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elliebyrrdwrites · 11 months ago

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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.

#fanfic #dramione #dramione fanfic #hermione granger #draco malfoy #draco x hermione #hermione x draco #idiots in love #pining draco #slightly unhinged draco #theo is a good friend #theo nott #dramione ship #dramione fan fiction #dramione fanfiction #dhr fandom #dhr fanfiction #dhr

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padfootmarauder · 4 months ago

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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.

#dramione #hermione x draco #draco fanfiction #draco malfoy #oneshot #sombr #smutty smut smut #pining draco #Spotify

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jomiddlemarch · 1 year ago

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(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.

#dramione #post-hogwarts #draco malfoy #draco POV #bill weasley #hermione granger #canon au #dark mark #bill/fleur #pining draco #making magic magical #tw: trauma #hurt/comfort #who doesn't love Bill Weasley?#getting advice #hp fanfic #part 1 of 2 #lots of talking #unrequited love...or is it?

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fictionismyescapeblog · 2 years ago

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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

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weeklydrarryficrecs · 2 years ago

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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.

#the mirror of ecidyrue #drarry #drarry fic recs #HPMD #canon rewrite #pining harry #pining draco #mentor snape #draco in the muggle world #2023 #week 23

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got-the-cheese-touch · 1 month ago

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More Than a Name - prologue

Harry Potter x Sirius Black's Daughter!Reader

slowburn harry potter x reader

summary: your childhood is tragic. but then you meet Remus Lupin. and he helps you plant roots.

content: angst will turn into fluff, dw (wolfstar if you stare really hard at it for too long) try to find the all the young dudes reference.

a/n: okay, here's the prologue. i'm really nervous, i've never shared my writing so hopefully it's not shitty.

trigger warnings: this contains pretty heavy stuff!!! reader was told she had hallucinations. abuse in a hospital/foster care setting. mentions of her mistreatment. remus was not mentally well after sirius died, so there are some mental health issues implied. user was put on meds and therapy testing. its character development, y'all i swear i have a plan. no use of y/n, i describe the reader being small (only because she's a little kid rn)

word count: ~ 4k

ty to @thecutestgrotto for the dividers <3

Your childhood was one that was void of certainty. You existed through suitcases and trunks that were never unpacked. A bedroom never decorated. A plant with no roots can never truly grow. You yourself were the result of something short lived. A one night stand. Your mother was young when you were born. Too young to want to keep you. Your father? As tangible as the wind itself. You were told he was arrested before he could meet you, before he could take you in. (You’d learn later that he cried harder when he heard you were in the muggle foster system than when he learned his sentence for Azkaban. He knew what happened to young wizards on their own.) If only he could have protected you from the inexplicable events that wreaked mayhem wherever you went.

Hospitals would diagnose you, medicate you, and try to pick your brain. Hippie foster families would try to meditate away the craziness in your mind. Hallucinations, they said. A teenage girl running straight into the brick wall dividing platforms at King’s Cross. A woman that became a cat. Owls flutter about during the day. They were all things that should’ve been cured by pills. Foster families were frightened by your condition. Hospitals were perplexed. Special homes wanted to cure you with alternative practice. (The smell of sage still makes you want to vomit.)

But it all changed the day two, kind looking men came and visited you in the St. Bernadette’s Home for Mentally Troubled Youth. The last resort. You sat on the bed, waiting for a med call. Your legs kicked impatiently, your arms were scarred and you picked nervously at your skin; so far in your own haze that you didn’t see the door open. You had scars from injection treatment, punishment from teachers, from angry foster parents, or the cruelty of other children. You were unhealthy. Your hair was wild, so were your eyes. His eyes. It startled Remus when he saw just how much you resemble your father. That wildness in your eyes, the way you sat with a bouncing leg. He saw your scars and the bruises around your wrists from being roughed by medical staff. He wanted to throw up.

The creak of the wooden floor startled you. Your eyes shot up, expecting to see the angry glare of a doctor. Instead, you saw two strangers. The first was an old man with a long white beard. You were never lucky enough or so well behaved that you got visits from Santa Claus but you guessed that this is what he’d look like. He was thinner than the magical man who delivered gifts, though. He smiled at you and tilted his head, correcting the small glasses he wore on his nose. He looked at you like he knew you all your life, like he had known you before you were born. Trailing a bit behind him was a taller, nervous looking man. His sweater was pushed to his elbows and you saw his skin was scarred like yours. But his were older, deeper. Like he had tried to claw his way out of his skin. He had curly hair and sharp eyes. Not unfriendly, you thought, but withered. Like he spent his whole life waiting for a rest that wouldn’t come. When the older man spoke your name, you almost didn’t recognize it.

You hadn’t heard your name spoken so softly. It was foreign.

He sat down next to you and shook your hand. It was the first touch that you felt in a long time that wasn’t punishing.

