I would have been putting a target on my own back,” You confessed, “You were all in the same house, confident in yourselves and could defend yourself against the bullies. I was alone in my house and deeply insecure. Even if we were friends I would’ve gone back to my common room at the end of the day and been vulnerable. It was easier to just be alone.”

“You thought that through.” James nodded appreciatively but you just shrugged, a fact was a fact.

The conversation moved away from you for a while, whispers and stifled giggles bouncing across the room.

“You know that Sirius is in love with you, right?” James blurted out of nowhere, slapping a hand over his mouth.

“What?”

“Isn’t it obvious? He looks at you like he’s your whole world. He raves about you all the time; how great you are, how he’s so glad he met you. He’s my brother and I know him better than he knows himself; he’s mad for you.”

You took a moment to let that sink in. You hadn’t put too much thought into whether Sirius loved you, you’d always just been happy with the way they were going.

“Oh,” You hesitated. “I hadn’t considered that. Well, um, I should probably get to sleep, I have a lot of family to see tomorrow.” It was a poor excuse, you knew, but that was a big word.

You bade the group goodnight once more before snuggling into Sirius, and he instinctually wrapped his arm around your waist. As you drifted off to sleep, the thought crossed your mind that maybe, love wasn’t so out of the picture.

[mallowsweetmiri]

christmas miracle • fred weasley x reader

use #mallowsweetmicros to find my imagines!

Christmas at Hogwarts was your favorite time of year. Flurries outside your window, the crackling fires, the carols sung in the hallways. It all made you indescribably happy. Even the Gryffindor common room was decked out in garland and floating ornaments, the smell of fresh balsam in every corner. You sighed contentedly to yourself as you sat by the fire. Exams were finally over and you were set to head home on the Hogwarts Express tomorrow. Things couldn’t be better.

“Y/N!” You heard your name being called from the portrait hole. It was Fred, George, and Lee. You waved at them and sat up, readjusting your blanket on your lap. To your surprise, only Fred continued towards you, waving to the other boys as they headed towards their dorm. George and Lee sent cheeky smiles your way.

“Hi,” you smiled, moving your books from the couch so he could sit.

“Hi love,” he beamed, taking a seat next to you. You blushed at his nickname. Fred had always been overly affectionate with most people, but you were grateful to have experienced it. You craved it, his hugs and his nicknames. The way he slung his arm around you at the Three Broomsticks. It made you smile and you didn’t care if it was just the way he was. It made you feel special.

“Excited to go home?” You asked, watching as he settled in. His arm was draped over the back of the couch, his body turned towards you. You wished you could crawl into his lap, but you’d never have the courage to do so. Although, you doubted he’d mind.

“Yeah, of course,” he shrugged, the fire reflecting off his hair. “But I’m a little sad to leave this year.” You furrowed your brows and gave him a curious smile. It was hard not to smile with his contagious energy so close to you.

“Why is that?” You wondered aloud. He was usually boasting about going home to his mums cooking.

“To be honest, I wish I could spend Christmas with you,” he replied. You let out a huff as your smile grew without your knowledge.

“What?” You laughed, brushing your hair behind your ears in a feeble attempt to cool your blush.

“I’m sad I can’t watch you open my gift on actual Christmas,” he said, his voice soft and quiet. You shook your head at him, thoroughly confused. “But I figured two days before is close enough. So here, open it.” He grinned at you as he pulled out a small box from his pocket. You took it from him and bit your lip. It was small, rectangular, and fairly light. You pulled off the ribbon and opened the lid.

“Fred,” you gasped, pulling out the quill. “How did you even know I wanted this?” Your hand flew to cover your open mouth as you admired the pearl handled quill. You felt like Santa Claus had magically made your Christmas wish come true.

“I remember you admiring it when we were in Hogsmeade a few weeks ago,” Fred chuckled, watching you run a finger over the smooth surface of the grip. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you want something that badly before. I couldn’t help myself.” Your eyes ripped away from the beautiful gift and up towards Fred. “Do you like it?”

“Do I like it?” You repeated. “Fred, this is the best gift I’ve ever gotten.” You flung your arms around him and buried yourself into his neck.

“Really,” he chuckled. “A quill is the best gift you’ve ever gotten?” You nodded you head into his shoulder.

“It’s not just a quill, it’s a beautiful quill. And-” it’s from you. You couldn’t exactly say that though, so you settled for, “I didn’t get you a gift!” You gasped and pulled abruptly out of the hug. Fred only chuckled again and held your arm from pulling away too far.

“It’s fine, Y/N. Seeing you happy with your present is more than enough for me,” he murmured, his voice laced with affection. Your blush deepened under his touch, his eyes holding yours captive. You were dizzy with realization. It was a Christmas miracle. Fred Weasley liked you back.

“Wait,” you said, reaching into your bag to grab your wand. “I think I have something for you.” You flicked your wand up, casting a flicker of red and green magic above you. It was a silly charm you had been practicing for fun, but now your festive spirit was proving worthwhile. Fred watched as the mistletoe took shape, his mouth slightly parted as his eyes fixed on the delicate bristle. You bit your lip to hold your smile as you watched his face flush red. You would certainly be replaying that image in your mind over the holiday.

“How did you learn to do that?” Fred asked in wonderment, still gaping at the red bowed mistletoe.

“I taught myself before December,” you chuckled. “Y’know. Just in case someone needed it.” Fred chuckled as his eyes settled back on you.

“I wish I’d known about this earlier,” he murmured, his hand moving from your shoulder to your cheek. “If I’d known how to cast this, I would’ve done it on December 1st.” He leaned forward gently, pressing his lips against yours with adoration. He was warm and sweet like hot cocoa, his lips moving against yours with an impossible gentleness. The kiss was unhurried and soft, and it practically melted you into the couch. When he pulled away, your body betrayed you, a soft whine escaping your pouted lips. Fred chuckled and pressed another kiss to your cheek.

“Did you like my gift?” You asked sheepishly, your rosey cheeks warming Fred’s heart. He smiled as the mistletoes shape shimmered and fell over the two of you.

“This is definitely the best gift I’ve ever received.”

[georgeweasleyslostearhq]

Could I request 16 for George Weasley? A angst/smut post-war one please??

ofc! i got too into the post war and making it too sad that I couldn't seem to fit the smut without it turning weird and just out of nowhere so i am sorry. but if you request something else with smut I'll definitely do it for you!

Christmas prompt 16- “I didn’t have anyone else to spend Christmas with. Hope you don’t mind if I spend it with you.”

COMPANY

pairings: George Weasley x Fem! Summary: George finds that his only comfort during Christmas is with you Warnings: none

George was tired.

he had gone so long in that house full of people who didn't seem to understand his pain, he had gone so long of his family pretending everything was fine, like Fred wasn't gone, like there wasn't an empty seat next to him during dinner

he felt so alone, so sick of everyone asking if he was ok, and even if it had been 8 months, nothing George could do was enough to shake the feeling of his twin being taken away rom him

and as Christmas approached, he found him regretting things, how he left things with people that had any connection to Fred.

mostly, his relationship with you.

you and George, a complicated situation that George always wondered about

it was difficult to figure out what you two were, and to anybody outside of your circle it would have been seen as a relationship, but you weren't

you were never his and he was never yours, but the late nights cuddling in his dorm, the words said in the astronomy were a whole different story

you were best friends, even if Fred would tease him

he would have sked you out- he was going to tell you he loved you the day of the war, but Remus had dragged you away before he could pack up the courage

one of the last things Fred had told George before getting split up was that he should have told you years ago, that the night of Yule ball should had woken him up to how you felt for each other, but instead ended in tears due to an unreciprocated kiss.

it wasn't like he didn't like it, you had just caught him off guard, and by the time he realised your lips were finally on his after years on pining, you pulled away, apologising as you ran away

that was one of his biggest regrets in life.

the next time George saw you after the war was at Fred's funeral. he had been too sad to go up and take to you, despite your effort the only word said between you was a measly sorry before he walked away, taking a piece of your heart with him.

George could have sworn he heard Fred's voice in his head, telling him to talk to you, to tell you how he felt. but he brushed it off

it was too painful to face you, too hard to look at you when Fred had gone so many years telling him that he needed to pack up the courage. and even if Fred was in his head telling him things, it was never the right time.

and as more time went on, the less and less you saw George

he had given up, he couldn't do anything but sulk around in his apartment above him closed shop for months, doing everything in his power to avoid contact with everything of Freds in his home he now lived alone in.

so, George at on his couch, reading a book, the fireplace on with a blanket thrown over his legs as he rested his feet on the coffee table.

he should be at the burrow, where all his family are right now, probably having dinner as festive songs played, the Christmas eve air coming in through a slightly cracked window of the kitchen as they all get ready to go to bed.

George felt like he couldn't move as he stared at the page, his vision blurry as he heard children's laughs outside, oblivious to the destruction the war had caused to their word,

George often wondered what he would be doing if Fred was still here, but he always stops himself from thinking like that, getting frustrated because he knew he was gone, and nothing could bring him back

he just hated the fact the rest of his family seemed to move on so quickly, he despised the fact that some chose to carry on with life as if George's wasn't just destroyed

he snapped out of him and sighed shutting the book, looking up at the photo on the mantle.

a picture of Fred and him, laughing as you stood in the middle, an unamused look on your face to something George chose not to remember

Fred had loved that photo, hanging it up there when they first got this place

❅.⊹₊ ⋆❆‧⋆☃︎

you yawned as you opened the door of your little cottage right outside Hogsmeade

you frowned and then raised your eyebrows as you took in the man you haven't seen in months as he stood in front of you awkwardly.

"sorry for showing up unannounced" he focuses his gaze away at his feet

you stayed silent for a while as you looked at him.

as if he could sense your confusion as to why he is here he looked up, running a hand through his hair

“I didn’t have anyone else to spend Christmas with. Hope you don’t mind if I spend it with you.” he spoke hopefully, his eyes full of something you could figure out

you stepped out of the doorway and let him in, still a little confused

"is your family away?" you asked as he slowly walked in your home, looking somewhat guilty

he shook his head as he played with his fingers nervously

you knew that had to be a reason for him coming here asking to spend Christmas with you, so you had fought the urge not to ask, just in case it might tick something off

"would you like some hot coco? I was in the middle of brewing some" you blinked

he mumbled a simple yes please as you guided him to your living room. he had sat down and shifted multiple times trying to get comfortable in an odd situation he put himself it, he wondered it he should leave, he rethought coming here as you smiled tightly at him, leaving so many words unsaid

"I can leave if you want me t-" he mumbled before you cut him off

"it's ok" you looked away before going to the next room, watching in the corner of your eye as he looked around, drumming his hands on his knee as you walked to the kitchen, making more hot coco for him

you were still so confused as to why he showed up here, out of the blue, it had been so long since you saw him last that you thought you would never see him again, and for a while it seemed like that was for the best. but who are you kidding you've always had a soft spot for the man, however broken he may be from the war, but you were hurt too

you had tried so hard to be there for him, try to be a shoulder he could cry on, but no matter the efforts he had shut you out.

but you could never stay mad at him, it wasn't his fault.

you walked out of the kitchen with two mugs in your hands and sat beside him, passing him a cup of hot chocolate with melting marshmallows

he took notice to the knitting beside you on the couch, laying there, seeming to be left half finished, he wondered if he had interrupted you while knitting.

that was something he always loved about you, the fact that you did everyday things the muggle way when it was easier to do it with a quick flick of your wand. he loved every part of you, even if he's messed everything up

the room was silent for a while, no one daring to speak as you sipped on your hot coco

"so..it's been a while, huh?" he chuckles dryly, placing his mug on the coffee table

"I've missed you" you said shortly, looking away to the candle burning slowly on the mantle

"I've missed you too.." he whispered, looking at you as you looked ahead, admiring the way you look

your eyes still had the same mischievous smile, but held a certain tiredness that couldn't have just been from the time of night he had held you up to.

"I'm sorry I've pushed you away" he started with a sigh

you looked over at him with a frown

he had nothing to be sorry for, yet here he was, on Christmas eve when he should be with his family, wanting to be with you, for the first time in months.

"You don't deserve it, you were trying to be there for me...and I've pushed you away. I want you to be there for me- I do...but I don't. I can look after myself, but I want you with me. I guess.. no one understands what I'm going through...everybody moved on and I'm so angry... I just don't want you around me when I'm like this but this isn't how it's supposed to be" he rambled, his voice wobbling as he spoke

you're trying to process what he means before he takes your hand in his, making you flinch at the coldness of his skin, as rough as his fingertips, they've never been softer, they've never been more gentle.

it reminds you of all the times you'd hold his hands during school, whether it was running from filch, sneaking out or just strolling around, joking about something or another.

"you were supposed to be with me... supposed to be mine, Fred always told me that and I was going to- I should have- and I'm sorry but... I've always felt comfort with you, love. and I just want you.. I miss you" he finished

it's been way to long since he's used that nickname on you.. almost 9 months, the night of the war before you got dragged away

"George..."

you gave his hand a squeeze before resting your head on his shoulder

"I love you... I should have said it years ago...there are so many times I could name where I should have handled things differently and I'm sick of the what ifs because one minute someone is there and the next they aren't and you don't know when the last time you can tell someone you love then. And for this case...the first.. and I'm not risking it..." he shook his hand, pulling you closer to him, his hands slightly shaking as he held you.

"it's ok, George... it's not your fault..." you wiped a tear that had falling down his cheek and kissed his head

he shook his head "no.. no it is.. you could have been here..with me.. I just didn't tell you..let you"

"I knew all you needed was time... and I gave it to you, because I love you."

George frowns as he looks down at you, a sad smile making it's way to his quivering lips

"you do?" he questioned

"I always have, George" you said softly, playing with the nails of your fingers

it's not like you haven't said it before, but it's definitely the first time you've said it with the weight on your shoulders, the meaning seeping off your tongue, coming out so sweet, tasting so good on your lips as you reflected on your relationship with the man currently having a crisis in front of you

"I'm not the same man, love" he closed his eyes, his leg twitching away from yours as he clenches his jaw

"I've known you through every phase, George, I think I can still love you now" you hum

"so I can spend Christmas with you?" he looked at you hopefully

"I guess I could use the company" you shrugged before smiling softly "I want what you want, George, if you don't want to spend it with your family, I'm not going to force you"

"you've always been too good to me...patient..." he furrows his eyebrows. trying to figure out why

why him? he's asked that question a million times this year. but this time he didn't care about any insecurity that held him back

he leaned forward and cupped your cheek, placing a soft kiss to your lips.

"you're the only company I want"

❅.⊹₊ ⋆❆‧⋆☃︎

[7s3ven]

BUY ME PRESENTS. harry potter

( master list )

IN WHICH… Y/N L/N’s situationship, Matteo Riddle, isn’t the best boyfriend material and when he forgets to buy her a Christmas present, she finally breaks it off. Luckily, she knows someone who’ll do everything Matteo didn’t.

“Some guys get the girl everybody wants and forget she’s still the girl everybody wants.”

MERRY CHRISTMAS GUYS! - 25/12/2023

Warning: Matteo and Y/N kinda swear a lot, oh well

“It's a packed holiday and I got options, babe. If you don't wanna buy me presents. Drink me like a warm glass of milk

If you're not gonna race here from the North Pole to Beverly Hills. Just to keep my stocking filled. Well, I know somebody who will.”

Christmas and winter was a big deal at Hogwarts. Long strings of tinsel littered the stone hallways and shiny, delicate ornaments were hung up everywhere.

A H/C-haired girl rocked back and forth on her heels as she waited outside the Slytherin common room. She sighed, clicking her tongue. “What’s taking him so long?” She whispered under her breath.

Matteo was usually one to be late, but not on important days. Today was Christmas for goodness sake, Y/N’s favorite holiday.

Finally, the door to the common room slid open and Matteo walked out. His white shirt was messily tucked into his pants and the top few buttons were undone, irking Y/N who always looked perfect.

“Yo, Clarisse said you wanted to talk to me. Shoot.” Matteo shoved his hands into his pockets while Y/N lightly scoffed.

“Did you forget what day it is?” She questioned, arching an eyebrow. If the present in her hand didn’t give it away then she didn’t know what else would.

“Monday?”

“It’s Christmas, Matteo.” Y/N uttered, “Does that jog your memory?”

“Oh, yeah. I just woke up so I’m still dazed.”

Y/N could smell the cigarette smoke in his breath. “Or stoned. Why are you still smoking? You know how I hate it.”

Matteo carelessly shrugged. “It relieves stress, babe. I am quitting. Just give me like, two more months and I’ll be done.”

Y/N bit back a snarky retort. He always said he was quitting but he never actually did. “Well, anyway, I got you a gift. Merry Christmas, Matt.” She held the box up, smiling.

Matteo slowly took it. He opened the lid, his eyebrows raising at what was inside. “You got me… something from Vivienne Westwood?” It was clear that Matteo wasn’t as rich as his Slytherin friends were. With no parents or caretaker, all he could do was leech off people.

“It’s a lighter. You never light the candles in your room, which is… weird because that’s what they’re for. But, I guess you can use it to light cigars too. I also overheard Draco complaining about how he doesn’t have that but wants it. You can fit in with your friends with it.” Y/N shrugged.

“Jeez. This must’ve cost a lot.” Matteo held the lighter in his hand, whistling at how it shined. “Fucking hell.”

“Hey, Matty, we’re gonna open presents. You joining us?” A slim blond girl peeked her head out of the common room, grinning. “I got you a real good present this time.”

“You’re too sweet, Lina. I’ll be in a minute. I think you’ll like your present too.” Matteo chuckled before he glanced back at Y/N. “What are you still doing here?”

“What? No present for me?” Y/N said it in a joking manner to hide the pit she felt in her stomach.

“Why would I get you something?”

Y/N lightly scoffed. “I don’t know, Matteo. Maybe because we’ve been seeing each other for the past year?”

“Hey. We haven’t been seeing each other. I just find you when I want a good fuck. Know your place, Y/N. It’s not like we’re dating.”

Y/N sharply clicked her tongue in annoyance. “Right.” She sarcastically smiled, “What was I thinking? My place is obviously to be at your beck and call. My apologies for the mixup. Have a good day, Matteo.”

Y/N spun around, walking away. She heard Matteo laugh in disbelief and one part of her wished he would run after her and hand her a gift. He didn’t. He strutted back into the Slytherin chamber and back to those insufferable girls.

Y/N sat on the stairs amongst the green, red, and white decorations, staring at the ground. She was clad in a short black and white fur blazer and a skirt. Fleece leggings lined her legs, keeping her warm, and she had her Ravenclaw scarf wrapped around her neck.

She lightly sniffled, playing with a silver bracelet her friend had given to her as an early present. She wasn’t too sure what she was upset about right now.

Perhaps it was because she was lonely in the Ravenclaw common room. Everybody was gone, not even her study partner had stayed behind this year. Or maybe it was because of a certain brown-haired boy who was as heartless and oblivious as always.

