#plus size hermione

[littlebit-of-art]

Some dramione smooches to help break the art block

[so-scarlett-maroon]

Entering the New Year: A Smutty Harmony One-Shot

Entering the New Year - So_scarlett_maroon - Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling [Archive of Our Own]

I wrote this for the Devious & Diverse New Year 2024 Fest hosted by @kinksofknockturnalley. The prompt was on the patio just outside the party. And needed to include at least one kink and some body positivity.

Those prompts led me to roommates, plus size Hermione exhibition kink fic.

[asapphiccrow]

Evanescene

Mattheo Riddle x Plus size! Reader

Warnings: Mentions of addiction (I'm pretty sure that's it)

A/N: Im sorry this took so long ya'll I've been busy with work and school 😞 I hope y'all enjoy though and I promise the next chapter will come quicker then this one.

W/C: 3K

(This song has nothing to do with the plot It just reminds me of Mattheo)

Chapter 2

Familiarity of dreams

The great hall of Hogwarts was lit up with its usual hexed floating candles, and enchanted ceiling representing the breathtaking night sky. Now the sky outside had just fallen making way for the darkness that engulfed it everytime. The first day back at Hogwarts had just been completed. Everyone now amongst their friends, discussing their adventures over the break and their enthusiasm or disdain for being back at school. Though amongst all the chatter of what places people went or didn't the same discussion came up. Who was that dog from last year? Mystique, the infamous wolf or dog or hybrid, no one knew really. But she was one of the biggest talks of last year and apparently this year too. No one knew who she belonged to, where she came from, or how she kept getting into hogwarts. The professors were at a loss too. But no one seem to mind either  

“I think it’s someone's pet”, Enzo explained, “They just won’t admit it because then the dog will get kicked out”, he ended, a smirk painting his features. 

Theodore nodded along in agreement with his close friend. 

Blaise simply scoffed at this idea. “Oh please Berkshire, the animal is too big to be a dog”, an air of confidence surrounding the boy. This time Draco let out a simple, mhm, in agreement with his friend. 

Theo locked eyes with Blaise across the table, “well if you’re so smart what do you think it is then”, his features hardening into a faux serious expression. 

Zabini eagerly responded. His theory being something along the lines of hexes and guardians, curses and magical deals. It was truly all over the place. The young slytherin kept on blabbering on and on about his theory, the other sighing in annoyance. Nott put his head down on the table, regretting his prior question. He then looked over at his best mate, slightly surprised he hadn't asked Blaise to stop talking yet. The curly headed boy in question seemed to not be paying attention, his head elsewhere. Theo assumed it had something to do with rumors of a certain someone returning. Mattheo had told Nott about that night in the forest, he tried to assure the boy it was something else. Then the incident between Harry Potter and Professor Quirrell began circulating around the students. After that Theodore wasn’t sure how much he could convince the young boy that everything was ok. Nott himself wasn’t even convinced everything was ok. 

The boy was about to open his mouth to comfort or console his friend. But before he could get even a sound out Mattheo shot up, paying no mind to his now confused friends, and exited the great hall. 

“Ok what’s his deal”, Parkinson spoke up, a look of slight annoyance and confusion laced her face, “Always getting up out of nowhere and leaving all mysteriously, does he know he’s not the main character”, finishing her little rant with a scoff.

No one else said anything more about brunette's dramatic exit, all of them returning back to their prior conversations. The lot didn’t seem to care, quite used to the boys' dramatics at this point. Though the long haired girl, who sat diagonal of him, was not so convinced. Admittedly for most of dinner she had been staring. It wasn’t purposely or creepaly, for that matter. Her eyes just seemed to, unintentionally, fall on him every so often. Now because of this “unintentional” staring she saw the way the boy's eyes dropped, though his face stayed as unbothered as usual. It was a look she had seen before on others many times, a look of shock and horror. One you try so very hard not to express, but you fail every time. 

—--MATTHEO POV—--

‘Mattheo’ a voice whispered. I looked up, suspecting it was one of my friends. Though all I saw, and heard, was Blaise rambling on about his ‘interesting’ theory of the ,ever mysterious, beast on campus. In turn I brushed it off, thinking it was just the paranoia from the events that transpired last year. That is until he heard it again. 

‘Mattheo’ the voice repeated, seemingly getting louder. 

‘What the fuck’  I voiced to myself. This voice that was calling out to me, it felt so familiar, like something I’d only ever heard in my dreams. Though it also felt like something to avoid, like its presents was something to be feared. But I couldn’t ignore it. So I sat there for a little longer, waiting for it to speak again. 

‘Come here boy’ it spoke once more.

Now engulfed with curiosity I shot up, a bit more dramatic and attention attracting then I had intended, though my ability to care was truly out the window at the moment. So with the voice still calling to me I followed. Exciting the great hall, all I could feel was the eyes of my mates and just about everyone else in the great hall tracing my every step. Nonetheless I made a full exit and continued the path being spoken to me by the eerie voice in my head?, in the walls? I’m not sure but I suppose I’ll find out soon. After what felt like hours, what was really only 30 minutes, of mindlessly following this mysterious voice I was done. Everytime I thought I had found the source of the voice, everytime I felt as though I could feel it fan the shell of my ear, it stopped. Then once it spoke again it was further away. At this point I was fully and utterly done. This wasn’t me giving up no, I was gonna find out who or what was calling to me. But for now I needed a break. I knew dinner was going to end soon so I decided to go somewhere that wouldn’t end up crowded with numerous children and teens. Somewhere I truly found peace and tranquility. The astronomy tower. 

—--At the astronomy tower—--

Mattheo sat on the cold floor, back pressed up against a railing and a cigarette lit between his fingers. The boy truthfully wasn’t the biggest fan of smoking, the taste and feeling it left in his lungs wasn’t one he enjoyed. Yet the stress and fear that surrounded the young slytherin last year and continued to follow him left him in dire need of some sort of vise. Having expressed this to his best mate, and the boy he happened to live with when not at Hogwarts, knew exactly what he needed.  

The two boys huddled around a corner waiting for Mr. Nott to head out for the night, leaving his study unsupervised. 

“Are you sure this is the best idea mate?” the younger boy spoke, his tone full of worry and hesitance. Mattheo wasn’t really scared of much but Mr. Nott was not one for being too kind to anyone. He was a cruel unsavory man and the curly headed boy preferred to interact with him and his fury as little as possible. 

Now the friend in question simply let out a quiet scoff, keeping his eyes fixed on the door to the study he spoke in response, “trust me mate the second he leaves we’ll pop then pop out in a second”. He looked down a little meeting mattheo gaze, patting his shoulder lightly he sent the boy a resuring yet mischievous smile. “No one will be none the wiser, I promise”. 

And with that Mr. Nott finally left his study, making sure to lock the door behind him, then heading out of the Nott mansion without speaking a word. Once they heard the man's car speed out of the driveway the boys sprung into action. Mattheo and Theodore approached the study door, the older boy stood there for a second not quite sure how to unlock the door - he truly had no plan. Though lucky, one boy did pay attention in last year's class and had an idea. With one wave of the younger boy's wand, and the mutter of an incantation, the door unlocked and opened itself. The nott boy muttered ‘brilliant’ under his breath. He then stepped into his fathers study heading straight for the drawer he knew held what the boys sought. Theo opened the drawer grabbing the package and without a word he pulled his friend out the study, locking it behind him, then ran up into his room. 

While Mattheo was recounting the events that led to his new found addiction he heard creaking. At first he thought it was just the wind or simply noises an ancient castle would make, but as they got louder and closer he knew it was neither of those. The dark eyed boy looked toward the stairs, his eyes landed on a mess of long dark curls. ‘Bea’, of course who else would be up here this late. 

As the girl made her way fully up the stairs she walked over to where Mattheo had sat himself then took a seat on the railing the boy was sitting up against. Her legs swung a little, draped with the dark gray school skirt and a pair of dark stockings. Bea looked down at the boy below her, watching as he took a drag of his cigarette then released the smoke into the chilly night air. The curly headed boy felt her eyes on him, but he didn’t look up, he never did. 

The pair had been coming to the astronomy tower since the second term. They didn’t come here together on purpose. No, Mattheo came up here first to escape the ruckus of his mates and to draw, a hobby they often teased him about. Then Bea started coming up, to escape the ruckus of their mutual friends and the rest of the Slytherins, but she also felt peace and a sense of comfort from the quiet and stillness of the night. All the animals that came out at night, the noises that were revealed from the quiet and the twinkling stars that only dared to expose their beauty when it was dark and only a few were around to see. It truly was more magical and enchanting than anything Bea had seen or done before. With that the two Slytherins continued to come to the astronomy tower together, they never spoke or really acknowledged each other's presence, yet it was never awkward. They found peace in each other's presence without ever having spoken a word. 

Bea wanted to break that though, she wanted to speak to the boy, craved it. So she did. “I’ve never seen you smoke before”, the usually silent girl spoke, her voice soft, though it was clear to Mattheo that she wanted some sort of explanation for his new found “habit”. 

So the boy put his cigarette out -it had reached the end of its life anyways- he looked up at the girl who he slowly came to recognize as a friend. The pair locked eyes, Bea quirked her eyebrow signaling her anticipation for the boy, who sat below her, to speak. 

Mattheo held silent eye contact with Holloway for another second, “I started over the holiday, honestly Theo’s doing”, he spoke, voice low and his eyes on the ground as he found it a little difficult to speak while looking at the girl. Bea took his breath away one could say, though the riddle boy simply chalked it up to his nerves and inability to talk to people about anything regarding his home life. 

“I suppose Nott isn't the best influence then”, she let out an airy laugh, though her voice remained soft and sweet. 

The boy's onyx eyes returned once more to the girl above him. He caught the way her eyes wrinkled up a bit on the sides, the way her lips cracked into a small smirk as she laughed, and how she took one sleeve covered hand off the railing to try and cover her slight smile. Like it was some sort of secret, one she did not want revealed to anyone. 

—--Time skip—--

After about half an hour or so of the two young Slytherins discussing how Mattheo came to his new habit and other mundane things, the pair decided it was about time to head back to their dorms. Neither of them really wanted to, enjoying the many conversations and the overall comfort they found in the other's presence. Nonetheless it was late and admittedly they both were quite tired. As they were on their way back to the slytherin dorms Bea caught a glimpse of something in one the halls, something that caused her to stop in her tracks. She backed up slowly, turning away from the confused boy next to her and made her way down said hall. Holloway stopped after a few steps into said hall, Mattheo following swiftly after her. The pair stopped in front of a horrid sight. Filch’s cat, Mrs. Norris, dead? Frozen? Either way the cat along with a message, ‘the chamber of secrets has been opened’, safe to say the whole of it made both their stomachs drop. 

“Is that blo-” the Riddle boy spoke before he was interrupted by his curly headed friend.

“What is the chamber of secrets?”, she enquired, the question itself wasn't intended to be answered and wouldn't be either for someone decided to interrupt the pair. Though they did not realize as they were to absorbed in the image in front of them to hear the creaking of the floor or the annoyed grumbling of the approaching person. 

The figure stopped as soon as it saw the pair, “ and what are you two doing up out of bed at this hour”, the low-pitched voice spoke. Their monotone and sorta of elongated way of speaking made it very evident on who the speaker was. The two young slytherin turned toward the speaker slowly and with hesitation, knowing this would 100% qualify a detention and a loss of house points. Now Mattheo was a rather argumentative boy and refused to lose house points over this so he attempted to speak up, defend their actions but he was interrupted by another -again. 

“Ah there you two are!”, another voice spoke, seemingly appearing behind the Slytherins out of nowhere. Now this voice Bea also knew, very well, having been scolded and comforted by it for many many years. “ I’ve been looking for you guys”, the feather soft voice spoke once more, ending her sentence by looking at the other mystery figure. 

