#pining Draco

[sitp-recs]

Drarry fics where Draco is absolutely whipped for Harry? Especially love when everyone seems to know it except for Harry. Thanks! :)

Hi there! It’s hard to see Draco let Harry do whatever he pleases even when he’s pining ahaha but I do have a few suggestions. Would highly recommend eidheann and lettered as authors who usually write fics with a hopelessly in love Draco:

The Courting by the Pureblood Who Only Has Five Milligrams of Romantic Intelligence and Thinks He’s Real Smooth by hiimcibee (T, 19k)

Draco could grab Potter and shove him into a stall before proceeding to suck his soul out of his dick, but secretly, deep down, in the part of Draco that he will never admit to anyone, he is (everyone pauses to shudder) a romantic. Potter is not someone Draco wants a one-off with. Potter is — Draco’s beloved!

And Back Again (Where You Belong) by eidheann (E, 16k)

He thought back on their previous handshakes, and smiled faintly at the fact they always seemed to mean so much more to him than they did to Potter.

Whoo Knew? by oceaxe (E, 18k)

Despite having had a crush on his Auror partner for years, Draco's been biding his time and waiting for the perfect opportunity to make his case. But when Harry subscribes to a new wizarding personals service, Draco gets a wake-up call.

Five Weddings and a Potions Accident by lauren3210 (E, 19k)

In which Harry thinks he’s a playboy, everyone else knows better, and Hermione will kill Seamus if Ron tries to collect on that bet.

Nothing But You On My Mind by Moonflower_Rose (M, 21k)

Potter has been in Australia on an internship for almost a year, and Draco cannot wait for him to get back home. They'll finally have a chance to talk about their feelings for each other. What could possibly go wrong? Loads, as it turns out.

The Green Vial by eidheann (E, 31k)

After months of seeing Harry Potter walk into his Apothecary disappointed and hopeless, Draco offers to carry the baby that Harry can't. Now he's just got to hide the fact that he's been half in love with Harry for years.

dirtynumbangelboy by magpie_fngrl (E, 39k)

After Harry’s unfortunate encounter with his ex, Draco Malfoy makes him a proposition. Draco wants his parents to stop matchmaking him and Harry wants to make his ex jealous. All they need to do is simply pretend they’re in love. Problem is… Draco already is.

Another Heart Whispers Back by slytherco (E, 53k)

At twenty-five, Harry Potter is still a virgin and sorely lacking in options to change that state anytime soon. To help him find a plus one for Ron and Hermione’s wedding, and maybe kill two birds with one stone, Harry’s friends set him up on a series of blind dates. The only problem is, there’s something not quite right with each of their candidates.

Harry Potter Gives a Shit by talithan (E, 58k)

“Where are you headed?” “No place special,” Draco fumbled, and flushed further. But then: “I can change that,” said Harry Potter.

Finely Drawn Lines by The_Sinking_Ship (E, 61k)

Draco doesn’t consider himself an artist (though the dozens of sketchbooks lining his shelves might suggest differently). Yet ever since Potter returned to Hogwarts, accepting a teaching position alongside Draco, his drawings have taken on a rather singular focus.

Soup-pocalypse and The Great Curry Cataclysm by SquadOfCats (E, 104k)

Eleven years after the war, Draco Malfoy leads a quiet, boring, and perfectly respectable life, thanks very much. Or, at least he does, until a sudden and very unexpected veela awakening causes him to throw soup all over Harry Potter in the middle of the Ministry cafeteria.

By the Grace by lettered (T, 140k)

Harry is an Auror instructor. Malfoy wants to be an Auror.

[elliebyrrdwrites]

Dramione Drabble 4.

Theo took a deep drag of his cigarette as he peered up at his friend who was pacing the length of Theo’s study with nervous energy. Exhaling, he allowed his eyes to drift up, following the curl of smoke that rose slowly into the air above his head.

“I thought Granger was okay.” Theo said as he flicked the ash from his cigarette and into the ashtray made of marble. It sat on the chestnut wooden table beside his favorite chair.

Draco laughed but it was tortured and loud. It bit, like the bark of a dog about to attack it’s owner. “She’s fine. I mean, I think she is?” His feet stopped moving long enough for him to run his hands tiredly over his face, rubbing at his eyes with the heel of his palms before he resumed his journey back and forth along the black rug that was laid out in the middle of the room.

“What do you mean? Didn’t you just leave the hospital?” Theo lifted the cigarette to his lips for another drag.

“Yes.” He growled before throwing himself, finally, into the chair next to Theo’s.

Theo blew out smoke as he tilted his head, observing Draco. “You’ve been incredibly grim since you called me to the hospital.”

“She died, Theo.”

“You saved her.” He pointed at him, cigarette still between his fingers and threatening to drop ash all over the floor. He leaned over the arm of the chair and flicked the ash into the marble dish.

Draco frowned and rolled tension out of his neck, moving it side to side.

“I’ve been meaning to ask, actually...” Theo started, eyeing the tell-tale signs of a Draco who was holding onto something important. Something dark and secretive. “How did you save her, by the way.”

With a frown still pressed firmly into his mouth, tension bracketing it, Draco shook his head. “I already told you.”

“Yes, but...” Theo shoved the cigarette into the dish, putting it out. “There’s something off about you.” Theo took a breath when Draco looked up at him with a scowl. “More than usual,” He amended. “You’re frightfully unhinged.”

“I’m not unhinged, Theo.” Draco slapped a hand down, lowering it from his face, to land onto the arm of his chair. “I’m freaking out.”

“Because Granger died.”

“Yes.”

“And you saved her.” Draco was quiet. “And because you love her.”

“I don’t love her, Theo. She’s my coworker.”

“Who you obsess over.”

“I don’t.”

“But, you do. You talk about her all the time and when you aren’t with me and Pansy, you’re with her. Which is increasingly more and more. And now, after spending the last three days attached to her hand as she lay limply in a hospital bed, she’s finally woken up and you’re...” Theo swept a hand out, gesturing to the room around them. “Here.”

“Potter and Weasley showed up.”

“Ah,” Theo clasped his hands and steepled them before pressing them to his mouth. “The fiancé.”

“The fucking git.” Draco growled and threw his head back against the chair. So hard that Theo was certain that it hurt.

“Tell me what really happened on Monday, Draco.” Theo lifted a brow when his friend looked at him, a mild look of surprise on his face. “Come on, mate. You know I know you. You weren’t entirely honest in your report to the staff, were you?”

Draco’s lips pressed into a tight, thin line, before he inhaled deeply through his nose. “He killed her.” He said, quietly. “That bastard used the killing curse on her, hit her square in the back.” He slashed his hand out, as if he could cut the wizard down once more. “So,” He sat up and straightened the collar of his shirt. Which was terribly wrinkled from having slept in a hospital chair for three nights. “I killed him.”

“I figured. How did you do it?”

“I used the same curse.” He sniffed. “After bashing his head against granite.”

“Atta boy.” Theo shrugged. “So, what? The wizard had it coming.”

“That’s not what I’m upset about, Theo. I know he deserved it. I could do it a million more times and not feel a shred of remorse.”

“Then what’s the problem?” Theo stood from his chair and stretched his arms high above his head. Enjoying the bit of light headedness that came from the combination fo the cigarette and getting up too fast.

“I may have,” Draco pursed his lips, fumbling for the right words. “Turned her into a horcrux?”

Theo’s arms froze above his head as the words sunk in. Slowly lowering his arms, he looked down at his friends guilty face and knew he wasn’t lying. He wasn’t pulling some absurd kind of joke. He wasn’t trying to get a rise out of him.

“What.” Theo took a deep breath. “Do you mean, you turned her into a horcrux?” Theo rounded on his friend, hissing the last words of his question into his face. “What the fuck did you do?”