It was most likely the latter.

Y/N wanted to feel happy, especially since today was Christmas, a holiday she enjoyed a little too much. But with no friends to laugh with, no family to return to, and not even a boy to sit next to the fire with, she felt sad.

“Are you actually crying?”

Y/N hadn’t even noticed Matteo approach her until it was too late. At least he had thought twice before leaving her alone.

He stood in front of her, fiddling with the multiple rings that adorned his long fingers. “Seriously, Y/N? Just because I didn’t get you a Christmas gift?”

Y/N glared up at him. “Can you try being nice for one second? Who knows, you might like it.” Throughout the whole year, Matteo and Y/N had something going on. They were never in a confirmed relationship but they weren’t merely friends either.

Though, in the past few months, the two couldn’t seem to stop bantering.

“Look, I’ll get you a gift tomorrow. Happy?”

Y/N quietly scoffed as she stood up. “No. You always forget things like these, Matteo. It’s getting annoying.” Y/N turned around to walk up the stairs but she barely took two steps before Matteo grabbed her wrist.

“Where are you going? I thought we were going to spend Christmas together.”

Y/N tauntingly raised an eyebrow at Matteo. “You were giving me the silent treatment up until now. I had to bribe that girl, Clair or whatever her name was, to let me see you.”

“Her name is Clarisse.” Matteo corrected her.

Y/N stared at him, wondering how he thought it was a good time to correct her. “What? I’m trying to make a point here and you’re concerned about her name? Unbelievable. Maybe I should find some people who actually enjoy my presence.”

Matteo sneered. “So, what? You just gonna go back to that Potter boy? You’re leading him on, Y/N. We both know your heart belongs to me.”

“Belonged.” Y/N corrected him, “Past tense. This thing we have between us is done. I’m not going to be a stupid late night call for you anymore.” She forced Matteo to let go of her and walked away, ignoring his shouts that echoed around the corridors.

“I taught you everything! I taught you how to stand up for yourself! I made you popular! I practically created you from nothing!” Matteo angrily exclaimed at the bottom of the steps. “You can’t leave me!”

Y/N glanced over her shoulder at the enraged brunette. She smiled. “Watch me.”

The last thing Y/N heard Matteo say was when he furiously shouted her name, his booming voice showcasing his fiery rage.

Y/N knocked against the Gryffindor painting, sighing. The Fat Lady seemed to notice her mood.

“What happened this time?” She asked. Matteo and Y/N were no secret; they were the talk of the school with Matteo being Voldemort’s son and Y/N’s cousin being a death-eater. A year ago, it was even rumoured she was one herself.

Y/N stared up at the Fat Lady with teary eyes. “Matteo. I… broke it off with me.”

“Oh, honey, I know it may not seem like it now, but it was the right decision.”

Y/N softly smiled. “I know… I know.”

“Are you here to see the Potter boy?”

“Yes. Is he here?” Y/N wasn’t even sure if Harry was at Hogwarts. During second year, he had gone to stay with Ron.

“Of course. And the Weasley boy and the Granger girl. They’re all here.” The Fat Lady swung backwards, smiling, “Go on, dear.”

Y/N stepped into the Gryffindor common room, looking around. “Harry? Hello? Anybody here?” The room was empty. Y/N glanced over at the crackling fire and went to sit beside it, warning her cold hands.

She quietly clicked her tongue, staring at the blazing flames.

“Y/N?” Hermione questioned, walking up behind the H/C-nette, “What’s wrong?” Y/N quickly stood up, embracing her brown-haired friend into a tight hug.

“I did it.” She whispered, “I ended things with Matt- I mean, Riddle.”

“Oh… Are you feeling okay?” Hermione gently sat Y/N down on the couch, rubbing comforting circles into her back. “Do you want anything? Any water or food?”

Y/N stared at her hands. “Is… Harry here?”

“Yeah. I’ll get him.” Hermione stood up and went to fetch the boy. “She and Matteo broke things off.” She whispered in Harry’s ear, which sent a rush of excitement through the brunette. He never did like Matteo after all. He was a playboy to put it simply. Not only that, but for the longest time Harry had liked Y/N.

Matteo didn’t appreciate her but Harry did. He could treat her better than Matteo ever could.

“Hermione told me what happened. Are you okay?” Harry sat down beside Y/N, holding a neatly wrapped present. He heard Y/N heave a sigh.

“I think… I mean, obviously I’m a little sad but it feels good knowing I won’t have to deal with his annoying ass again.” Y/N uttered, eliciting a small amused chuckle out of Harry.

“Yeah… I got you something, by the way.” Harry handed the gift over to Y/N with shaking hands.

“Oh… that’s sweet. You didn’t have to.” She smiled, carefully unwrapping the present.

“I wanted to… you said that was your favorite book so I bought you the limited edition cover one… with a bit more.”

Y/N raised her eyebrows in confusion as Harry. She slowly opened the novel to a page tabbed with a (favorite color) sticker note.

Merry Christmas, Y/N. Thank you for being such a loyal fan throughout my career.

- Your favorite author

Underneath the short message was the writer’s signature as well as a polaroid picture of Harry and the author.

“Oh my gosh… how did you… what…” Y/N was at a loss for words as she turned to Harry and tightly hugged him. “I don’t have a present for you… I’m sorry.”

Harry smiled as Y/N pulled away. “It’s fine. Having you here makes up for it.”

“Are you sure?” Y/N furrowed her brows, “I can buy you something tomorrow. Or I’m sure I have a have a golden snitch lying around here somewhere.” Y/N pulled a snitch from out of her pocket, “Remember this, Harry? You almost choked to death on it in your first game.”

“What the… how did you…” Harry was as flabbergasted as Y/N now. She laughed, handing it over to him.

“Well, after you almost swallowed it, nobody really wanted to play with it anymore. So I asked Wood to get it for me. We spent a good time cleaning it.”

Harry chuckled, staring at the small golden ball in awe. “That’s… amazing. Jeez. Riddle really doesn’t deserve you.”

Y/N’s shoulders visibly shrunk at the mentioning of the brunette’s name.

“Oh…” Harry instantly noticed, “Sorry, too soon?”

Y/N silently shook her head. “No… I’m fine…” She turned her head, beaming at Harry with a smile that made him melt. “You’re right, he didn’t deserve me. Thank you for the book, Harry. It’s wonderful.”

She embraced him once again and Harry could feel his cheeks heat up at the contact. There was a small jingle and as Y/N lifted her head, she couldn’t help but laugh.

Mistletoe floated above the pair, jingling as if to remind the two it was there. Harry gazed over Y/N’s shoulder at Ron, who held his wand in one hand and was giving Harry a thumbs up with the other.

“It’d be rude to defy the rules of Christmas, especially with how much you love it.” Harry uttered.

Y/N laughed again. “I suppose so.”

“You don’t have to kiss me for real. You can kiss me on the cheek or something or”- Harry was cut off when Y/N grabbed the collar of his shirt, pulling him forward and kissing him.

Harry was the complete opposite of Matteo. The Slytherin boy was rough and uncaring while Harry was soft and gentle. The brunette with glasses carefully grasped Y/N’s hands, squeezing them tightly.

“I don’t know if this is too soon, Y/N.” Harry said as he pulled away slightly. “But, I like you. I’ve liked you for ages. Ever since first year. And the only reason I didn’t like Riddle was because I hated how he had managed to attract your attention. I think you’re wonderful and you shouldn’t be stuck with someone like Riddle. You don’t have to give me your answer now… but just consider it.”

Y/N gazed at Harry, her heart doing flips in her chest. This was a feeling she hadn’t felt in a long time. She shyly adverted her eyes. “I… I don’t know what to say Harry. I think I like you too… but I feel like it’s too soon.”

“I don’t mind waiting. I just need you to know that I’m willing to race here from the North Pole to Beverly Hills. Just to keep your stocking filled.”

Y/N giggled. “That’s cute, Harry.” She leaned forward, pressing another chaste kiss to his lips. “Merry Christmas, Harry.”

START OF TERM (BONUS)…

“What the fuck, asshole?!” Matteo’s loud shout caused the Great Hall to fall into silence. They all watched as he stormed towards the Gryffindor table, slamming his hands in front of Harry. “You kissed my girl!” He exclaimed.

Y/N turned her head, staring at Matteo with furrowed eyebrows.

“What’s going on?” Her friend tugged on her sleeve.

“I’m… not sure.” Y/N replied, craning to get a better look.

“What are you talking about, Riddle?” Harry asked, confused.

“You know who the fuck I’m talking about! Y/N fucking L/N! You kissed her!” Matteo was getting angrier by the second.

“Hey, dude, relax.” Lorenzo grabbed Matteo by the shoulders, forcing him out of the Great Hall. The rest of his friend group followed.

Y/N sighed, standing up. “I’m going to talk to Matteo.” She announced.

“What? Are you crazy?” Her friend tried to get Y/N to sit back down again.

“He deserves an explanation… and I also want to make it clear that we’re no longer a thing.” Y/N followed after the Slytherin gang and jogged to walk beside Pansy, who was lagging behind.

“What’s gotten into him?” Y/N questioned Pansy, who seemed to like her the best out of all the girls Matteo hooked up with.

“I don’t know.” Pansy sighed, “He just started acting mental after he found out you and Potter were going out. But, he doesn’t really deserve to be mad when it’s his fault.”

“Matt, dude, what’s gotten into you?” Theodore asked as Matteo silently seethed.

“I fucking hate Potter.” He uttered through gritted teeth. He looked up, spotting Y/N. Instantly, the fire in his eyes disappeared.

“Riddle.” Y/N greeted him calmly, nodding her head in acknowledgment. “There seems to be a misunderstanding.”

“Why did you kiss Potter?” Matteo demanded, clenching his hands into fists.

“Why can’t I? I’m free to do whatever I want. After all, it’s not like we’re dating, right? You said it yourself.”

Matteo angrily exhaled.

“Besides, what are you gonna do? Are you gonna kill me, Matteo?” Y/N taunted. “Like you said last year because you didn’t want to commit to someone? Instead of committing to a girl, you would rather kill her?”

“It was a joke!”

“Jokes are supposed to be funny! Fuck you, Matteo! You piece of shit!”

Matteo, in a surge of rage, grabbed Y/N by the collar. Lorenzo stepped forward to interrupt the situation, but Harry beat him to it.

“Don’t touch her.” Harry glowered at Matteo as he pulled Y/N away from his grasp. “You made your choice. Deal with it because it’s your fault you lost Y/N in the first place.”

Y/N sighed, brushing the wrinkles out of her blouse. “I hope we can talk again under better circumstances, Riddle. Good day.”

Y/N walked off and Harry followed close behind.

“How good did that feel?” He questioned, grinning.

“It felt amazing!” Y/N grinned, “I can’t believe I just sweared at the Matteo Riddle and got away with it.”

“So, what do you say we have some fruitcakes and figgy pudding to celebrate?” Harry slung an arm around Y/N’s shoulder while she playfully scoffed.

“It’s January, Harry.”

“Yeah? So? It’s never too early to celebrate Christmas.”

[accio-sriracha]

Winter Drarry for December :)

~~~♤~~~

Draco Malfoy loved winter more than most things in life. Truth be told, it made his cold heart just a little warmer each year.

Harry Potter was the first to notice; when Malfoy actually held a door open for him in their office.

"What's going on with you?" Harry asked suddenly, spinning around on his heel.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow, "Nothing, Potter. Am I not allowed to simply be in a good mood?"

Malfoy's usual insults were replaced with quiet sighs and fond smiles, his morning mug of black coffee replaced with peppermint tea and cinnamon stirring sticks.

He even took the time to partially decorate his office, a simple string of garland around his desk and a wreath at the door.

It was driving Harry insane.

The colder it got outside the happier Malfoy appeared to be, he even showed up at the winter ministry event, events he had never gone to any other time of year.

His smiles were more genuine, and it took a lot more to irritate him than it usually did.

The others were stunned by the change, having never seen him as anything other than Harry Potter's no-nonsense grumpy auror partner. He actually hummed as he walked to the front doors on his lunch.

Harry kept finding reasons to be around him, just so he could see more of this side of Malfoy. He passed through, dropping off papers himself rather than calling for his assistant, asking to borrow a stapler, (which every room between them from the second and third floor carried as well)

He once bumped into him in the hallway, when Malfoy asked where he was off to his only response he could come up with was 'Going on a walk'

Despite Potter's efforts to remain discreet about his newest obsession with Malfoy, Draco noticed right away.

The thing that sold it? The stapler labled Potter's sitting neatly on his desk when Draco popped in to give him a copy of their latest assignment.

Draco decided to let it play out, upping the game a little more by going out of his way to be extra nice to Potter.

He'd offered to pick him up drinks from the cafe whenever he went out, always checked in on him during their field missions and stopped insulting him altogether. At one point, just to see the little vein pop out on Potter's forehead, Draco called him darling.

Potter's reaction was priceless, his face drained of all color for a moment before it all came rushing back into his cheeks at once.

He stammered out an excuse for needing to be somewhere else and hurried away to the nearest lift.

Draco smiled as he watched him go, realising that maybe he enjoyed flustering Potter a little too much.

His next plan was enchanted mistletoe, he set it up above his door, never walking underneath the frame if there was anyone in a five foot radius.

That is, until Potter showed up in his office again that morning, his cheeks still red,

"Hey Malfoy, they're requesting to see us in Kingsley's office for a debriefing at 3:30."

Draco nodded, "Very well, I'll be there."

Potter started to turn before Draco called him back,

"Actually, Potter, do you mind giving this to Lola for me? She asked for these to be delivered as soon as possible and I completely misplaced them yesterday." He held out a few pages clipped together, "You'd be doing me a huge favor." He added in a low voice.

Potter took them with a mute nod and cleared his throat,

"Right, yes. I'll get these to um... to Lola. Thank you." He laughed nervously.

"Everything alright, darling?" Draco asked, using his low voice he typically reserved for intimidating suspects.

"Yep! Yeah, everything's great. I uh-" His back hit the door frame as he took a few steps away, his cheeks flooding with heat again, "I'll go do this now."

The moment Draco stepped under the mistletoe they were both frozen in place. Potter looked up, his eyes wide,

"Is that-" He started. Draco sighed,

"Ahh, I'd forgotten about that. I was using it to try to keep people out of my office." He shrugged casually, "I suppose it backfired."

Potter suddenly looked back down at him, his eyes even wider, "Do we-" He coughed, "Er... do we, um-"

"Kiss? Yes, Potter, those would be the rules."

Harry nodded, "Right." He leaned back and scratched the back of his neck, "Of course." He muttered, clearing his throat again.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake." Draco sighed, holding either side of Potter's face and pulling him into a sudden kiss.

Potter's gasp was muffled against his lips.

The kiss that was supposed to be a joke just to see Potter's reaction.

The kiss that wasn't supposed to mean anything at all to Draco.

This kiss that was just... still... happening.

He couldn't pull away, Potter had melted into his touch, his arms wrapping around his waist almost instantly.

It was like magic, Draco had no idea when he'd gone from jokingly teasing to oh so many emotions coursing through him all at once.

He wasn't sure he wanted the kiss to ever end.

Potter pulled slightly away for air, "Malfoy?" He whispered, his voice hoarse.

Draco tilted their foreheads together, trying to fight the urge to shove his tongue down Potter's throat to get him to just stop talking.

"We're kind of in the hallway." He mumbled. Draco's eyes shot up over his shoulder, a few of their coworkers stared open-mouthed across the hall from them, unashamed of being caught looking.

Draco cursed under his breath and dragged Potter by his wrist into his office, slamming the door shut behind him and casting locking and silencing charms.

"Is this okay?" He asked, his hand coming up to cup Potter's jaw again.

Potter nodded breathlessly, "Yes."

It was years from then, as they were sitting in the Burrow with the rest of the Weasley's, newley-wed and happier than ever, that Harry confessed winter had been his favorite season ever since.

~~~♤~~~

[rickm4ns-g1rl]

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

𝓿✧⭒【 ⚠ 𝖓𝖔𝖓𝖊

‧‧‧

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ 𝕬𝖑𝖑 𝕴 𝖂𝖆𝖓𝖙 𝕱𝖔𝖗 𝕮𝖍𝖗𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖒𝖆𝖘 𝕴𝖘 𝖄𝖔𝖚 - 𝕵𝖚𝖘𝖙𝖎𝖓 𝕭𝖎𝖊𝖇𝖊𝖗 𝖎 𝕸𝖆𝖗𝖎𝖆𝖍 𝕮𝖆𝖗𝖊𝖞

↳✒ 〘 ‧ "𝙾𝚑, 𝙸 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚊 𝚕𝚘𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚖𝚊𝚜. 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝙸'𝚖 𝚊𝚜𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚛. 𝙸 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚋𝚊𝚋𝚢 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚍𝚘𝚘𝚛!" 〙⭒

▂▃▄▅▆▇█▓▒░░▒▓█▇▆▅▄▃▂

┖┈┈┈┈┈┈┈୨⛧୧┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┚

↳🝮𝙳𝚞𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚘𝚗 𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚖𝚊𝚜, 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚂𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚞𝚜 𝚂𝚗𝚊𝚙𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚂𝚕𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚜.

🝮𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚖𝚊𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚏𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚘𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚊 𝚝𝚢𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚏 𝚊 𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚖𝚊𝚜 𝚎𝚟𝚎.

🝮𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛.. 𝙷𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚂𝚕𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚜, 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚕, 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚘𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚗

🝮𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚕𝚢, 𝚂𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚞𝚜 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚌𝚑𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚖𝚊𝚜 𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚕𝚢, 𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚘 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚎𝚌𝚝.. 𝚊𝚝 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝙸𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜. 𝙷𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚙𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚖𝚊𝚜 𝚍𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚕𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚂𝚕𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚜, 𝚊𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚜, 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙 𝚂𝚗𝚊𝚙𝚎'𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚒𝚏𝚝𝚜.

🝮𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛, 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚊 𝚜𝚎𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚖𝚊𝚜 𝚎𝚟𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚞𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚜, 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢'𝚛𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚊 𝚋𝚒𝚐 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚢 𝚏𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚢! {𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚔𝚒𝚍𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚊𝚛𝚐𝚞𝚎 𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚞𝚙} {𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚏 𝚂𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚞𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚍.. 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚗𝚊𝚙 𝚊𝚝 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚒𝚏 𝚒𝚝'𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚘𝚞𝚍..} {𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢'𝚛𝚎 𝚊 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚢 𝚏𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚢!}

🝮𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚒𝚏𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚝, 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚂𝚕𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚜 𝚠𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚞𝚢 𝚐𝚒𝚏𝚝𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚂𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚞𝚜' 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚍𝚊𝚢, 𝚂𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚞𝚜 𝚠𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚍 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝

🝮𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚂𝚕𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚖𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚜, 𝚂𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚞𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚒𝚝 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖.

[prettywheelers]

“ DO I LOOK LIKE HIM ? “ HINNY ONE SHOT

The Gryffindor common room was quiet in the late evening, the fire crackling softly in the hearth. Most of the students had gone to bed, but Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley sat together on the worn-out couch near the fire. Ginny had her knees tucked under her chin, a book resting forgotten in her lap, while Harry stared into the flames, his glasses slightly askew.