“I am Albus Dumbledore.” He said with a smile, like he’s letting you in on a secret. “Do you know who I am, young lady?” he chuckled softly when you shook your head. “No? I figured.”

“Sir, we don’t have much time.” The nervous man’s voice was rasping and cozy. Like a scratchy woolen blanket, you thought.

“Yes, yes,” Dumbledore waved his hand dismissively, turning back to you “I’ve come to take you away from here, child. I’m terribly sorry I took so long. I’ve only just come to learn about your state here, please forgive me.” He truly sounded regretful. Like he himself had scarred you. “How would you like a new school? A new place to live?”

“What- Take me away?” You said, scrambling up, panicked. They’d take you to another hospital, somewhere worse. You always went somewhere worse once people picked you up from your foster homes and schools. “No, no, please I’m doing better. I'll do the therapy, the- the testing. I can’t- please, please- I’ve been trying-” Your breath was shaky, pleading. The tall man with the sweater looked away.

Remus wanted to cry. He bit the inside of his cheek and tried to focus on anything except the fact that you were Sirius’s daughter. That you were so much like him. But you weren’t like the bright, lively boy whom he spent his youth with. You were like the dull, timid creature who survived hell in Grimmauld place.

“I promise you, it will be better, child. I can’t explain much now but we know the place for you, alright dear? You’ll be hurt no longer, I swear it.” the old man held out a wrinkly pinky finger, adorned with rings. A promise. You didn’t trust him, but you knew that adults didn’t like when you didn’t follow what they said. You looped your finger around his and nodded.

Minutes later, you were out of the gloomy brick building that was St. Bernadette’s. You packed up your suitcase (not much packing was needed) and you were out. Just like that. The two men had stepped away from you for a moment. The taller one was upset. The two talked in hushed voices.

“Professor, I- I can’t. In my state? I’m not- not fit for a child, let alone Sirius’s child.” You didn’t know who Sirius was.

“You’re the closest family she has now. Her and Harry, poor things.” You didn’t know a Harry either. “There will be help for you, Remus. When your condition flares up, she will be in good hands. Hagrid can watch her, so can Minerva. But we cannot have her in a Muggle’s care any longer. Look at the poor thing.” Dumbledore placed a hand on Remus’s shoulder. “I trust you with this Lupin; he would’ve trusted you too.” With that, Dumbledore strolled inside, to talk to the doctors, you assumed.

You were sitting on the steps outside of the building as the old man talked with the doctor’s inside. Next to you, the tall man who had yet to speak to you sat on the step. You learned his name was Remus. His long legs stretched in front of him. He said your name, just as gently as Dumbledore had.

“How old are you, mate?” He asked, glancing over at you, moving your small suitcase out of the puddle you had put it down in. You thought for a moment.

“I’m six and a half.” You replied. You weren’t sure if you really had gained that half of a year but the number made you sound older, stronger. It seemed to take something out of Remus though. He ran a hand through his hair and let out a sigh. He looked tired again.

“Merlin, Padfoot, what have you done?” He said to himself. Six years. Six years since James and Lily. Six years since Sirius. Six years since that cowardly rat, Wormtail disappeared. Six years old. She's so young, he thought. The two of you sat in silence for a few moments.

“I was a lot like you, you know.” He said, not making eye contact. “I went to a school like this one. Where people tried to help me but never could.” He pulled at a weed that sprouted between the cracks of the step. He turned it between his fingers before tossing it.

“Is that where you got those scars?” You ask. Your voice was quiet but curious, you didn’t want to offend him.

“Some of them. But most of ‘em have faded.” He didn’t offer any more explanation than that. You didn’t pry. He pulled out his wallet. It contained a few bills you didn’t recognize, an old train ticket, a few coins, and a crumpled up photo. He slid out the page and unfolded it, holding it out for you to see. The bodies on the page seemed to move. You needed your medication, your hallucinations were vivid. Almost real. “Look here, kid.” He pointed to a figure “Here I am,” he slid his finger to another figure on the paper, the face too old and blurry to make out. “That there is Sirius. That’s your dad.” You stared at the shifting figure. You didn’t have the chance to say anything. Dumbledore walked outside, slipping what looked like a stick into a pocket of his robe. How silly, you thought.

After a word with Remus, Dumbledore had seemingly vanished out of thin air and you walked hand in hand with the tall man, away from the terrible building. You got onto a train with him, still waiting for the moment you’d learn about the new trial they’d test on you or the new medicine that would make you stop hallucinating. You fell asleep curled up into the seat. Remus felt a tug at his ribs. You were too much like Sirius.

When you woke up, you were in bed. It was small but it was more comfortable than any bed in any hospital you'd ever been in. When Remus checked in on you, he explained a few things. You were going to live with him for a while and that you should try to call this place home.

He made you toast. He spread out four different kinds of spread on each corner and cut it nicely. Moony toast, he called it. You ate it alongside him quietly. You’d be happy to stay with him if you could eat toast like this.