“I could feel her soul there, her magic was slowly slipping away, Theo! I used the kill of the assailant and I took a piece of my soul — a sliver, really. I can’t even tell it’s gone — and I attached it onto hers.”

“How do you even know how to do that shit, Draco?” Theo pressed a hand over his eyes.

“I looked into it after the war.” He frowned and shook his head. “But it’s not like I’m trying to make several. I’m not trying to become immortal, Theo. I needed to save her! I needed her back!” He shot to his feet and grabbed the front of Theo’s shirt. “She was slipping away and I needed her to stay. It felt like I had died, too, right then and there. So, I figured, what the fuck, right? If this is what its like to die, then why not part with a little bit of my soul?”

“Because it’s the darkest kind of fucking magic there is, Draco!” Theo grabbed onto his shoulders and shook him. “Does she know?”

“No.” He shook his head and licked at his dry, cracked lips. “But she will. She’ll figure it out. She’s fucking brilliant, I know she will figure it out.” Draco’s face crumpled. “She’s going to fucking hate me, Theo.”

Ah, the real reason for Draco’s woeful despair.

He shook his head and patted his shoulders. “It’s alright, Draco. We’ll figure this out.”

“How? What’s there to figure out? She’s got a piece of me in her. She’s alive and I fucked up but, did I?” He asked, frantic and breathless. “Did I really fuck up? Because she’s alive and she’s still her.” He paused and shook his head. “I mean, for the most part, she’s still her.”

“What do you mean, for the most part?”

“Well, her eyes changed. They’re a bit like mine, actually.”

“Mate,” Theo sighed and lowered his head. “What the actual fuck?”

“It’s nothing. They don’t know.” They, Theo assumed, meant everyone. “As far as they know, it’s a mysterious curse. And really, she’s vital and just as beautiful as before.”

“Beautiful as...Draco,” Theo smacked his cheek, hard enough to shut him up but not hard enough to anger him. “Focus.”

“On?”

“We need to figure out what this is going to do to you. And her.”

“As long as I’m alive, she’s fine. Right? Or is it the other way around?”

“Fuckme.” Theo muttered and pushed away from his friend. “Just, don’t do anything rash until we figure it out. Okay?” He looked over his shoulder and eyed his friend.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Draco murmured with a shake of his head. But Theo saw it in his face. Draco was calculating. He was hungry for Granger, starved. He had been pining after her for the last two years and it was starting to eat at him.

Now, that bit of his soul that was being eaten away by his love for her was now, possibly, inside of her.

What that meant, Theo didn’t know. But surely, it wasn’t going to be decent.

[padfootmarauder]

Vibing to this song by Sombr, practicing smutty scenes for my main WIP and here we are, a sexy little one shot with a poor, sad, pining draco.

[jomiddlemarch]

(I measure time by how a body sways)

I. “Thank you for agreeing to see me. You’re the only person I can ask,” Draco said. He’d cast a wandless Silencio that he’d modified to prevent any type of recording, which was, as they said,  sending roses to Beaubatons, but he’d been more influenced in his youth by Severus Snape than his own father, and the habit for secrecy and self-reliance died hard. The wards on Bill Weasley’s office were the most robust at the Ministry outside of the Department of Mysteries and on the rare occasions a goblin sought an interview, they merited a brief grimace that indicated respect and recognition of what Bill had learned from studying the first level wards at Gringott’s.

The massive door was shut tight and its three locks (melchior, silver, and shakudo) were properly secured. Bill sat behind his slab of a desk, his eyes on Draco and the only means of egress. Short of casting Fidelius, there was no greater privacy to be had in Wizarding Great Britain. 

(Draco had discarded the plan to portkey to Durmstrang and use their Rechevi zatvor chamber. Bill could be late for dinner, but Fleur wouldn’t allow him to miss it entirely just to chat with a colleague.)

“I’m the only person, eh?” Bill said, his expression skeptical. He would have raised an eyebrow, if that were an option, but the scarring on his face had affected the musculature as well. He made do with tone or voice and rubbing a hand along his bearded jaw. Something about the touch of werewolf had darkened his hair to bronzed chestnut, but every once in a while, Draco remembered how richly auburn he’d once been, when he’d looked like a Viking warrior, nearly a match for his half-Veela bride.

“Flitwick doesn’t have the expertise in the Dark Arts, plus he’s overdue to retire and is on the verge of turning into a second Binns,” Draco said. “I need help, not a tranquilizer.”

Bill shrugged in apparent agreement.

“Krum’s sister Vela is in the middle of something with their Unspeakables and is on leave from Durmstrang. Master Zesiro at Uagadou refuses to respond to me and before you ask, I sent Owls, tokens and an emissary. No dice,” Draco said. Bill knew why Zesiro was unwilling to engage, Draco didn’t need to go through the whole rigamarole again and have Bill point out Draco’s myriad unforced errors.

“And so you came to me,” Bill said.

“I knew you’d at least agree to meet with me. And unlike the others, you have a vested interest in my…situation. It could be considered a conflict but I think it’s actually something in favor of you as an advisor,” Draco said.

“Plus, no one else is capable, willing, or available,” Bill replied. “I feel honored, truly, Draco—”

“It’s not like that,” Draco said. Bill was probably the Weasley Draco got along best with, Ron and Ginny still unable to completely move past their schooldays, Percy still too much of a prig, Charlie an unknown, having retreated to his dragon preserve, only emerging for Weasley events of great import, ones which Draco would not be invited to. Draco felt George Weasley had lost his mind along with his twin and kept his distance, knowing Fleur agreed and would back him up if she absolutely had to. He and Bill had worked together on a number of cases and there had been three definitive occasions when Draco had saved Bill’s life, plus Fleur liked Draco’s taste in wine and willingness to linger over a cassoulet. Given all that, Draco struggled with Bill’s wry teasing, though the older man had made it clear that it was much milder than any mockery the Weasleys exchanged among themselves. 

“It’s all right. Tell me, what’s happened that has the unflappable Draco Malfoy, well, flapped? Is that even a word?” Bill said, the kindness edging amusement in his blue eyes.

“It’s not. Even if it were, I’m not flapped. I’m…I don’t know what I am. I feel like I’ve lost my bearings, like my magic has slipped from my control, it might be wild or absent or—”

“What happened, Draco?” Bill repeated, serious now, all joking cast aside.

“This,” Draco said, rolling up his sleeve and extending his left forearm. “This bloody well fucking happened.”

“Fuck,” Bill breathed, reaching out to take hold of Draco’s wrist but pausing to catch his eye first in a wordless request for permission. Draco nodded sharply, though he couldn’t help flinching when Bill grasped him firmly and leaned closer. He’d worn iron manacles in Azkaban, though they’d been unnecessary, there to make the prison guards remember he was a prisoner. To slake some of their rage that might otherwise have been channeled into assault. Bill’s touch was much lighter than the metal cuffs, but for a moment, it was unbearable. He took a deep breath and Bill, with a wolf’s acuity, heard him, gripping him less tightly.

“When did you notice it changed?” Bill asked with the curiosity of the scientist examining a new specimen.

“How the fuck did it change, Bill? No one else’s Dark Mark has ever altered, not since Voldemort was destroyed!” Draco exclaimed. 

Shortly after Harry had cast the final curse that killed Voldemort, the Dark Mark on all surviving Death-eaters had blurred, as if a noxious fog had consumed the brand. By the next dawn, the tattoos were sharply delineated again but they’d changed from the original serpent and skull. Each person carried an image of what they regretted most; those who remained loyal to Voldemort wore an exquisite rendition of Harry Potter wielding the Elder Wand. Severus Snape’s body showed with a cameo’s perfection Lily Potter’s face in profile, which made Draco wonder how long the man’s spirit had lingered and whether his ghost must haunt the Shrieking Shack. Lucius had the door of the family vault left open, the stacks of Galleons sharply diminished, the Malfoy crest half-destroyed.