“Honey Holloway”, the other person spoke each syllable of her name out. “What could you be doing with two Slytherins?” They questioned the teen girl behind the kids. 

“Well Professor Snape”, Honey spoke, putting on her compiling charm and sweetness -I mean her name is literally Honey- “These two were helping me with somethings for herbology” 

“Yep that's right”, the two kids nodded their heads in agreement. 

Professor Snape did not try to argue as he was far too tired and Honey Holloway had always proven herself to be a rather trustworthy teen so with that the two Slytherins and Honey were on their way leaving behind a rather unconvinced Professor. 

éé

—--The next day in transfiguration—--

Bea sat in transfiguration class next to her housemates and friends, Enzo and Draco, lost in a thought on what the hell the “chamber of secrets is” and how Mrs. Norris got petrified. The girl wanted answers, I mean this is not a normal occurrence even in the wizarding world this whole thing was just weird. She continued to sit there picking at her nails -a nervous habit- and lost in the void of her thoughts not paying much attention to what was happening around her. That is until a voice broke her thought. 

Whispering to her and Malfoy, Enzo spoke, “So I heard you and Riddle came back late last night, together”, saying ‘together’ in a sultry tone. 

Holloway let out a small huff, “it’s not like that Berkshire”, voice firm, “also we are 13”, she concluded rolling her eyes at the hushed chuckles the two boys shared. 

“Ok so if you and Théo weren’t snogging, then what were you doing?” 

The girl's eyes widened with shock at her friend's explicit words, ‘snogging really?’ 

“Well if you must-” Bea cut herself off right there, not paying any mind to the two slytherin boys who were trying to grab her attention but instead to the conversation a certain genius witch had just sparked with the professor. She asked about the chamber of secrets, the same question the young curly headed girl had herself. 

Professor Mcgonegell looked hesitant to tell her class of young minds the secrets that lay within the walls of Hogwarts but after a minute of thinking she had made up her mind. “Well Ms Granger” she began, her stern tone wavering ever so slightly most would not notice but Bea did and it seems so did Hermione. “As we all know Hogwarts was founded by four mighty witches and wizards -Godrick Gryffindor, Rowena Ravenclaw, Helga Hufflepuff, and Salazar Slytherin”. 

Professor Mcgonagall Talked for a little while longer, explaining how Salazar Slytherin was a despicable man who wanted to purge Hogwarts of all mud-bloods. The other houses disagreed and fought him on this matter but under their noses he created a chamber one that held a petrifying beast -a basilisk. This basilisk was meant to kill mud-bloods, to rid the school of them. But as far as everyone is concerned this ‘chamber of secrets’ is purely the thing of fiction. 

This conversation put the girl once again into deep thought but this time she knew exactly what to do.

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@stars4birdie @camiesully

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[flowersinvegas]

can someone please rec some good dramione with plus size hermione????

I am in dire need

[sundrop-writes]

Downhill

Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader

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

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

Summary:

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

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

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

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

Word Count: 20,100

Harry Potter Masterlist | AO3 Link

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

At first, it felt instinctive to hate Draco Malfoy. 

You wanted so badly to hate him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you kept wearing it. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh - oh my.” You gaped quietly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He tightly clenched his jaw. 

You were surprised when he spoke again. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You couldn’t help yourself then. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That part had never truly occurred to you before. 

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

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

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

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

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

Draco, unlike you, was a coward. 

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

… 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Draco.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The man ignored her. 

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

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

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

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

… 

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

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

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

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

A mattress laid out on the floor. 

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

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

It was a revelation that shocked you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

You wouldn’t let him escape this time. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

And all of it was so incredibly genuine. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Draco, please-” 

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

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

Then - he pulled you into a kiss. 

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

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

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

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

This felt like saving him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was too damn weak. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Please. 

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

Please, notice me. Find me worthy. 

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

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

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

Of course, he thought. More. 

She deserves more. 

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

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

“Draco!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Draco! Oh-!” 

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

“Please, more!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Draco, fuck! So good!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ve - I’ve got you, love,” 

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

“I’ve got you.” 

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

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

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

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

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

You were going to cum. 

You were going to become unravelled on his tongue. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s your turn now, right?” 

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

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

This was about you. Your needs. Your wants. 

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

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

Because his damn mind had turned back on. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Draco-” 

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

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

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

“Look at me.” He choked out. 

Zapped by the electricity in the air, the sharp demanding in his words, your eyes flew right to his. You found yourself almost possessed by the emotions lingering there - lust, regret, hatred. 

You had a distinct feeling that it wasn’t directed at you. 

“It’s okay.” You breathed out, reaching out to put a gentle hand on his clothed thigh. “It’s okay, Draco.” 

These simple words - this tiny pacification that Draco had never before received - he broke. Your gentleness tore through his body like a dragon tearing into a fresh kill. It wounded him in a way that insults never could. 

He let out a strangled cry, and unexpectedly, his orgasm punched through his gut - tears flooded his eyes as weak spurts of cum flowed out of his cock, making a mess of his fist as he slowed his touch. His release dripped down to ruin his pants, and weakly splashed against the bareness of your inner thighs were the hole in your tights gaped open, smearing onto the nylon in some spots. 

When Draco was sure that he had wrung the last bits of weak pleasure from his cock, he fell on top of you. It was something entirely against his will, as he was now all too weakened by your soothing words, your soft touch, your welcoming eyes that seemed far too forgiving toward him. With his face tucked against your breast, tired and unable to hold it back any longer - he began to sob. 

It was a dam broken from months, possibly years - a mask that he had been putting on long before you had ever known him. 

It was an inherent shock to your system, going from that lustful tingle to feeling nothing but shock and pity for him. But you did the only thing you could do - you cradled the back of his head, holding him close, petting a hand down his heaving back in an attempt to comfort him while he wailed so harshly. You knew that it was what he needed. And it was what he had done for you all too many times since meeting you. 

“Hey, it’s okay.” 

You assured him, not entirely sure that he heard your gentle voice over the sound of his own sobs - your throat too sore from your own previous wrecked moaning to try and speak up any louder. 

“It’s okay. Shh. Just let it out. I’m here with you. It’s okay, Draco.” 

It went on like that for what felt like hours. Your previously sex heated skin became cold in the room once again, distinctly reminding you of every single spot that was ripped open and exposed by your already weather inappropriate outfit. But instead of getting up to attend to this, you simply laid there, soothing him, trying to comfort him as his chest-racking sobs lulled down into calmer cries and then died off into sniffles. 

You thought he might say something - thank you, apologise. 

You were even further surprised when his sounds switched again, and a low chuckle came from his throat. A small sound that quickly hitched into an epic, near maniacal laughter, puffing against your breast as he tried his hardest to heave himself up on weak arms, tearing out of your comforting touch. 

He looked utterly broken - his previously near hair a complete mess, falling across his sweat streaked forehead, his teeth bared, laughing so tiredly with tears streaking down from his now red, puffy eyes. 

“Merlin - I’m so fucking pathetic, aren’t I?” He choked out. 

“You’re not.” You argued, your voice dull and hoarse but still firm in your conviction. 

You wanted him to know that it was okay to cry. That under his circumstances, anybody would have snapped a lot sooner than he had. 

He didn’t reply, but instead moved to get off you entirely. He stumbled on his feet for a moment as he stood up and began straightening out his clothes, finding his wand and muttering some cleaning spells to deal with the mess he had left on his pants. 

You sat up then, your back now quite sore from the poor quality of the abandoned old mattress. And from having Draco stiff on top of you for so long, and you began doing the same to yourself. He watched quietly as you righted your clothes and did a few simple (talented, wandless) cleaning spells of your own, and then finally, he spoke. 

“You should leave.” 

He said quietly, moving to turn away from you completely as he tucked his shirt back into his pants. He was likely going to slip into the confusing maze of furniture that he knew better than you did in order to lose you - to avoid further conversation. 

“No.” 

You baulked out defiantly, making an effort to heave your stiff body up to standing level in order to look him in the eye. 

“You can’t keep doing that!” You shouted at his back, growing frustrated once again. “You can’t keep running away from a conversation every time it gets a little too serious for you!” 

“What do you expect that I do, then?” Draco asked, his voice strained with fatigue and heaviness, his throat worn out from the tears, his eyes still red and exhausted when he whipped around to face you. 

“Stay.” You offered weakly. 

You knew that in one simple word, you were asking too much of him. You were putting such a grand task onto him that he could barely surmount to. 

His chin quivered as he bit his lip, swallowing down the weakness of the confession: 

I can’t. 

He wanted to be good enough for you. 

But he wasn’t. He just wasn’t. 

He wasn’t some perfect harbor you could cling to in a storm. He was a heavy iron anchor sinking you to your drowning death. 

Feeling all of his bitterness swelling in the air, something truly defiant came up inside of you. A deep urge to defy everything he thought he was, everything his parents had painted into him that made him run from you the moment you treated him like a person. 

You would not have a marriage where your husband held you at arm’s length. Even if you had to strangle him, smother him with your good intentions in order to get him close. 

“Draco, please, I lov-” 

“No.” Draco choked out, cutting you off, dreading hearing those words. “Don’t.” 

It wasn’t true. 

You were tied to him by force. 

You were someone bought into his life through gold and cruelty, someone forced to be by his side. 

If you loved him, it was as a prisoner loves their cell. 

He wouldn’t let you waste those words on him. 

You let out a harsh sigh and shook your head, wanting to scream. But you knew that he was far too used to screaming - used to harshness, frustration. He wasn’t prepared for the thing you needed to give him most. You swallowed thickly around the lump in your throat, and whispered your next words as a cursed promise into the chilled air: 

“I love you, Draco.” 

He sucked in a rattling breath, and it only took him a moment to find the strength to fight back. 

“You don’t mean that.” 

He said, shaking his head forcefully at you, once again resisting the urge to turn around and slink off. He wanted to slither away and hide from you like the serpent that he was - cold blooded, alone, a creature of the shadows who previously never needed your warmth. 

“Shut up!” 

You barked back, surprising him with the passion, the fury that lit up your face as you rambled into your next declaration. 

“Draco Lucius Malfoy - you may think that you know everything, but I can assure you, you do not.” 

He wanted to argue, even opened his mouth to do so, but you rolled right over his breath, speaking in such a powerful way that demanded he quiet down and simply listen. 

“Your family may have bought me to marry you like some kind of broodmare, you may be rich and respected, you may be some fancy highborn pureblood - you can tell me what to wear, when to speak, where to go, but you certainly cannot tell me about my own thoughts and intentions. You cannot tell me what I feel.” 

You spoke sharply and firmly, your words tearing right through him, causing goosebumps to light up all over his skin. 

“You cannot tell me what I do and don’t mean. And I mean this: I love you.” 

The radical truth behind your words shook Draco to his core. 

Since he had known you, it had always been the truth. When you cried, it had always been with your own honesty. When you smiled at him, it had never been as some kind of act. When you called him an asshole during your private conversations - it was nothing but your own honest feelings coming to words. 

He could never control or dictate your feelings, and it was one of the things that he liked best about you. 

So why did he so badly want to control this? 

Perhaps because… when you said this, it sealed your fate to his in the worst of ways. 

It meant that even if you had a chance to escape this life… you wouldn’t take it. 

It was so much easier when you didn’t like him at all. 

Love was such a foolish, difficult thing to sever. 

You saw the pain and hesitation written all over his face, and you stepped toward him, putting a gentle hand on his cheek. Oh-so-gently you sealed your lips against his in a sweet kiss that evoked nothing but more tears from him. 

“I love you.” 

You whispered against his mouth, now much more certain in your declaration. 