“Are you my new dad?” You asked between bites. This made him flinch. He thought about what to say for a long time before he sighed.

“Just eat your toast, mate.”

Life with Remus wasn’t easy, but it was happy. You finally had roots. You laughed with him and he’d patch up your knees when you fell. He’d disappear for a few days every month and he’d come back looking hurt but you got used to it. Besides, kind people watched you while he was gone. Sometimes, a cat would just sit on the window and watch you when you were alone. She would let you pet her while Remus went on day trips to get his own medication. You thought it was weird but you couldn’t complain.

For the first time, you had your own room. You decorated it with Remus, too. You folded paper and made little garlands. He gave you some posters from your dad. He gave you lots of Sirius’s stuff, in fact. Your favorite was an old worn leather jacket. It swallowed you up but you would use it as a blanket at night. You imagined your dad wearing it. It made Remus happy when you wore it. So you rarely took it off. You also got lots of photos. Boxes of them. Some were taken from Sirius’s camera, which Remus kept for himself. This time, when you saw some of these photos moving, you learned they weren’t hallucinations.

When you were old enough, Dumbledore came back. You remembered his kindness so you trusted him fully when he explained to you about wizards and witches. You were sad when you learned of your father and his crimes. Remus tensed when Dumbledore explained this.

Dumbledore told you everything, not even leaving out Remus’s lycanthropy. You never felt frightened. You loved your Remus. (You finally understood why the people that looked after you in his absence called him Moony.) For the first time, you weren’t afraid when you learned about a new school for you. Hogwarts was a magical school. One without doctors or therapy trials. You were excited to go and you would count the days to receive your acceptance letter.

The only upsetting thing, surprisingly, was when you realized that you weren’t a psycho.

That you never hallucinated or needed therapy.

You didn’t need to go through all of that testing.

The homes, the abuse, the scars and bruises.

You bled for nothing.

You weren't a kid who needed to be hit, you just needed a parent.

When he saw the look on your face, Remus became upset at this. He didn't like to think about what you went through. Didn't like thinking about the time before you were a silly, crazy kid. When you were small and bruised and looked like a caged animal. Like a wild dog.

Remus wiped his cheek.

You were mad. Mad at your teachers and doctors and previous foster parents. You were mad at your dad. Very mad at your dad. He couldn’t be there for you so you suffered. It’s his fault you were a wizard, it was his blood that made you be this way. It's him who made you see these things, so you blamed him.

Remus told you stories about Sirius to try to reassure you about your father. That he was good. He was funny and bright and just like you. It didn’t help though. You still resented Sirius. Maybe he wasn’t a killer, but he wasn’t there for you like he should have been. You heard stories of his family and friends. How he was a prankster. You loved to hear stories about him. Not because of your affection for your father, though.

You liked to hear stories of Sirius because Remus was happier talking about the past. He looked younger and brighter, a weight lifted when he told his stories. He darkened when you asked where his friends were; where Lily and James were. (You got him to tell you the full story a year later. He was adamant that your father wasn’t a killer. You agreed. Sirius Black wasn't guilty. After all, your Moony wouldn’t speak so fondly of a murderer.)

When you turned eleven and your letter for Hogwarts finally came, you were sad to leave. You were given a magic wand from Dumbledore which you were very scared you were going to break. You got books and supplies, all from the headmaster. You even got a nice letter from the cat who would watch you sometimes while Remus was away. This confused you. Apparently she taught there. (How a cat could teach a class at a school, you had no idea) This made Remus chuckle. "Good old Minnie." He murmured. You had no clue who Minnie was.

You packed up your bags and trunk. (which took a lot longer than it had in the past) and you went with Remus to the famed platform where a train would take you away to Hogwarts. You were scared. You didn’t want to be sent away again. Remus was reassuring, holding your hand the whole time. Even as you heard the train approaching the station. You noticed the looks people gave the two of you.

People who knew the tragedy of The Marauders, people who thought they knew the loss. Remus shrugged it off. “Just people I haven’t seen in a while, kid. Don’t think too much about it.”

He gave you explicit instructions. He showed you a newspaper and pointed to the boy on the cover. He was scrawny and he wore wire framed glasses. He had stringy brown hair. Harry was his name and Remus told you to find him quickly and become his friend. He was James and Lily's son.

He said you’d do each other some good; being tied together by the fraying strings of a friendship so close, it may have been a family. Harry was alone and you understood being alone.

The train whistled, signalling the need for students to board. You looked at Remus and you started to cry. He pulled you into a hug. You didn’t realize he was crying too until you felt the wetness of his tears against your shoulder. He sniffed as he held you tightly. He loved you. He was just as much your father as Sirius was.

As he held you, he thanked whatever was up in the universe for sending you to him. He was on the brink of giving up when Dumbledore urged him to come save you from the terrible institution. Your childlike chaos filled the halls of his home that were once stuffy with grief. He once prayed and wished that he could look into Sirius’s eyes again - to hear his laugh. You gave him that.