Draco had borne the cabinet of mysteries he’d brought into Hogwarts emblazoned against the pale skin of his inner arm, the grain of the wood, the elegance of the scrollwork, the dangling key with its gold tassel all included in precise detail.

Had being the optimal word. Because the cabinet was gone and, in its place, the word Mudblood was carved with in the spiky hand his aunt had used to sign any document, the letters in dusky atramentum. The flesh around them was stained with the angry red streaks of blood poisoning. 

It was the mark Hermione Granger still carried fifteen years later after Bellatrix Lestrange had tortured her with a cursed blade and repeated Crucios, impervious to any enchantment, potion or balm. Something about the combination of assaults, the raving madness of the caster, her last bit of sanity held like a shard of glass, had rendered the scar beyond the purview of any magical healing, though Potter in particular had been loath to accept it and had spent a decent chunk of his vault’s holdings on attempts.

Now it was on Draco Malfoy’s arm. 

Now it was his greatest regret. 

Now he had no idea what to do about that.

“You don’t need to bite my head off. I’ll remind you, you came to me for help. Advice. So, again, when did you first notice it had changed?” Bill asked.

“About a week ago, I went to bed early. I’d felt ill the whole day, thought I’d sleep it off with a little Dreamless, whatever it was. I woke in the night with chills and then again, soaked to the skin, but in the morning, I felt all right, if not terribly rested. When I was washing up, that’s when I noticed it,” Draco said. That first moment, the shock had been like that of a curse caught full in the chest, his breath pulled from his lungs, an unearthly cold at the base of his spine. He’d dropped the loose shirt he’d worn to bed without thinking about it, muttering Lumos Lumos Lumos until the bathroom was as bright as an operating theater. He’d never before experienced his body as separate, but his arm had not felt like it belonged to him and he’d touched the tattoo gingerly with a forefinger before he tried to claw it off.

“Has it changed since that first morning?” Bill said.

“No, it hasn’t. It doesn’t feel any different now than it did before either,” Draco said.

“So what you’re most distressed about is that it changed,” Bill said.

“Yes, Bill, that’s what I’m most distressed about,” Draco said, trying to keep himself restrained. He sounded unhinged, even to himself. Or was that only to himself?

“Because I thought maybe you were most upset about it changing to Hermione’s scar from Bellatrix torturing her,” Bill remarked coolly. Hermione’s romantic relationship with Ron Weasley had barely lasted a fortnight, but the Weasley clan still considered her one of theirs and Bill, in particular, having learned what was expected of her by Dumbledore and the rest of the Order of the Phoenix, dating back to her first year at Hogwarts and lasting through the horcrux hunt and the final battle, was inclined to be protective of her in lieu of all the other adults who’d failed her or dismissed the risks to her with the praise that was supposed to sustain her through terror and torture. His reaction was what Draco had meant when he’d mentioned a vested interest, though as per usual, Draco had avoided thinking about what term Bill would have chosen. It would not have been the legal phrase, no matter how icy Bill’s tone turned.

“I can’t—if she knew, I’d never,” he faltered. It had been like this since he’d realized what the brand was, his thoughts fractured, resisting all attempts at coherence. His magic fought him as well, an experience he’d found referenced in only one, quite Dark volume shoved to the back of the Malfoy library, a book they’d kept because it had come with Narcissa’s The Most Noble House of Black dowry. He’d tried Occluding, to no avail, and a half-dozen potions, even that most British panacea, a proper cup of tea, and he still found himself lost when he tried to imagine Hermione’s reaction or why he now carried her curse on his body.

“It’s possible it has nothing to do with her,” Bill said, holding up a hand before Draco could interrupt. “I only mean, that she wouldn’t be aware of it, that the change is something for you to deal with, without telling her. Asking her for her take on it, making it one more iteration of Bellatrix’s torture.”

“I don’t want her hurt. Ever,” Draco said. That’s pretty much the endpoint he’d reached after all his ruminations, the only inviolable truth he’d been able to find, mucking about in his own head.

“I don’t want her hurt ever again. I don’t want to hurt her.”

“Good, because this was going to be a very short conversation otherwise,” Bill said. “For the record, I didn’t think you were so self-absorbed you wouldn’t consider what it could do to her. I know you better than that.”

“You hold me in greater esteem than I do myself,” Draco said.

“Yeah. I know,” Bill said. “What have you tried already? Read already?”

“Flamel, Bao Gu, Senior Zadith, Katherine Dee, Isola Vyvyvan,” Draco said, ticking them off on his fingers. “The obvious choices and I’ve looked through what seemed relevant at the Ministry and the Malfoy library.”

“Hogwarts?”

“Unless Madam Ossett has tampered with the inventory for the Restricted Section, there’s nothing there worth looking at,” Draco said. “Possibly Durmstrang has something, but I’d rather not have anyone there…conjecturing. I’ve taken the potions you’d recommend and tried the Etiologica clarissa.”

“Not clarissima?” Bill said.

“Too Light to risk it,” Draco said. “If I off myself, we’re none the wiser.”

“And you’re dead,” Bill said.

“That too,” Draco said. “Strangely enough, not my chief concern.”

“Not strangely enough. Fleur and I feel you’ve held your life too cheaply since—”

“Since I survived Voldemort and the Final Battle and Azkaban? I should live each day as the gift it is?” Draco said.

“You’re always ready to throw it away, in some sort of penance. It wouldn’t help anyone. Certainly not Hermione,” Bill said.

“Who said it would be for her?”

“Your arm, for one,” Bill replied. “The look in your eyes when someone mentions her. How you say her name if you’re in company, Madam Hermione Nimue Granger. You never leave out either honorific. It’s not like it takes Divination or an eye for poker tells.”

“I suppose I’m giving new meaning to wearing my heart on my sleeve,” Draco said.

“That’s the spirit,” Bill said. “I don’t mean to pry and I’ll remind you that you came to me, but, has something changed between you and Hermione?”

“It must have,” Draco said. If he hadn’t already been sitting, he would have collapsed into a chair. As it was, his shoulder slumped and he sensed that if she’d seen him, his mother would have scolded him for his slovenly posture unbecoming of a Pureblood Wizard. He would have wanted to chuck something at her. “I don’t know how to put it. I guess, I realized, I’ve fallen in love with her.”

“Got it in one. You did know how to put it,” Bill said. He leaned back in his chair, satisfied, as if Draco were his struggling, dunderhead student who had finally gotten a correct answer to the simplest equation. Basically as if he’d been who he’d thought Neville was, until he discovered Longbottom’s steady intelligence and propensity to tend to others instead of seeking glory.

“If you already knew, why didn’t you say?” 

Bill had been generous enough not to crow over Draco’s…announcement? 

Realization?

Sentence? 

Doom?

Because however he felt about her, he couldn’t expect Hermione to return his feelings, not when he considered how he’d treated her when they were in school, when he had allowed himself to become her mortal enemy. When she’d been brought to his home and he’d watched her being tortured and he hadn’t said a word. In the years that followed, he’d sent to formal apologia that was expected of him and made the recompense the Ministry had required, the months at Azkaban, his magic withheld, and he’d focused on making something of himself that was worthwhile, breaking curses, retrieving and restoring magical items that had been stolen, taking whatever cases the Ministry asked. If that meant he was brought into contact, sometimes close contact, with her, he made no complaints. No excuses. After the first time they’d met again, her stubborn chin raised when he greeted her with her title, they’d got on well enough; that had been the moment he’d realized her face was heart-shaped and that her eyes were the brown of an autumn leaf in a brook, a very fine, very dry sherry. 