“I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you,” 

Your throat clenched with your own tears, clearly waiting for him to say it back. 

His fingers shook as he brought a gentle touch to your cheek, wiping away a tear that had fallen. Sullenly, all he could offer you in return was: 

“Are you sure? Are you sure that you can love someone like me?” 

You were entirely certain in your answer. 

“Yes.” 

Draco itched with the urge to run away again - but instead, he leaned back in and kissed you. 

That night, the two of you fell asleep together. You were huddled into each other for warmth, cuddling on the thin old mattress that he had been sleeping on for the past week in order to escape you. It was the easiest that sleep had come to him since the days during the summer where you had crawled into his bed, looking to be just a bit less alone. 

… 

Ironically, Draco woke up alone. 

Sunshine was flooding the room - he wasn’t entirely sure how a room that technically didn’t exist within Hogwarts could have windows, but he didn’t care to think too much about it. Especially because it made him feel slightly less disoriented to have the bright morning sun flooding the room. Though the sunshine warmed up the room slightly, he still felt a bitter coldness in not having you beside him. 

Perhaps you had finally realised what a stupid mistake you had made the night before. Perhaps you had taken your own advice - taken up on your own plan and gotten to a fireplace to abandon Hogwarts altogether. With any luck, you were far away and would never be seen again. Not by him or anybody else associated with the Dark Lord. 

Draco felt a pinch of disappointment when he heard footsteps - calm, certain, someone walking a path among the furniture to be somewhere. Not someone wandering with curiosity because they had just discovered the room. It had to be you. 

He sucked in a harsh breath and let out a groan as his tired body stretched, his muscles protesting the shabby sleeping arrangements as he forced himself to sit up. Surely enough, as he blinked through the sharpness of the morning light, you rounded the corner. 

You were dressed much differently than the night before. Your previously neat hair was now a half-picked apart and messy style, your make-up mostly smeared off or intentionally wiped off in a haste. You were wearing a thick woollen jumper and a pair of comfortable looking loose pants, along with your favourite slippers - a pair of very fuzzy boots that he had laughed at you for wearing before, called them dead Puffskeins attached to your feet. 

You looked tired, but comfortable as you came to sit on the mattress at Draco’s hip. 

Somehow, with the golden light dancing on your skin, you looked more beautiful than ever. Perhaps it was a testament to the nature of your beauty, how sought after you would be if you weren’t already betrothed. Or perhaps it was that petulant withering thing inside of him that was starting to wane in the name of your death sentence of love. 

(Draco didn’t want to think about the fact that you likely were sought after, despite the fact that you were engaged and it was widely known. He just didn’t have his head in the Hogwarts gossip enough these days to notice if anybody was talking about fancying you or trying to ‘steal you away’ from him. He didn’t want to think about the prats he would have hexed to hell and back if he ever heard them daring to want you.) 

You took something out of the pocket of your jumper - a napkin, and unravelled it in your lap. Draco saw that you had come back with a couple of pumpkin tarts, likely from the breakfast table. It was only when you brought it up to your lips to take a sip that he also noticed you had also been carrying a large mug of steaming tea. 

You offered him the mug silently over your shoulder, and he couldn’t deny how appealing it was. Though he wanted to scoff at the softness, the domesticity of sharing something off your lips, he welcomed the heat and the familiarity. He couldn’t reject it in the wintery coldness of the room. 

Of course - English Breakfast Tea with just a bit of sugar. No milk. You had started drinking your tea the way he liked it. Probably because it was the way he always made it for you when you were silent and stony in your pain and he had no other choice but to be just as silent in his caring toward you. He always made tea for you this way because you never told him how you liked yours. Every cup of tea you drank at The Manor had been like this. 

It was an odd, comforting habit that you had picked up from him. 

“I fixed it.” You said quietly, nodding toward The Cabinet as you broke off a piece of one of your tarts and chewed it. 

You offered him a piece and he swapped it for the tea mug. He chewed the small piece of tart slowly while his eyes studied the tall, dark, imposing Cabinet, wondering what you had done to it. His gaze migrated over to something new in the landscape of junk - a bird cage sitting on top of a small wooden table. 

Within it, there was a live, seemingly content, purring white dove. In front of the cage, you had perched up a piece of paper. Even from a few feet away, Draco recognised the curls of the handwriting as belonging to his mother. 

‘Well done.’ 

He wanted to ask in detail about what you had done to The Cabinet in order to fix it. But he knew that would be beating a dead horse. It was another problem off his plate, and he should be relieved. 

He wouldn’t burden you with any of his other problems. 

“I miss coffee.” You remarked, looking down into the mug with a sodden kind of resentment. “British people are all about tea, tea, tea… you can’t get good coffee anywhere here.” 

Distantly, Draco was reminded that you had been cursed with more than a marriage to him when your godmother dropped you off with the Malfoys and left you without warning. Your entire life, everything you had known, everything you had grown up with - it had all been ripped away from you. He wasn’t sure what he would do if he had to be pulled away from his parents, plopped into the middle of Muggle America and forced to live there. 

He knew it wasn’t just coffee - you likely missed so much more. 

“Should we release it?” You asked, taking another sip of the tea. 

You held out another piece of the tart to him, and reluctantly, perhaps not even knowing how hungry he was, how much the anxiety and worry had blocked him from feeling it - he took it. 

“What?” He muttered out, unsure what you meant. 

“The dove.” You clarified. 

Yes. Of course. You still had pity for the small creatures. It had been meant as nothing more than a test subject for his family’s greater plans, nothing but a pawn to them. But you still saw it as a precious life. 

“No, it-” 

‘It’ll die out there in the cold.’ 

Draco cut himself off, knowing that such harsh words would have hurt you. Any time before this, he would not have cared about how his words hurt you - he would have simply told you the truth. But for some reason, now - it felt wrong to be so bluntly cruel. 

“Too cold.” He muttered, accepting the tea from you again. 

You stared him down during this passing of the mug, and he was fully able to see that pain glinting in your eyes. Clearly, you knew that ‘disposing’ of the bird might be the only humane thing to do. Draco scrambled for something more. Something to make you happy. Damn it. 

“Bring it to the giant.” He remarked, swallowing down a mouthful of the hot tea. “He’ll care for it now, and he can release it in the spring.” 

The smile that graced your lips was small, and fleeting - but it made him feel as though he had accomplished something worthwhile for the first time in a long time. 

“Do you think he will? It won’t be too much trouble?” You replied, hopeful. 

“He has to. It’s his job.” Draco bit back firmly, his voice swelling full of his usual entitlement. 

Before - when you had been helping him clean up after he had gotten The Mark, you had discovered one of the fading scars he still had from the feathered beast’s claws slashing across his arm. When you had asked him about it, you had clearly been expecting some story of his father’s abuse, or a tale of something else attributing to Draco’s twisted internal torment. 

But Draco’s father was always smart enough never to leave marks. 

When he told you what had happened - how he had rushed upon such a gentle creature, reeking of entitlement and landed on his stupid idiot brat arse - it was the first time in years that he had truly reflected on what had happened. It was the first time he had come to realize that he had gotten the beast killed. Even back then, he was unsure why his father had caused such a fuss over the accident. Someone who called Draco useless and disposable behind closed doors and publicly claimed that a single mark on his arm was a world-ending tragedy. 

At the time, it was just another thing about reputation that Draco had yet to understand. 

“And - he likes those things. He likes his little creatures.” He added on quietly. 

(And, his big awful ones - Draco resisted the urge to amend.) 

Draco couldn’t take your bird there himself. Hagrid owed him no favors, that much he knew. But the man - or, half-man - certainly wouldn’t turn you down. Nobody would say no to your sweet voice and kind eyes when you asked them for something. 

You nodded, content with this answer. You took another sip of the tea before you put the cup down on the floor beside the mattress, and shoved a large piece of the tart into your mouth before you put that aside too. 

“For now, I have to bury this one.” 

You said, your words slightly muffled as you chewed, getting up to grab a small wooden box. In a moment, Draco realised that it must have been the dead canary that you had fussed over the night before. 

Now, you were telling him that you intended to bury it, rather than asking him. 

“I’ll do it.” He said, standing up to come beside you, holding out his hand so that you might offer him the box. 

You looked him up and down with suspicion, like he was trying to trick you. Although, as much as your relationship had been filled with bickering and discontent, he had never been dishonest with you. This just seemed strangely out of character for him. Before you could fully question it, he provided an explanation. 

“You’ve been awake all night fixing my problems,” He said, motioning toward The Cabinet. “So let me help you with yours.” 

He could see that you had barely slept. It was written all over you. 

“Let me do this for you.” He insisted, holding his hand out once again. “And you go to the dorms and get some proper rest.” 

You nodded, finally surrendering the box. 

“Come find me when you’re done, alright?” You said, not entirely posing it as a question. “Don’t disappear on me again.” 

Draco nodded, and you sealed this deal with a kiss. 

…

He intended to walk you back to the Slytherin commons before he went outside, perhaps he would even get himself a thicker jacket from his dorm. Your path took the two of you past the Great Hall. 

Draco felt a pang on one of his last nerves when a very familiar voice called out your name. 

“Y/N! Hey, wait up!” 

Potter. Of course. 

You turned to meet Harry as he ran down the corridor toward you, and Draco slinked back to lean against one of the nearby walls - waiting for you. He hated that he felt the need to stick by you, to watch over you. But something nagging in him wouldn’t be satisfied until he knew that you were tucked into bed, resting. 

Potter jogged to meet you, wearing full Quidditch gear, carrying his broom - clearly set for an early morning practice. This caused an odd pang of mourning within Draco, yearning for a time when he used to be competitive, for when he used to actually care about the outcomes of school Quidditch games. Back when his life was so simple. 

“Morning, Harry.” You greeted him quietly, dully, obviously still tired. 

“Hey, good morning.” Harry said, nodding at you with a smile - a look way too fond for Draco’s liking. “You left the party so suddenly last night, and Slughorn was asking after you. Nobody knew where you went, and I was just wondering - are you alright? Did something happen?” 

Harry eyed Draco sharply, a sideways glance, just for a moment. Clearly, he was suspicious of Malfoy and his presence around you. Clearly believing that he was the problem in your life. 

Draco resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Of course. Saint Potter. Checking up on you. 

Part of Draco itched with jealousy, knowing just how utterly desirable you were, and another part of him said that it was a good thing. That you should have somewhere safe to fall when you inevitably realised a life with him was a short, unlivable one. When you wanted out, when you wanted to run. 

Hopefully, sometime soon. 

“I’m fine.” You easily lied, forcing a smile. “It’s just - um,” You struggled to think of a convenient lie for a moment, knowing that you couldn’t tell Harry the truth. “My pet canary died very suddenly. And Draco came to get me to tell me about it. And I’m sorry, I must look terrible - I’ve been up all night crying about it,” 

Draco wanted to commend you for the brilliance of your lie. Something sensitive enough that Potter wouldn’t question it - something that easily explained the small box in Draco’s hands and explained away your tired appearance. And it more than explained why you had left the party so suddenly and not cared to return. 

“Oh.” Harry said, clearly unsure how to respond. His eyes flickered from you to Draco, taking in both of your messy appearances, clearly wanting to question it as something more, but having absolutely no grounds to do so. “I’m so sorry to hear that.” 

“Thank you.” You replied quietly. “Draco actually offered to bury him for me. So, he was just going to do that.” 

“Let’s get you to bed, first, love.” Draco said, pointedly steering you away from the conversation - banishing Potter off with this final thought. 

He put a hand on your shoulder and steered you down the hall, away from Harry, and you began slowly walking away, believing that he was right behind you. But Harry stayed firm in his footing, and soon, Draco became captured in his fierce gaze, challenged in an all too familiar way that he was far too tired to truly engage with. In a kind of well practiced routine, he lingered back for a few moments. 