Ginny’s gaze lingered on him, tracing the messy black hair that refused to lie flat, the glasses perched on his nose, and the faint, contemplative furrow in his brow. It was in moments like these, when he wasn’t trying to be The Chosen One or the Boy Who Lived, that she saw him most clearly. But tonight, something else lingered in her thoughts—a nagging comparison she couldn’t ignore.

“You know,” Ginny began softly, breaking the comfortable silence. “I ran into Professor McGonagall earlier. She told me something interesting.”

Harry turned his head, his green eyes locking onto hers. “What’s that?”

“She said you remind her of your dad.” Ginny hesitated, her voice dropping. “That you look so much like him.”

Harry leaned back, his expression unreadable. “I’ve heard that before,” he admitted, his tone neutral. “From Sirius, Lupin, even Snape, in his own way. Always ‘You’re just like James.’”

Ginny frowned, sensing the tension in his voice. “Does that bother you?”

He shrugged, looking back at the fire. “Sometimes. I never really knew him, so I guess I don’t know what it means. Am I like him? Or do I just… look like him?”

Ginny reached out, placing a hand on his arm. “It’s more than looks, Harry. From what I’ve heard, James was brave, loyal, and a bit of a troublemaker. Sounds familiar, doesn’t it?”

Harry’s lips quirked into a faint smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Maybe. But then there’s my mum. Everyone says I have her eyes. That’s the only piece of her anyone seems to see in me.”

Ginny studied him, her heart aching at the vulnerability in his voice. “Harry, you’re more than just pieces of them. You’re… you.”

Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It’s hard sometimes. To hear everyone compare me to them—how I look, how I act. It’s like I’m a reflection of them, but not really my own person.”

Ginny hesitated before speaking again. “Do you want to know what I see?”

He turned to her, curiosity and hesitation mingling in his expression.

“I see someone who’s kind,” Ginny began. “Someone who puts others first, even when it hurts. Someone who’s strong and determined, but also scared to lose the people he loves. You might have James’s hair and Lily’s eyes, but everything you are—that’s you, Harry.”

Harry blinked, as if her words had struck something deep inside him. He reached out, brushing a strand of her fiery hair behind her ear. “You always know what to say, don’t you?”

Ginny smiled, leaning into his touch. “You don’t have to carry their legacy alone, you know. You’re allowed to just be Harry.”

For the first time that night, Harry’s shoulders relaxed, and a genuine smile touched his lips. “Thanks, Ginny. For reminding me.”

She squeezed his hand. “Anytime.”

As the fire crackled and the stars twinkled beyond the windows, Harry felt a sense of peace settle over him—a rare, precious feeling. Maybe he did look like James, and maybe he had Lily’s eyes, but in this moment, sitting with Ginny by the fire, he felt like himself. And that was enough.

[chapter1991]

Dancing Flames

Fred Weasley was heading down the stairs of the boys' dormitory, on his way to a Christmas party at the Hufflepuff common room when he saw a familiar bushy haired girl in front of the fireplace...

The snow on the windowsill of the Gryffindor common room was quickly piling up as Hermione sat in front of the fireplace, with her back against the couch. Her eyes followed the flames that danced around, completely zoned out. A large plaided cover was draped over her shoulders, while she wore a black/red checkered flannel pyjama. Her knees were pulled up to her chest, a cup of hot chocolate rested on the top. She took in a relaxed breath as the flames reflected in her eyes.  

Fred came down from the boys’ dormitories wearing dark jeans and a burgundy shirt, ready to head to the Christmas party at the Hufflepuff common room. He stopped in the middle of the common room when he saw the familiar bushy haired girl sitting in the otherwise empty common room. He tiptoed closer as he looked at the girl he had a crush on for the past few months. Fred leaned on the back of the couch and pulled out his wand. He aimed it at the fireplace and the flames turned into a couple, that waltzed between the flames. He smiled when Hermione let out a small gasp and leaned forward, closer to the flames.   

“You like it?” He asked quietly, but even in the empty room it sounded loud. Hermione jumped a bit in surprise and turned to look at Fred.  

“You scared me, Fred.”  

“Sorry.” He grinned sheepishly, before rounding the couch and slid down next to her. He aimed his wand again and the flames turned into two dragons circling each other.  

“How do you that?” She asked with big round eyes.  

Fred shrugged as he watched the dragons. “Don’t know. George and I learned it when we were young. But then it was just shaped and figures, now we can change it into anything.”  

“That’s amazing.” She tore her eyes away from the dragons and looked up at Fred, with a frown. “Why aren’t you at the famous Hufflepuff Christmas party?”  

“I needed a powernap after quidditch practice. Just got ready.” He twirled his wand again and it changed into a couple of players flying around on a broom, tossing a Quaffle between them. “Aren’t you going?”  

“Does it look like I’m going to a party?” She chuckled as she gestured to her pyjamas.  

“Maybe you’re making a fashion statement.” Fred clicked his tongue, grinning. Hermione couldn’t help but laugh at his expression. “Why aren’t you going?”  

“Cormac will be there. And he is seriously giving me the creeps.”  

“Hm, yeah. He’s a real creep. And I know you can handle it yourself, but if he ever bothers you, you can always come to me or Georgie.”  

“Thanks.” She offered him a small smile before looking back at the fire, sipping her cup. When Fred didn’t make a move to stand up, she turned and cocked her head up at him. “Aren’t you going?”  

“Not just yet.” He smiled as he looked at the flames, turning them once again. Now the flames turned into a girl, reading a book with a cat curled up at her feet.   

“I know you were planning on drinking something stronger, but would you like some hot chocolate?” She asked holding up her thermos, hoping he would stay a little longer.   

“Yeah, thanks.”   

Hermione transfigured a piece of log into a dark red cup with a golden-letter F on it before she poured him a cup and handed it over. The fingers brushed each other as he took the cup, their eyes met for a moment before Hermione looked down, blushing. Fred watched her for a moment as he sipped his cup of hot chocolate.  

“Wow, that’s amazing!”  

“Dobby makes it. It’s dark Belgian chocolate with a pinch of chili powder. It’s my favourite.”  

“I think it’s mine too.” Fred grinned as he took another big sip from the cup. He leaned back against the couch, resting his head against the seat. “Are you missing your parents?”  

“Yeah, I do. But they went skiing and I really hate it.”   

“How come? Not that I know what skiing is but...”  

Hermione chuckled as she turned her body to him. “Skiing is going down a snowy mountain on two bars made of wood, plastic or metal. You have two poles to steer, so you don’t crash against a three or something.” She chuckled softly. “When I was eleven, I broke my wrist when I couldn’t avoid another skier. I never stepped on a ski again.”  

“You shouldn’t let one bad experience ruin it.” He said he turned to her. “If George and I had to give up after every bad experience or failure we wouldn’t be so close to realise our dream.”  

“Hm... Perhaps you’re right. I’ll think about it.” She smiled. She saw Fred shiver when a cold rush of air came from up the stairs. “Uhm, Fred?” He looked at her with a heightened eyebrow. She raised the left side of her cover. Fred gazed at her with a questioning look. When she nodded, he scooted closer and draped the blanket over his shoulder. They sat close together; the legs bumped as he fidgeted to find the right position. “Is that supposed to be Bill?” She laughed loud as she saw a figure with a long ponytail on top of a pyramid, dancing. Her laugh echoes through the common room and Fred looked at her awestruck, as the light of the flames flickered over her cheeks. He changed the flame into Ron, who was fidgeting with his horrible dress robes in front of the mirror.   

“Bloody hell! I look like my great aunt Tessie.” Fred mimicked Ron’s voice. Her laugh barely died down, before starting up again. Making Fred’s grin even wider. He turned the flames into his mother that stood with her hands on her hips, looking at four young boys.  

“Beds empty! No note! Car gone! You could have died! You could have been seen!” Fred tried his best impression of his mum. Hermione placed her cup down as she grabbed her side, that started to sting from laughing so loud. She tried to control her breathing as she looked at Fred with a twinkle in her eyes.  

“It’s been a while since I laughed like that.”   

“I like your laugh.” He said sincerely as he locked his eyes with hers. “I like that I can make you laugh like that.”  

“Oh.” Hermione whispered, unable to tear her gaze away from the handsome red-headed quidditch player in front of her. Fred looked from her eyes to her lips and back. Hermione mimicked his movements before they simultaneously leaned closer to each other. Their lips grazed each other hesitantly, softly before Hermoine’s hand went in his hair and Fred’s hand cupped her cheek, pulling each other closer. The kiss deepened when Fred let his tongue glide over her bottom lip, she opened her mouth eagerly. After a few minutes, hours, neither of them really knew they pulled back, both looking flushed as the portrait swung open.   

Fred looked behind Hermione and saw George, Harry, Ron and Ginny walk in laughing. Hermione looked down at her lap and pulled the blanker closer to her chest as the others came around the couch.  

“Freddie, here you are!” George sat hopping over the back of the couch.  

“I was just about to head out, why are you back?” Fred craned his neck to look at George behind him.  

“After  someone -” He glared at his little brother, who was already falling asleep on the chair in the corner. “Went on a walk with a bottle of fire whiskey, singing loudly in the corridor, the party was over when Minnie caught him.”  

“He’s such an idiot!” Fred laughed looking at his sleeping brother. “Did he get in trouble?”  

“Yeah, three Saturdays detention. I’ll probably have to remind him in the morning though.” Harry snickered. Ginny was eyeing Fred and Hermione as they were still huddled close together. But Hermione kept her eyes focused on the flames.  

“And what have you two been doing?” Ginny asked slowly as she raised an eyebrow. To Fred’s surprise Hermione answered before him.  

“Have you seen what Fred can do to the flames?”  

“No, what?” Harry looked from the flames to her and back.  

“Oh, you showed her our trick.” George said with an all-knowing voice as he glanced at his brother. “Gin, Harry, come here.” He gestured them to the couch.   

George sat behind Fred, while Ginny took the seat behind Hermione and Harry sat down next to Ginny on the couch. Hermione conjured another large blanket the flew over and laid it down on the three behind her as they snuggled closer. She handed over new cups of hot chocolate to the newcomers.   

“Enjoy the show.” George grinned and he waved his wand. Fred pulled the cover closer to him, his hand found hers under the blanket and he intertwined their fingers, he saw her smile in the corner of his eye, which made it hard for him to keep a goofy grin forming on his face.   All of them started to laugh as Ron’s snores filled the silent room as Fred and George put on a little show in the fireplace. Fred took a chance to look at Hermione and when she glanced back, he sends her a wink, that made her blush fiercely.  

Yes, this Christmas, sure turned out better than either one had hoped.   

[sun-kissy]

🧣 maybe james potter + “you’re already wearing half of my clothes, i genuinely don’t see how us cuddling will make this any weirder” with a friends to lovers...? 👀

thank you for the request! here's your scarf lovely :)🧣

— "You're already wearing half of my clothes, I genuinely don't see how us cuddling will make this any weirder."

james potter x reader

tw: fluffy fluff, james is a flirt <3

“Hey.”

You look up to see none other than James Potter grinning at you as he walks down the stairs. He has one hand raking through his curls, the other fist pressed against his hip. A cramped muscle, by the looks of it. His shirt rides up the slightest bit — giving you an unobstructed view of his abdomen.

“Hi,” you reply, hoping you don’t sound as breathless as you feel. “Hi, James.” You sit up straighter, flattening the unruly strands of hair on your head and readjusting your crumpled clothes. Your heart felt like it was going to jump right out of your throat.

James lets out a quiet chuckle when he notices you forcibly trying to look away. “What are you doing up so late?”

He drapes himself across the other end of the couch, teasingly raising his shirt higher. You feel your mind go blank. You swear you’re trying to meet his eyes, but your gaze gets stuck on his biceps, glistening and chiseled in the dim glow from the fireplace.

“I… um… I…” you squeak, mouth opening and closing like an idiot.

James hums almost teasingly, less like he’s acknowledging your answer and more like he’s thinking about the lack of one. He looks at you with a hint of bemusement and something else you can’t place.

“Use your words, pretty girl.”

“Oh – um… I dunno… I’m just, uh,” you clear your throat with a nervous chuckle, desperately looking around you. Your saviour comes in the form of a book, lying half-opened next to you. Remus must have mistakenly left it here.

“I’m reading,” you hold it up quickly, with a feeble attempt at a casual smile. You’re flustered and you know he knows it.

“Reading, huh?”

“Mhm.”

James raises an eyebrow like he doesn’t quite believe you. “Whatcha reading?”

You quickly turn the book over to look at the cover, and he sniggers. “It’s uh…” you squint, the title in some foreign language. Remus and his stupid multilingual tongue. You open your mouth, determined to make up some gibberish answer.

“You don’t know what you’re reading?”

“No, no! I do, but um…”

“Let me have a look at it,” he interrupts, a hint of teasing in his tone. You feel the heat rushing to your cheeks as he leans over, fingers making you dizzy when they brush against yours.

James takes the book, but doesn’t spare it a glance. He’s looking at you.

His gaze flicks over you for a moment, expression morphing into a lot of different things before settling on a smile. “You’re wearing my shirt.”

You blink, surprised. You look down, and cringe – you’d meant to pull on one of Sirius’ ones, but with how messy the boys’ room was, you must’ve gotten mixed up. “Oh, god. I’m so sorry.”

He lets out a breath of laughter at the panic in your tone, shaking his head. “Don’t worry about it.”

James starts to frown when your expression doesn’t let up. You looked so guilty, it made his heart squeeze in awful ways.

“I really am sorry, I –”

“Seriously,” he interrupts, softening. “It’s no problem. Plus, you look absolutely lovely.”

Your eyes widen a fraction, the compliment sending a shot of giddiness through you. James' lips quirk up when he catches the hints of a shy smile on your lips.

You’re saved from having to respond by a sudden sound, a quiet snuff from beside you. Both of you quickly turn to the source of it, the room plunging into a much darker light. The fire had been snubbed out.

The dip in temperature was palpable instantly. You hadn’t noticed how much warmth the fire had been providing, but now that it was gone, the chill in the air was obvious. You curl into yourself with a shaky exhale.

“There’s no more firewood,” James mutters, more to himself. He turns to you, eyebrows twitching when he realises that you’re shivering. “Are you cold?”

“Um… a little.”

“C’mere.”

You blink at him. “Huh?”

“Come here,” he says easily, arms opening up in invitation as he pats the spot next to him.

“Like, for a hug?” Your voice sounds unnaturally high.

James exhales on a chuckle. “Yeah, sure. A hug, cuddles, whatever’s gonna help you warm up.” He pauses, eyebrows bunching up. “Look at you, sweetheart. You’re freezing.”

You stay stubbornly put, heart thudding against your ribs. You gnaw the inside of your cheek hesitantly.

James lets out an amused sigh, rolling his eyes fondly. “You’re already wearing half of my clothes, I genuinely don’t see how us cuddling will make this any weirder.”

That cracks you up a little, and James is quite proud of himself for the smile he manages to pull from you. 

“Okay,” you mumble.

Slowly, you scoot closer to him. He waits patiently, not until you’re within arms length, but until you curl up to him. Only then does he wrap his arms around you, the gentlest touch his calloused hands will allow him.

“Is this alright?”

You nod happily, relaxing into the softness of his body. He rubs your back. Even if the cold doesn’t immediately go away, the uncomfortableness sure does.

A while later, you tell James that you feel warmer. He grins and pulls you a little closer.

san's christmas sleepover

[cumberbitchhhh]

i’m so sorry i didn’t get anything up on @writesleah in time for christmas 😭 i had a couple drafts i wanted to finish, but before i knew it, it was christmas morning and it was too late to try and get them done.

i’m not sure if anyone would actually want me to post the drafts now that christmas is technically ‘over’, so please let me know!!!

[ohhmydyosfics]

(Markno) words in your hands

Mark is sure that Jeno is interested in Renjun so he ignores all his attempts at flirting. He really wishes Jeno would just stop; it's not good for his heart.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/10304327

[messrsrarchives]

some comforting wolfstar fics for you:

waterloo - frogsandfairies: james knows that wolfstar are pining for each other, hogwarts fake dating !!

wading in waist high water - colgatemintybluegel: wolfstar great british bake off au

flight 143 - thebiinbitch: past wolfstar, reunited on the same flight 5 years later and reconnect

the oldest recipe for parsnip soup - eyra: wolfstar, autistic sirius, the lupins spend christmas with the potters - remus cooks for sirius !!

anything by eyra tbh

red lips and rosy cheeks - soloorganaas: remus takes a latin course in rome for his degree where he meets sirius and the gang

blind and deaf - cocomouse: wolfstar keep bumping into each other on separate blind dates, HoH sirius

my jokes are my armour, my kindness is my sword - littleoldrachel: remus moves to a new town and sets up a plant shop, gets taken in by the gang

here's to looking at you - thechanchanman: mutual "dislike" to lovers, wolfstar live in the same small town and constantly prank one another

till we have arrived home again - prouvairing: post-second war, wolfstar move to a muggle town! fun ocs, semi-raising harry

stray dogs - msalexwp: sirius raising harry, remus raising teddy, they adopt twin dogs separately and have to spend time together :D

desk art - iamcecimonster: oneshot, university au, wolfstar sit at the same lecture desk and leave lil drawing and notes to each other

hi okay i'm not much of a fluff reader :/ but some of these might help !! + the authors pages !!

feel free to add on if you have any !! my fluff supply is limited

[sundrop-writes]

Downhill

Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader

I’ve never spent a moment loving anyone but you.

And maybe that’s just something people say - but I hope it’s the truth.

Summary:

Draco knows his place in the world. He is a Malfoy, he is Pureblood. He is supposed to marry, carry on the Pureblood line. He is supposed to do everything that his parents would - including killing, if it's what his Dark Lord wishes.

Draco Malfoy is not supposed to hesitate. He is not supposed to feel fear. He is not supposed to have room in his heart for fondness, or even love. Not even when it comes to his bartered and bought fellow Pureblood fiancee.

Love is nothing but a weakness. And Malfoys are not weak.

Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader. Arranged Marriage/Hesitant Lovers. Emotional Angst and Smut. Set during Half-Blood Prince.

Word Count: 20,100

Harry Potter Masterlist | AO3 Link

This is meant to be a standalone oneshot, but it was written as a prequel to the fic My Bleeding Heart. Because the other fic is chronologically second, you won't be missing anything if you read this one first, but if you have read it before, then this one ties in nicely and informs more of the emotions between the characters.