They’d worked cases together and he’d liked her. Went to annual, dull Ministry galas and he’d liked her, admired how she nursed one glass of wine all night, didn’t leave early. They’d ended up at the pub together, with more of her friends than anyone who’d call themselves his and he’d liked her, her sharp wit and her affectionate humor, the way she flushed after the second glass of ale. There had been conferences they both attended, her comments measured, provocative, rarely cruel and he’d liked her, how closely she’d listened to the witch from Uagadou, how she’d made the formal obeisance before launching into an idea for a collaboration, the offer to meet over dinner, the casual way she’d included him.

He liked her smile, her laughter, her solemn expression when Snape was mentioned. He liked her chestnut hair and the silver streak that ran through it, her determined gait, her pretty ankles visible through the swish of her formal robes. He liked the scent of her perfume, something Muggle with bergamot, and the line of her neck when she tilted her head to one side in contemplation. He liked the way she’d looked up at the ceiling of the Great Hall when they’d come back to Hogwarts and turned to him, wonder mixed with grief in her eyes, the gleam of tears that would have made an exquisite potion if she’d let them fall. He liked how she spoke to the students and the faculty, how she was candid, how she kept her secrets. How she lied. 

She’d walked with him through the hallway where he’d brought the cabinet. Where he’d been desperate, convinced it wouldn’t work. Wouldn’t be enough if it did. Where he’d told himself he had to and that they wouldn’t kill children. She’d taken his hand in her own and said They let you down, let you go hang, I should’ve done something and he knew if he’d come to her she would not have turned him away. Sorry, she’d said, a little word for an absolution. 

A little word to rearrange the world, his world, around her.

Irrevocably.

“At the risk of annoying the fuck out of you, I knew you had to get there on your own. Personal journey, coming to it in your own time, all that shite,” Bill said. “Trite, but true.”

“You’re enjoying this,” Draco said.

“Not as much as you’d think. I owe Fleur fifty Galleons,” Bill said.

“You bet on me? Against me?”

“I was on your side, mate. I thought you’d figure it out sooner. Without the Dark Mark changing part of it,” Bill said. “I didn’t anticipate totally unprecedented magic as the catalyst for your epiphany. And if you’ve a mind to make some snide, superior dig at me, feel free to fuck right off and remember you came to me for help.”

Draco, who had been grappling with the urge to make snide, superior and cutting remark, likely regarding Bill’s intelligence, House, and scholarship, found himself choking on a laugh instead.

“How’d you guess?”

“I have five younger brothers and my family is the poorest of the Sacred Twenty-Eight,” Bill said. Five, which meant he still counted Fred. It was a wonder they were all walking and talking with the degree of loss they’d had to cope with, though Bill’s grief was understandable, acceptable, especially since he hadn’t been fully turned when Greyback savaged him and Fleur hadn’t for a second countenanced leaving him.

“What am I going to do, Bill?” Draco asked.

“I think you know but I’m happy to talk it through,” Bill said. 

“You won’t tell her. If I don’t, I’ll have to wear a glamour all the time. I won’t forget to cast it, she wouldn’t find out accidentally. I’ll know though. I’ll think about it every time, this secret, and it’s my body, she’d be the first to say I have autonomy, but it will change things between us. Not for the better,” he said.

“Yeah,” Bill said.

“She’s one of the only people in the world who’d be able to figure out what happened, magically speaking. To my arm. If it had turned into Katie Bell and that bloody necklace, I’d have gone to Hermione, not you. She’d be excited to figure it out. I expect there’d have been a monograph drafted within a fortnight,” Draco said.

“Translated into Bulgarian and Kiswahili,” Bill added.

“If I go to her, she’ll know. What she doesn’t understand right away she’ll ask me about. I won’t lie to her,” he said.

“Never a good idea to lie to her. She can cast wandless, both hands,” Bill said.

“She’ll know I’m in love with her,” Draco said.

“You don’t need to sound so bleak,” Bill said. “If it turns out she doesn’t feel the same, she still cares for you. About you. It’s not the end of the world to be friends, even if you’re also in love with her.”

“You’re happily married to a half-Veela. Excuse me if your reassurance about how great it will be for her to be aware of my unrequited love falls flat,” Draco said.

“I said if, you glib prat,” Bill said. “Let’s just say you don’t have the best perspective on the whole situation.”

“Has she said something to you?”

“If she had, I wouldn’t tell you. That’s why you came to me, for privacy. I have eyes, don’t I? And once a month, I have the acuity of a wolf,” Bill said.

“I have to tell her,” Draco said. “Everything.”

“Yeah,” Bill replied. “Everything’s a good place to start. One suggestion though—”

“What?”

“She doesn’t like Firewhiskey. Bring a good brandy,” Bill said.

[fictionismyescapeblog]

Confessions

Day 30 Prompt: Better & Worse Characters/Pairing: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson Rating: T Word Count: 67 C/W: None

“It could be worse.”

“I don’t think it could, Pans.”

“Lots of people make drunken love confessions, Draco.”

“In front of friends who’d like to kill me–” A department memo swooped into Draco’s office, dropping to his desk. Hermione’s handwriting was unmistakable and his hands shook as he opened it. Pansy, knowing exactly what the letter said, smirked as colour rushed to her friend’s face.

“Better?”

“Better.”

@microficmay

[weeklydrarryficrecs]

Draco Malfoy and the House of Black by starbrigid

Summary:

After going back in time, Draco has tried to follow the path he remembers. But third year brings a new Ravenclaw cousin, a new Boggart, and a newly admiring Harry Potter, along with castle grounds full of Dementors and what they make him remember. With secrets of his mother's family coming to light, and a godfather he understands far less than he ever thought, Draco will discover that the time in which he can remain passive in the new timeline has finally come to a close. Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Word Count: 123,794 Link to Fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25111171/chapters/60836278

My Thoughts: Within the series, this fic really has Draco coming into his own and has some of my favorite character Draco character growth. Severus also is a shining star in the story (despite or perhaps because of his weaknesses). Even though I do love the building Drarry element, all the characters, even Ron!, has me coming back.

[garforprongs]

[dapperbeetledraws]

Friends -> Lovers Drarry, sketches of different scenarios that were in my head~

-----

I was gone for a bit due to some tough months, but now I'm back! posting still probably won't be super frequent but I am still obsessed with them so here we are lol. I know this isn't that original, but I really want to make my own take on the books featuring Draco as primarily a friend, starting end of book 1/throughout book 2. I feel like in books 3-4 he'd be friends with the trio, then would get really close to Harry book 4, both of them developing a big time crush. Then post Voldy return it would get angsty again, until books 6/7 where they'd get together (it would be dramatic). But because I'm impatient, so far I am just able to sketch the different fluffy scenarios, like them stargazing and pointing out the Draco constellation, Potion adventures with Amortentia and Felix, general tomfoolery with the 4, and also Draco bringing out Harry's bitchiness with much glee. I have some plans to develop my friends to lovers to enemies to lovers thing, so we'll see! For now enjoy sketches and lmk your fav potential friends to lovers scenarios!!

[sitp-recs]

Ohh that last fic you shared was amazing! "Don’t hate him when he gets up to leave". Loved it! Do you have some more recs with similar dynamics between them, like harry struggling to commit, being a bit fuckboyish haha and draco pining after him? Would love to read some more! Thank you 😊

Hi anon, you’re very welcome! I thought of a few fics that aren’t necessarily similar to that one but you might enjoy them anyway! Here’s the link for the above mentioned fic: Don’t hate him when he gets up to leave by @deliciousblizzardshark

smoke break by saltwatergarden (E, 4k)

Potter rarely stayed the night, typically Flooing home after they were done, and they never went out, or, for that matter, met at Potter’s place. Draco was very aware of what he was to Potter—a convenience—and despite his pride, he accepted it, because he knew it was the most he was ever going to get from Potter, and far more than he deserved.