“Malfoy,” Potter said sharply. “If you do anything to hurt her, I will end you.” 

It was his usual hero routine. Intimidate, swell with confidence, over-inflate to seem bigger than the bad guy. It would have worked, if Draco hadn’t already been so terribly small. 

“Promise?” Draco croaked out quietly, tears dancing in his eyes. 

He could think of no better end than one of vengeance in the wake of your pain. He could only hope that if he did ever hurt you, he would be met with a clean, swift end. One where you would then get to run into the arms of a man much better than him. 

Potter gaped with confusion, and Draco turned, walking in quick steps to catch up with you. 

…

You and Draco stayed at Hogwarts that Christmas. 

On Christmas morning, you did not expect to receive anything. Pansy gifted you a set of new quills in pink with a set of pink glittering inks and a fluttering giggle about being able to write ‘proper’ love letters to Draco. Blaise gifted you a history of all the Pureblood families in Europe - for ‘proper’ education. One that you had never been ‘privileged’ to have before. 

There was another package, delivered by a gorgeous white snowy owl - a book. A basic guide to Quidditch with a handwritten note that said it was from Harry, remarking that you should come to his next game and ‘check it out’, in order to see if you truly liked the sport or not. 

At the party, you had told him that you probably didn’t like Qudditch because you didn’t understand it very well, hoping to get out of a long conversation that he and Cormac were rambling on - which only led to him trying to explain the rules to you in a toddler-like fashion. You couldn’t tell him the truth, that when you had been at Salem, the Quidditch games between the two sibling schools usually led to a lot of loud parties and drunken hook-ups that made you mourn for the simplicity of your old life now. 

Draco resisted the urge to throw the book into the fire. 

(You gladly would have let him.) 

There was a final package. One wrapped in gorgeous emerald paper - with your name on it, written in Draco’s handwriting. Oddly, not signed from him. When you opened it, you found a bag of very expensive looking coffee beans, a grinder, and a French press. Draco would forever deny that his joy was directly tied to the look of awe on your face as you discovered the gifts, and the tiny moan of pleasure you made when you sipped your first cup of freshly made coffee. 

He didn’t love you back. 

He couldn’t. 

No.

...

A/N: This is meant to be a standalone oneshot, but if you liked this, then feel free to go read the chronological sequel My Bleeding Heart. I do have more ideas to add more to this by writing more oneshots in this universe between these two characters, but this is all for now. If you are going to comment, please comment about the content that has already been written instead of asking for more. Happy reading, and Merry Christmas!

[lionizingheathen]

Masterlist By Character - Updated 8.21.24

I DO TAKE REQUESTS

Draco Malfoy

Miscommunication

Edging Sub!Draco after you catch him flirting with someone else in public

Precious

Draco finding release after a day in the office

Request

"Domdraco smut please??? I mean maybe with handcuffs and some kinks?"

Ginny Weasley

Take It Out On Me

Helping Ginny unwind from a stressful quidditch practice

Ron Weasley

Take it

"Are you sure you can handle it, baby?" Ron visiting his long distance girlfriend

Request

Hey, can you do an scenario with you and Ron Weasley under a blanket around your friends watching a movie and Ron decides to finger you quietly without anyone knowing?

Sirius Black

Quickly Now

Sirius hooking up with his best friend

Prove It

Sirius eating out his FWB

Just for You

Giving Sirius a handjob in front of friend

Request

"I really need jealous fwb Sirius after that last fic, I NEED it"

Request

"hey im new to your blog but I LOVE the way you write sirius, could we have more sirius content pLEAES (soft, dark, fluff, smut, ANYTHING you can give us pleaseee🥺🥺🥺)"

Request

"Anything with FWB!Sirius Black PLEASE!"

Request

"This is my first time making a request but can you do more of fwb Sirius x reader pleaseee I love your writing btw!! Thank youu"

Hermione Granger

Quietly

Fucking Hermione in the stacks of the library

Lily Evans

Roses

Eating Lily Evans out

Relax

Strapwarming Lily Evans

James Potter

Everything

Making boyfriend James Potter be rough with you for the first time

Think About It

Giving James a blowjob

Request

"james potter smut!! i love ur writing sm"

Request

"Please I need to see you writing something with dbf!James Potter (I would be so happy if you add some size kink too)"

Request

jealous fwb sirius but what about jealous fwb james???

Request

"love ur writing!! can I request riding james potter plssss"

Remus Lupin

We Always Have Time

Remus taking you against a wall

Agreement

Giving your flatmate, Remus Lupin a blowjob to help him relax

Request

"can you do a part 2 from Flatmate!Remus Lupin? Thank you <3"

Request

"Angsty request. Post! James and Lily’s death, reader/oc was Sirius’s girlfriend/fiancé but feels lost after his arrest. All she has left is Remus and they… uh… work off post-war stress with each other."

Regulus Black

Request

"you are the best smut writer i’ve ever come across im literally speechless. can you write more about sirius fwb or maybe even regulus i will take anything you write omg."

Pansy Parkinson

You've Earned it

Sub!Pansy Parkinson x DomFem!Reader

Harry James Potter

Request

"if you write for harry potter can you do harry potter smut? i love your fics :)"

Request

"umm face riding with harry?? pleaseee"

Luna Lovegood

Love me

First time sleeping with Luna Lovegood

Group

Request

"OK NOW I CANT STOP THINKING OF REMUS ACTUALLY LETTING SIRIUS (plus james maybe) HAVE A GO WHILE WATCHING HHHNGGGF??!??"

[pogueswrld]

*•.¸♡ make up sex ♡¸.•*

pairing: fred weasley x fem!plus-sized!reader

summary: Freddie talks too much, and his girlfriend is exhausting all the ways she knows to shut him up. Softly, of course.

warnings: smut🦢!1!1!1!1! there's plot and fluff, and everyone's of age ofc, although it is hinted that reader is still in Hogwarts, kinda sub!Fred top!reader, like he's whining and panting and begging and shit (bites lip) ANYWAY, dick riding hehe, no usage of y/n.

note: it is 2:59 pm on a Friday, let's see how fast I write this shit. note 0.2: Okay so it's 5:54 pm on the same day, I think I'm done. This isn't edited, but it took me 3 hours to write 😁

He was still talking. Why, in the name of Merlin, was he still talking?

Dating Fed Weasley is fun, there's no denying that, but Good Heavens isn't that a boy a handful. Both literary and figurative. He's got a wide imagination, a never-squelching desire for knowledge, and a big heart. That is a dangerous combination for a somewhat intelligent and never-quiet man.

She's a saint, his girlfriend, and Ginny made a point to always express that to her. "How do you put up with that all the time?" Gesturing to Fred, who was using his hands in elaborate motions as he went on his fourth rant of the morning on the same subject to George. She'd only shrug, lips engulfing another spoonful of whatever ice cream the girls were sharing. "In one ear and out the other darling."

Not to say that she hates it, or that it bothers her- quite the opposite actually. Fred's excited and hyper personality is what made him so interesting to her, it was what drew her to him in the first place. She enjoys listening to him rant, even about the most random things -he stopped her the other day and explained in great detail how penguins mate and how once the female accepts the male's proposing gestures, they're together for life- and she adores it.

Yes, it sure can be a bit much at times, but she wouldn't change it for the world. Imagine loving a man who was as boring and dry as his older brother, Percy? She would have to jump out of Ginny's bedroom window!

Today was her first day back in the Burrow from Hogwarts for summer break, and she was exhausted, to say the least. She was up from dawn, finishing up the last bits of her packing before leaving for the train station with Harry, Hermione, and Ron. And because she's a good friend, she made sure each of her friends made it to their transportation safely before she and Ron were picked up by Fred and George.

In the car, Ron opened the untameable can of worms by mentioning Bill who was staying over at the Burrow for the summer as well, taking a couple of months' worth of vacation away from the dragons and such. That was the spark Fred needed to blast off into a hundred rants one after the other.

He spoke about seeing Bill again, which is understandable, he hasn't been home in years. He spoke about the dragons, which led to his excited mention of his favorites and how he's going to ask Bill how it was training them. Then he turned to Quidditch training, and even though both him and George had left Hogwarts a year or so ago, the both of them still found time to play the game as a side hobby. After that was all done, George gave her and Ron and update on the shop, and Fred went on and on about all kinds of new candies and flavors and combinations they were working on to add to the store by the beginning of next year.

She was understandably tired by the time the Burrow came into view. And as much as she adores her boyfriend, she needed him to shut the fuck up for twenty minutes. But he's so sweet, and his eyes light up when talking, and he gets this beautiful energy surrounding him when he does it that she doesn't have the nerve to ask him to be silent for a bit. So she excuses herself and tries to bury her body under the covers of his bed.

But he finds her there, and he reports to her that dinner is ready, and that Bill is here, and that she looks so gorgeous on his bed, and that there's a strange animal in the backyard, and that Ginny tried to curse the bathroom when he went in to use it, and that he doesn't understand why she'd do that, and that George is out in the garage, and that-

She jolts up on his bed, her eyes twitching as she stares at him. He looks so beautiful, but he's talking too damn much. She cups his face, and he goes silent and stares at her with wide eyes.

"Wha'?" He mumbled, his lips squished together as she squeezed his cheeks.

"You talk too much, ya' know that?" She said, her thumb slightly caressing the apples of his cheeks.

He opens and closes his mouth like a fish out of water, and tilts his head ever so slightly. "Do' it bothe' yo'?"

She giggles breathlessly and lets go of his face before pressing her lips tightly against his. "Not all the time, but times like today..." She rests her forehead against his and sighs, "It can be a lot, and I need you to read the room and tone it down a little bit, d'ya think you can do that for me?"

He stares, something in his gaze changes, and he nods. "Of course, baby. Whateva' you want."

Great. Now she feels bad. She sighs and pushes past the blankets swallowing her to sit up on her knees. She wraps her arms around his shoulders and pulls him into a hug. "I love you, truly love you, and I don't mean to be mean to you, and you know I love it when you ramble, but I'm really overwhelmed today, darling. I'm sorry."

Fred wraps his arms around her waist in return, hugging her tightly. It's true that he can't always read the room, and now that he's no longer attending school he's got much more free time on his hands than he knows what to do with. It takes him a couple days to be able to read his girlfriend's body language like he used to once she's home from school, and he feels terrible that he was one of the reasons for making her feel so incredibly overwhelmed. He also feels slightly ashamed of his non-stop rambling all day.

He buried his face in the crook of her neck, mumbling something into her skin that made her shiver and giggle away from him. "Stop," she breathes in a giggle, "It tickles."

He chuckles, his hands squeezing at the skin of her waist as he stares at her dreamily. "I said, I'm sorry I made you feel overwhelmed, I promise to try and do better."

She grins at him, so brilliantly, that he can't help but lean down and capture her lips in a soaring kiss. "I love you." He mumbles against her lips, and she smiles while trying to kiss him back. "C'mon now, love, let's go have dinner."

Her eyes darken; her pupils widen, and she smiles that mischievous grin that he adores so much, and he groans while throwing his head back. He knows exactly what is on her mind.

"I have a better idea." She whispers, giggling as she throws herself into his lap and kisses him with such force that she's pushing him down on his bed. He yelps, his hands traveling to the bed and her waist, holding on to her for stability. Bubbling heat travels across his body through her kiss, and he sighs when her cold fingertips trace down his arms, sending goosebumps across his body.

Her kisses transfer from his lips to the sides of his mouth, his cheeks, down his jawline, until she's pampering open-mouthed kisses across his neck like stardust.

He sighs, his eyes closed and his head thrown back on the pillow. "Please," He breathed, a low whine undertoning his voice. She shivers above him, her teeth grazing his skin in a teasing bite.