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

Warnings: this fic is equal parts smut and emotional angst; this fic does technically take place around Christmas (with the Slug Club Christmas Party being the biggest signal of that), but Christmas is not a huge overarching theme or presence in the fic if you don't celebrate or don't like Christmas; the reader uses she/her pronouns and has a vagina; implications of the reader being fat/plus-sized (which happens with a lot of my fics); it is mentioned that the reader is wearing a dress and high heels to the party; the reader is a Slytherin; the reader is a Pureblood (and for the sake of the fic, I made up a random 'important' Pureblood family that she is from, but because she wasn't raised by them, she goes by a difference surname that can just be your literal actual surname); the reader is an orphan and never actually knew her Pureblood parents; this fic DOES use Y/N; the reader is called 'brilliant' and comes off as very intelligent and skilled with magic (skilled enough to get into the Slug Club); Draco and the reader are in an arranged marriage for the sake of carrying on the Pureblood lineage, and it is discussed that the reader was 'bought' for Draco (a very large dowry was paid) (during the course of the fic, they are only engaged and not yet married); most of this is written from Draco's perspective and features self loathing, emotionally stunted Draco; jealous!Draco - Draco hears that the reader was talking to Harry and gets upset; mentions of the reader being left to the Malfoys by a neglectful godmother; I know there is debate about whether it's canon or not, but in this fic Draco's parents are abusive toward him - his father much more so and his mother is more of a neglectful bystander, and there is a lot of themes in this fic about Draco's trauma surrounding that and how he starts taking his first steps to break free from his abusers (this fic implies that Draco has been physically and emotionally abused by his father, as well as being severely emotionally neglected by both his parents); the reader character in this fic is also abused by the Malfoys when living with them - including an incident where she is hit by Lucius Malfoy and has her hand smashed into broken glass; an incident is described where Lucius casts a spell that chokes Draco (briefly) with the intention of physically punishing him, and the reader stops the spell; Lucius calls the reader 'slut' and 'whore' as insults; mentions of house elves and elf 'slavery' (feels like a warning I'm putting in here specifically for Hermione but I know people get upset about this stuff now lmao); descriptions of dead animals - a bird is killed while being transported through the not yet working Vanishing Cabinet; mentions of canon deaths (Cedric Diggory); mentions of 'Death Eater culture' - discrimination, violence against muggleborns, blood purity, etc.; discussion of Draco's mission to kill Dumbledore (and his mission to help the Death Eaters break into Hogwarts) and the stress that it causes him.

In his internal narration, Draco calls the reader 'naive' and 'innocent', but this is not a statement about the reader's level of sexual or romantic experience (the reader character is NOT A VIRGIN in this), this is a statement about the reader's level of experience with violence and death (and how Draco feels a need to protect her from being corrupted by the dark forces in his life); Draco grabs the reader's arm (in a slightly painful way, while arguing) - but they don't have a major physical confrontation and it does not escalate (their relationship has slightly toxic vibes, but they are forced to depend on each other); mention of Draco being 'thin'/losing weight due to not eating properly (due to the stress of a life or death mission hanging over his head); for the actual smut section - Draco has a kink for the reader wearing stockings/tights (don't ask me where I got this idea from, it just feels like it would fit Draco really well); the tone of the whole thing is very sweet, affectionate, passionate love-making; Draco calls the reader 'darling' and 'love'; oral - reader receiving; Draco fingers the reader while eating her out; a lot of passionate kissing and body worshipping (towards the reader); multiple orgasms/overstimulation (reader receiving); squirting (not played up as a major kink, but it does happen); Draco is anti-breeding kink (I know this is a new one, but try to stick with me) - Draco knows that the only reason for their engagement is to carry on the family blood like (to breed) and he is against that (because it means carrying out his parents' wishes and putting the reader in danger) so he refuses to fuck her because he doesn't want to get her pregnant, because he thinks that it will be cursing her with an attachment to him and he still wants to give her a chance to bail, so he specifically avoids PIV sex for this reason; the ending of the fic has some slightly dubious consent - because Draco starts thinking about the fate of the arranged marriage and feels self loathing but continues with the encounter anyway (he is romantically and sexually attracted to the reader, and there is no force, and the reader is enthusiastic about her consent the whole time, but Draco starts to withdraw his consent and is slightly unsure - it's adult and realistic and complicated); Draco masturbates while sitting on top of the reader to avoid having sex with the reader (in a way, this could be considered 'forced orgasm' because Draco is having a lot of complicated emotions and literally forces himself to orgasm to end the sexual situation); Draco cums on the reader's thighs; Draco cries after sex because of all his complicated emotions; Draco and the reader do talk about their feelings and (mostly) work things out; the ending skews toward light-hearted/sappy.

A/N: This fic is titled after the song Downhill by Lincoln - and I actually had a really hard time choosing which lyrics to go at the top, because I genuinely believe that all the lyrics from the song are so, so fitting here. So I do highly encourage you to go and listen to the song while you read this!! I actually started writing this fic many months ago when the idea came to me, and I got stalled on it, and then I randomly got inspired to finish it around mid-October, but I wanted to wait to post it until it was closer to Christmas because it is so rare for me to have a seasonally accurate fic on my hands so I actually wanted to post it during the seasonally accurate time lmao. I had a lot of fun writing this and exploring the relationship between these two characters, and I do want to write more for them in the future - especially because I am obsessed with the arranged marriage concept. (I feel like I need to write more fics with different characters that use arranged marriage as a trope because writing this just showed me how much fun it is.) Anyway, for now, I hope you enjoy this, and please let me know what you think of it in the comments.

...

Moving from the bustling atmosphere of the Slug Club Christmas Party into the cold, empty corridor was certainly a drastic shift.

It felt like stepping through a curtain that drained all happiness from you, even if that happiness was only temporary, feigned, and fueled by the jovial holiday atmosphere rather than coming from anywhere true inside of you. It was a show you had put on for the sake of the social occasion. As an automatic response, you felt the fake smile fall from your face as the last murmurs of the guests and the last echoes of Christmas music disappeared faintly behind you. You were then fully flipped from the warm, welcoming environment of the party to the cold shell that was Hogwarts in the dead of winter as the cool air coming off the stone kissed against your skin. 

You couldn’t resist the need to hug yourself in order to cover up your bare arms, sharp gooseflesh already forming there. Such an occasion insisted upon something showy rather than practical, and with the December weather, you were finding it chilly. 

As you walked a few steps down from the entrance to the party, you found that a certain cloud of darkness began to consume you - even with the Christmas trees glistening brightly at either end, reminding you of the supposedly cheerful season. 

You walked toward Draco, where he was waiting for you, just as Snape had promised when he had come up behind you like a looming storm cloud and pulled you away so suddenly, so rudely from the rousing conversation you were having with Harry and Slughorn. But you had to turn your mind off from any showmanship that you had been forced to put into those conversations, and turn your mind onto something else now - someone else. 

Draco had his hands stuffed into the pockets of his expensive suit, a stiff posture that could be seen even through the matching, all black attire. He was pacing along the mouth of the hallway rather frantically, threatening to wear holes in the soles of his custom leather shoes, muttering under his breath to himself. 

So far, this was the worst you had ever seen him. And that worried you greatly. 

“What’s wrong?” You asked, the question naturally on your tongue. 

The sound of your voice in the otherwise empty corridor pulled Draco’s eyes up from the floor, snapping his attention toward you in a way that stopped his pacing in an instant, causing his posture to stiffen up tall as he turned toward you. It was an ingrained instinct - facing someone, giving them your attention when they spoke. Well trained unconscious physical etiquette whipped into a boy who was often very rude and careless with his words. 

For a moment, his fist tightened in his pocket, and you knew that he was clutching on his wand instinctively, his eyes flickering around, looking for an intruder - so perhaps, not entirely ingrained etiquette. Perhaps quite a lot of unconscious physical panic living within those muscles as well. Fight or flight instincts that never got a chance to turn off. 

When his eyes fell on you, recognition flooded his features, and his stiffness relaxed - even if only slightly. 

“Draco, what is it? Why did you pull me out of the party?” You prodded further, your curiosity growing into annoyance when he took too long to answer you. 

“Trust me, I wouldn’t have called you out here if it wasn’t important.” Draco sighed, shifting from one foot to the other, not looking at you. 

“Well isn’t what I’m doing supposed to be important too?” You snapped back. 

Truthfully, you didn’t care about your ‘mission’. You knew that there would be consequences for you if you failed - but at this point, you weren’t all too afraid of being killed. 

When Draco’s parents had discovered that Slughorn was once again teaching at Hogwarts, they had sent you a letter asking to join his ‘Club’, telling you to get close to him. They knew that because of your brilliance, he would already be interested in you joining - and he certainly was. But you had turned him down multiple times because you found it to be an annoyance, and you didn’t want to have to worry about attending ‘club’ meetings on top of everything else going on in your chaotic life. 

Snape was the one who had explained to you why they wanted you to take him up on his nagging offer. The Dark Lord, who used to be known as Tom Riddle, was also once a part of that Club. And they needed to know how much Slughorn remembered about him, and if he was spilling any of the Dark Lord’s secrets to Harry Potter. They needed to know if Slughorn was revealing anything that might make The Dark Lord vulnerable towards Potter. 

Truthfully, you had been grateful towards Snape, and towards Draco for pulling you out of that social hell of fake laughter and performity and into the cool relief of the corridor. You had been dreading the thought of going to the party since Slughorn had first informed everyone about it, and you were grateful to escape it. Even if it gave a chance for the general darkness that Draco carried with him to begin biting at your sensitive heart. And even if it left Harry alone with Slughorn and his endless yammering in your wake. (You pitied him slightly, but you knew that he would be fine on his own.) 

You were mostly irritated with Draco because you hadn’t seen him in days. You felt that he had been strategically avoiding you. Somehow, even in the Slytherin common room or even when you looked for him in his own dorm, he never seemed to be there. And now, he was interrupting you during a crucial moment, daring to show his face when you had spent the better of the last week alone. 

You had invited him to attend the party with you. You thought that you would look like a fool, showing up without a date. And you had. Especially when nearly everyone at Hogwarts had your engagement as hot gossip on their lips just a few months prior. 

“Yes, but-” Draco began to explain himself, but you cut him off, your bubbling annoyance overtaking you in the moment. 

“I was talking to Slughorn when you so rudely interrupted me.” You said, emphasising the words in a way that made Draco childishly roll his eyes. “He was just about to invite me and Harry to look at some of shitty old mementos from previous class years when you had Snape pull me away-”

“Harry?” Draco repeated the name back, mouth gaped as his face twisted in disgust, getting far too caught up on the way you referred to his once rival - now someone who was very background to the rest of his problems. “What? Now you’re getting all cozied up with Potter, are you?” 

At the end of the day, Draco knew that you didn’t owe him anything. 

Essentially, his parents had bought you for him - just like they would have a new racing broom or a fancy set of robes. Since then, you had been nothing but kind to him. Well, aside from your mouthy attitude - which Draco actually found to be refreshing a lot of the time. And he wasn’t even sure how much of it was genuine kindness and how much of it was putting on a show for his parents in order to demonstrate to them that you were a good purchase - that you weren’t something to be disposed of. 

You had held his hand, been cozy and complimented him. He had been surprised the first time you kissed him - surprised by how genuine it felt, and how much he felt himself getting sucked into the emotions of it. But he knew that it was all just for show. 

Because at the end of the day, he knew that no amount of money could force him to own your heart. If you fell in love with someone like Potter, then he could do nothing to stop it. And frankly, he wouldn’t blame you. The heroics, and the genuine kindness, the niceties, the softness - Potter could offer you everything that he couldn’t. 

And in all honesty - something that Draco would only admit to himself deep within the confines of his own, quiet, quaking soul - that thought utterly terrified him. 

“Seriously, Draco?” You barked back, absolutely insulted at the insinuation. At the idea that you had been having fun at the party with Harry when it had been a pretty miserable time for you. “What kind of person do you think I am? I wasn’t there to flirt. Especially not with Harry Potter.”

“Yeah, that’s an awfully convenient story, love.” Draco scoffed, his voice brimming with disgust. 

When you made no further moves to defend yourself - when you didn’t beg for his affection or further insist that what you and Draco had was truly genuine and worth fighting for, it only filled Draco’s mind with more doubt. It only further inflated the idea that indeed, you liked Potter as a romantic partner. And you liked him better. 

“Fine then.” Draco sneered, turning on his heel and marching away, his shoes clacking loudly against the floor as he walked, creating an eerie echo in the empty hallway. 

You hated that your stomach curled with dread at the sight of his quickly retreating back. It had been a long, lonely week without him, and you hated to think of how much longer he would isolate himself if you didn’t take the chance to snag him now. 

“Draco, wait!” You rushed to stop him. 

He was the only person that you truly knew at Hogwarts. 

Yes, he had introduced you to his friends. Pansy Parkinson was nice enough, and she always tried to make girly small talk with you, which you usually returned. Often, her problems about which outfits to wear and how to do her makeup seemed insignificant compared to the literal life and death that Draco faced. But you could always go to her for a conversation that was distracting, a good mental escape. 

Blaise Zabini was more of the strong, silent type. Sometimes the two of you discussed books you had read (when you weren’t feeling too stressed out to read). You usually ended conversations with him early due to colliding opinions on such books. Naturally, he sided with the rich oppressors and you found yourself rooting for the underdogs in every single story. 

Somehow, out of everyone you found yourself surrounded with, Draco was someone you considered a friend. It was difficult not to after the summer the two of you had spent together. 

When your godmother had told you that some ‘old friends of your parents’ were interested in meeting you, you had been surprised. She had always been good to you - she had been friendly, always given you the basics and more in terms of what you needed. She was a very work-minded woman when it came to her job dealing with cursed objects, so she travelled often and left you to be watched over by the Muggle neighbours. Those were experiences that you treasured and often found to be fun. 

You had always grown up with the underlying knowledge that your godmother was not your ‘real’ mother. She always had you call her by her first name - never ‘Mama’, or ‘Mom’. Occasionally, you were mocked in school (because she had enrolled you in Muggle school for a basic education) because you were ‘adopted’. One day, this had led you to asking your godmother where it was that you had come from. 

She told you that your parents were from England, and they died fighting in a war against a terrible dark wizard. They had named her as the person who would take care of you in the event of their death, and though your godmother barely had any traces of an accent left, she told you that she once went to school with your parents at a place called Hogwarts in England. 

Your whole life, all you had known was Muggle New York City. When you turned ten years old, you knew Salem’s Academy for Fine Young Witches, which sometimes had social events (like Quidditch matches and weekend outings) with a brother school, Magorium’s Institute for Upcoming Magical Men. You had dated boys before, but you had never experienced anything too serious. You were a social butterfly well into your magical education who rode the subway during your summers and spent your time going to concerts, enjoying the Muggle library, watching television, going to the movie theatre. 

Even though you never knew your parents and you mourned the dreams of a life you could have had - your life was simple, and you liked it that way. 

Until your godmother took you on a trip to England, promising that it would be a pilgrimage to know more about your heritage, and nothing more. And then - over one dinner, she sold you out to the Malfoys for a dowry of two thousand Galleons. 

Apparently it was enough for her to retire so that she could write a book, as she had always dreamed of. And she was more than happy to be rid of the responsibility of a child that she did not birth. Something that you had heard her whisper to Narcissa when she thought you had not been listening. Up until that point, the only thing binding her to you had been a magical contract that she had signed with your parents before you were even born, naming her your carer in the event of their untimely death. 

The moment she signed a new contract - bidding you to the Malfoys as Draco’s future wife - she was completely free of her responsibility. The new contract that she signed dictated that the Malfoys would have to be responsible for you now. 

So - what you had thought would be a nice visit to explore more about the two dead people that you had never known quickly turned into a permanent relocation with only a small suitcase full of personal belongings, and little clue what the future held for you. Suddenly, you were in a brand new country, living with people you had never met before, betrothed to someone who seemed to hate you. 

And the more the Malfoys talked about The War and told stories of your deceased parents, the more you realised - your parents had died fighting alongside the terrible dark wizard, and not against him. But still, Narcissa and Lucius spoke about your parents as though they were heroes. Valiant heroes who had died at the hands of Aurors, protecting Voldemort’s cause. 

At first, it felt instinctive to hate Draco Malfoy. 

You wanted so badly to hate him. 

He was your betrothed, and though he was very handsome, he had been bitterly rude to you. It seemed that the forcefully polite kiss on the hand that he had given you upon first meeting - something that had given you butterflies in your stomach - had been nothing more than a front, a show he put on for his parents. Because he quickly soured towards you after that. 

He made it very clear that he was not a fan of the arranged marriage either. Even when his parents continually tried to pitch the idea to him and fluff it up for him - as much as they acted like you were a present being given to him on a silver platter (something that only made you feel more isolated and empty). 

There was a distinct point that made you come around to Draco Malfoy. 

The night when you had found out that it wasn’t just a visit, that the idea of the marriage wasn’t just being ‘floated by’ your godmother, but in fact, it was set in stone and you were being left at Malfoy Manor while she silently escaped in the middle of the night with her bag full of gold without even saying goodbye to you. You had sat on the edge of the guest bed they had you in and simply sobbed. You had never felt more alone in your life, never more abandoned, and all you could do was cry your eyes out. 

Draco’s room was across the hall from yours, so naturally, he heard this. It had been a purposeful move from his parents, putting the two of you in close quarters in the hopes that you would talk and interact more, wanting the two of you to at least like each other before getting married. After a few hours of being forced to listen to your chest-racking sobs, you heard a knock. You had been expecting it to be Draco, telling you to shut up so that he could sleep, but instead, a tiny voice asked permission to enter. 

It was one of the house elves - one you later learned was called Pippy, and when you gave her permission to come in, she shuffled along with a large tray in her hands and placed it on the nightstand. A teapot and an empty teacup. She poured you the cup of tea, and after she handed it to you, she patted you on the knee and said: 

“Mister Draco says peppermint tea is good for the bad days,” 

You took the cup in two shaking hands, thanking her meekly, enjoying it as a small comfort. When you watched the tiny elf shuffling back toward your door, you caught a glimpse of a bright blue eye peeking in through the crack, clearly trying not to be caught looking in. 

Even if he would never admit it then, he was growing soft toward you. 

And he had spent the next three months, the entirety of the summer, fighting with that softness as it grew within himself. He constantly battled between pushing you away with feigned annoyance and coldness and wrapping you in warmth, a wordless care. 

He would spend some of the nights in your bed cuddling you while you cried, staying completely silent as to dare not let any fond words slip out. He would defend you against his parents when you didn’t participate in their properly deemed etiquette (such as when you treated the house elves ‘too nicely’ or when you spoke about Muggle technology a bit too much). And yet, he never brought himself to say more than a few genuinely nice words to you. 

He was holding you at arm’s length. He was trying to be some snide, petulant boy toward you in the hopes that you wouldn’t like him. But truly, he was the only real kindness, the only real friend you had in this lonely new world. 

Draco stopped in his tracks at the sound of you calling out his name. As much as he would never admit it, he was a puppet to your call. 

He heaved out a sigh and turned back around, so utterly drawn to you. He hated to see your eyes coated in glass - fear and sadness, the ache that you had disappointed him bubbling to the surface as he stared you down with a sour face, his hands still in his pockets, his entire body still stiff. 