A Truth Universally Acknowledged by iota (M, 17k)

A year out from the war, Harry agrees to accompany Hermione on a historical walking tour of Pride and Prejudice. Not in the itinerary: running into Draco Malfoy, setting off a summer of stately homes, lavish parties, resentful shagging, and maybe, falling in love.

Five Weddings and a Potions Accident by lauren3210 (E, 19k)

In which Harry thinks he’s a playboy, everyone else knows better, and Hermione will kill Seamus if Ron tries to collect on that bet.

Famous by fwooshy (E, 24k)

It's a couple of years after the war, and Harry's bored of models now, the same way he's bored of Ron's constant nagging, bored of his Weasley monogram knitwear, bored of the same fucking grin that greets him when he hands his fire-truck red Bugatti over to the valet every night. He wants to find—well, he isn't sure what he wants. Anything but models. Harry is in the mood for...messy. And Draco Malfoy's looking like a walking disaster in the making.

Your Place or Mine? by loveglowsinthedark (E, 27k)

"This person is so much harder to hate. And I’m supposed to hate Malfoy. How the fuck else am I supposed to limit this to just sex?"

Harry Potter Gives a Shit by talithan (E, 58k)

“Where are you headed?” “No place special,” Draco fumbled, and flushed further. But then: “I can change that,” said Harry Potter.

We Are Young (I'll Carry You Home Tonight) by Femme (E, 68k) - mutual pining

Harry and Draco have been falling into bed on and off again since the last election five years ago, much to the amusement--and financial gain--of their circle of friends. But when Harry agrees to work with Draco to put Kingsley Shacklebolt into the Minister's office, they can't work side-by-side again every day and sleep together; that would be courting disaster. Wouldn't it?

This Year's Love by trishjames (E, 84k)

This year’s love had better last, heaven knows it’s high time when you try to make lovers from friends. But Harry Potter realises time and time again that it’s simply not possible for him. And then along comes Draco Malfoy— the ultimate foe on the mend. Whatever will become of them? A story about love.

A Secondary Education by Thunderbird587 (E, 234k) - mutual pining

Fleeing the aftermath of his recent divorce, Draco Malfoy takes up a post as the new Potions Master at Hogwarts. At first he believes his hopes for a fresh start are dashed when he sees that a certain boyhood rival is on staff there as well. But Harry Potter is being weirdly nice to him, leaving Draco no choice but to play along.

[elliebyrrdwrites]

Dramione Blurb 2.5

The Time Turner

Once upon a time, there was a boy who loved a blah blah blah.

The book snapped shut and was thrown across the room, landing beside the latest copy of the Daily Prophet. On it was a moving picture, a reel that repeated over and over and over.

Draco sneered at the paper, eyeing the boy who loved the girl who didn’t look like a girl anymore. The boy didn’t always love the girl. He was intimidated by the her. She was a full of knowledge and heart that was uncanny. The boy was lucky that she had fallen for him.

She had, somehow, been blind to how much he loathed the way she saw the world. The way she was able to pick it apart and piece it all back together. She could manipulate stories and she would show the world, and the people would ooh and aah and say, of course, what a wonderful story!

And all it took was a mere glimpse from her. And she would pierce through all of the bullshit and manage to create something new and beautiful.

So why, then, hadn’t she seen through the bullshit that was the man she had chosen to marry? Why had she said yes to the boy who hated her. The boy who coveted keeping her all to himself, determined to tamper the light that was so fucking brilliant, he should have been blinded!

Draco paced the length of the parlor room. He retraced the space that had once held the girl. Had held her crying bleeding body while this boy had done nothing. Which really doesn’t make him any better than the boy who had won her heart.

But still! Draco was fraught with unreleased tension. With regrets and indecision.

Draco Malfoy was in a bad place.

Which is what might had led him to seek out that Time Turner his father had stolen once upon a time and hidden in the back of his study. Behind a spelled book case that would only reveal itself to the lord of the manor.

Which, with his father now in prison, was him.

And so, it was with little regard and a lot of Fire Whiskey, that Draco tore from the cursed parlor and down the long hallway that would inevitably lead him into his father old study.

He remembered when his father had brought it home. Draco was six years old at the time, having no idea that his life would come down something as mundane as blood. Which every single person possesses. Blood was plenty! In the Muggle world, they had types of blood like O and A and B or C. He really didn’t know what or how they labeled a persons blood. All he knew is that they used it to save lives, not determine if it allowed a person to be hunted by a dark lord or not.

Little Draco, who knew nothing of blood status and wouldn’t until he was eight years old, watched as his father presented it to him. Like a bit of show and tell his class would sometimes do on Fridays. He held it in the palm of his hand, and pivoted it back and forth.

“Look at this, Draco.” His father said, his voice eerily quiet. “This is going to bring our family luck one day. One day, we might need to use it. But until then,” His father cleared his throat and turned to the book case behind his desk. Draco watched in awe as he reached out to place it into the book case. Only it didn’t appear on a shelf. It disappeared and Draco had been amazed. How wonderful and powerful his clever father was.

The nerve of the youth and their ignorance.

But now that he was Lord of Malfoy Manor, he could see it. The glamor of the book case wilted away and in it’s place sat a different kind of shelf. It held at least two dozen little intricate items. Urns and orbs. Jewelry that looked like it had oxidized and wooden crosses. Pearls that were silver and black. Candles that Draco wasn’t entirely sure about. Probably cursed to summon a demon when lit, he thought, just before his eyes fell on the Time Turner.

It sat just between an old wooden shoe — whatever the hell that was — and a painting of an old house by the sea. It was all rather odd but it wasn’t important.

He reached out for the Time Turner.

And hesitated.

What would he actually do, if he went back in time? Would he save Granger from being tortured? If he did, would she have been able to aide Potter in his victory against Voldemort?

If not, that would be...disastrous to say the least.

He paused and looked at the door to the study. Beyond it was the hall that led back to the parlor.

Where he had thrown the book.

It was a book somebody had written about Ronald Weasley after the victory of the battle. A book that was written using interviews from him, his friends, acquaintances. They hadn’t interviewed Draco, of course. Not hat he would have agreed.

But if he could, somehow, go back in time and stop her from going back with Weasley. Stop her from agreeing to be his fucking wife! he had to try.

And so, with only a hint of apprehension, Draco put the chain over his head and rushing through the calculations in his head, he quickly did the math that would cause him to turn the dial several times. Giving him, he assumed, the opportunity to best win her over. To make her his.

Draco finished turning the hourglass and watched as days and months passed.

He felt dizzy, watching it all morph with elapsed time.

When everything settled and he found himself in the same quiet house, Draco took off. Tucking the Time Turner into his shirt, he stepped through the Floo and stepped directly into a home he didn’t belong in.

A home that belonged to the only Pureblood family who wanted nothing to do with Draco Malfoy.

[daddiesdrarryy]

Harry: Guys, I don’t know what Draco wants anymore. What am I supposed to do? Do I ask him out? I mean, we’re friends, but we had that past and it’s just so complicated!

Ron: May I speak freely, Harry?

Harry: Yeah, of course!

Ron: *clears throat*

Ron: I am so sick of hearing this year after year! “Guys, what am I going to do?” “I told Draco I love him! I took it back! I’m afraid of commitment! I’m worried about our future! We had a past!”

Ron: FOR MERLIN’S SAKE, MAKE A MOVE! DO SOMETHING! YOU ALREADY DENIED HIS HANDSHAKE YEARS AGO! DO YOU WANT TO REGRET THIS FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE TOO?

Harry: …

Hermione: What he said

[kk1smet]

“Is that because he’s French or because he’s Harry Potter?” Pansy asks, leaning over Draco in a vain attempt to get his attention. “Draco? Do you fancy a baguette or his baguette?” 