“Okay, kid” He pulled back from you and put his hands on either side of your head, kissing your hair with his eyes shut. You cried, looking up at him. He clutched onto Sirius’s leather jacket, Pulling it over your robes. It was still big on you but it wasn’t blanket sized anymore. Merlin, he really didn’t want you to leave.

“Will I ever see you again, Moony?” You sobbed, looking up at him. You were desperate not to leave.

His heart cracked. You thought he was sending you away for good. He said your name with a sniff, hugging you as another tear slipped “Oh, my dear of course you will. You’ll be home for Christmas, I promise.” He looked at you with an intensity, memorizing your little face before he had to say goodbye. With one last tight hug and a kiss on the head, he sent you off and watched as you scuttled into the train.

Once on board, you were met with so much energy. Older and younger kids in a bustle of movement. You had never seen so many children so happy. Sure, you met kids at your past institutions but they were never lively. All of them were as beaten down as you used to be. But these kids, all dressed in robes like your own were joyful. You walked nervously down the line of compartments, Remus’s words looping through your mind. Harry Potter, just find Harry. He’ll be your friend. It’s in your blood.

You passed some menacing kids in dark robes with green. They were calling other kids on the train names that you didn’t understand but you decided that you wanted to stay under their radar. You saw a couple of teenagers bullying a younger boy holding a toad. You decided then that you didn’t like those people wearing green. They all seemed dreadful.

After you passed all the horrible green-robed students, you were frantic to find an empty compartment. All of these kids already had friends. Your only friend was Moony, you didn’t know the first thing about meeting other people. Eventually you found an empty compartment and you sat down alone. You held on tightly to the leather jacket over your robes, knuckles white as you watched the landscape pass.

You were used to the silence, the hum of the car relaxing. But you didn’t get much time to revel in your lonesome because the compartment opened and a small boy stepped in shyly. The one kid on the train that you knew.

He was thin with unbrushed hair. He looked like the man in some of Sirius's polaroids, you thought. Except his eyes. They were a stunning green.

“Is it okay if I sit with you?” He asked, pushing up his glasses, the nosepiece held together with tape. You nodded. “I’m Harry. Harry Potter.” He held out his hand for you to shake, which you took, greeting him as he sat down. He was just as nervous as you. But he seemed happy, excited.

You were just dreading being away from the only home you’ve known.

“It’s nice to meet you,” You said after you introduced yourself. “I was told to try to find you.” Harry was worried. He thought you’d barrage him with questions about the Dark Lord or ask him confusing questions that he didn’t understand. But instead you smiled nervously. “Our dads were best mates when they were in school.”

Harry smiled.

AAAH, if you read this far thank you. i really think this could be a cool series and i like how i'm planning to write the characters.

please tell me if you like this and if I should write the next chapter that's been brewing in my mind cauldron.

peace and love <33

(likes are appreciated but i'll fall in love with you if you reblog)

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garforarts · 2 years ago

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#drarry #draco malfoy #harry potter #my art #fanart #hpdm #harry x draco #harco #my boy is pining #draco has wavy hair bcuz I said so #garforprongs

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sitp-recs · 2 years ago

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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.

#asks #anon #drarry reclist #Harry struggles to commit #pining Draco

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elliebyrrdwrites · 1 year ago

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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.

#dramione #fanfic #dramione fanfic #harry potter #draco malfoy #hermione granger #draco x hermione #hermione x draco #idiots in love #dramione blurb #dramione drabble #could evolve into something more #pining draco #my writing

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dapperbeetledraws · 11 months ago

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

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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!!

#drarry #hp #harry potter #draco malfoy #harry x draco #harco #fanart #sketches #friends to lovers #mutual pining #dapperbeetledraws #hermione granger #ron weasley #harry potter fanart

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daddiesdrarryy · 6 months ago

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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

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yourlocalbadgerscales · 7 months ago

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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!”

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kk1smet · 10 months ago

Text

“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 ;)

#a present for the best gal jojo #drarry fic and art collab #with another best gal soli #drarry #beauxbatons #Harry James Potter #Draco Malfoy #Harry Potter Speaks French #Pining Draco Malfoy #He pines really hard.#drarry art #Written by Soliblomst #Illustrated by Kk1smet #banner layout by soli <3

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got-the-cheese-touch · 5 days ago

Text

More Than a Name - chapter one

Harry Potter x Sirius Black's Daughter!Reader

slowburn harry potter x reader

summary: The father you never knew but always feel makes his presence known. (indirectly)

a/n: chapter one. AAAAH i'm nervous. it's not as long as i would've liked but i didn't wanna drag it out for too long. (please reblog and like and leave a little comment! they make my day) no use of y/n

trigger warnings: nothing really except maybe poor grammar. lmk if there is something I missed. (reader does use she/her pronouns)

ty to @thecutestgrotto for the dividers <3

The Hogwarts Express rolled down the tracks with a satisfying chug, a low hum filling the silence of the train compartment. Next to you lay Remus, sleeping under his trenchcoat. His peaceful form was in stark contrast to your own. You buzzed with excitement. Your third year at Hogwarts. Hopefully, it would be less eventful than the other years (mostly for Remus’s sake. You were sure that if he received another owl telling him that you fought the Dark Lord once more he’d get a heart attack).