She's always hated the effect his voice has on her.

"Please what, darling?"

He whines. It's low, for her ears only, it's a barely-there breath, but his mouth is right next to her ear and she hears him loud and clear. Her panties dampen almost immediately.

"Please touch me," He whispers. His hands gripped tightly to her thighs. He knows better than to roam her body without permission. She pulls back slightly, blinking up at him with a soft smile and long lashes. "But I am touching you, Freddie."

He knows this game. This cruel, cruel game she adores to play. He whines in pretentious of hating his role, but his hips buck, and his cock twitches underneath the fabrics of his boxers and trousers.

He slowly traces one of his hands from her thighs to her palm before letting her fingers rest on his aching cock. He guides her hands to gently rub him through his clothes and he lets out a breath when her fingers squeeze around him. "Touch me there." He gasps.

She entertains him, allowing him to set the pace and buck into her hold. He releases deep breaths and low whines, stuttering moans every time she tightens her grip around him. She can feel herself getting wetter by the second, how his eyes are shut desperately, his teeth bite down on his bottom lip, and her name is gasped out of his throat with every other movement. It makes her feel powerful, it makes her entire being vibrate.

"That's enough." She mumbles, pulling her hand out of his grasp and bathing in his complaining whines as she pulls off her shirt. He blinks up at her, watching her boobs bounce in the push-up bra she's wearing before she unhooks it and slides it off her shoulders. He blinks again and swallows whatever drool and saliva has gathered in his mouth, causing his Adam's apple to pop along with the action. She smiles at the sight and quickly bends down to leave a swift kiss on it.

"Take off your shirt." She commands him, and he does so without hesitation, throwing the garment somewhere on the floor of the room he shares with his twin brother. He watches her hands intensely as she teases him by running her thumb on the inside of her trouser's elastic, before slowly pulling the item down and off. He groans at the sight of his favorite panties on her; a partially lacey red thong that settles up between her butt cheeks. She always told him how uncomfortable it made her, but the look on his face when he saw it on her made every second she spent wearing it worth it.

"You're trying to kill me, love?" He groans, daring himself to take a dangerous leap and push his thumb against the damp cloth, pushing down on where he knows her clit hides. He glances up at her, watching the way her lips part and her mouth hangs open at his action.

"And what am I to tell George when he asks? Death by a red thong?"

He grins up at her, picking up the speed at which he's rubbing on her bud of nerves. "Only if you're the one wearing it."

She shudders, forcefully holding herself back from grinding against his thumb. Instead, she grips his wrist and pushes it away from her. She hooks two fingers on each side of his trousers and boxers before meeting his eyes, watching as he licks his lips and nods before pulling the clothing items down his hips and legs.

His cock bounces out from underneath the fabric happily, it smacks against his lower abdomen and she giggles at the sight of precum beads rolling down his slit. He whines, throwing his arm on his face to cover the embarrassing blush that matched his hair color. "Don't laugh at me, why're you so mean to me today?"

Her giggle grows louder, and she leans down to push his arm off his face. "I never intend on being mean to you, my darling, you just bring it out of me. I'm sorry." She mumbles as she meets his gaze, her hand cupping one side of his face and he leans towards her touch. "Don't hide from me, yeah?"

He nods.

"Good boy."

He whines, his eyes squeeze shut and his jaw drops when her fingers wrap around him again, but her thumb is collecting his precum before spreading it down his length before she works a steady rhythm going up and down. His whines slowly turn into moans. His noises were so heavenly that she could swear her wetness was flowing through the fabric of her thong and onto the skin of her thighs.

She sees his muscles contracting and she stops, removing her hand from him altogether. He opens his eyes, blinking up at her in confusion as a noise of complaint slips out of his throat. But he swallows it back up when he sees her push her thong to the side and spread her folds before sitting on his length, and she grinds back and forth on him without actually allowing him access to her.

He groans, throwing his head back. She's coating him in her juices and there's a delicious squelching noise coming from between them and it's driving him insane. He sucks air into his lungs through clenched teeth and shudders when she allows a single moan to slip through her parted lips.

Suddenly, he's engulfed in her warmth and he hisses. His hands grip tightly to her thighs, hips, and any plump skin he can find. He squeezes her, hissing, and pants until he's sheathed completely inside of her. "Slow down," He gasps, "Slow- slow down, slow down, slow down." His voice turns from low breaths to almost high-pitched whines, and she leans down and captures his lips in a silencing kiss.

"Need you to lay here and keep your pretty mouth shut, darling, can you do that? Can you stay quiet for me so your family doesn't hear us fucking?" He whines, hips bucking into her warm cunt causing his eyes to roll to the back of his head as he nods mindlessly. "Yes, yes, yes. I'll be quiet. Fuck- please, baby, please fuck me."

She giggles at his desperate whines, and slowly rocks her hips back and forth, just enough movement to send pleasure jolts but not enough to get them going. She was testing the waters, trying to see how loud he could get without giving him much of anything.

Fred was losing his mind, he could feel her walls clamp down on him every time she moved back, and he could feel himself nudging against her feel-good spot every time she moved forward. Her wetness made a mess out of both of them, making it easy to slide into her and pick up the pace.

He arched his back slightly, just enough to hint at her to go faster. Because she was starting to feel frustrated, she obliged. She switched from grinding down on him to bouncing, her knees and hips working overtime to not make a noise every time her ass cheeks met his thighs.

She's now moaning, leaning down to muffle her noises by his neck or breathe them directly into his ear. Fred's eyes roll to the back of his head every time, and his hands grab onto the fat of her hips to help her.

"I-" She gasps, pushing herself upwards, clamping down on him tightly before forcing deep thrusts with her movement. "I'm gonna cum." She whimpers, and her legs begin to shake and fail her. Fred let out a loud breath that turned into a whimper before pushing himself up and, with a tight hold of her hips, forced her up and down his cock.

"Wa- wanna feel you. Wanna feel you gush around me. Give it to me, please." He whines, his words muffled into her temple, his eyes closed as her walls flutter around him, her body shivering against him and her lips part in long whines. One of his hands sneaked in between them, and his thumb drew quick circles around her clit, just enough to electrify her over the edge.

She freezes up, squeezes down on him and Fred is gone. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her tightly down on him, the repeated squeeze of her walls stimulated him over the edge and they were shaking through their highs together. Her hands were buried in his hair, his hands holding onto her hips, while their lips interlocked in an overflowing kiss.

A few seconds later, their mouths parted as they gasped for air, holding onto one another as their highs dwindled. He traced random shapes on her bare back while she scratched at his scalp in a way she knew he loved.

He was the first to pull back, looking up at her with nothing but love and adoration. He tilts his head and grins, "Do you still want to go down for dinner?"

She laughs, heartily and loudly out of his arms and back onto the bed. "If you'll be going downstairs for a plate, get me one with you. There's no way I can look your mum in the eye after this."

[chubbyreaderwriter]

I’m not sure you do requests, but if so could you please do - Where Sirius and Remus are your parents and hear someone making fun of you at grimmauld place - obviously you don’t have too, love your imagines btw

This is adorable!

In Trouble

Parent! Remus x Chubby/Plus Size Reader x Parent! Sirius

Imagine: Your parents overhear Ron being a little too honest with you and decide to take the situation into their own hands.

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: bullying?

Masterlist

You weren’t sure exactly when this little feud started with Ron, but it had slowly progressed over time. It wasn’t quite strong enough for you to say you despised each other, the two of you could feign civilness in front of your shared friends and the adults of The Order. The first couple days at Grimmauld Place were miserable for you, without Harry to keep him occupied Ron had took it upon himself to wreak havoc on your belongings. It was your luck that the red haired boy had never had the best knack for charms and all your cursed, flying books were quickly ceased from their attempts to collide against your head. Hermione had tried reasoning with him but there was little effort in her recent attempts, given how you stopped down to his level and retaliated by turning his skin blue. Of course, you had successfully convinced Hermione that it was the twins who had put you up to such a prank, further planting the seed into her head that you were just an innocent bystander in the whole thing.

You hadn’t told your parents of what was happening between you and Ron, not knowing how they would react. Even in the wizarding world, they would not be considered normal parents. You knew all about their notorious past at Hogwarts and the Marauder’s Map. While you didn’t like a single thing about Ron, you didn’t particularly feel like watching him be crucified in front of your eyes should your fathers be revealed the truth of your sudden mood swings. Thankfully, Harry’s presence along with the return of the missing Aurors of the Order had distracted you both to put your squabbling at ease for the time being, focusing on your mutual friend. All had gone smoothly for the first night, but on the second evening, you had told Hermione to head to dinner without you, promising you would be following her shortly. You had finished brushing your hair and headed down one of the many long, narrow corridors to get to the dining room where everyone was waiting.

A small creak of the floorboards behind you prompted you to turn around and your eyes instinctively rolled at the familiar sight of red hair and blue eyes. You folded your arms over your chest and scowled at him, “Following girls around now? Should’ve known you were a creep.” Ron’s fists clenched at his sides and his face already turning a bright shade of red, causing a smirk to appear on your own. The taller boy stepped closer, glaring down at you, “As if I’d be following a pig like you anywhere, maybe you should go back to your room so there’ll be food left for the rest of us.” Ron had made little comments about your weight before, it was all his intelligence could come up with to insult you about. You weren’t bothered by his opinion of you, especially when you knew he was wrong. You scoffed and held your arms by your sides, not backing down from him, “You’re one to talk, shovelling shit down your throat for everyone to see. Go learn what basic manners are, if that’s not too difficult for you to understand.”

Your eyes glanced up at a very prominent vein poking out of Ron’s forehead and it took a small amount of effort not to laugh at how obviously worked up he was. He opened his mouth but before another word could come out of it, a hand clasped you both on the shoulder and your attentions were turned to your fathers standing to the left of you both. Remus put his arm around your shoulder, “Come come pup, we’re all waiting for you two, people will get the wrong idea.” Your face heated up in rage and disgust at the mere thought of anyone thinking you would even consider the possibility of doing anything with that horrid boy. Remus chuckled at your expression, “I’m only joking, we’re all well aware of how much you hate each other, but unfortunately, you can’t go about hexing people just because you don’t like them in the real world.” You frowned, “Why ever not?” Your father shook his head as he sat you down at the table next to him.

Sirius’ hand firmly gripped Ron’s shoulder to the point of being painful, causing the boy to wince from the pressure on his shoulder. Unbeknownst to the both of you, they had heard everything between the two of you and it had taken most of Remus’ strength to hold back Sirius when he heard Ron talking about your weight. Sirius smiled at Ron but it disappeared once you were out of sight, pushing the boy against the wall, taking his wand out and pointing it towards the cowering child in front of him, “If you even dare to think about talking to my dear little pup like that again, I’ll make you wish you were never born. Do you understand?” Ron whimpered as Sirius gently patted his cheek and ruffled his hair, putting his wand away in his cloak, “Atta boy, now hurry before your mother worries. I’d hate to have to tell her how you’ve been treating girls.” The fear of both Sirius and his mother was enough to make Ron dash into the safety of the dining room, his tail between his legs, and quickly sit next to Hermione and Ginny. He didn’t dare to look in your direction for the entirety of the week and you were more than grateful but you knew that something had happened outside of your knowledge.

Cut to a few hours later and it was nearing midnight, you had yet to hear another peep from the ginger boy despite there being a few instances he could have jabbed a quick insult in here and there. But no, he just kept his head down and didn’t seem to be able to look you in the eye, not even speaking to you at all. Don’t get me wrong, you were delighted with the change but you were curious to find out what brought it on. Your eyes looked over at your parents and the way Sirius was glaring at Ron told you everything you needed to know. You smiled to yourself and walked over to them, they were stood in the kitchen helping Molly clean up after dinner.