Read the fic here / See more of Beauxbatons!Harry here

This is the beauxbatons!Harry James Potter + the most special collab with @soliblomst I never thought I needed. We hope you enjoy it, @pl0tty ;)

[autumnweeen]

Written for @thedramionearchives Valentine’s Collab Collection 2025

🩷Team Fuscia🩷

@onyxmagica

Trillbyskinner

@mapleunicornwriting

Me ✌🏽

https://archiveofourown.org/works/62321452

[novanox88]

Those Leftover Pieces - Pt 2

Draco Malfoy x Reader

Summary: You’re in love with Draco – you always have been. But he likes Hermione, and she likes Ron. It’s a mess, and you don’t think you’ll ever be an option.

Warnings: Pining, Angst, No Smut, Slight Use of Y/N, Draco is Kinda OOC

(w/c 3.7k)

A/N: Sorry it took so long for me to get out this part, but I'm glad you guys are enjoying it. I'm thinking there will be 1-3 more chapters, but we'll see what happens. Enjoy!

It had been exactly a week since you’d given Drcao the flowers. Seven days since he’d dropped them on Granger’s study tale in the library and Draco hadn’t stopped bitching about it. The first two days had been hell on earth. You really had thought you’d be able to get through it but hearing him talk day and night about whether Granger had gotten the flowers and what she’d thought of them and if she’d liked the little note he’d given here was more than just exhausting. It was painful. You had tried and tried but you couldn’t keep up the smile and laughs as if nothing was wrong so you’d done something about it. You’d started avoiding Draco. It was something you’d never have thought you would do but you ducked and weaved through people to avoid him in the corridors and skipped meals to avoid him during the day. You’d even skipped potions earlier, it was the only class you shared with Draco and right now you couldn’t bear to look at his face. You were sure it wouldn’t hurt to skip potions just this once – or until you had it in you to get over the man. Then you had opted to stay for just a bit longer, in case you ran into him in the common room and just like that it was almost night and you hadn't moved from your reclusive table. 

The library was mostly empty except for the few Ravenclaw study groups dotted around the room, muttering under their breaths as they compared notes. You didn’t care about any of the other people here right now though, as long as you were nowhere near Draco you were fine. There was a table towards the back of the library that you had always favoured, it was out of the way from the hustle and bustle of everyone but, you could still see into the centre of the library where everyone was gathered. It was a perfect place for studying or people-watching, whatever you decided to do with your afternoon.

A call of your name drew your attention, as you turned your body around to find the source of the voice. Bright brown eyes met yours and your chest clenched in response as Hermione made her way towards you, a beautiful smile painting her equally gorgeous face. This was the problem with her, you had no and could never find a reason to hate her. She had always been nice to you, smiling at you in the corridors and helping you out when you were paired together in class. She was a wonderful person and you understood why Draco liked her. They had a strange ongoing banter, something that no one else was privy to. It was like their own little inside joke that always kept them connected and always kept everyone else out. They challenged each other in ways that other people didn’t quite comprehend. It was a beautiful dance that you weren’t a part of and deep down you knew there was nothing you could do to take that position from Hermione.

“What are you doing here?” You forced as much false cheer into your voice as you could as Hermione pulled up a chair beside you.

“Oh I was just finishing up an essay for potions but what about you, you’re not normally here around this time,” your hand stilled over your quill and a strange sense of surprise washed over you. She had been paying attention to you, sure you were friends of sorts but every time her name was mentioned your heart clenched and your stomach soured. It hadn’t occurred to you that she didn’t feel the same. As far as she was concerned you were just another friend. You weren’t sure how to feel about that. You smiled at her, it was so close to genuine that you could almost convince yourself you were happy that Hermione had stopped by.

“Transfiguration work,” you nodded to your open textbook and rolled out parchment. “Lots to catch up, you know how it is. I swear the professors think we’re fucking robots or something,” Hermione laughed, the sound sweet and bold just like her, it made your shoulders relax and your body easy. You had forgotten how nice it was to be around her. She was a good person, the kind of person you want to hold close. You knew that she would always have your back even though you weren’t that close and that’s why it was so hard to hate her. Because no matter how horrible this entire ordeal was for you, Hermione had done nothing wrong. She was so wonderful, how could Draco not fall for her. Hermione grabbed her own stuff, unrolling what seemed to be an excessively long essay. She glanced over at your book, eyes briefly scanning it before her face lit up in a smile.

“Oh, I revised that last week, let me know if you want some help,” if anyone else had said that you would’ve rolled your eyes and left the room but this was Hermione, she was genuine – she always had been – so you just smiled and nodded in response.

It hadn’t even been a couple of minutes before Hermione spoke up again.

“I’m sorry I lied,” her words were hurried and you looked up from your book in confusion. “....about wanting to help me?” you raised your eyebrows still very unsure what she was talking about.

“No no, not that we can still do that… if you want. Umm no this is about something else,” you nodded slowly, still slightly lost but you put your quill down nonetheless, turning your attention to the girl next to you.

“So…what’s wrong?” Hermione drummed her fingers on the table, eyes flickering from one place to another – never settling on your face.

“I’m sure you know,” her words were tentative, eyeing you and the books around you cautiously as if something might jump up and steal her secrets “But I got flowers… from Draco,” your breath caught in your throat and your mouth went dry. You had no idea where this conversation was going but you already knew you hated it. You had come to the library to get away from Draco yet somehow still he followed you around like a phantom and now you were sitting, discussing with the object of his desires.

“Yes he mentioned it,” you forced a smile onto your face, portraying a smiling happy friend. All the emotions you wished you could feel but your heart would not allow. “I hope you liked them, they looked quite lovely,” despair was slowly creeping into your voice but somehow the ever-observant Hermione didn’t seem to notice.

“Oh yes, they were gorgeous, it was so nice of him to do that. It was so… un-Draco-like if you know what I mean,”

“Well he must really like you,” you laughed, the sound hollow to your ears. You needed to get out of here as soon as possible.

“He’s great, isn’t he. He’s different than when we were younger but I can’t say it isn’t nice, I can actually have a proper study session with him now without being concerned he’s going to jinx me,” Hermione giggled, her eyes far away and thinking of how far they had all come. She was straight though, they had all changed oh so much it was really a miracle when you thought about it. They had so many opportunities to stay as enemies – opposing houses on opposing sides of the war – but once it had all been over everyone had chosen the same side.

Reconciliation.

Some part of you, the dark part that you could never seem to shake, wished everyone had stayed enemies at least then you might have had a chance with Draco. He might’ve looked at you first instead of Hermione.

“I’m glad we can all be friends or maybe something more in your case,” you had no idea why you were entertaining this conversation. Every one of Hermione’s smiles sent a dagger through your chest and you were reminded of why Draco had chosen her yet you stayed, rooted to the spot as though your heart enjoyed the pain. Hermione’s laugh was awkward and you picked up on it immediately, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. You had expected her to be excited, shy even, but this tentatively had not been something you expected. “Something’s wrong, what is it, what’s wrong?” 

“Did he do something? God, I told him not to be stupid!” The words were tumbling out of your mouth and you had no control of what came out. “Whatever it was I’ll apologise on his behalf, I’m sure he didn’t mean it whatever it was,” your mind was fighting with itself, you wanted to scream and cry and laugh but all you could do was try to fix whatever stupid mistake Draco had made like you had always done. You wanted him to be happy and if Hermione gave that to him then you would do whatever was in your power to make sure that happiness never left because that man – your Draco – deserved the world and you would give him just that even if it broke your heart to do so. “I’m sure you two can just talk it out an-”

“No, no, no, it’s not like that, it’s nothing like that. Draco is fine, he’s great in fact but he’s not for me,” Hermione’s words rushed out of her mouth and you paused slowly taking them in and piecing them together in your mind.

“I’m sorry what, I’m not following,”

“He’s not right for me, I don’t like him like that,”

“Oh,” it was a small pathetic noise and it was the only word you could muster.