When you learned that Remus was going to be teaching Defense against the Dark Arts you were relieved. Nothing could hurt you when Moony was around, of that you were sure. If Voldemort even tried to touch you or Harry, Remus could stop him. Your Remus could do anything.

“Seriously, how is he still asleep?” you thought as you watched his chest rise and fall peacefully. Although, you supposed it was good that he was getting some rest. Recently, he was on edge. He’d pace around, reading the newspaper and shaking his head. He closed the papers and tossed it into the fireplace before you could see what exactly was on the headline; only catching a glimpse of a crazed smile as the page burned down. You had asked what it was and he simply gave you a kiss on the forehead.

“Oh, it’s nothing, mate.” He’d say, giving you a smile that’s too tense to be real. He picked up other odd habits too- cracking his knuckles, smoking a bit more than usual. One morning, you came out of your room to find him asleep on a chair outside of your door. He slept there all night, keeping watch.

What he was protecting you from- you had no idea.

But the strangest behavior of all happened one morning when you two were out for a walk. Remus needed to pick up his Wolfsbane and was hesitant to leave you alone at home. He also insisted on holding your hand the entire walk there which you didn’t mind, of course, but his grip would tighten at any startling noise. As you walked past a cafe you smiled and pointed.

“Look, it’s a dog!” You smiled and laughed at the sight- the dog looked out of place in the cute cafe. Remus’s head immediately turned and he stepped in front of you, protective. Remus’s eyes searched frantically for the animal like it was about to pounce on the two of you.

His shoulders visibly relaxed when he realized that you were pointing to a small fluffy dog resting inside its owner’s purse. He exhaled shakily and tugged you along, walking a bit quicker than before and muttering something under his breath.

You figured that Remus’s new job would be good for him. He’d be closer to you, he’d be closer to help for his lycanthropy, and he’d be away from whatever news headlines were troubling him so much.

In your daydreams you almost missed the three familiar figures walking past your train compartment: Hermione, Harry, and Ron. You slide open the door, creeping out quietly so as to not wake Remus. A whole summer without seeing your friends was torture. Harry was your first friend at Hogwarts- you liked that he was just as new to everything as you; he liked that you had tons of stories about his parents. Hermione had intimidated you at first. With her quick wit and effortless smarts. Those feelings quickly dissipated after she stood up for you when a group of Ravenclaws stole one of your letters to home. Your cheeks burned when they mocked your letter to Remus but seeing their hair immediately grow down to their feet thanks to a hex from the young witch cheered you up.

Once you stepped into the train’s hall you called out to your friends with a smile.

“Hey guys,” You call out to them “I’ve got a compartment. Be quiet, though. My dad’s sleeping.” You smiled at the sight of their surprised faces. Hermione ran to you with an excited call of your name, crashing into you with a tight hug.

“Oh, I missed you this summer! I would’ve written so much more but I was just so busy reading. I’ve been trying to get ahead. I mean, with the schedule I have for this year I’m gonna be in two places at once.” You shook your head with a smile. Of course she was studying over the summer. She was the biggest overachiever you knew.

You were pulled from your embrace with her when Ron bumped her out of the way.

“You’d think she’s been gone from war, Hermione. Can you not strangle her before we get the chance to say hello?” You smile and let out a laugh, amused at the bickering. You brought him in for a friendly hug and you patted his back. Ron was a good guy. You wouldn’t say he’s your best friend but the shared trauma of exploding monster chess pieces has a way of bringing people together. “I see you haven’t taken off this jacket of yours.” He says, tugging on the sleeve of your- well, Sirius’s- leather jacket.

“And I see you’ve gotten some more freckles.” You tease back with a smirk. He pushes you off with a groan and a poorly concealed smile.

“Merlin, not even two minutes into the year and I’m sick of you.” He snickers and steps into the compartment, training behind Hermione. You finally turn your gaze to Harry and two things quickly come to mind. The first is that he’s gotten tall. The second is that you hadn’t even noticed how much you really missed him until this moment.

He wore a simple t-shirt and jeans, his wand tucked into his pocket. He wore the same wire framed glasses over the same pretty green eyes.

“Okay, easy. It’s just Harry for Merlin’s sake. Not Gilderoy Lockhart.” You thought as you stepped up to him with a grin. He quickly pulled you into a hug and took a deep breath.

Harry’s summer sucked (naturally). Staying with the Dursleys was torture. Not only did it mean that he was away from school. The months spent in that cupboard was a prison sentence. His warden? Vernon Dursley.

That meant that he couldn’t take visits to see his friends, he couldn’t study for the upcoming year. He couldn’t even write letters either.