You wrapped your arms around Remus in a hug, “Night dad, night pops.” Remus didn’t hesitate returning your hug and let you go after a few moments to let you hug your other adoptive father. You hugged Sirius close and mumbled in his ear, “You didn’t have to tell him off you know, I had it handled.” Sirius chuckled and stroked the top of your head with his hand, looking down at you with a fond smile, “Oh I know you did dear, but I couldn’t help it, i have to keep my pup safe and happy at all times.” You smiled to yourself and gave Sirius another quick hug before heading upstairs to bed for the night. Once under the sheets you snuggled up to a black wolf teddy that your parents had gotten for you when you were little. You held it close to your chest as you drifted off to sleep, comforted by the fact you had the best parents you could ever wish for.

[reigningqueenofwords]

Let Me Prove You Wrong

Pairing: Sam x plus size!reader Word count: 1,498

Warnings: Smut, unprotected sex Request: Anonymous. Hello! I’m in a Sam mood. Dean gets laid alot and I would like something where the reader is kinda chubby but adorable and dean leaves with some girl from the bar and she notices Sam is annoyed by it. She thinks she’s unloveable even though she hasn’t told anyone and tries to cheer Sam up by going home and playing some board games. It ends up taking an sexy turn as Sam is interested in her but she doesn’t see it because she thinks she’s unloveable. She admits it to Sam and he proves her wrong.

Read on AO3

Sam rolled his eyes as he watched his brother leave with some bottle blonde. “Whatever.” He mumbled. Shaking his head, he downed the rest of his beer.

You were on the way back from the bathroom when you saw his face. Sam was the brother you had a thing for, not that you’d ever say anything. He had the body of perfection. You? Not so much. Once you reached the table, you smiled at him. “Come on.”

“What?” He glanced up at you.

“I say we go home and break out the board games.” You had some under your bed that never got used. Between hunting, and Dean…they collected dust.

That dimpled grin made it’s appearance before he got up. Sam loved spending time with you, it didn’t matter what the pair of you were doing. You’d been hunting with the boys a couple years now, and sometime along the way, he’d fallen for you.

And kept his mouth shut.

He figured it was safer that way, and he didn’t think you were interested in him. So, he suffered in silence, taking your friendship and being happy with just that.

“Go get snacks, Sammy. I’ll get the games.” You smiled up at him before turning towards the hall.

He watched you with longing for a moment before letting out a soft sigh and heading towards the kitchen. He knew all your favorite snacks, and figured he’d grab those first.snacks, and figured he’d grab those first.

“Dude!” You groaned. “Again?!” You didn’t understand how every time you played Monopoly, Sam got the best properties. You didn’t land on them once until he’d bought them.

He laughed, causing you to push him lightly. “You might as well just give me all your money now, Y/N/N.” He held out his hand.

Glaring at him playfully, you stuck your tongue out at him. “Nope. Not happening. One of these days I will be victorious!”

That made him laugh even harder. “We’ve played this how many times in two years and you have yet to beat me?”

“Shut up, Sammy.”

After he slaughtered you in Monopoly, you grabbed Clue. “Harry Potter edition!” You grinned.

“You want to play Clue with a hunter?” He smirked.

“I’m a hunter, too!” You pointed out as you set it out on the table. “And…it’s Harry Potter. Shush.” You were looking down as you pulled everything out, so you didn’t see the look he gave you. He loved how excited you got over things like this, and how your face lit up. “Who do you want to be?” You asked, looking up with a smile.

He shrugged. “I’ll be Ron.”

“I’ll be Luna.”

“I think you’re more of a Hermione.”

You blushed, handing out the house point tokens. “This is supposed to be played with more than two people, so we can always fudge the rules a bit.”

By the time you made it through Clue, and Sorry!, you were both somewhat sore from sitting. “Hey, I didn’t know you had Twister.” He grinned, grabbing it out of your box of games.

You shook your head and blushed. “That’s, uh, because I don’t play it.”

“I can tell. It’s still in it’s plastic.” He pointed out. “Why don’t we give it a shot?”

“No, it’s getting late, Sammy.” You lied.

He moved a bit closer. “I’d like to get tangled up with you, though.”

You stared at him, not sure what was going on with him. People didn’t look at you like…that. “Uh, what?” You asked.

“I’d like to play Twister with you, get tangled up with you, and see if maybe we can move on to other types of…‘Twister’ after.”

By now, your face felt like it was on fire. Literally. It was burning up. You shook your head. “No, Sammy. I-” Tears welled in your eyes. “I’m not the type of girl that guys fawn over, lust after, or fall in love with.” Grabbing your games, you started to pack up, Sam staring at you in shock. “It’s okay, Sam. I know that you’re just annoyed that Dean left with that bar skank.”

That did it for Sam. He took the box from your hands and made you face him. His hands cupped your face as he kissed you deeply. Your hands gripped his hips. “I love you, Y/N.” His breath hit your face. “I’ve loved you for a long time.”

“Sam, I’m not someone who’s lovable.” You told him quietly.

“Let me prove you wrong.” His hazel eyes locked with yours. “In any way I can. In every way I can.” You blinked, causing a tear to fall. Without hesitating, he gently licked up the tear. “Let me make love to you, let me make you breakfast in bed, make your coffee just the way you like it, make you mad when I leave a wet towel somewhere. Let me prove it.”

Something in you made you nod. Made you want to let him try. If anyone made you feel safe, it was Sam. “Okay.” You told him with a small smile.

Grinning, his hands slowly moved down your body to your thighs, surprising you when he was able to lift you, causing you to squeal slightly. “My room, or yours?” He chuckled.

Your arms were around his neck as he held you up. “Yours.”

Sam had placed you gently on his bed, his lips brushing down your neck. His hands pushed up your shirt, your bodies moving apart just long enough for him to pull it off of you. He rolled his hips as he laid between your legs. You felt the obvious bulge in his jeans. “That’s all for you, baby girl.” He groaned in your ear.

Your hands pulled his shirt up, feeling the tiniest bit brave at the moment. He grinned when his bare skin touched yours. Reaching behind you, he unhooked your bra, and you knew that was from practice. It joined your shirt elsewhere in his room, forgotten.

He moved down your body, worshiping your breasts. His tongue flicked against your nipples, making you whimper. Watching your face, he smirked when he sucked on one side, and then the other. “I can’t wait to hear you.”

Biting your lip, you watched as he kissed down your stomach, not the least bit bothered. You were chubby, you knew that. It was why you didn’t view yourself as lovable. You were nervous, but trying to push that down. His hands undid your jeans and pulled them down, taking your underwear with them.

“Sammy…” You breathed as he moved to lay between your legs.

He grinned at you. “I got you, baby girl.”

Before he let you reply, his face was buried between your legs. His tongue was moving against your clit, his hands gripping your thighs. Having someone go down on you wasn’t something you’d ever been a fan of. Until now. Sam growled against your soaking pussy, devouring you. You gripped his hair, your hips rolling slightly. Feeling him suck on your clit, you cried out for him. Your legs were shaking as he slowed down.

He crawled up your body, his eyes meeting yours. “Make love to me, Sammy.” You breathed.

“Anytime.” He smirked, getting out of bed long enough to strip the rest of the way.

His erection sprang free from the confines of his clothes and you inhaled. Even his cock was perfect. How was that even possible?

Sam settled between your legs, smiling down at you. “Are you sure?” He asked you gently.

Cupping his face with your hands, you pulled him in for a loving kiss. “I’m sure, Sammy.” You grinned.  

His lips moved against yours as he rolled his hips forward. You moaned into his mouth, your hands moving to grip his shoulders. As he rocked his hips, his lips moved to your neck. His touches were feather light almost, but held such love. His hand moved down your side to grip your ass, his thrusts becoming harder. “God, you feel so good.” He groaned, his forehead on your shoulder.

“Sammy!” You gasped as he changed the angle.

Moving to look at you, his eyes locked with yours. “I love you.”

It seemed to click for you more than ever that Sam fucking Winchester loved you. “I love you, too.” You breathed, smiling at him.

His face lit up before his lips captured yours. His hand went from your ass to grip the top of his headboard. “Sam!” You cried out as he slammed into you, his groans making you throb. “Fuck!” Clenching around him, your fingers dug into his skin.

He growled against you, close to cumming himself. Finally, he thrust into you one last time, moving to hold you tight. He chuckled as he buried his face in your neck.

“What?” You asked, still smiling.

“Who thought playing board games could lead to me finally telling you how I feel? Let alone fucking you?”

[vukovich]

24K9

A daily(?) kinktober Tumblr fic. Will post to AO3 on American Thanksgiving, 2023.

Harry is a K9 unit Auror. Draco is the Ministry Kennelmaster. How could that possibly lead to anything?

Tags: collaring, top Draco, sensual pet play, touch starved Harry, bathing, shaving, rescue dog feels, other tags TBA, maybe dark draco ending?, maybe werewolves?, definitely coming untouched though, just blasting rope man

--

Chapter One

“I assure you, Auror Potter,” drawled the Patronus, speaking even before it found its full form, “there is nothing wrong with your partner.”

Malfoy’s tone was patronising, as though he were telling Harry that the monsters under his bed weren’t real, and to go back to sleep.

Next to Harry’s desk, his ‘partner’ had managed to catch his tail and was currently gnawing on it with nothing short of ardour.  K9 Auror Wurst, aka RottWurst, clamped down on his fluffy tail so hard, Harry swore he heard a crunch.

The bright fog condensed into a direwolf the size of a modest pony.  It was the perfect symbol for Draco Malfoy.  A pale, leggy, sharp-toothed relic of another time.

“And I assure you,” Harry spat, “Kennelmaster Malfoy, that this mutt’s fucking touched in the head.”

The mutt in question was eighty-plus pounds of Rottweiler-poodle abomination.  He looked like a St Bernard had dug into an avalanche, missed the humans, and hit a thousand-volt power line instead.  The curly white fur on his belly was caked with mud, and his brown muzzle still had bits of grass clippings on it.  The rest of him was black, save his brown eyebrows and speckled ears.

“He keeps alerting to sex magic, not dark magic.  It’s fucking embarrassing.  Dragged me across Hyde Park.  I had to use a Confundus on him to get him back to the office.”

The direwolf was so still that Harry blinked twice to make sure the shape wasn’t burned into his retinas.  It was a bloody showboat of a Patronus.

It was so bright that it brought out the dinginess of Harry’s office.  The yellow carpet had a pale brown trail between the door and Harry’s desk chair.  The corners of the ceiling had cobwebs, and the baseboards held an unhealthy amount of dust.

The fresh dog piss on the floor didn’t help things.

“I mean, he’s not worthless,” Harry added.  “But Robards said he can’t reassign him to Vice.  That he doesn’t have that authority.  So it must be you who has to do it.”

It was a little risky to bypass Robards the way he had, contacting Malfoy directly.  He probably should have made an appointment with his assistant or something.

But he’d been angry, so he’d pulled an interdepartmental priority Howler out of his desk and sent it.

There was probably a DMLE protocol for contacting a member of the Wizengamot.  There was a DMLE protocol for everything but wiping his arse.  Actually, they probably had one for that, too.

Harry blinked again.  His eyes were dry.  He was on hour seven of a twelve-hour shift.  After this, he’d get another coffee.

The direwolf shifted its weight, then leaned back, hindquarters high, in a deep stretch.  Its paws spread out in front of it.

Harry wondered if Malfoy was actually stretching.  And what that might look like.

It’d been years since he’d seen Malfoy in person.  Just in the papers, and only in the background of Wizengamot photos.  He’d been called to his Wizengamot seat the day after his thirtieth birthday, having met the minimum age.  They hadn’t called Hermione to hers until she was thirty-two.  She’d die mad about that.