Even though a sad face didn’t suit you, you were still beautiful. So damn beautiful. He hated that he had been so stupid as to miss accompanying you to the party. But he likely would have just been a grey cloud hanging around you, preventing anyone from talking to you and socialising with you. He would have been a roadblock to your mission. 

You were wearing a dress made of a fabric that looked like liquid silver melted down and poured over your body, so sparkling and flowy that you looked like a star that belonged in the night sky alongside the beauty of the moon. It wrapped around your body gracefully, with a tie to emphasise your waist and a low neckline that showed off your cleavage. He was only human - he couldn’t lie in how it appealed to him. Sitting in the middle of your cleavage was a necklace - it was an ornate ruby beetle, the sigil of your Pureblood family. You were the last remaining member of the Scaraflos house. 

The necklace had been handed down to you from your mother - literally the only thing you had from your parents. You had worn it for years without ever truly knowing what it meant. You had told Draco that when Narcissa showed you pictures of his parents and your parents from their school days and pointed out how your mother was wearing the necklace in those pictures, it was the only time you had ever felt truly connected to your Pureblood heritage. And you had no clue if that was a good thing or a bad thing. 

Anytime in years previous, Draco would have jumped to say that it was a good thing. Now, though - he wasn’t entirely sure. 

You were shivering slightly due to the fact that it had such short sleeves, but you were wearing black stockings on your legs (something else that Draco found irritably sexy, even though it covered more of your skin) and you had on a pair of simple, but elegant silver heels. 

Silently, unable to stand the sight of goosenips forming on your skin, he took off his blazer and took the few steps back toward you to wrap it around your shoulders. With his thinner build, it wouldn’t fit you well - but at least, it would shield you from some of the cold air in the castle. As he draped it around you, his eyes caught a glimpse of your hand as you reached up to hold the edge of the coat on your shoulder, clutching onto the fabric so that it wouldn’t fall. 

Draco couldn’t help it when his eyes fixated terribly on it - that damn engagement ring. 

It was something his parents had purchased without him ever knowing, and they had him present it to you as a form of ceremony. As if either of you had any choice in the matter. As if it was supposed to be romantic. As if you could have said no. Later on, behind closed doors, you told him that you would wear it proudly and he scoffed. He thought that the moment the two of you got to Hogwarts, when there were no more prying eyes on the two of you (because Snape certainly didn’t care) - that you would take it off and resign it to some jewellery box, or perhaps even throw it away. 

But you kept wearing it. 

When you thought Draco wasn’t looking, he sometimes found you twisting it between two fingers, looking down at it with an odd kind of fondness - or perhaps, even love. Always a deep, dizzying array of complex thoughts floating through your mind. 

He had no clue that you wore it because you thought of Draco as your family now. He was the only person you had in the world who hadn’t done you some kind of injustice. And you wore it to show loyalty to him. You wore it because it meant that you weren’t alone. You were an abandoned orphan, sold and bartered like livestock - but as long as you wore that ring, you belonged to someone. Someone who, despite his best efforts to appear cold and uncaring, did take care of you. 

“Draco, why did you come here?” You asked again, much gentler this time, lowering your attack for now. 

You stared at him expectantly as you clutched his blazer around your shoulders, trying to steal the last bits of his warmth out of the fabric before it faded away completely. 

He sighed, hating to admit that he needed help. He was stubbornly, bitterly independent, just as his parents had taught him to be. It was one of his biggest flaws. 

“I’m having issues with the Vanishing Cabinet.” He told you quietly, hesitant to admit it. Hesitant to admit failure. 

“Show me.” You told him, and he nodded. 

He led you to the blank wall on the fifth floor that somehow caused a door to appear. The first time you had seen it, it had astounded you. Even in a world of magic, some things still managed to surprise you. 

He had originally brought you there at the beginning of the school year when he had explained to you that he had been tasked to fix up The Vanishing Cabinet. He had called it The Room of Hidden Things. He had explained to you that any time someone wanted to get rid of a dangerous object, for that object to never be found again, they disposed of it within this room. Sometimes it was also a dumping ground for common junk, he had theorised, and he heavily believed that items that were hidden within other places within the walls of Hogwarts - a book tucked away in a random cupboard, a potion bottle hidden under someone’s mattress - somehow, those items ended up here if they were hidden with the same intention of disposal. They were all pulled here by the room’s strong magic. 

You found it to be hauntingly beautiful, like many other places within Hogwarts were. You couldn’t help but to enjoy the sense of mystery as you walked through the isles of piled up furniture, seeing all the strange items that you could barely put names to - things like dragon skulls, murky old potions rotting away in dusty bottles. Even a few trolls that had been killed and stuff (taxidermy style) that had startled you upon your first visit to the room because when you had first looked at them, you thought they were alive and waiting to attack. 

Draco brought you to the back of the large room, and you saw that he had already pulled the tarp off the overwhelming tall, ornate Vanishing Cabinet, so the dusty cloth was sitting in the pile at the cabinet’s feet. Without a word, Draco walked up to the cabinet, moving in stiff mechanical motions as he pulled open the doors. You took a few steps closer to get a better look, realising that he was trying to show you whatever was inside - that must be where the primary problem was located. 

You couldn’t hold in the gasp that broke out of your throat when you saw a dead bird sitting in the bottom of the cabinet. 

A bright yellow canary laying against the dark wood, belly up and completely still with its soft feathers rustled, a few of them missing. You had seen very few dead animals in your lifetime. Aside from the occasional New York City pigeon, laying on the sidewalk in a similar fashion after running itself into one of the hyper reflective windows of the tall buildings. You couldn’t even stand to look at those for too long. You still felt the same deep heartache while looking at it that you had for the poor pigeons. 

“Oh - oh my.” You gaped quietly. 

Draco was entirely surprised when you shouldered him out of the way, letting his ill-fitting borrowed jacket drop off your shoulders onto the dusty ground without care as you crouched down in front of him. You then scooped up the small bird in your hands, cradling it gently as though it were entirely precious. 

He thought that seeing the state of things, you might start suggesting spells, telling him ways that he could fix the obvious problem. But no - you were soft-hearted. The true problem hadn’t even occurred to you yet, because you were so caught up on the sight of a dead bird. You were emotional, struck by the shock of an innocent animal having its life prematurely ended. 

Draco envied you quietly for a moment as you sat on your knees in front of the cabinet, looming in his shadow as you held the bird in your hands. He realised that in order for you to be so startled over this, so heartbroken - it must be one of the first times you had been brushed with death. Draco envied that naivety. 

He wished he could rewind to the version of himself from a few years ago. A version that thought not being able to join the Quidditch team because of an age restriction was the worst tragedy in the world. A version that thought he got everything he wanted because he was genuinely deserving of it. Someone who couldn’t see that he was simply a spoiled brat. 

He wished he could go back to a version that hadn’t seen Muggleborns slain in his family’s dining room, begging for mercy where there would be none.  

When he had first seen that bird sitting dead in the cabinet, a frighteningly still, dead body draped in yellow - for a moment, he had been reminded of Cedric Diggory. Someone so undeserving, lifeless before their time. Used up and gone. 

But now, seeing the way you cradled it, fussing over something already dead and unable to benefit from your care - Draco was distinctly reminded of himself, withering and undeserving in your arms. 

“Draco, do - do you think we should bury it?” You asked, the gentle croak of tears in your voice as you considered a pointless funeral for the small dead thing. 

You suddenly rose up to your feet then, walking around Draco to look for something among the junk in the room, something to wrap the poor bird in - some kind of cloth, or perhaps a small box to place it in. 

This caused something inside of him to snap. The way your sweet demeanour ground against his nerves - his worry, his anxiety about everything mounting suddenly as you fussed over a tiny thing that truly didn’t matter. 

Eventually, your good intentions would get you killed. That gentle touch, that willingness to help - it would get you on the wrong end of a Killing Curse one day. (Especially if he didn’t protect you.) 

“It’s not about the bloody bird, woman!” He growled out, entirely frustrated with your delicate ignorance, your lack of seeing the true point. 

Draco turned to you, and grabbed your arm so viciously that your palms jerked apart and the small, lifeless body dropped onto the floor without a single bit of grace. The bird dropped against the cold stone so carelessly, as though it were an object that had not once had any life in it at all. You let out another gasp at this, and looked from the dull tuft of yellow feathers at your feet up to Draco’s face. 

“Draco!” You cried out sharply, protesting against his careless nature toward the innocent creature. 

His fingers were gripping your forearm fiercely, blooming small bits of pain - but you didn’t care. You felt a clench in your gut, distinct guilt overwhelming you. You told yourself that his anger was misplaced. You had to guess so. You didn’t have words, especially not while he stared you down so coldly. All you could do was stand tall, and stare right back, even while tears formed in your eyes. 

He tightly clenched his jaw. 

You were surprised when he spoke again. 

“How can you be so daft?” He said, almost choking on the words. 

That was when you knew for certain that all his bubbling anger was truly misplaced. He had called you brilliant before, and often made ‘jokes’ about how much you outsmarted him. It was one of the only things he had said about you that wasn’t sarcastic or backhanded in some effort to deter you. He didn’t think that you were stupid, not one bit. 

“Look, you know if I don’t get this thing working-” Draco couldn’t even finish his sentence before his throat closed around the words, threatening harsh sobs that he was desperate to contain. 

Instead, he turned abruptly, letting go of your arm - now completely uncaring of the misplaced conflict. You felt a wave crash into your chest as you realised it. He was right - how could you have been so stupid? 

Of course, he had no care for a small animal. 

It was about what that animal represented. His failure. Death looming over his head. 

The bird had obviously died in the cabinet, which meant that a living thing had yet to survive the transition from Borgin & Burkes into Hogwarts. If Draco couldn’t fix that problem - if there was some sort of problem when the Death Eaters tried to use the cabinet to get into Hogwarts and one of them died, then Draco would be on the line for it. 

They would kill him if he couldn’t get this right. 

Draco moved slowly, putting a hand on each of the cabinet’s doors and closing them. The harsh squeak of the old hinges resonating through the otherwise silent room spoke volumes. 

Then, for a few long, painstaking moments - neither of you said a thing. 

Your chest ached. You wished that you could find something comforting to tell him. For some reason, you knew that simply telling him ‘it’s going to be okay’ wasn’t going to cut it. You muddled in the silence and you hated it. 

He stood with his back still turned to you, with his arms outstretched, leaning on the tall, imposing wooden object. It felt like a shadow of death looming over the two of you. His shoulders held nothing but pure tension, even as he used the object for support. Soon, he took on a very unnatural, un-Malfoy slouch as he allowed his head to so tiredly droop down between his spread arms. 

After a few moments of that terrible silence, with you staring at his back, tossing your mind for something helpful to say as you chewed at your own lip - Draco took in a shuddering breath. Though you knew he was trying to hide it: he began quietly sobbing. 

You couldn’t help yourself then. 

It was something you knew that he pretended to hate, but you did it anyway. He could pretend to be annoyed with you if he wanted, but you both likely needed it right now. You stepped forward, over the dead bird, your shoes quietly clacking against the stone - and you settled yourself right up against his back, tucking your body tightly against him in a hug. You nuzzled your face into the tense muscles of his shoulders, and as you wrapped your arms around his waist from behind and squeezed him tightly, you felt some of the tension melt away as he unconsciously relaxed into your touch. 

You did worry about how much thinner he felt in your arms than the last time you had done this - obviously, he hadn’t been eating properly. But you didn’t bother to bring it up, not wanting to start another argument. 

Draco felt a grateful warmth spread over him. Still, he refused to touch you back. He couldn’t. At least not yet. 

He kept his hands on the wood of the cabinet, almost like a bold surrender, silently remarking that he would give into your touch, to your softness, but he wouldn’t return it. He couldn’t. He let out another shuddering sob - a sound he couldn’t contain now with the feeling of your warmth at his back. It was something he hated himself for. 

You hushed him gently. And then, miraculously, you found words. 

“We could leave.” You said quietly, turning your head so that your cheek sat parallel with his flesh, muttering the words against the fine silk of his button up shirt. “We could just… run away together. We don’t have to stay here, Draco. We could get to a fireplace and Floo out of here, or-” 

“We can’t.” Draco easily cut you off, stamping out the idea, his voice just as quiet, throttled by tears. “You know that we can’t.” 

You wanted to argue the point more. Obviously, he didn’t hate the idea. He just thought it was illogical. Likely, he thought it was too dangerous. But what was the alternative - possibly being killed anyway? Being tortured and then killed if he failed his mission? 

“If we leave, they’ll kill my parents because I couldn’t complete my mission.” Draco sniffled quietly. “At the very least, they’ll haul me in and have my head for being a traitor.” 

Draco straightened his stance then, taking his arms off the cabinet. You thought that he might remove your arms from his waist, finally rejecting your touch. But instead, he began tracing fingers from his right hand along the forearm of his left sleeve, almost scratching at it like it was a terrible itch. 

You had been there on the night when he had gotten the Mark. 

You had been brought into the room and forced to listen to his screams of pain before you even truly knew what was happening. When you had tried to comfort him about it, he had pushed you off so roughly that you had almost smacked your head into one of the walls - but you couldn’t bring yourself to be angry with him. You that he was taking that fear and pain out on you in that terribly misplaced way. 

Later that night, when he had been crying - sobbing harshly and running the freshly scorched skin under cool water - he let you run him a bath with soothing soaps. The two of you discussed Shakespeare’s plays (which you were surprised that he had read) while you washed his hair for him. 

“Now that I have the Mark, I can’t run anywhere.” Draco muttered quietly. “I can’t go anywhere that I won’t be found.” 

That part had never truly occurred to you before. 

You knew that the Dark Lord used the Dark Mark as a way for his followers to show their loyalty. The magic behind it also made it a way for him to summon them or even for them to summon him. Hearing his words, you guessed that Draco having it meant that he could be ‘summoned’ at any time as a part of the loyalty he had so unwillingly pledged. 

Even if he betrayed the Dark Lord morally, mentally, emotionally, and tried to do so physically by running away, as long as his arm was attached, he would still be in service to that horrible man until he and his followers decided otherwise. Especially because you couldn’t imagine Draco wanting to part with his arm anytime soon. 

“We’ll figure something out.” You told him, having little faith in those words yourself. You knew it was a truth that you had to speak into existence - otherwise, you were doomed. 

You laid a gentle kiss on his shoulder through the fabric of his shirt, spreading more warmth through him. He clenched his fists at his sides, highly resisting the urge to reach for your hands, but silently hoping that you wouldn’t pull away. 

Draco resented your sense of hope. A lot of the time, he couldn’t help but to think that it was stupid - just your naivety poking through in a different way. Though, truthfully, in a lot of ways, he knew that your hope was the bravest thing about you. And these days, that hope was the only thing keeping him afloat in the chaotic sea that his life had become. 

Draco, unlike you, was a coward. 

He could come up with all the excuses he wanted not to run away, but truthfully - he was terrified. And every single day, his fear put you more and more at risk. 

… 

Draco thought back to a night at Malfoy Manor, when you had been having dinner with him and his parents. A night when, for the first time in his life, that streak of cowardice had somehow been broken. 

“Can you believe it? It’s completely ridiculous. A proposal to convert the entire Ministry from intern-departmental memos to this - this telephone nonsense!” 

Lucius ranted on as he cut into his food, taking out his aggression on the piece of meat in front of him as he recounted something that had happened a few months previous that still brought him particular frustration whenever he remembered it. 

“That Arthur Weasley is a stupid old bat, downright mindless, but even I can’t imagine where he gets theses ideas from-” 

“Telephones can actually be quite useful.” You piped up, interrupting his father’s ranting with a quiet, but polite comment. 

Without a word, all three others at the table stared at you as you continued to mindlessly poke at your dinner. Lucius glared daggers at you, his expression full of bitter venom, while Draco and Narcissa gave you the same distinct expression of shock - deer in headlights, mirrored over both their faces. Over the years, they had learned to simply be quiet and ‘listen’ to the rantings of their patriarch, especially if it was about the goings on at the Ministry, Arthur Weasley, or any number of other subjects that he knew he was right about. 

While at his own dinner table, Lucius Malfoy was not to be interrupted - much less corrected. 

You had just broken the golden rule twice over. You had interrupted him in the middle of speaking, and you had contradicted what he was saying. 

Draco’s gut clenched as he realised that he should have warned you beforehand to avoid such a faux pas. He should have told you that the dinner table was a place for quietly eating and answering direct questions in as few words as possible - not an open forum. 

Before he could apologise on your behalf, you opened your mouth again - doubling down on this accidental, horrible mistake. 

“Do you just find it confusing because you don’t know how they work?” You posed, reaching out to grab your glass for a sip of water, looking right at Lucius as you posed the question. “I know that a lot of Wizards who were born in the magical world can find Muggle technology strange and confusing, but-” 

Before you could finish speaking, Lucius reached off to the side and grabbed his cane, and brought down onto the centre of the table with an intense silent fury. He smashed your hand down into the glass that you had been holding, shattering it to pieces underneath your palm. Draco and Narcissa flinched at the sound and Narcissa backed her chair away slightly - but neither of them dared to speak, neither of them moved to confront him. In fact, Narcissa was very intentionally looking away, her eyes now glued to the floor. 

Draco could see blood pooling against the emerald green table runner, could see your flesh quivering in pain underneath the silver snake’s maw - but you stayed completely still, your eyes coldly locked on Lucius’ glare as he hovered out of his seat. Even with tears of pain dotting your eyes, your throat trembling as you held back cries - you kept a stiff jaw and refused to back down from the confrontation. 

It was braver than Draco had ever been, and he silently admired you for it. 

“If you think that stupid, filthy Muggles are so brilliant, then you can die like one.” Lucius ground out slowly, pure rage on his breath. “While you are living in my house, you will learn your place. You filthy, blood-traitorous slut.” 

Draco held his breath. He knew that if you backed down, if you shied away and admitted your wrong doing with silence or even an apology, then his father would let you go easily and then this would all be over. 

But of course - you weren’t going to back down easily. Not you. 

“And what place is that?” You remarked, pure snark in your tone. 

Draco’s throat clenched up. His father wouldn’t like that. 

Lucius lifted the snake’s bite off your hand, only for a second, and then - after placing down the cane, he sharply backhanded you. Draco knew that he wore thick, heavy rings on his hand and he worried for you - especially when you swayed on your seat for a moment before falling to the floor. The heft of the hit was enough to dizzy you, make you unstable and send you to the ground. 

“Your place is to be silent until I call upon you.” Lucius announced, seeming very satisfied with himself. 

Narcissa refused to look in your direction, and Lucius moved to sit back in his chair. For once, going against everything he had been taught since childhood, Draco rushed to get out of his. He knew that it would have been expected for him to ignore you. For you to be isolated in your pain. But he couldn’t help himself. 