But whatever troubles he had developed over the summer, he had quickly forgotten after seeing your smirk.

“Missed you loads.” He says, his shoulders relaxing. You smiled. You didn’t need to say you missed him; you were sure he could tell. He had a weird way of reading your mind. You wondered if it was the same way with James and Sirius.

Harry was a friend that you could tell anything to. He’d been with you through thick and thin and you could say that he was, without a doubt, your best friend. He’s a partner in crime, a confidant, someone to lean on.

It would be natural to wonder how you two could get along so well. It may seem shocking that the fact that your father is accused of brutally murdering his parents isn’t a setback in your relationship. Perhaps it would be an issue if Harry knew that unfortunate detail about your life’s history.

To save you from ridicule, Dumbledore and Remus both decided it would be best to enroll you in Hogwarts under Remus’s name. As far as anyone was concerned, you were a Lupin. You didn’t mind. It’s not like you knew your real dad. Remus was your father in every sense of the word other than blood.

But Harry would probably mind. Did it make you a bad person not to tell him? Maybe.

But have you felt guilty about this every time he asks you to tell him some of Remus’s stories about The Marauders? Absolutely.

You shove these thoughts to the back of your mind as you release him from the hug with a smile.

“Sap.” You say before climbing into the compartment.

You slide in next to Remus who is still, somehow, sleeping over the noise of Hermionie and Ron’s arguing. You quiet them with a look and a nod towards Remus’s figure, covered in his coat. Hermione turns to you, her expression suddenly serious.

“Have you been reading the papers?” She asks, her tone anxious. You shake your head.

Remus had been hoarding the Daily Prophet for some reason. He hadn’t let you read the papers in ages. Another one of his odd habits recently.

“I get them sent by owls. You ought to start staying up to date on this kind of thing. Especially considering the relevance it has.” Hermione huffs. She quickly pulls a folded up newspaper from her bag and holds it out to you. “We need to be concerned for Harry.”

You’re about to quip “When do we not?” until you flip over the pages to see the headline and your blood runs cold.

His name. Your father’s name printed clearly on the front page.

You stared down at his photo, the image moving as he snarled and thrashed at the camera. He looked angry and tired and sick and evil. His eyes were filled with intensity that made the hair on your arms stick up.

It was like looking in a mirror. A sick and twisted mirror, sure, but still. The resemblance was uncanny. His eyes, his smile, his nose. Down to the sharpness of his canines. Thank Merlin that your friends were too occupied in the situation that they didn’t notice your state or your resemblance to the man.

In your shock, you only catch the tail end of their conversation.

“...The man’s a murderous, raving lunatic.” Ron deadpans. His sarcasm isn’t able to hide the pure worry he has for Harry. A strange part of you feels protective. He is your dad. You don’t feel the need to cut in with his defense: the fact that he hadn’t had a motivation or even a trial. Remus didn’t hate Sirius and neither did you. None of this would be helpful to point out. You look up from the photo at Harry.

“It’ll be okay. Dumbledore won’t let anyone get to you, yeah?” You say, trying to be reassuring. You’re not sure if it’s for Harry or for yourself. Before anyone can cut in with their worries, the train screeches to a sudden halt.

Rain pelts against the window as the Hogwarts Express jostles. You look at Remus who is miraculously still sleeping.

“Why are we stopping?” You hear Hermione question. You shake your head, about to express your confusion before the lights of the train shut off. The newspaper in your lap is forgotten as you stand up to investigate. Before you can get to the door though, a lurch of the train sends you back to your seat. “Bloody hell” Ron gasps and you turn your head. The window has frosted up and you watch in confusion as the bottle of water on the floor freezes up. Your grip tightens on Sirius’s leather jacket, hugging the warm leather closer against you.

A shadowy figure approaches from outside the compartment. It was ghostly and its presence filled you with dread. Suddenly you were four years old back in evil foster homes. You could only stare in fear and silence as it opened the door to your compartment.

“Get Remus, Wake him up.” Your mind shouted as the creature stared at all of you. You felt like it saw right into your soul. You sat frozen.

The ghost looked towards Harry and you gasped as it drew close to him and inhaled deeply. Like he was sucking out Harry’s soul.

When you finally found your voice, you turned to Remus’s sleeping figure helplessly and you shook him awake.

“Dad, please wake up! Moony help!” You said to him as Harry slipped out of consciousness, his weight slipping onto you as the shadowy figure continued its assault.

Remus quickly jolted awake at the sound of you and stood up with his wand. A burst of light filled the compartment, driving away the creature. Once it had fled, Harry slumped down. Remus sees the copy of the newspaper on the floor and he picks it up quickly, folding up Sirius’s angry stare and tucking it into his back pocket. Remus looked at you before he even noticed Harry’s state.