The direwolf laid down, then yawned.

Harry yawned.

Wurst yawned.  Then farted.

Harry thought to check the time.  2:30 AM, according to his wristwatch.  He’d been on the clock for fourteen hours.  Not seven.

“Shit,” Harry said.

He’d woken a member of the Wizengamot at 2:30 AM.  And an important one.  

The direwolf sighed and tucked its muzzle under its paw.  Harry held his breath.  Maybe Malfoy would fall asleep.

Maybe he’d doze off, and he’d think he dreamt he got a Howler in the middle of the night from a burnout beat cop at least six rungs below him.  Maybe.

The direwolf sighed again, then drifted away like will-o'-the-wisps on the wind.

Maybe Malfoy wouldn’t report this.

Maybe.

Maybe Robards wouldn’t kill him.

He drummed his fingers on his desk.  If he did get written up, it’d be his sixth this year.  Two of them were for failing to meet dress code, but the shaving regulations were stupid, and the hygiene one was just weird.

Still.  

Wurst looked at him.  He looked at Wurst.

Nothing would happen.  His talk with Malfoy had only lasted a few seconds.  He’d think it was a dream.

It would be fine.

“It’ll be fine,” Harry told Wurst, ignoring the sweat on his palms.

Wurst’s nostrils flared, and then an ivory envelope slid under the door.  It sat on the grimy carpet for a moment, then folded itself into a swan.  With a few wingbeats, it landed on Harry’s desk and unfolded itself.

Inside was a business card.

Draco L Malfoy Wizengamot Member, Kennelmaster Warminster BA13 4SH UK

“Shit,” Harry said.

He flipped the card over.  On the back was an appointment date and time.  Tomorrow.

“Fuck.”

Robards was going to kill him.

--

[colorsunimaginable]

Bought by a Death Eater - the spare dark au // death eater ! tom hiddleston oc x plus size ofc // part one

summary // Melisa Alder is an American witch caught in the Death Eater's clutches after Voldemort wins the Battle of Hogwarts. The Death Eaters hold an auction of mudbloods and bloodtraiters. After no one bids on her, she thinks she's stuck with her original handler, Goyle, Jr., but a masked Death Eater buys her at the last minute. What are his plans for her? Will she ever find out who's beneath the mask?

this is a darker, alternative version of my fic The Spare. It's mostly going to be smut.

word count // 2.6k masterlist

warnings // mdni, 18+. this fic will fetishize/body worship a fat female body, so if that offends you, please dni. this fic will have non-con/rape elements, bondage, light bdsm, sexual slavery, sterilization, and loss of virginity. caution advised or enjoy ;)

part one //

My life is over. And I’m laughing.

After the Battle of Hogwarts, I woke up in a hospital bed at the Ministry of Magic. They’re treating my injuries and I find out I’m not the only one who has been captured. Nearly a hundred of the young witches and wizards who’d been fighting against our world’s greatest evil had been rounded up like cattle after our brutal loss. There are more girls than boys and as they prep us - cleaning and sterilizing us - it becomes clear what they, the Death Eaters, have planned.

An auction.

The fucking idiot who captured me, Gregory Goyle Jr., really believes he’s going to get some decent money for me. It’s true, I’m a virgin, a supposed extremely valued quality, but that’s where the similarities between me and the rest of the “Lots” end. I’m a good 5-6 years older than all of the girls. I’ve got bright pink hair, and on bad days, I’m convinced I’m actually a whale pretending to be a young woman. Plus I’m not even British or very pretty. 

Sure, statistically, I know someone out there has to like what I look like. But when I’m being compared to the others, the idea of being the preferred one is laughable.

My predictions come true when no one bids on me. I’m the first female lot and the grand theater they’ve commandeered from the No-Majes is silent, despite Ludo Bagman’s best salesmanship effort. No one wants an ostentatious American cow. I guess the lure of my novelty and virginity isn’t a strong selling point. 

Granted, the literal blood on my hands from killing a guard backstage probably doesn’t help either. 

Bagman tries to lower my base price of five grand - the minimum for virgins - but Goyle isn’t having it. He takes it upon himself to demonstrate my worth, starting with hopping on stage. He pushes me to my knees while he stands before me. As he fumbles with his belt and jeers with the crowd, I quickly put two and two together to realize what’s about to happen.

In front of everyone, he’s going to humiliate me.

But I humiliate him first.

In front of everyone.

He’s gotten what he wanted - my head in his crotch, just not the way he intended. 

Before I can figure out what to do next, guards grab my arms and yank me to my feet to take me backstage. I expect some kind of blowback for what I did, but it doesn’t come.

When Goyle finally appears, he demands to know why I was taken off stage before I’d been sold. Yaxley, the Death Eater in charge, only points out the obvious. No one made a bid. Therefore, they aren’t going to waste time on me.

Eventually Yaxley gives in to Doyle’s annoying pleas, and agrees to let me go back out, on the condition my price be reduced by half. I was also supposed to wait until the very end. 

I listen as all the other girls get sold, their galleon numbers in the thousands. Hermione Granger and Ginny Weasley’s are in the tens of thousands. I try not to think about it too much, because I know my worth as a person isn’t tied to physical money, but it still gets to me. I’ve basically been put on clearance.  All I can do is sit and spiral into self loathing while I wait until the end. 

When it’s finally my turn again, they bring me out to the half-filled, steadily emptying theater. The main event is over so no one’s really even listening to Bagman’s sales pitch.

And again, no one makes a bid. 

By this point, my self worth is on the floor in the orchestra pit.

I can tell Goyle is scrambling for what to do with me. His get rich quick scheme hasn’t worked and I’ve become a burden. He binds my wrists together in front of me and guides me to the opulent lobby. He’s muttering curses and threats while we wait in line for the floo. I find him pretty easy to tune out since it’s obvious he’s still a teenager and there’s no way he’s an actual threat to me. Especially once this damn magic suppression potion wears off. I’m relieved to not have been bought by anyone else. Maybe I’ll be able to find a way to escape. 

My eyes catch on a group of Death Eaters huddling by the main door. Some of the metallic masks are clearly meant to be scary, but they’re so elaborate they look more silly than threatening. The ones that really unnerve me are the simple, expressionless ones. With magic, the empty eye and mouth holes are pitch black and bottomless. 

My focus centers on one such mask. In that group he stands taller than all the rest. His black robes look militaristic right down to the calf-high boots on his feet. His companions have their heads huddled near and their indistinct whispers add to the solemn hum to the room. This Death Eater appears to be half- listening to this conversation, his mask partially turned towards the window. 

Goyle steals my attention when he pulls me forward, his foul breath close to my ear. “I ‘spose I’m the one that gets to break you in, don’t I?”

I silently huff as he keeps rattling on. My eyes go back to that tall Death Eater and I freeze.

He’s looking right at me. Like, I can see the entirety of his mask as he stares over his companion’s head.

I blink and look around me, checking to make sure it’s me, and not someone else he’s staring at. But when I peek back, he’s not even looking at me anymore. 

We’re two people away from our turn for the Floo when the masked Death Eaters all cut in line. I happen to glance back at where they’d been meeting and my heart skips a beat when that same Death Eater is still standing there, all by himself. 

Still looking right at me.

I pretend I didn’t just look back and make direct eye-to-empty socket contact with him and step towards the fire before Goyle does when it’s our turn next. It’s just the three of us in the lobby at this point.

Goyle reaches his hand into the Floo powder pot on a pedestal next to the fireplace just as a gloved hand comes down heavy on his shoulder.

And then he’s suddenly there. God, standing next to him, he feels so much taller than me, and I’m not short at 5’8”. 

“What do you want?” Goyle grumbles, seeming annoyed that this guy is bothering him. He hasn’t said a word and yet Goyle clearly knows who he is.

The masked man slips a hand into his pocket and pulls out a small bag of what sounds like coins and tosses it to Goyle. The boy fumbles it and it falls to the floor. While he’s picking it up, the Death Eater places a heavy hand on my own shoulder and maneuvers me so he’s standing between me and Goyle.

Maybe Goyle’s not a complete idiot because he understands what the man wants before I do.

He glares up at him. “You can’t be serious. Like, this has to be a joke. There’s no more than 50 galleons in here.”

… Fifty galleons? I immediately want to cry, so I take a sudden sharp breath, but the exhale is noticeably shakey. I keep going until I’m not on the verge of a freak out.

The man just stays silent, staring at him. 

Goyle looks between me and him briefly before deciding a plan of action. “Alright, we’ll find a room. Fifty’s enough for a blowie I think -”

The man shoves Goyle backward and he almost falls into the fire. I guess that’s his answer.

He turns me to face him and produces some rope with a loop on one end. He hangs the rope around my neck, pulling the long end through the loop, and I feel it tighten against my throat immediately. The harder he pulls, the tighter it is. 

Shady transaction over, the man turns for the door, leash in hand, and I’m forced to follow him or get strangled. Goyle starts to protest, but one look from the Death Eater over his shoulder shuts him up real quick.

~*~

My new owner leads me out into the night. We’re somewhere in London, and it’s so late the streets are empty. Which is good, because the last thing I want is a continuing audience to this nightmare. 

The asshole has longer legs than me and that means he’s taking strides I could never dream of matching. My thighs have always been monstrously thick and the friction always slows me down, especially right now when I don’t even have any underwear on. The rope around my neck is coarse, it’s fibers scratching my skin raw as we walk. I keep my hands clutched to my chest, a couple fingers shoved between my neck and the rope. When he finally stops, he grabs my forearm and pulls my fingers out for Apparating. 

We pop into a dark, overgrown yard. The man is quick to yank on the leash, pulling me behind him. He’s released my arm, so my fingers immediately go back to protecting me. He uses his wand to illuminate our surroundings and I can make out that this cottage we’ve arrived at is abandoned. Holes have been blasted through the walls and the thatched roof is rotting away, chunks of it already fallen. He leads me around to the back and shoves open a crooked door with his shoulder. 

I’d hoped that the exterior would just be a cover, a ruse for an actually decent place, but no, it’s just as derelict on the inside. He makes sure I’m inside the dusty kitchen before he magically shoves the door closed. The light from his wand reveals a particularly clean section of the tiled floor. If it weren’t for all of the dust and debris surrounding it, I probably wouldn’t have noticed. He crouches, tapping his wand against several of the tiny tiles. They immediately fall away, creating the walls and steps for a hidden entrance below our feet.

I’m dying to know what lies ahead, but I’m also fucking terrified. Is he gonna keep me in a fucking dungeon?

After we begin our descent, the floor above us closes. We take the steps spiraling down at least two flights and at the bottom reveals another door. This one is heavy and wooden with a few serious looking locks. 

The final room we enter is what I’d call a studio apartment. A rather large, imposing bed on one end of the room, with a bathtub in the opposite corner and a little kitchen in a carved out nook. There’s a wardrobe, an armchair sat next to a small table, and a doorway where I can see a toilet. It’s lit with sconces on the walls, burning bright candle light. 

But the most eye-catching thing? The night sky above our heads. The ceiling is taller than normal for a basement. Which, in combination with the enchanted ceiling, makes the room feel twice the size that it is. Though I suppose that’s by design. 

After I enter the room fully, he closes the door behind me, and I hear the lock click. He turns me back to him and takes off the rope, tucking it away into his pocket. He seems to consider taking off the rest of my bindings before deciding to remove them.

I’m not sure what I expected him to do, now that he’s gotten me here, but just sitting in that armchair staring at me, wasn’t really on my list. His posture is relaxed, his wand loosely gripped in his hand. And he’s just staring at me, again.

All the nerves that have been building since the moment I laid eyes on him are almost at their breaking point. I can hardly bear to look at him, so my eyes stray to anything else, but I’m not really seeing.