Draco rushed to your side, collapsing onto his hands and knees before you - instinctively, he sheltered you in his arms, trying to get you upright again. 

“Y/N?” He croaked out quietly, only now realising how close he was to tears. 

“I’m fine, Draco.” You quickly lied. “I’m fine.” 

“Draco.” 

Lucius’ tone was entirely dead, almost calm, and somehow menacing in the same breath. Draco looked over your head, your slouched, defeated posture making you too small in his arms as he held you against his chest, and he caught his father’s eye as the man glared at him with pure violence dancing in his cold eyes. Any other time, Draco would have folded to that silent threat so easily. But with you there - with the feeling of you quivering against him, clearly holding in sobs - it truly injected boldness into him in those moments. 

You were such a fragile thing. For once in his life - something he needed to protect. Something only he could protect. 

“Draco, sit down.” His father ordered, clearly annoyed when Draco took too long to move away from you. “You haven’t been dismissed from my table yet.” 

Draco laid a gentle kiss on your forehead, and somehow, entirely against his own will, untangled you from his arms. When he stood, everyone in the room thought for certain that it was to comply with this order. But instead, he moved toward his father’s chair with sharp footsteps, putting on his best faux confidence and standing tall as he spat out his next words. 

“I swear to Merlin, if you ever put a hand on my fiance again, I will end you.” 

Naturally, Lucius didn’t find this threat to be the slightest bit intimidating. 

His father let out a dark chuckle, clearly amused by seeing Draco posture as a man when he knew that his son was nothing more than a spoiled, cowardly child. 

“Let’s not forget who bought you the little whore.” Lucius laughed. “There’s no need to get sentimental, Draco. You should be paying attention. Learn how to train up your wife now, before she becomes a disobedient brat. You should never let anyone talk to your father like that, remember, loyalty comes-” 

Draco took out his wand then, much to his father’s surprise. With it poised in Lucius’ direction, he received a sharp glare. 

“I understand loyalty perfectly well. Father.” Draco said, his voice short. 

“Incarcerous.” Lucius hissed sharply - then, as if out of nowhere, a thin black rope appeared and whipped around the middle of Draco’s neck. In an instant, it began tightening, choking him. 

Immediately, Draco dropped his wand and fell backwards, landing beside where you were still kneeling on the floor - you panicked as you watched him choking and gasping for breath. 

“Lucius!” Narcissa cried out, begging for the end of the conflict. 

The man ignored her. 

“You will learn to respect me in my own house, so help me, if I have to-” 

“Finite.” You held your good hand above Draco’s gasping face and muttered the counter curse, releasing him from the rope, performing an impressive feat of wandless magic to get him free.

Lucius glared at you once again, locking you and Draco in a harsh stare as you helped him sit up while he struggled to catch his breath. 

Before any further words could be said, Lucius pushed out his chair and stomped out of the room like a child having a tantrum, obviously upset that his intimidation and abuse had not gotten him the result he wanted. Narcissa said nothing, only giving you the saddest eyes as you helped Draco off the floor. The two of you left to go clean the glass out of your palm, spending the rest of the night locked in Draco’s room, licking your wounds in the relative comfort of each other’s silence. 

… 

That had been the first time Draco had ever properly stood up to his father. 

Draco still wondered if that was a good thing or not. 

Before he could venture any further into that very dangerous can of worms, you pulled Draco back to the present when you stepped back from the hug. Draco resisted the urge to pull you back, to steal more of your warmth. 

You noticed something out of the corner of your eye that caught your attention. 

A mattress laid out on the floor. 

It could have just been one of those random pieces of stray ‘junk’ furniture, but something about it caught your attention. For one, the fact that it hadn’t been in that position the last time you had been in this room. And two - there were a few random, stray blankets placed on top of it in what was very clearly an improvised sleeping area. As though someone had gone through the random objects in the room in order to compose a makeshift bed. 

With Draco’s bookbag sitting beside the mattress, open - you quickly clued into the truth. It was absolutely no trouble to figure out why you hadn’t seen much of him over the past week. He had been sleeping here. 

It was a revelation that shocked you. 

Especially considering that this looked quite shabby in comparison to the comfort of the Slytherin dorms. And you knew that at home, he was used to being spoiled with a thick, three foot tall mattress on a four poster bed and goose feather down pillows. So - why would he choose to camp out here? Why would he want to be closer to The Vanishing Cabinet - something that was actively giving him stress? 

“You’ve been sleeping here.” You said, disappointment ripe in your voice as you walked over to the mattress as toed at one of the blankets with your shoe. “Why?” 

“Why does it matter?” Draco huffed, picking up his jacket that you had dropped onto the floor and tossing it into the middle of the mattress. “Can you help me with The Cabinet or not?” 

“I can help.” You answered simply. “But I want to talk about this first.” You said, motioning toward the area where he had slept. 

Draco let out a sharp breath and turned around, rubbing his hands across his face in sharp frustration. 

For a moment, you thought that he was simply going to leave again, forcing you to chase him, trying to outrun the conversation. It had been a favourite tactic of his when the two of you had been living at his parents’ sprawling estate, a place that he knew much better than you did. The second that things got a bit too personal, he would slip into some random hallway or sneak off around a private corner, and it was like he had Disapparated - with how quickly he had moved, disappearing into the bowels of the house so that he could escape talking to you. 

You wouldn’t let him escape this time. 

You stepped up to him and put your hands on either side of his face, and he closed his eyes at the gentle touch. 

“Draco, please don’t hide from me.” You told him quietly. “You don’t have to be alone in all this. I know… I know I’m just some stupid girl that your parents bought for you, but I want to be a good wife for you. I want to be the person that you can come to with your problems.” 

Draco didn’t think of you as just some ‘stupid girl’. 

He didn’t think of you as a gift, as a purchased object that he could throw away like he had with every other toy that he had carelessly broken in his life. 

Honestly - you were the first real friend he ever had. You were the first person who was truly honest with him, calling him out on his bullshit, barring any consequences of his reputation or anything that his parents might do to you. You didn’t flock to him for popularity or status. You were forced to be near him, but you didn’t always act polite toward him by force. When your sweetness came to him, it was in waves. And it came along with sour notes and rudeness and harsh honesty that he needed. 

That kind of honesty was something that he had never experienced from anyone else in his life. 

And all of it was so incredibly genuine. 

You were someone who should have hated him, but you always smiled at him; someone who said his name with nothing but pleasantness in your tone, where others said it with venom or coldness. You were one of the first people he felt like he could open up to, and that was dangerous. 

Of course he was hiding from you. He needed to hide from you. 

He was a coward. And lately, the thing he feared most, even above losing his own life - was losing you. You were probably the only good thing he had ever possessed that was actually irreplaceable. If he lost you, he knew that he would never recover. He would actually willingly fling himself off the Astronomy Tower if he was somehow responsible for getting you hurt. 

That was what kept him at a distance. Hoping that he could actually grow cold toward you. Hoping that he could learn to genuinely hate you if he escaped from your sweetness. 

He also hoped that you would grow to hate him so that you could simply detach and go off on your own. You didn’t have The Mark, you could still run. At least before making your marriage vows, you could. But no - you were too good. You were too kind hearted to truly abandon him. 

And every time Draco saw you, he only became more nauseated with the realisation that he was becoming more and more fond of you. He would always look for your face in the crowd at the Great Hall, he would always wait for that smile to come across your lips when you locked eyes with him. 

And he couldn’t handle it. He couldn’t handle you. He couldn’t handle being the one responsible for the destruction of your life. 

So he spent more nights, longer nights in the Room of Requirement, slaving over The Vanishing Cabinet, writing down increasingly stupid plans for how he could kill Dumbledore without actually waltzing up and just murdering the man. He had to complete his mission if he was going to keep you safe. 

“Draco, please-” 

He couldn’t take it anymore. He couldn’t listen to the sweet sadness in your voice curl around his name like a canary’s song, another sweet little bird ready to die by his hands. He couldn’t stand you talking to him like you actually cherished him - like he was actually something worth having. 

He reached up and gently cupped the side of your face, tucking his arm inside of yours to do so where you still held onto his cheek, the two of you becoming so entangled, just as he had feared. 

Then - he pulled you into a kiss. 

It was an addition to only about a half dozen kisses that the two of you had shared before this. And in an instant, this was the most desperate - emotions that he desperately wanted dampened off and hidden wringing through his lips and into yours. Entirely against his will, another hot tear escaped, and he let out a small gasp when you were quick to thumb it away. 

You wanted to cheer at the feeling of his lips against yours. You knew that before this, he was actively pulling away from you, putting himself in isolation, marching in his suffering alone because he thought that he had to. Or simply because he was used to it, from what you had seen of his home life. 

You knew what a horrible curse loneliness was, and you never wanted him to suffer through it. Especially not on top of everything else he was already going through. If he had to suffer through everything that his parents had put onto him, then at the very least, he didn’t have to suffer alone. 

Having his lips pressed so tightly to yours - it felt like progress. Feeling the whimper that echoed out from his throat as he held your face so delicately, like you were a perfect, soft doll - like you were something so precious - it felt like you had broken down a wall that he had been trying so hard for so many months to keep up as a barrier against you. 

This felt like saving him. 

It felt like doing what little you could within your limited power to create light in the darkness he was trudging through. Or at the very least, it felt like you could assure him that he wasn’t stuck in that darkness alone. 

After a few moments, Draco pulled away from the kiss. When he reached up to pull one of your hands away from his face, you worried that he might just shove you away and walk away altogether, finally coming to his senses against the affection. You worried that he would suddenly become cold toward you as he had done many other times, in an effort to turn you off. 

Instead - he surprised you. He did one of the most endearing, heart-melting things that he possibly could have done. 

He clasped your wrist gently between his cool fingers, thumbing along your pulse in a way that made you hold back a moan, and then he raised the heel of your palm up to his lips. With his eyes gently closed, refusing to look at you, he kissed along the fading scars that had been left there when his father had smashed your hand into a wine glass over dinner. 

The marks were something you didn’t pay much mind to these days, especially not with the ornament of your engagement ring as a much more pleasant distraction on that hand. But feeling Draco’s pillowy, light kisses grazing across your skin in the best, deepest apology he ever could have offered you - it made your stomach clench with overwhelming emotion as tears formed in your eyes. 

“Draco-” You choked on his name this time, and he moved your hand to sit on his shoulder as he turned his attention toward your face. 

Glassy, tear-kissed eyes faced your own, and you knew that there were no words for it. 

The universe had brought the two of you together in the strangest way and drowned the two of you in the most unpleasant circumstances. But you couldn’t help thinking that this is exactly where you were meant to be. 

“Hush now, darling.” He told you, his voice whisper-quiet, not daring to get much louder lest he risk breaking those tears in his throat. 

Darling. It was the first time he had ever called you that. He had thrown out the occasional snide ‘honey’ or ‘wifey’ in front of his parents or even behind closed doors, very rudely playing on the fact that he was supposed to treat you like a girlfriend, like his beloved. He thought it was amusing to taunt you with the sarcasm that he never actually would hold any true affection for you. 

This was the first pet name he had given you out of genuine affection. 

He pulled you back in for another kiss, and the moment his lips touched yours, Draco could feel himself losing it. The softness of your pillowy mouth against his, the way your fingers curled into his shirt, holding onto him like you truly needed him as an anchor. The little moan you let out - making him desperate to chase more of those sounds from you. 

All of it was slowly driving him insane, leading him further astray from his goal of detaching from you. 

He should have tossed you out into the hallway. He should have yelled at you, called you horrible names. He should have pulled out every single rude, bratty thing in his repertoire to make you absolutely hate him. Instead - he found himself getting lost in you more by the second. He found himself letting your softness roll over him in waves, turning him weak. 

Draco held the back of your head with one hand, pinning you into the kiss, holding you against his mouth like a dehydrated man would so desperately hold onto a decanter of water. You let out another sweet moan, louder this time, and he didn’t hesitate to shove his tongue past your lips, dizzy and needing to drink right from the source, wanting to devour you whole. He needed to see if he could taste the light that radiated out of you. He needed to see if he could find that fatal thing inside of you that made you have a fondness toward him. 

This was nothing like snogging random Slytherin girls out of boredom.

In that moment, Draco felt important. He felt needed. He felt like he served some grander purpose of good in the universe because you held onto him tighter, because you pulled him closer, because you kissed him back with ferocity and sucked on his tongue. Because you wanted him. He felt that if your attention shifted from him for even a moment, he would wither away and cease to exist because he only mattered under the warmth of your gaze. 

Draco felt like he was tempting fate when he moved his hands down your shoulders, down your back, daring to touch more of you - daring to ask for more. That he was playing with fire, letting his well-ingrained greed get the better of him once again. But he couldn’t help himself. 

He cradled his flat-handed touch across you with the intention to feel you in a way that he never had before. Yes, he had held you before - hugged you, pulled you close to him when he was stuck for words and wanting to comfort you, especially seeing as comforting words had never been a skill taught to him. But other than a few grazing touches against your hands or your cheeks, he had never dared to invite himself to the rest of your body. 

Before this, he had never touched you with lust on his mind. 

He had never truly thought of you as his property, something he could possess and own and take. He thought for certain, at any moment, you would push him away for being so brazen - and he would simply have to add this rejection to his pile of heartbreaks and move on. 

Instead, he felt something inside of him ease with relief when you sighed with delight - one of the most beautiful sounds he had ever heard. And then, in a moment so perfect, you leaned into his touches. You kept one hand tightly gripping the fabric of his shirt and the other reached up and wound into his neatly slicked hair, instantly messing up the tresses and making them wild at the back. 

But he couldn’t care, not for a moment - especially not when you let out another sweet moan into his mouth and leaned your whole body into him, pressing against him so that he felt every inch of your gorgeous curves through the thin fabric of your dress. 

Draco had felt you pressed this close against his body before, but it had never been like this. 

Before it had been like a delicate bird being held in a cage - like some sweet, innocent thing he was trying to protect. 

But now, it was like a man truly feeling a woman. It was a potential husband truly seeing his future wife for the first time, and his body responded in the only way he could. He let out a shuddering moan and he felt his cock hardening up. Of course, he didn’t want you to feel it. He didn’t want this to happen. He shouldn’t let this happen. 

He was supposed to be distancing himself from you, not letting you dizzy him like he was some stupid lovesick fool. He was supposed to be severing these ties, not burrowing himself further inside of you. (And just that thought sparked a certain imagery in his mind that made his cock twitch and swell to full mast. Brilliant. Just bloody brilliant. He was a fool.) 

Draco pulled back from the kiss and you let out a disappointed sound - like the creek of an old door, tired and waning. 

Draco forced his hands back to his sides, despite how fantastic the warmth of your flesh felt under his touch. 

When he tried to step back from you, you refused to let him go. The grip you had in his hair caused a small twinge of pain across his scalp, and he was forced to open his eyes. The look on your face - kiss bruised lips, eyes still closed, a quiver across your chin, filled to the brim with disappointment, likely knowing what was going through his mind - it made him weak. It gave him pause. 

He was too damn weak. 

“Y/N-” He said your name in a whisper - about to tell you that the two of you shouldn’t be doing this, but you cut him off. 

“Draco, please.” You whimpered quietly. “Please, don’t push me away right now.” 

He reached up and gently gripped your forearm. He should have used the touch to untangle you from him, but he found that he didn’t have the strength to. Whether it was a mental strength or a physical one, he wasn’t even sure. 

“I need this.” You whispered, your voice hoarse and strained, and for the first time that he had ever heard - desperate. “I think you do too. Please.” 

He was a horrible, selfish man - but he told himself that a good husband would never deny you of your needs. 

Draco swept you into another kiss, wrapping one of his arms around your back, firm and protective as he always had been, determined to serve your needs with more ferocity than ever. While you moaned into his mouth, he guided you backwards until your ankles hit the edge of that mattress. The one he had been sleeping on to flee from this big, horrible thing that had been building between the two of you that had now crashed down upon his head with inevitability. 

Even dizzy from the feeling of his lips on yours, you instantly understood the wordless signal. He laid you down on it as gently as he could, taking the gravity in slow pauses rather than simply letting you fall backwards, and as he fixed some of the blankets under your head like a makeshift pillow, you felt like a queen, being treated with the highest affection and handled with the most gentle hands that her beloved could muster. 

Part of you yearned for a rougher touch, to see Draco let loose on you - but you knew that this was what he needed. He needed to treasure something. He needed to know that he could have something good that wouldn’t end up dead or broken because of him. 

Draco paused above you for a moment, holding himself there with a hand beside your head - he felt a pure, stabbing pain in his gut when he looked down at you and all he could see reflected back up at him was pure, shining, sickening love. Your eyes practically glowed with it in the dimly lit room. He didn’t want to admit it then, but he knew he was so utterly fucked. 

He felt a curse curling up inside him - the urge to mirror that back to you but the inability to proclaim it. Feeling like he was some filthy dead thing that would never truly mean anything to you while wanting so badly to be the solid earth beneath your feet that you needed to function, he wanted to be your everything. His voice became strangled in his throat and instead of making that impossible proclamation, his body moved frantically as he began kissing down your neck. 

It was a worship - it was a proclamation in silence. It was all he could muster, but he hoped that it would please you nonetheless. 

Please. 

He whispered wordlessly against your skin, tonguing along the planes of your neck as you moaned for him so beautifully. 

Please, notice me. Find me worthy. 

After lavishing gentle attention across your neck and your clavicle, coating you in salvia that cooled across your skin and made you shiver, he reached your bust line and easily buried himself there. He nestled along the skin so tenderly that you found your heart wanting to burst out of your chest to reach his lips, your hands coming up to cradle the back of his head in what you hoped was an equally tender gesture while he laid the sweetest, simple open-mouthed kisses in your cleavage. 

This was a Draco that you had never seen before. This was not the surly-mouthed, harsh, bitter man you had come to know. And if you had fallen for glimpses of his sweetness before, then you were quickly being catapulted off the edge into full on adoration. Into something deeper and much more dangerous. 

“Draco, please.” You moaned out, pushing your chest further into his touch, somehow already breathless and beating hard between your thighs for him. 

Of course, he thought. More. 

She deserves more. 

Draco moved the hand that was supporting himself to push into the mattress beside your waist, holding his weight there now. And then, he used his other hand to reach into the front of your dress. He felt lucky when you sighed with delight rather than revoking his permission to touch you, even though his fingers were cold and icy upon your breast as he moved the fabric of your dress and the cup of your bra off to the side. 

This left the deep V of the wrap sitting at your ribs, presenting one of your breasts to the open air, an absolutely beautiful sight as your nipple pebbled up with the coolness of the room. He didn’t leave the flesh cold for long before he cupped your breast with tender fingers and fed your nipple into his hot mouth, eagerly sucking - as though he could communicate better every tangled bit of emotion he felt for you with the intricate swirls of his tongue. 

“Draco!” 

You moaned and arched up into his mouth, encouraging him further to explore the beauty of your breast with his tongue. 