He starts rambling. His hands fly to the sides of your face, holding you worriedly. “Oh, mate, I’m sorry, are you okay. Merlin- Fuck, I’ll explain it all later. I should’ve told you. I had no clue the dementors would even be here. Dumbledore assured me that they’d be far away. Oh, Lovely- if it got its hands on you it would’ve-”

“Dad.” You cut him off, “Harry.” You nod towards the boy who’s passed out. Hermionie and Ron simply stare helplessly.

“Oh! Yes, yes.” Remus mutters, moving to check on Harry now that he’s realized that you are okay.

“Not even at school yet and we’ve already gotten into some kind of trouble.” Ron mutters. He is quickly silenced by a swift kick to the shins, given by Hermionie.

Minutes feel like hours as you wait for Harry to wake up. When he does stir, he sits up and looks around, confused. Remus pulls a bar of chocolate from his cloak pocket.

“Here. Eat.” Remus murmurs comfortingly. Harry takes it, his expression unsure. He looks at me and I give him a reassuring nod. “It’s alright. It’s chocolate.” Remus says, encouraging Harry to eat.

“What- what was that?” Harry asks shakily, adjusting his glasses.

“A dementor. One of the guards of Azkaban.” Remus sits back in his chair. His gaze is heavy as he stares at Harry. “He’s gone now. He’s looking for the traitor Sirius Black.” Your friends don’t catch the way Remus’s jaw ticks and his shoulders tense at the name. They don’t notice how Remus’s eyes flick to yours for a moment or how you avert your gaze. They don’t notice the sadness in Remus’s eyes remembering his companion as though he was a murderer. You do. You notice everything about Remus.

He stands and sets the rest of the chocolate bar in Harry’s lap before kissing you on top of your head.

“If you’ll excuse me,” he starts as he opens the compartment door “I need to have a word with the driver.” He takes one more glance at all of you, his gaze landing on Harry. “Eat. You’ll feel better.” With that, he slips out and the door shuts with a click, leaving the four of you in silence.

So much for an uneventful school year.

After the dust had settled and everyone had gone to bed, you found yourself in Dumbledore’s office, standing stuck to the floor next to Professor McGonagall. Her arms are crossed and her eyes are filled with concern as she talks with Dumbledore. Across the room, Remus is pacing back and forth, dragging his hands through his hair. The whole display didn't feel real. Maybe it wasn’t.

You were dreaming. A nightmare. Soon you’d wake up at home, tucked safely in your bed. Harry wasn’t attacked by a dementor. Your dad hadn’t escaped jail.

You shivered at the thought.

You knew he wouldn't hurt you. You were sure of that. But all those years locked away for wrongful imprisonment would probably make a guy want to settle some grudges.

You were numb. Remus was livid.

“What happens if they realize that she’s his daughter? Huh? Those dementors won’t think twice about killing her. They’ll sense his blood and give her the kiss before she can even pull out her wand.” Remus said angrily. He was smoking a cigarette. In fact, he was almost through a pack.

Severus Snape stares at him coldly from across the room. Logically, you knew that Snape was trustworthy. Dumbledore wouldn’t be so loyal to him if he was truly evil. But there was something deep within you that told you Snape was no good. The way he walks, the tone of his voice, the condescending way he stares at you sends your blood boiling. Apparently he had a big feud with The Marauders when they were young. Even if it wasn’t in your DNA to hate Snape, you still would loathe the man for how he treated others. He looked away when muggle-borns were being bullied. He praised Draco malfoy, the prince prick of all pricks. Snape never passed up the chance to take points from houses other than Slytherin and he’s rumoured to be a death eater.

Nothing is worse, though, than how he treats Moony.

Your Moony. The one who makes you toast and dries your tears. The one who saved you, who took you in. Somehow Snape is able to bully your kind hearted, gentle, loving Remus. In the time that they’ve been in the same room, Snape has already mocked Remus’s lycanthropy, made snide comments about your upbringing (as if the fact that Remus wasn’t rich made your life with him any less happy), and he went so far as to insinuate that Remus was a traitor due to his loyalty to Sirius.

Severus Snape was a dick.

“The dementors are instructed to stay far away, in the unlikely case that it becomes an issue-” Says Snape, his voice nasally and irritating.

“Unlikely? A dementor has already attacked a student. Harry could’ve been seriously injured. Or worse!” Remus takes a deep inhale of the cigarette. He moves to stand at your side. “Call them off, Professor. Call them off or we’re leaving.” He looks to Dumbledore, his brow set in a determined stare, stubbornly making a point. Dumbledore sighs and shakes his head patiently.

“Remus, we just can’t do that. It’s standard protocol.” You hear Remus huff next to you, agitated. Dumbledore continues “I will speak to Harry about the encounter and I’ll talk to the ministry about the ordeal but we won’t call off the dementors. I’m truly sorry but there is nothing I can do.” He looks genuine. You give him a small smile and he gives you one back, a glint in his eye as he leaves. Snape trails after him next, giving Remus a snide look.

Professor McGonagall remains with the two of you, turning towards the still fuming Remus.