“He’s wonderful don’t get me wrong but I love someone else,” the world slowed down around you and your lungs were desperately trying to decide if there was too much air or not enough. This was stupid, this couldn’t be happening. All that shit and she didn’t even want him. He had been going on and on – ‘Granger this, Granger that’ – so much so that it made your ears bleed but you had pushed through, you had listened and smiled because it made him happy and all you wanted was for him to be happy. You had picked his flowers and helped him talk to her all for what? For absolutely fucking nothing because she didn’t love that gorgeous man back and as much as you wanted to scream and shout and let the pure anger course through you, for whatever reason, you couldn’t. You felt hollow and numb as Hermione stared back at you eyes wide and desperate for a solution. You had made every sacrifice that no one should have to go to, you had cried yourself to sleep knowing that Draco would never love you back but you had done it to see him smile, you had done it because he deserved the world and more and now that smile would shatter and your heart with it. You bit your tongue – hard – to keep the tears at bay, this was not the time for your emotions.

“How did he take the news,”

“That’s the thing-”

“Hermione,” your tone was harsh, a warning because you knew exactly what was coming.

“I didn’t exactly tell him,” it was like someone had dunked you in the Black Lake, chills raked over your body and for a moment you stopped breathing.

“Hermione. what. the. Fuck.” You couldn’t even begin to figure out how you were supposed to fix this mess. Draco was currently sitting in potions thinking Hermione fancied him and Hermione was here telling you that wasn’t the case.

“I panicked, I don’t know what came over me, I just froze it was silly I know,” you didn’t know why she was telling you this, as if you weren’t in a shitty enough place already, someone just had to make it worse. You didn’t want to be in the middle of all this, you didn’t want to be anywhere near all this mess and yet here you were and you knew that you’d stay here until everything was fixed and Draco was okay because that was who were and who you always would be.

“You have to tell him,”

“I know but I don’t know how,”

“Is that why you came to me, for help?” her silence was all the answer you needed. “You just need to go up to him and tell him,” you sighed, letting your face drop into your hands “It’s the best way to go about it, he’ll take it best if you’re direct about it,”

“I can’t…” you could feel your headache growing.

“What do you mean you can’t,”

“He’s my friend, I don’t want to lose him,”

“Well we can’t have it all now can we Granger,” you snapped at her, lips turned upwards in a sneer. You hadn’t meant to come off as rude, she was coming to you for help but she was holding everything you had ever wanted in her hands and turning it away. You couldn’t even begin to understand what you were feeling but it definitely wasn’t pleasant.

“I’d hardly expect you to understand,” Hermione snapped back. It came from nowhere, pure unbridled anger rose through your body pushing away all the tears and pain you had felt. You raised a single eyebrow daring Hermione to continue. It was the face of a true face of Slytherin, unmoving and fierce. “I’m sorry that’s not what I meant,” Hermione backtracked quickly “It’s just that… I don’t want him to hate me,” you scoffed in response.

“If that was the case you would’ve told him on the spot,” you began to pack away your things, shoving them unceremoniously into your bag. “Instead here you are leading him on,”

“That’s not fair,” Hermione spoke frantically, her hands waving around in the air as if that could stop you from leaving. “You know that’s not what I'm trying to do-”

“Really? Because from where I'm standing you have the affections of an incredible man and instead of meeting him head on you’re skirting around like a pathetic cockroach,”

“Stop it, you’re being cruel,” You saw the quiver in her lip and the way her eyes began to water but you couldn’t find it in your heart to care

“You are a lot of things Hermione Granger but I never took you for a coward, frankly it’s disappointing,” you stood from the table, bag clutched tightly in your hands. You turned to leave but Hermione jumped up and grabbed your arm, keeping you from moving.

“You don’t know what this is like. I came to you for help,” your back was turned to her but still you could hear the desperation and pain in her voice.

“You’re right I don’t know what it’s like to be in your… position but I have given you your advice, it’s up to you whether or not you choose to act on it,” she didn’t need to know how deeply you longed to be in her position and she didn’t need to see the tears slowly rolling down your face. Somehow through the whole ordeal you kept your voice steady or maybe Hermione was too wrapped up in herself to see what this was doing to you. Behind, you heard the shuffling of books and you took that moment to wipe away any stray tears, praying no one would notice your slightly red eyes.

“Well thanks for your help,” Hermione didn’t look at you as she spoke and her words were hollow, devoid of any true appreciation but you didn’t care, you just wanted to get out of here as soon as possible. “You’re right, I’ll speak to him,” Hermione brushed past you, moving to leave the little nook of the library that you were in.

“Hermione,” you called out just before she could turn the corner. Your voice sounded dull to your ears but she didn’t seem to notice. Hermione paused, she didn’t turn but she stayed waiting for you to speak. “Who is it? The man you love, who is he?” you really wanted her to say someone incredible, some other rich pure blood or maybe a quidditch player, you knew she was close with Krum in your fourth year. You knew those weren’t the names she would utter though, it was clear as day who she was infatuated with and Draco had ignored all your warnings and gone and loved her anyway.

“It’s Ron,” she didn’t wait for your reply and quickly made her way out of your sight. Of course, it was Weasly he was everything that Draco was not. 

Your body fell back down into the chair and that was when the tears began to fall. One after another they streaked down your face and landed on your shirt. You crumpled into yourself, soft sobs shaking your body. You were so sick of this, so sick of that tiny ounce of hope being crushed over and over again. You had come to terms with the fact that Draco would never love you but at least he would’ve been happy with Hermione and you were ready to live with that. But now – now he would not be with Hermione, he had put himself out there for her and she had turned him down. He would be broken and miserable and you had no idea how long it would take before he smiled again but all the same, he would not love you. Your breath hitched and you tucked your legs into your chest, you could feel your shirt was damp against your skin but the tears wouldn’t stop and the weight on your chest made it hard to breathe.

“y/n…” your head whipped up and you furiously wiped at your tears. You were not pathetic, you were better than this and you would not be found in this position but it was too late. You blinked up at the man who had found you, fresh tears blurring your vision as he bounded towards you. “What’s wrong, what happened?” his grey eyes were etched in concern, silver hair sticking up in all directions which reminded you just how late it was. Then he knelt down before you and you felt that everything was over. Cold hands grabbed yours, pulling them away from your face and bringing them down to your lap. “Talk to me,” his words were so sincere and that just brought a new wave of tears as you tried and failed to speak through your sobs. Draco frowned and dropped your hands moving his own up to your face. The pleasant chill from his hands almost brought a smile to your face and he waited, gently wiping away your tears as your breathing steadied and your tears slowed. “Better?” you nodded, a reluctant smile gracing your face as you pulled his hands away from your face. You would not let yourself pretend that any of this meant more than it did. You knew your delusions would only lead you to pain as they had so many times before. You had to protect yourself.

“I’m fine Draco, really,”

“Bullshit,” he snapped getting up off his knees and pulling you out of your chair with him. “No one who’s fine sits in the library in the middle of the night bawling their eyes out-”

“-I was hardly bawling,” Draco shot you a look that instantly quieted you although the smile didn’t leave your face. It was just so easy to talk to him, it hadn't even taken him more than a few moments to calm you down. Everything about him was easy, nothing felt like work, all you felt was serene when he was around and if the universe would let you, you would gratefully bask in that feeling for the rest of your life. “I’m serious Dray, I’m absolutely fine,”

“Don’t lie to me, you know I hate it when you lie to me,” he reached for your forearms, tugging you closer to him and loosely wrapping his arms around your shoulders.

“It’s nothing, transfigurations was just getting to me,” the lies felt bitter on your tongue but you didn’t let your face give you away but it wasn’t any use Draco knew. His lips were set in a grim line, more than aware you were lying but he had the sense not to push. Instead, he pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around your waist and holding you close. You tucked your head under his chin and he hummed, the sweet noise vibrating through your body. Het let his hands trail through your hair, untangling the knots as he went and you just stayed there letting your body melt into his his.