You surprised him slightly when you moved underneath him, parting your legs and moving to bracket your knees around his narrow hips. He couldn’t help but to moan against your breast when he felt the overwhelming heat of your core settle against his cock. Even through his trousers, with your dress pooling up around your waist, it was like feeling the morning sun kissing your face after opening the curtains. It was a wave of warmth that threatened to overtake him. 

Draco couldn’t hold back the instinctive movement, and he ground his hips downward, seeking more of that addictive heat, needing more of it on his hard, aching cock. He felt as though he had found liquid euphoria when you let out a crackling moan in response, the sound shaking everything inside of him that made him actually feel good for once. 

The feeling was enhanced when you threaded your fingers into his hair harder, your fingernails scraping across his scalp as your body echoed a natural response to him - you clamped your thighs down on his hips, trapping him there, and you began to grind yourself into the hardness of his cock, clearly needed more for yourself. 

He knew that he shouldn’t be allowed to have this - he shouldn’t be allowed to taint something as perfect as you. But he let himself continue to selfishly take, and take, and take more. He was a greedy brat, as he always had been, and he couldn’t bear to change his ways now. 

“Oh fuck, Draco.” You moaned out so sweetly. 

Draco pulled back, and began kissing along the side of your breast. 

“Shh, darling. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” He said quietly, swallowing sharply, desperately trying to chug in more air. 

He had no clue when he had become so light-headed, but if you were the thing making him so dizzy, so distant from reality - then you were his fondest drug, and he was never going to let you go again. 

Draco descended then - he had the utmost urge to please you, to hear more of his name on your lips. 

A near feral groan escaped him when he finally caught a glimpse between your thighs. 

With that silver skirt pooled around your waist, he could see properly now - those black stockings that he already thought were too sinful now took on a whole new meaning in his realm of fantasies. You weren’t wearing any panties beneath the semi-transparent garment - the thick seam of the stockings was stuck to your wet cunt, dipping into your pussy right where he wanted to be; your wetness leaking right through the nylon and causing it to stick to your cunt, making it shiny and utterly perfect in the dimly lit space. 

Draco groaned from deep in his chest, his voice edging on whiny, even to his own ears. But he couldn’t bring himself to care about how pathetic he must have sounded. You were just too perfect. He was drawn in by the siren call of your perfect cunt, one hand with a thumb drawing circles on your hips and the other gently skimming fingers up the back of your clothed thigh as he scooted himself further down the mattress. 

He couldn’t resist the urge, when he leaned down, he latched his mouth onto your cunt through the wet, shiny fabric, unable to resist the pure need to taste your essence without taking off the stockings first. 

“Draco! Oh-!” 

You let out a needy moan, which only spurred Draco to suck harder, even tonguing sharply against your clit through the fabric. It created a sharp itch, a raging need - it was not enough contact, tedious and harsh and something that made a vicious, rolling ache inside of your cunt. You needed more. 

“Please, more!” 

Again - he would have been cruel to deny you. And though, up until this point, he had been a reluctant and unwilling paramour, he was nothing but a slave to you and your desires in those moments. 

Acting purely upon instinct, he raised his head slightly to give himself room to work and then brought fingers to the nylon fabric, trying to tear it apart. His head was filled with nothing but animal need now, bloated and high on the affection that he had been denying himself for months he had been unwillingly engaged to you. Months of denying that you were exactly what he needed, his other half - the other half of a lonely broken person clinging on that he had been so desperately trying to shake off. 

Draco let out a growl of frustration - his nails were blunt and dull and he slipped hopelessly against the wet fabric. Before it could truly be formed as a thought inside his mind, he leaned down and pressed his teeth into the stockings against your mound, right above your clit in a way that made you whimper from the contact. Then - he bit harshly into the fabric, tearing a small hole into it that he could then rip wider with his frantic hands. 

It made you gasp, being exposed to the cold air within seconds - feeling your hot, pulsing cunt quake as the cool air licked at every single bit of your wetness. It was a shocking turn-on, feeling the seam of your tights being so easily demolished, leaving you as nothing but a wanton, exposed gash from the bit of your pubic hair sticking out to the way the new edge of the fabric rubbed against your arsehole. 

Now, instead of being a gentle thing he had to protect or some stranger that he was trying to distance himself from - you were nothing but a hole for him to fuck. And you absolutely loved it. 

“Draco, please-” You gasped out again, feeling his fingers tickling against your thigh, feeling his breath still huffing out in harsh pants over your now bare pussy, waiting for him to do something more. 

You were struck by lighting when he latched onto your cunt, moaning just as loudly as you did when he was finally able to taste you, able to feel you completely unfiltered for the first time. 

You arched up wildly and your thighs quaked against his cheeks - he made little effort to hold you down, too busy selfishly enjoying your pussy now. He took in a deep breath against you, inhaling a greedy whiff of your scent so close to his nose while he gulped down a filthy slurp of your warm, wet pussy, moaning loudly from the back of his throat the whole time. You were so hot under his tongue - you were a heartbeat, a new breath, something so alive that he certainly shouldn’t have been allowed to drink from. 

But you were now his to freely feast upon, as if he wasn’t already spoiled enough by the world, tainted by the mangled silver spoon he had been gnawing on since his birth. 

“Draco, fuck! So good!” 

You wailed out, letting out sounds that Draco had never before heard, sounds he never thought you were capable of. Back at The Manor, even when you cried, you clearly tried to be conservative, stay quiet, not to be a bother. It was only now that Draco realised he had never truly witnessed you losing control of yourself. Even when you had faced down his father’s fury, you somehow stood tall and composed, an impeccable monument to emotional control. 

It was only now that he realised how truly badly he wanted to see you lose that control. 

He never thought of you as property, of course - but if you were so stubbornly intent on owning his heart, his emotions, his vulnerability - then he would get to own yours as well. He would get to own your weakness. He would get to own the single moments in life when you truly lost your composure. 

Draco set about devouring your cunt, keeping this mission in mind. He wrapped one arm around you from underneath your ass, holding you tightly to his face while he used the other hand to prop himself up slightly, pushing closer, easily getting lost in the beautiful heat of your pussy. He moaned against you as he drank you in, lavishing his tongue up and down your folds, intently focusing on the perfect little bead of your clit while it bounced and thrummed over his tongue. 

Your body sang for more of his attention, shaking like a signal for him as you were wracked with more uncontrollable moans. He heard more distant groans in his muffled ears and hardly attributed them to himself, getting too lost in you, enjoying your taste too much. He was far too intent on burying himself in the first warmth he had felt in years, now determined to shut out the cold and make a new home for himself between these perfect thighs. Especially if it meant making you moan like this more, hearing more of his cursed name on your precious lips. 

“Draco, Draco, oh, fuck! Draco, please!” 

At this point, you weren’t even entirely sure what you were begging for - for him to bring you to orgasm, for him to stop because it was so overwhelming, or for something else entirely. His name just felt so right on your lips. Somehow, he seemed to understand better, seemed to know something that even you didn’t. 

He rumbled out a hum of acknowledgement against your cunt, and then, snuck his free hand up between your thighs. He teased two fingers against your fluttering entrance, slippery and off-target for a moment with his shaking hand - making you moan out brokenly as you felt the touches not quite where you needed them most. 

“I’ve - I’ve got you, love,” 

He said, pulling away for a moment to gulp down breaths - feeling spiteful of the air, spiteful of the minimal space between the two of you; spiteful of the fact that he felt like he was drowning and somehow forcing himself further into you wasn’t the solution. 

“I’ve got you.” 

You curled your fingers into his hair again and tugged him close, pulling him back to your pussy, and he decided that he would never breathe again if that’s what you so desired. He swept a flat tongue across your pussy, eagerly gulping down more of your wetness while he gently pushed those two slender fingers forward, finally inside of you for the first time. 

Your heat was even more evident now, even more apt to drive him insane. Your pussy surrounding him turned his cold flesh warm within seconds, causing him to drive forward without even thinking, eagerly chasing more of that warmth against his touch. Part of his mind was thankful when you let out a beautiful moan in response and wiggled your hips closer to him, rather than feeling pain at the harsh, sudden, jabbing intrusion, and the other part of him selfishly didn’t care. 

You had offered this up to him, you had begged him not to turn away - and now, you would have to face the consequences of inviting a cold, dead beast into your den to feast. He was lonely, he hungered - he would consume everything good inside of you and leave you with nothing. And it would be your own damn fault. 

Draco moaned against your cunt again, feeling that hunger now more evidently than ever, and you squeaked and choked on the air as he began fingering you harshly. He was desperate to feel more warmth, to explore more of that velvet softness inside of you that he so badly wanted wrapped around his cock (nearly forgotten, throbbing, leaking into his pants and making a mess). But he somehow couldn’t think too much about his forgotten cock when your next words overtook his mind. 

“Close-” You breathed out, and then sucked in more air. “So close - gonna cum!” 

You were going to cum. 

You were going to become unravelled on his tongue. 

Draco moaned against you fervently, now wildly eager for this to happen. He suckled against your clit and harshly rubbed his tongue over that tortured little bead even more furiously. He continued to fuck you with his fingers while your thighs clamped around his head, further shutting out the world, allowing him to have a few precious moments where all those deadly responsibilities simply didn’t exist. In those moments - it was just you and him. It was just his own carnal greed, a man fucking his wife. Just the small precious world he had balanced on his bitter tongue. 

“Draco!” You choked out his name as your orgasm overtook your body. 

You arched up again, your body practically whipping to his whims, being played like an instrument that only he knew the songs to. With your fingers entwined harshly in his hair, holding him to a place he would never want to part from while he mauled your pussy - it was perfect. 

He moaned against you and nearly choked on the juices that he eagerly drank down, pumping his fingers into you with sharp jabbing motions, any effort toward technique completely gone. His mind was nothing but a pathetic soup of desperation, an animal clawing toward your warmth, determined to suck the life out of you and have it for his own. 

Your cries of pleasure turned into sobs as you were crested over the hill into overstimulation, and when Draco pulled away for a breath, you thought perhaps he might finally let up. That he might pull his fingers out of you and the two of you would simply take a quiet moment to breathe. 

But while your thighs continued to shake and you sucked in harsh breaths, his shoulders became tight with something utterly vicious, and he continued to stare down your pussy with rapt attention, some beast inside of him screaming out for more. More of the life you could give him, more warmth, more of everything he would ever demand from you that you had been so foolish in offering up. More of everything that you would never supply enough of to meet the bounds of his already dead soul. 

“Draco-” You gasped. “Too much, too-” 

“Please,” 

Draco begged in return for the first time that night, peering up the length of your body to look into your eyes with the most utterly pathetic glassy eyes you had ever seen. The moment he met your gaze, it became too much for the both of you - like a stab through the gut, a connection that had always been there being tugged in the most painful way. He quickly dropped his head, squeezing his eyes shut to further avoid this, pressing his forehead into your thigh as he continued to sharply spear his fingers into your pussy. This created sloppier, wetter sounds with each passing movement. 

“Please, please, please, please, please-” 

He pleaded so sweetly, yet so abrasively at the same time. Begging in a chant, in a way he never had for anything else in his life. 

And just like everything else in his life - he wasn’t denied of this. 

You strangled out another sound, and then you were seizing up again, squeezing his fingers tightly as you were slammed into another orgasm all too soon. You gulped for air like a mermaid on dry land, tears leaking out of the corners of your eyes due to how overwhelming it all was, feeling as though the entire world was squeezed tight around you in those moments. 

Draco held a sob tight in his chest as the unknown ‘more’ he had been looking for flooded over his palm - more of your wetness, more of your warmth. A wonderful flood of more that soaked across your thighs and made a small puddle on the mattress beneath you. He greedily dove down to lap it up, making your thighs clench around his head as he tongued your ultra sensitive entrance and even began using his fingers to drive more of it out of you and into his waiting mouth. 

After a few moments of this, you tangled shaking fingers into his hair and did your best to force him upward. Though your body was practically jelly now, almost as if you had been jinxed, and completely devoid of any strength. He did soon get the hint, and he laid a gentle kiss on your inner thigh as he slid his fingers out of you, making an oddly loud ‘squelching’ sound in the room. 

He trailed a few more kisses across your pelvis, revisited your breast, and went up your neck with his now very wet mouth before you pulled his mouth against your own. You couldn’t help but to moan quietly in satisfaction at the taste of your pussy on his tongue. 

Draco thought this might be the end of it. His own cock was even more nagging now - rubbing against the warm, inviting plushness of your thigh through his pants. It was even more annoying now that he intimately knew the warmth and wetness of your cunt. That he could so perfectly imagine what it would be like to slide his cock inside of you and feel that perfect, hot wetness surrounding him. 

But part of him, something in the back of his mind was screaming: bad idea. Something persistent and loud was telling him that he didn’t deserve to fuck you. That this should be a worship, only about you - he’d had his selfish moment, it was over now. 

An alarming clarity was rocketing back into his head as he continued to kiss you. 

It was an alarm that blared ever louder when you reached for his belt. 

He snapped away from your lips and looked down, frozen with hesitant shock now as you slipped the belt out of the buckle and reached for the zipper on his pants. When you felt him tense up, and saw the grimace forming across his features, you paused with your fingers grazing lightly over the zipper’s teeth. 

“It’s your turn now, right?” 

You breathed lightly against his cheek, your voice so sweet, so perfect. You were too damn perfect. You snuck your hand down to grope his cock through the fabric of his pants in a way that made him shudder. Oddly enough, that selfish streak didn’t creep back in. 

“Come on, Draco. I want this too. I want your cock inside me so damn badly-” 

This was about you. Your needs. Your wants. 

Draco tried his best to push aside any hesitation, trying to push the world back out again. He wished he could just crawl back between your thighs and live there. But you wanted something different now. Something that meant a lot more. Something that might have bigger consequences than simply spilling a beautiful mess on his jacket that was crumpled beneath your perfect arse. 

He sat up on his knees, shucking away your hands and replacing them with his own, getting the zipper down by himself. Finally, he got his cock out, the hard smoothness now resting against his fingers that were still slick with you. He pumped his cock a few times, almost numb to the pleasure of it - he was supposed to be enjoying this, right? Why the hell couldn’t he? 

Because his damn mind had turned back on. 

You looked up at him with wide eyes, anticipating, your skin glistening with a slight sheen from his earlier efforts, your lips kiss-swollen. And somehow, a terrible flurry of thoughts attacked his mind like the snow storm raging outside the stone walls of the castle. Horrible things all able to get in now that he didn’t have the fatal projection of your thighs around his ears, keeping the world out. 

As you looked up at him, more angelic than ever with your kiss-bitten lips, your silver sparkle dress askew, revealing your smooth skin and your goddess-like body - Draco, with his hard cock in hand, was persistently reminded of one stupid thing. The reason that the two of you had been forced together in the first place. 

The only reason any pureblood marriage is arranged: to carry on the pureblood line. To breed - to make more pureblood babies.

Draco found himself curling in disgust at the idea that this was what he was about to do. He was about to give into their whims, about to curse you even further with the evil of his name by fucking a little Malfoy into your belly. 

Somehow, out of all the evil he had so carelessly committed himself to - this was something he just couldn’t bring himself to do. Not when he would be doing it to you. 

“Draco-” 

You breathed out his name again, concerned by the clear warring on his face. You were about to tell him that it was okay if he didn’t want to continue - and you became deeply confused by what he did next. 

He gripped his cock tightly and began rocking his arm back and forth, quickly picking up an urgent, break-neck pace as he jerked his cock - his face twisting with an expression of near pain as he circled a tight fist over his cock, urgently, again and again. 

“Draco-?” You tried to question him, but he let out a groan in response. 

“Look at me.” He choked out. 

Zapped by the electricity in the air, the sharp demanding in his words, your eyes flew right to his. You found yourself almost possessed by the emotions lingering there - lust, regret, hatred. 

You had a distinct feeling that it wasn’t directed at you. 

“It’s okay.” You breathed out, reaching out to put a gentle hand on his clothed thigh. “It’s okay, Draco.” 

These simple words - this tiny pacification that Draco had never before received - he broke. Your gentleness tore through his body like a dragon tearing into a fresh kill. It wounded him in a way that insults never could. 

He let out a strangled cry, and unexpectedly, his orgasm punched through his gut - tears flooded his eyes as weak spurts of cum flowed out of his cock, making a mess of his fist as he slowed his touch. His release dripped down to ruin his pants, and weakly splashed against the bareness of your inner thighs were the hole in your tights gaped open, smearing onto the nylon in some spots. 

When Draco was sure that he had wrung the last bits of weak pleasure from his cock, he fell on top of you. It was something entirely against his will, as he was now all too weakened by your soothing words, your soft touch, your welcoming eyes that seemed far too forgiving toward him. With his face tucked against your breast, tired and unable to hold it back any longer - he began to sob. 

It was a dam broken from months, possibly years - a mask that he had been putting on long before you had ever known him. 

It was an inherent shock to your system, going from that lustful tingle to feeling nothing but shock and pity for him. But you did the only thing you could do - you cradled the back of his head, holding him close, petting a hand down his heaving back in an attempt to comfort him while he wailed so harshly. You knew that it was what he needed. And it was what he had done for you all too many times since meeting you. 

“Hey, it’s okay.” 

You assured him, not entirely sure that he heard your gentle voice over the sound of his own sobs - your throat too sore from your own previous wrecked moaning to try and speak up any louder. 

“It’s okay. Shh. Just let it out. I’m here with you. It’s okay, Draco.” 

It went on like that for what felt like hours. Your previously sex heated skin became cold in the room once again, distinctly reminding you of every single spot that was ripped open and exposed by your already weather inappropriate outfit. But instead of getting up to attend to this, you simply laid there, soothing him, trying to comfort him as his chest-racking sobs lulled down into calmer cries and then died off into sniffles. 

You thought he might say something - thank you, apologise. 

You were even further surprised when his sounds switched again, and a low chuckle came from his throat. A small sound that quickly hitched into an epic, near maniacal laughter, puffing against your breast as he tried his hardest to heave himself up on weak arms, tearing out of your comforting touch. 

He looked utterly broken - his previously near hair a complete mess, falling across his sweat streaked forehead, his teeth bared, laughing so tiredly with tears streaking down from his now red, puffy eyes. 

“Merlin - I’m so fucking pathetic, aren’t I?” He choked out. 

“You’re not.” You argued, your voice dull and hoarse but still firm in your conviction. 

You wanted him to know that it was okay to cry. That under his circumstances, anybody would have snapped a lot sooner than he had. 

He didn’t reply, but instead moved to get off you entirely. He stumbled on his feet for a moment as he stood up and began straightening out his clothes, finding his wand and muttering some cleaning spells to deal with the mess he had left on his pants. 

You sat up then, your back now quite sore from the poor quality of the abandoned old mattress. And from having Draco stiff on top of you for so long, and you began doing the same to yourself. He watched quietly as you righted your clothes and did a few simple (talented, wandless) cleaning spells of your own, and then finally, he spoke. 