“Minnie, I mean what I said. I will leave and she’s coming with me. I promised that I’d keep her safe and I will not let her stay so close to those fucking things.” Remus starts pacing again, muttering angrily as Professor McGonagall tries to calm him down.

“Remus, listen to me, leaving will do nothing but harm. What happens if people think you are in cahoots with Black? Here, Albus will protect you both. Who will protect you if you are at home?” Her voice is sharp but not unkind. She looks at him with a motherly sort of fierceness.

“If anyone tries anything, I’ll be the one in Azkaban.” Remus says, lighting another cigarette.

As the two of them bicker back and forth, your gaze drifts to the window. The moon is bright and clear, almost full. That was probably another reason for Remus’s mood. He always got territorial and antsy when the full moon was closer. When you first moved in with him, the full moon nearing meant he would get distant. He was so scared that he would hurt you somehow. Once he became more sure of his place in your life, his pre-moon behavior changed. He would become fiercely protective. You supposed it was the natural instinct to protect enhanced by the wolf.

Once McGonagall is able to calm Remus down (and confiscate his cigarettes) she sends the two of you out, ordering you back to the dorms and Remus to the professor’s quarters. It was funny seeing her scold him, it was like he was a teen again. He might be much taller than the old woman, but she still put him in his place quickly.

“She should know better than that. I obviously have more packs than that.” Remus says, trying to lighten the mood as he walks you back to the Gryffindor common room. You simply stare ahead angrily. He looks at you and taps you on the head. “Lovely, don’t be mad. C’mon I don’t smoke that much.” No response. Remus sighs. “I want to keep you safe, kid. I can’t let anything happen to you. Seriously.” You stop and look up at him, upset.

“Sirius Black is out of Azkaban and you didn’t think to tell me? You didn’t think I needed to know?” You spit out. Remus recoils at the anger in your voice. “I’m not six anymore. You should have told me.”

“I should have.” Remus nods, stopping in his tracks. “You’re right about that. But when I found out, the only thing I could think to do is protect you, mate. I will always defend Sirius. You know that.” His voice is unsteady as she stares at you. “But Azkaban changes people. Who knows what he’s like now.” You look down, unable to hold his gaze any longer. He pulls you into him, hugging you. “And I didn’t even think. I just needed you safe, mate.”

When you arrived at the common room safely, Remus took a glance around before giving you a kiss goodnight. Harry, Hermionie, and Ron were sitting on the couch by the fire, talking quietly. Their conversation stops when they notice you. Remus gives them all a smile and a nod.

“Goodnight Ron, Hermione. Goodnight Harry.” He says before turning and leaving. When you face the group again, they’re all pulling you down to sit.

“What was that about? Where were you?” Asks Hermione, her head tilted curiously. What were you supposed to say?

“Me? Oh, just preparing for the oncoming dementor attack I’ll get because of the fact that my dad escaped from prison. Yeah, my dad is Sirius Black, sorry I’ve been lying to you all about that. And sorry about your mum and dad Harry.”

You figured that that wouldn’t go over well so instead you give Hermionie the most convincing smile you can muster.

“Just helping my dad settle in, no need to worry.” That seemed to have calmed her and she continues talking to Ron about the classes she’s enrolled in this year. You feel Harry’s unwavering gaze on your profile. You turn to look at him. “What?” You ask, hoping he doesn’t see right through you.

“That’s your dad, huh?” He says nodding towards the portrait hole Remus had just left. You swallow thickly and nod. “You look nothing alike.” You blink, unsure of what to say to that so you simply shrug.

Leaning back against the couch, something catches your eye. It’s small enough to be overlooked but you caught the little carving written into the side of the side table:

“Sirius was here”

As your friends chatted away about the upcoming year, you stared at the little carving. A small act of teenage rebellion, nothing meaningful. It stuck with you though. Sirius was here.

Sirius was everywhere.

He’s Remus’s sigh after a laugh, he’s the frustration in professors’ voices when they correct you, he’s the stubborn furrow in your brow that forms when you’re being defiant. He is there when you’re upset at the world. He’s there when you look at photos, or listen to music. He was there when you snuck one of Remus’s cigarettes one night over the summer. He’s in the common room- his name written on random surfaces or Prophet headlines.

He’s inescapable. He follows you around wherever you go, whether you like it or not.

He’s the mangy black dog with shaggy fur and wild eyes that’s found a hiding place in the shrieking shack.

notes: IF IT'S BAD IM SORRY. i'm not exaggerating when i say that i get so nervous posting this. please give me validation y'all i live for it. (some of your comments have me giggling and kicking my feet) also im so sorry that it took so long to post this chapter. i was going through it.

THANK YOU FOR READING THIS FAR ILYSM!!!!

taglist, comment to be added <3 : @mmmunson @reesespeesees @starmaniii @deathmybride

(if you reblog, i'll give you my firstborn rumplestiltskin style)

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