“I know you're lying,” his voice was just a murmur as he spoke directly into your ear. Goosebumps raised along your arms and the back of your neck but you paid them no heed. You would not let your mind fall into false pretences. “I’ll let you keep your secrets but you must promise to come to me if anything is actually wrong,” you laughed but nodded into his chest.

“I promise,” your words were just above a whisper and spoken into Draco’s chest but somehow he still heard you. He would always hear you over the echoing voices of the Great Hall and he would always find you in the crowded corridors but no matter how many times he came to you he would never be yours. The thought was sobering and you pulled away from him, taking two decisive steps back to put space between the both of you. “It’s getting late we should go,” you reached for your satchel but Draco beat you to it, snatching it off the desk.

“Lead the way, princess,” he smiled down at you and you misled back. It was tentative and full of pain but he didn’t see that and you would fight every day so that he never would. You would give this man every ounce of happiness that you could even if it shattered your heart to do so.

[yourlocalbadgerscales]

Nothing, head empty, just Hermione Granger being the only one completely unbothered by the Veelas at the Quidditch Cup in GOF, because after all, she’s in the company of only guys. And she spots Draco Malfoy.

Although he is a guy and should be just as drawn to the Veelas as Harry and Ron are, he is just sitting there, staring unimpressed at the Veelas. Then he’s frowning in confusion. Then he looks horror struck.

Hermione isn’t stupid, and nor is Draco. They both realise pretty quickly what is going on, possibly even at the same time, and their eyes meet and Draco looks horrified. He tries to brush it off by making a face at Hermione, and he turns back to face the Veelas.

Hermione never tells Harry and Ron about this. She doesn’t bring it up in sixth year, when Harry keeps muttering to her about “Stupid Pansy Parkinson… I mean, what does she even see in him?”. She hears the unspoken question. What does he see in her? Nothing, nothing at all, that’s the thing, she wants to say, but she doesn’t.

She doesn’t bring it up when Ron and Harry discuss Draco’s love life one night in the common room, Ron snorting and saying the most horrible things while Harry tries laughing it off and changing the subject, but fails miserably because every single question he asks that night is about Draco, Draco, Draco, and Hermione, I’ve heard he and Pansy had an argument the other day, do you think that’s true? I hope it is! What… what, I mean, er, I hope she’s finally realised what a shitty person he is.

Hermione doesn’t bring it up in Eighth Year when Harry is being a pining mess. She doesn’t bring it up when Harry is confused as hell because “Hermione, Pansy and Ginny are dating! How are they dating? What about Dra- Malfoy?!”

She doesn’t bring it up when Harry can’t focus on his Auror duties for the life of him because a certain Draco Malfoy is in the same building as him.

She tries to bite her tongue, but one day she just can’t anymore, and when Harry refuses to stop talking about Draco Malfoy for the fifth work day in a row and all the sleepless nights catch up to her she just blurts it out: “Harry, Draco is fucking gay!”

She rarely swears, so Harry immediately goes pale before even registering what she’s just said. “W- what?”

And she storms off, horrified because shit, shit, this wasn’t how the two stupid gits were supposed to get their shit together and… get together. This wasn’t how she’d planned it to happen! She was going to lose the bet to Ginny now, but that was the least of her problems, because fuck, Draco Malfoy was one of her favourite colleagues and they were actually getting along and now she’d spoiled it all by revealing what had to be one of his darkest secrets to Harry just like that! He hadn’t even told her yet, and now she’d told Harry! She had seen the way Draco looked at Harry and she knew that he liked him and, and…

In that exact moment Draco Malfoy rushed past her heading towards the room she’d just left Harry standing in, and he seemed to caught up in whatever he was muttering to himself about to even notice her… suddenly, Hermione didn’t want to go back to that room in a while, scared of what she might witness if she did.

“Ron- Ron, no, nonononono!”, she said and grabbed her boyfriend’s arm and dragged him as far away as she could from the room where Harry’s surprised yelp could now be heard. “Let’s… just… let’s just leave. Like, right now. Trust me. Get moving!”

[accio-sriracha]

Hatred.

A Drarry One-Shot.

⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠂

Draco stood in the doorway to the locker rooms, watching Potter with thinly concealed irritation as he celebrated another win for the Gryffindors.

He hated it.

He hated the way his forced laugh echoed around the room, grating on Draco's ears.

He hated the fact that he was shirtless, still in the middle of changing when the others had come in to cheer for him.

He hated seeing those muscles along his back and his broad shoulders. Hated how he showed them off like he was trying to make others jealous.

He hated Potter's hair, matted with sweat and windblown and a little too perfect.

He hated Potter's friends lifting him onto their shoulders, as though they had any right to touch him.

Draco couldn't stand it. Not one bit.

And when they went to the Great Hall later that evening for dinner, his feelings did not change.

Potter sat, surrounded by friends, admirers, an easy smile on his face Draco could tell was fake even from this distance.

He hated the way Potter moved the food around his plate without eating, a skill that must have been practiced often to be mastered the way Potter had.

He hated that Potter seemed to be the only one in the room, even as the people beside Draco chatted on about meaningless nothings.

And when they passed each other in the corridor, Draco felt this hatred deep in his core.

He hated how they walked by without touching, not even the barest flourish of the bottom of their cloaks.

He hated that he could smell him, a deep and natural scent Draco could recognize anywhere.

He hated that Potter refused to meet his eye, staring straight ahead or conversing casually with the person beside him as though Draco wasn't there at all.

He hated how deeply Potter had engraved himself into Draco's mind. Into his every thought. Draco was simply incapable of thinking anything else.

Draco hated it.

But that did not stop him from pacing the floor in front of the room of requirement nearly every night.

This hatred did not convince him to think of anything other than the words he had burned in his memory.

"I need to see Harry Potter."

And this hatred did not stop Potter from appearing in that room.

It did not stop Draco from hurrying into his arms.

From laying there, fulfilled and whole.

This hatred did not stop Draco from loving him.

"Can I ask you something, Draco?" Potter whispered late one night from their shared bed in their secret room.

Draco hummed, nuzzling closer until there was no more space between them.

"Do you think we'll ever be able to... you know... go out together?" His voice had a hint of hope.

Oh, how Draco hated that hope.

"We've talked about this, Harry." He whispered, sitting up so he could look at him directly, "You know how I feel."

Potter nodded, sighing deeply, "I know. It's just- You know I love you, right?"

Draco could see it in his eyes, the earnestness in them. The kind that made him hate the world for ever keeping them away from each other.

"I love you too." Draco leaned in to kiss him once, "But you can't be seen with me. You know what they'll say about you... you have to keep away when we're out there."

It was a conversation they had often, one that Draco wished he could allow to go differently. He hated that he couldn't.

"I hate staying away from you." Potter leaned their foreheads together, "I want to be with you, Draco. I- I don't want to hide this anymore."

Draco nodded, "I hate it too, love. But you know it's for the best. People can be dangerous. I don't want to see you get hurt."

And he meant it. He truly, truly hated being away from Potter.

He hated not being able to touch him.

He hated hearing that laugh, that fake laugh he'd been using ever since the war.

He hated that he could only hear his real one in the confines of this room. Only see his real smile here. His real voice.

This was the only place either of them felt safe to be free.

They fell in love with the one person they weren't supposed to.

And they hated it.

"One day." Potter murmured, tucking himself against Draco once more as he closed his eyes, "One day we'll be together out there."

Draco nodded, relaxing beside him on the pillows and listening to Potter's breathing slow.

"One day." Draco repeated to himself. Long after Potter had fallen asleep.

And he hated the twinge of hope that bloomed in his chest.