“You should leave.” 

He said quietly, moving to turn away from you completely as he tucked his shirt back into his pants. He was likely going to slip into the confusing maze of furniture that he knew better than you did in order to lose you - to avoid further conversation. 

“No.” 

You baulked out defiantly, making an effort to heave your stiff body up to standing level in order to look him in the eye. 

“You can’t keep doing that!” You shouted at his back, growing frustrated once again. “You can’t keep running away from a conversation every time it gets a little too serious for you!” 

“What do you expect that I do, then?” Draco asked, his voice strained with fatigue and heaviness, his throat worn out from the tears, his eyes still red and exhausted when he whipped around to face you. 

“Stay.” You offered weakly. 

You knew that in one simple word, you were asking too much of him. You were putting such a grand task onto him that he could barely surmount to. 

His chin quivered as he bit his lip, swallowing down the weakness of the confession: 

I can’t. 

He wanted to be good enough for you. 

But he wasn’t. He just wasn’t. 

He wasn’t some perfect harbor you could cling to in a storm. He was a heavy iron anchor sinking you to your drowning death. 

Feeling all of his bitterness swelling in the air, something truly defiant came up inside of you. A deep urge to defy everything he thought he was, everything his parents had painted into him that made him run from you the moment you treated him like a person. 

You would not have a marriage where your husband held you at arm’s length. Even if you had to strangle him, smother him with your good intentions in order to get him close. 

“Draco, please, I lov-” 

“No.” Draco choked out, cutting you off, dreading hearing those words. “Don’t.” 

It wasn’t true. 

You were tied to him by force. 

You were someone bought into his life through gold and cruelty, someone forced to be by his side. 

If you loved him, it was as a prisoner loves their cell. 

He wouldn’t let you waste those words on him. 

You let out a harsh sigh and shook your head, wanting to scream. But you knew that he was far too used to screaming - used to harshness, frustration. He wasn’t prepared for the thing you needed to give him most. You swallowed thickly around the lump in your throat, and whispered your next words as a cursed promise into the chilled air: 

“I love you, Draco.” 

He sucked in a rattling breath, and it only took him a moment to find the strength to fight back. 

“You don’t mean that.” 

He said, shaking his head forcefully at you, once again resisting the urge to turn around and slink off. He wanted to slither away and hide from you like the serpent that he was - cold blooded, alone, a creature of the shadows who previously never needed your warmth. 

“Shut up!” 

You barked back, surprising him with the passion, the fury that lit up your face as you rambled into your next declaration. 

“Draco Lucius Malfoy - you may think that you know everything, but I can assure you, you do not.” 

He wanted to argue, even opened his mouth to do so, but you rolled right over his breath, speaking in such a powerful way that demanded he quiet down and simply listen. 

“Your family may have bought me to marry you like some kind of broodmare, you may be rich and respected, you may be some fancy highborn pureblood - you can tell me what to wear, when to speak, where to go, but you certainly cannot tell me about my own thoughts and intentions. You cannot tell me what I feel.” 

You spoke sharply and firmly, your words tearing right through him, causing goosebumps to light up all over his skin. 

“You cannot tell me what I do and don’t mean. And I mean this: I love you.” 

The radical truth behind your words shook Draco to his core. 

Since he had known you, it had always been the truth. When you cried, it had always been with your own honesty. When you smiled at him, it had never been as some kind of act. When you called him an asshole during your private conversations - it was nothing but your own honest feelings coming to words. 

He could never control or dictate your feelings, and it was one of the things that he liked best about you. 

So why did he so badly want to control this? 

Perhaps because… when you said this, it sealed your fate to his in the worst of ways. 

It meant that even if you had a chance to escape this life… you wouldn’t take it. 

It was so much easier when you didn’t like him at all. 

Love was such a foolish, difficult thing to sever. 

You saw the pain and hesitation written all over his face, and you stepped toward him, putting a gentle hand on his cheek. Oh-so-gently you sealed your lips against his in a sweet kiss that evoked nothing but more tears from him. 

“I love you.” 

You whispered against his mouth, now much more certain in your declaration. 

“I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you,” 

Your throat clenched with your own tears, clearly waiting for him to say it back. 

His fingers shook as he brought a gentle touch to your cheek, wiping away a tear that had fallen. Sullenly, all he could offer you in return was: 

“Are you sure? Are you sure that you can love someone like me?” 

You were entirely certain in your answer. 

“Yes.” 

Draco itched with the urge to run away again - but instead, he leaned back in and kissed you. 

That night, the two of you fell asleep together. You were huddled into each other for warmth, cuddling on the thin old mattress that he had been sleeping on for the past week in order to escape you. It was the easiest that sleep had come to him since the days during the summer where you had crawled into his bed, looking to be just a bit less alone. 

… 

Ironically, Draco woke up alone. 

Sunshine was flooding the room - he wasn’t entirely sure how a room that technically didn’t exist within Hogwarts could have windows, but he didn’t care to think too much about it. Especially because it made him feel slightly less disoriented to have the bright morning sun flooding the room. Though the sunshine warmed up the room slightly, he still felt a bitter coldness in not having you beside him. 

Perhaps you had finally realised what a stupid mistake you had made the night before. Perhaps you had taken your own advice - taken up on your own plan and gotten to a fireplace to abandon Hogwarts altogether. With any luck, you were far away and would never be seen again. Not by him or anybody else associated with the Dark Lord. 

Draco felt a pinch of disappointment when he heard footsteps - calm, certain, someone walking a path among the furniture to be somewhere. Not someone wandering with curiosity because they had just discovered the room. It had to be you. 

He sucked in a harsh breath and let out a groan as his tired body stretched, his muscles protesting the shabby sleeping arrangements as he forced himself to sit up. Surely enough, as he blinked through the sharpness of the morning light, you rounded the corner. 

You were dressed much differently than the night before. Your previously neat hair was now a half-picked apart and messy style, your make-up mostly smeared off or intentionally wiped off in a haste. You were wearing a thick woollen jumper and a pair of comfortable looking loose pants, along with your favourite slippers - a pair of very fuzzy boots that he had laughed at you for wearing before, called them dead Puffskeins attached to your feet. 

You looked tired, but comfortable as you came to sit on the mattress at Draco’s hip. 

Somehow, with the golden light dancing on your skin, you looked more beautiful than ever. Perhaps it was a testament to the nature of your beauty, how sought after you would be if you weren’t already betrothed. Or perhaps it was that petulant withering thing inside of him that was starting to wane in the name of your death sentence of love. 

(Draco didn’t want to think about the fact that you likely were sought after, despite the fact that you were engaged and it was widely known. He just didn’t have his head in the Hogwarts gossip enough these days to notice if anybody was talking about fancying you or trying to ‘steal you away’ from him. He didn’t want to think about the prats he would have hexed to hell and back if he ever heard them daring to want you.) 

You took something out of the pocket of your jumper - a napkin, and unravelled it in your lap. Draco saw that you had come back with a couple of pumpkin tarts, likely from the breakfast table. It was only when you brought it up to your lips to take a sip that he also noticed you had also been carrying a large mug of steaming tea. 

You offered him the mug silently over your shoulder, and he couldn’t deny how appealing it was. Though he wanted to scoff at the softness, the domesticity of sharing something off your lips, he welcomed the heat and the familiarity. He couldn’t reject it in the wintery coldness of the room. 

Of course - English Breakfast Tea with just a bit of sugar. No milk. You had started drinking your tea the way he liked it. Probably because it was the way he always made it for you when you were silent and stony in your pain and he had no other choice but to be just as silent in his caring toward you. He always made tea for you this way because you never told him how you liked yours. Every cup of tea you drank at The Manor had been like this. 

It was an odd, comforting habit that you had picked up from him. 

“I fixed it.” You said quietly, nodding toward The Cabinet as you broke off a piece of one of your tarts and chewed it. 

You offered him a piece and he swapped it for the tea mug. He chewed the small piece of tart slowly while his eyes studied the tall, dark, imposing Cabinet, wondering what you had done to it. His gaze migrated over to something new in the landscape of junk - a bird cage sitting on top of a small wooden table. 

Within it, there was a live, seemingly content, purring white dove. In front of the cage, you had perched up a piece of paper. Even from a few feet away, Draco recognised the curls of the handwriting as belonging to his mother. 

‘Well done.’ 

He wanted to ask in detail about what you had done to The Cabinet in order to fix it. But he knew that would be beating a dead horse. It was another problem off his plate, and he should be relieved. 

He wouldn’t burden you with any of his other problems. 

“I miss coffee.” You remarked, looking down into the mug with a sodden kind of resentment. “British people are all about tea, tea, tea… you can’t get good coffee anywhere here.” 

Distantly, Draco was reminded that you had been cursed with more than a marriage to him when your godmother dropped you off with the Malfoys and left you without warning. Your entire life, everything you had known, everything you had grown up with - it had all been ripped away from you. He wasn’t sure what he would do if he had to be pulled away from his parents, plopped into the middle of Muggle America and forced to live there. 

He knew it wasn’t just coffee - you likely missed so much more. 

“Should we release it?” You asked, taking another sip of the tea. 

You held out another piece of the tart to him, and reluctantly, perhaps not even knowing how hungry he was, how much the anxiety and worry had blocked him from feeling it - he took it. 

“What?” He muttered out, unsure what you meant. 

“The dove.” You clarified. 

Yes. Of course. You still had pity for the small creatures. It had been meant as nothing more than a test subject for his family’s greater plans, nothing but a pawn to them. But you still saw it as a precious life. 

“No, it-” 

‘It’ll die out there in the cold.’ 

Draco cut himself off, knowing that such harsh words would have hurt you. Any time before this, he would not have cared about how his words hurt you - he would have simply told you the truth. But for some reason, now - it felt wrong to be so bluntly cruel. 

“Too cold.” He muttered, accepting the tea from you again. 

You stared him down during this passing of the mug, and he was fully able to see that pain glinting in your eyes. Clearly, you knew that ‘disposing’ of the bird might be the only humane thing to do. Draco scrambled for something more. Something to make you happy. Damn it. 

“Bring it to the giant.” He remarked, swallowing down a mouthful of the hot tea. “He’ll care for it now, and he can release it in the spring.” 

The smile that graced your lips was small, and fleeting - but it made him feel as though he had accomplished something worthwhile for the first time in a long time. 

“Do you think he will? It won’t be too much trouble?” You replied, hopeful. 

“He has to. It’s his job.” Draco bit back firmly, his voice swelling full of his usual entitlement. 

Before - when you had been helping him clean up after he had gotten The Mark, you had discovered one of the fading scars he still had from the feathered beast’s claws slashing across his arm. When you had asked him about it, you had clearly been expecting some story of his father’s abuse, or a tale of something else attributing to Draco’s twisted internal torment. 

But Draco’s father was always smart enough never to leave marks. 

When he told you what had happened - how he had rushed upon such a gentle creature, reeking of entitlement and landed on his stupid idiot brat arse - it was the first time in years that he had truly reflected on what had happened. It was the first time he had come to realize that he had gotten the beast killed. Even back then, he was unsure why his father had caused such a fuss over the accident. Someone who called Draco useless and disposable behind closed doors and publicly claimed that a single mark on his arm was a world-ending tragedy. 

At the time, it was just another thing about reputation that Draco had yet to understand. 

“And - he likes those things. He likes his little creatures.” He added on quietly. 

(And, his big awful ones - Draco resisted the urge to amend.) 

Draco couldn’t take your bird there himself. Hagrid owed him no favors, that much he knew. But the man - or, half-man - certainly wouldn’t turn you down. Nobody would say no to your sweet voice and kind eyes when you asked them for something. 

You nodded, content with this answer. You took another sip of the tea before you put the cup down on the floor beside the mattress, and shoved a large piece of the tart into your mouth before you put that aside too. 

“For now, I have to bury this one.” 

You said, your words slightly muffled as you chewed, getting up to grab a small wooden box. In a moment, Draco realised that it must have been the dead canary that you had fussed over the night before. 

Now, you were telling him that you intended to bury it, rather than asking him. 

“I’ll do it.” He said, standing up to come beside you, holding out his hand so that you might offer him the box. 

You looked him up and down with suspicion, like he was trying to trick you. Although, as much as your relationship had been filled with bickering and discontent, he had never been dishonest with you. This just seemed strangely out of character for him. Before you could fully question it, he provided an explanation. 

“You’ve been awake all night fixing my problems,” He said, motioning toward The Cabinet. “So let me help you with yours.” 

He could see that you had barely slept. It was written all over you. 

“Let me do this for you.” He insisted, holding his hand out once again. “And you go to the dorms and get some proper rest.” 

You nodded, finally surrendering the box. 

“Come find me when you’re done, alright?” You said, not entirely posing it as a question. “Don’t disappear on me again.” 

Draco nodded, and you sealed this deal with a kiss. 

…

He intended to walk you back to the Slytherin commons before he went outside, perhaps he would even get himself a thicker jacket from his dorm. Your path took the two of you past the Great Hall. 

Draco felt a pang on one of his last nerves when a very familiar voice called out your name. 

“Y/N! Hey, wait up!” 

Potter. Of course. 

You turned to meet Harry as he ran down the corridor toward you, and Draco slinked back to lean against one of the nearby walls - waiting for you. He hated that he felt the need to stick by you, to watch over you. But something nagging in him wouldn’t be satisfied until he knew that you were tucked into bed, resting. 

Potter jogged to meet you, wearing full Quidditch gear, carrying his broom - clearly set for an early morning practice. This caused an odd pang of mourning within Draco, yearning for a time when he used to be competitive, for when he used to actually care about the outcomes of school Quidditch games. Back when his life was so simple. 

“Morning, Harry.” You greeted him quietly, dully, obviously still tired. 

“Hey, good morning.” Harry said, nodding at you with a smile - a look way too fond for Draco’s liking. “You left the party so suddenly last night, and Slughorn was asking after you. Nobody knew where you went, and I was just wondering - are you alright? Did something happen?” 

Harry eyed Draco sharply, a sideways glance, just for a moment. Clearly, he was suspicious of Malfoy and his presence around you. Clearly believing that he was the problem in your life. 

Draco resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Of course. Saint Potter. Checking up on you. 

Part of Draco itched with jealousy, knowing just how utterly desirable you were, and another part of him said that it was a good thing. That you should have somewhere safe to fall when you inevitably realised a life with him was a short, unlivable one. When you wanted out, when you wanted to run. 

Hopefully, sometime soon. 

“I’m fine.” You easily lied, forcing a smile. “It’s just - um,” You struggled to think of a convenient lie for a moment, knowing that you couldn’t tell Harry the truth. “My pet canary died very suddenly. And Draco came to get me to tell me about it. And I’m sorry, I must look terrible - I’ve been up all night crying about it,” 

Draco wanted to commend you for the brilliance of your lie. Something sensitive enough that Potter wouldn’t question it - something that easily explained the small box in Draco’s hands and explained away your tired appearance. And it more than explained why you had left the party so suddenly and not cared to return. 

“Oh.” Harry said, clearly unsure how to respond. His eyes flickered from you to Draco, taking in both of your messy appearances, clearly wanting to question it as something more, but having absolutely no grounds to do so. “I’m so sorry to hear that.” 

“Thank you.” You replied quietly. “Draco actually offered to bury him for me. So, he was just going to do that.” 

“Let’s get you to bed, first, love.” Draco said, pointedly steering you away from the conversation - banishing Potter off with this final thought. 

He put a hand on your shoulder and steered you down the hall, away from Harry, and you began slowly walking away, believing that he was right behind you. But Harry stayed firm in his footing, and soon, Draco became captured in his fierce gaze, challenged in an all too familiar way that he was far too tired to truly engage with. In a kind of well practiced routine, he lingered back for a few moments. 

“Malfoy,” Potter said sharply. “If you do anything to hurt her, I will end you.” 

It was his usual hero routine. Intimidate, swell with confidence, over-inflate to seem bigger than the bad guy. It would have worked, if Draco hadn’t already been so terribly small. 

“Promise?” Draco croaked out quietly, tears dancing in his eyes. 

He could think of no better end than one of vengeance in the wake of your pain. He could only hope that if he did ever hurt you, he would be met with a clean, swift end. One where you would then get to run into the arms of a man much better than him. 

Potter gaped with confusion, and Draco turned, walking in quick steps to catch up with you. 

…

You and Draco stayed at Hogwarts that Christmas. 

On Christmas morning, you did not expect to receive anything. Pansy gifted you a set of new quills in pink with a set of pink glittering inks and a fluttering giggle about being able to write ‘proper’ love letters to Draco. Blaise gifted you a history of all the Pureblood families in Europe - for ‘proper’ education. One that you had never been ‘privileged’ to have before. 

There was another package, delivered by a gorgeous white snowy owl - a book. A basic guide to Quidditch with a handwritten note that said it was from Harry, remarking that you should come to his next game and ‘check it out’, in order to see if you truly liked the sport or not. 

At the party, you had told him that you probably didn’t like Qudditch because you didn’t understand it very well, hoping to get out of a long conversation that he and Cormac were rambling on - which only led to him trying to explain the rules to you in a toddler-like fashion. You couldn’t tell him the truth, that when you had been at Salem, the Quidditch games between the two sibling schools usually led to a lot of loud parties and drunken hook-ups that made you mourn for the simplicity of your old life now. 

Draco resisted the urge to throw the book into the fire. 

(You gladly would have let him.) 

There was a final package. One wrapped in gorgeous emerald paper - with your name on it, written in Draco’s handwriting. Oddly, not signed from him. When you opened it, you found a bag of very expensive looking coffee beans, a grinder, and a French press. Draco would forever deny that his joy was directly tied to the look of awe on your face as you discovered the gifts, and the tiny moan of pleasure you made when you sipped your first cup of freshly made coffee. 

He didn’t love you back. 

He couldn’t. 

No.

...

A/N: This is meant to be a standalone oneshot, but if you liked this, then feel free to go read the chronological sequel My Bleeding Heart. I do have more ideas to add more to this by writing more oneshots in this universe between these two characters, but this is all for now. If you are going to comment, please comment about the content that has already been written instead of asking for more. Happy reading, and Merry Christmas!

[hollowdeath]

masterlist

writing

harry headcanons - pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3 (18+) | pt. 4

obsession - harry oneshot (18+)

film stars - harry request (18+)

soft dom - harry request (18+)

professor potter - harry oneshot (18+)

cottage by the sea - harry request (18+)

the malfoy sister - harry request (18+)

dark side - dark!harry request (18+)

tied down - harry oneshot

injured - harry oneshot

snowed-in - harry request (18+)

amortentia - harry request (18+)

quidditch rivals - harry request (18+)

[ requests are open! ]

moodboards

simple pleasures of hogwarts

life of a hogwarts student

spending christmas with harry

harry james potter [2] [3]

ravenclaw fashion

hufflepuff fashion

gryffindor fashion

slytherin fashion