“Strip,” he says, and my eyes snap to him. His voice is so deep, a perfect baritone. 

But surely, I couldn’t have heard him right.

His creepy, masked head tilts a smidge. “Strip,” he orders again, enunciating a little more forcefully when I don’t move. 

My eyebrows are together and my pulse is thudding in my ears, but I somehow find my voice. “No,” I say softly, my arms tucking into my torso. 

There’s an uncomfortable long silence as we stare at each other. I don’t move and he fiddles with his wand. Then he sighs heavily and stands to his full height. I can just barely see over his shoulder.

“This will be your only warning,” he says. “I do not reward good behavior. If you are disobedient and misbehave, you will be punished. Severely.” His cold, emotionless tone only amplifies the authority to his words. He doesn’t continue, leaving it up to me to decide my fate. 

Tears start to brim my eyes and I cannot imagine, after the day I’ve had, actually showing him my naked body. I’d genuinely rather face whatever punishment he has in store than that. 

Instead of words, I just shake my head, my feet automatically moving me away from him. 

“Very well,” he simply says, and raises his wand at me. “Crucio.”

The moment the spell hits me, I collapse to the floor, helpless to the pain striking every square inch of my body. I’ve been Crucio’d before, but every time there’s absolutely nothing to prepare you for it. By the time it’s over, I’ve curled up into a ball, barely managing not to sob. 

The Death Eater kneels, hovering over me, getting so close that his mask fills my view and I squeeze my eyes shut.

“No matter how benign your crimes, that will be your punishment,” he says. “Every. Time.” His hand suddenly grabs my jaw, turning my head to face him. “Do you understand?” 

Staring into his black, empty gaze, I nod. 

But that must not be enough for him because he rolls my head back and forth. “Use your words.”

To force them out, I have to swallow, and I know he can feel it. My voice is only a whisper, but the words are clear. “Yes, I understand.”

He stands, literally towering above me. Then his face starts to get closer and I realize it’s because I’m the one moving. Fully airborne, he maneuvers me into the bathtub, and the faucet immediately starts running. 

The water’s freezing at first and I gasp. Luckily, the cold clears my mind, numbing my emotions, and bringing in enough rational thought to slide off the mary jane shoes they supplied us with. I keep the white dress on. After all, they didn’t give us anything to wear underneath it. 

The water slowly starts to rise and warm, and instead of clutching my chest, my hands drift in the water. There’s so much blood on my hands the water has already turned pink. Because I’d… killed somebody. 

In one short week, I’ve been stabbed, tortured, kidnapped, half-sterilized, and my magic stripped away. And now, I’ve killed somebody. 

Oh, and I’m the property of a literal Death Eater. 

And, worst of all, he's fucking hot.

The absolute absurdity of that last thought has me laughing, like actual manic giggling. My life is over and I’m laughing like a fucking psycho. 

Thankfully, my emotions catch up with me and that laugh turns into full sobs. 

And that fucking Death Eater watches me the entire time.

[asapphiccrow]

Evanescence

Mattheo x plus size!Reader

Warnings: Mild Language, Death of an animal

A/N: Each chapter will have a song associated with it, this chapter is Lotta True Crime by Penelope Scott. (characters are aged up to 12)

W/C: 2k

Chapter 1

Unicorn Blood

The sun had finally set, giving room to the moon. Bea was making her way back from late night adventuring around the school property. She was hoping to find something that had not yet been tainted by other students. A place for her, but to no avail. Realizing how late it had gotten she, ever so quietly, made her way back to the slytherin common room. The halls of Hogwarts were extraordinary, enchanted candles at every turn, the beautiful architecture of each window and door frame. It truly was a wonder, especially at night. Bea always thought it was the best time to wander the halls. No one else was awake to bother you, or push you into the walls as they ran to class, even the ghosts were asleep. It was the most peaceful and calming time of day in the castle walls. That is until she heard voices. Is that Draco?. 

Draco Malfoy a cocky boy who she just so happened to be in the same friend group as. He definitely wasn’t her favorite person but was he really anyones. 

Along with the voice of Malfoy she heard the golden trio. This piqued the young slytherins' curiosity. Bea made her way over to the open room where the voices were coming from. As she peaked her head in, curious eyes began scanning the room, until they locked with a certain professor. 

“Ah Miss Holloway”, professor Mcgonagel announced, her voice echoing off the walls. All eyes were now off the professor and on the sneaking slytherin.  “It seems you children haven’t quite grasped the concept of curfew”, the older witch continues, “but no matter, I’ll let detention service as a reminder of why we should all obey curfews”, ending her statement with a small smirk. 

Everyone then turned back in attention to the professor. The blonde headed slytherin also painted his face with a smirk and a quick laugh. No doubt thinking that the detention was not for him as well. 

“And why are you laughing Mr. Malfoy”, Mcgonagel questioned the young boy before her, “no matter how “heroic” your actions seemed to be, you were up pasted curfew too”, her smirk growing wider as Dracos fell as quickly as it appeared, “you will be serving detention with them, you as well Ms Holloway”, looking past the four children in front of her to make sure Bea acknowledge what she has said. With a small nod the black haired girl sent her acknowledgment. 

-------Time Skip To Detention—-----

Hermione, Ron, Harry, Draco, and Bea were all gathered at the entrance of the forbidden forest. This is where they were meant to serve their detention. Bea didn’t mind really; she enjoyed the calm and quiet energy of the forest, it reminded her of the forest Honey, Luna, and her would spend hours in as children. Draco on the other hand did not, his protests verbal and quite whiny. The golden trio didn’t say much but by the looks on their faces, especially Rons, they as well did not want to enter that forest. 

Hagrid split them up, Hermione and Ron with him and Harry, Draco, and Bea with each other. Draco, of course displeased with the pair, let out a scoff, crossing his arms and announcing that he would like to take Fang. Hagrid of course agreed but warned of how much of a coward Fang was. The cocky blondes face dropped, a look of anxiety overtaking his features

The groundskeeper then spoke up, “well we best we on our way, yeah”, making his way to the beginning of the forest gesturing for Harry’s group to go one way while the rest went another. 

The whole way through Draco ranted about how his father will hear about this, about how he's not scared and that Harry probably is. The golden boy, as many called him, interrupted Draco and began an argument. The curly headed girl wanted none of this, she continued to walk along with Fang in search for whatever it was they were looking for. 

Bea suddenly came to a stop with Fang hiding behind her, tail between his legs. She looked down at the sight before her. The boys soon stopped as well, finally seeing what had stopped Bea in her tracks. 

There laid a unicorn, dead, above it a figure hidden in a black cloak drinking its blood. The haunting figure soon stopped. Looking up at the three children and the cowardice dogs, it then stood up, walking closer, and closer. Draco and Fang soon began running away from the scene, screaming as though he was the one being chased. The two left backed away slowly. Bea backed away behind the trees overflowing roots, while the ladder backed away over a root, tripping and falling down. The figure continued its slow pursuit towards the frightened boy. In that moment Harry and Bea believed that would be Harry's last moments, Bea saying a silent goodbye to the boy in her head. 

As it seemed like Harry's time was up, Bea heard hooves approaching fast, then a horse humanoid creature dropped down between Harry and the ghostly figure. The girl soon recognized it as a centaur. The centaur raised its hooves and let out a chorus of loud neighs, successfully scaring away the ominous creature. It turned back to Harry, warning him of the danger the forbidden forest posed to the young wizard. Seemingly not caring about that, the boy spoke up, asking what that creature was. The centaur explained the crimes and curse that falls upon whomever choses to slay a unicorn and ingest its blood.

 He then flipped the question on Harry and asked a question of his own, “who do you know that could commit such a violent act to something so pure?”. 

After a few seconds of thought the boy spoke softly in response, “Voldemort”.

‘Voldemort!’ Bea explained in her head, her thoughts continued, ‘Voldemort is back, Mattheo was right…’

The young witches train of thought was soon cut off by a booming voice. It was Hagrid, followed by Hermione and Ron. After a few more words were exchanged Firenze, the centaur, ventured off. The group of young wizards & witches, with Hagrid, soon made their way back to hogwarts

------The Next Night—------

“So where were you last night Bea”, Pansy questioned, eyes narrowed at her dorm mate. 

This question piqued the curiosity of the other of the four of the other young Slytherins, with Mattheo seemingly not caring & lost in his thoughts. The recipient of the posed question looked up from her textbook. Bea truthfully did not want to answer that question. She knew she couldn’t lie seeing how Draco, who got detention with her, was in the room with them. But if she answered truthfully then she’d have to explain why she was out past curfew, and that was not something she wanted to do. 

“I'm gonna go for a walk”, the curly headed boy spoke, abruptly getting up from his spot on the couch and making his way out of the Slytherin common room. 

Bea let out a breath of relief, being saved for a little bit from the posed question. The rest of the Slytherin group stared at the door Mattheo had just exited from. Confusion lacing all of their expressions. Lorenzo then looked at Theo, expecting him to know why his best friend suddenly left. The boy simply shrugged, signaling that he, as well, had no idea what had gotten over him. 

After a second to long of silence Draco voiced, “So Holloway why were you back late last night?”, a knowing smirk covering his face. Everyone's eyes were back on the girl in question. 

Not wanting to answer, the young witch took Mattheos' lead. Swiftly getting up and announcing that she had to go talk to her sister about something. Once again looks of confusion and curiosity painted over everyone's features. Then just as quickly as the first time they directed their attention back to something else. 

Now Bea didn’t totally lie about why she left, she did in fact have to tell someone something, she just lied about the someone. Sense finding out about the return of Voldemort the long haired witch knew she had to warn Mattheo. Recently he opened up to Theo, confessing he was scared of the day the dark lord returns, the day his dad returns. This confession was sparked by something Theo had said, but it also seemed like something the young boy did want to get off his chest. This was a confession Bea was sure she wasn’t meant to hear. 

The witch did want to harm Mattheo now of what she saw the night prior, but she knew doing it herself wouldn’t end well. So she had to think of something. And think of something she did.

Mattheo walked through the forbidden forest alone. He came here because he swore he saw something, but it couldn’t have been no. Thoughts plagued Mattheos mind about what it is he saw from the common room window the curiosity and anxiety overcame him that’s why he’s here now. Alone. As more and more thoughts swirl through Mattheo mind he feels a pair of eyes following him from the distance. Turning around to see what’s stalking him he comes face to face with a wolf, the castle wolf specifically. The castle wolf was an abnormal wolf who wondered the halls of Hogwarts no one knew who it belonged to or where it lived all they new is during the days it would come to Hogwarts and at night it would wonder off to the forbidden forest and because of that no one dared to follow.

“Oh, it’s just you” Mattheo whispered to himself and the wolf. It stalked closer to Mattheo then passing him, but not before signaling for him to follow the mysterious creature. Without, ok with a little hesitation, Mattheo followed the wolf. They stopped at a more secluded, deeper part of the forest,

Mattheo looked down to the wolves eyes and questioned “why’d you bring me here mystique”. Mystique had been a name some students started calling the wolf because of its mysterious life and soon enough it was its given name.

“What’s up?”, Mattheo questioned the animal. Mattheo then followed the gaze of the animal to what he’d assume it brought him here for, there was a unicorn, a dead one. Mattheo knew what that meant, what the fate of killing a unicorn had in store for anyone so brave or vile, he also knew the only person who could possibly be so cruel and evil to do this. His worst fears were proven, he’d returned. Proving not only what Mattheo saw in the forest earlier that day wasn’t just his mind playing tricks on him but also confirmed that feeling he had. Deep down his, somewhat, quiet life at Hogwarts was coming to an end and the monster Mattheo tried so hard to keep at bay would be awakened. Not by him, but by his father. Voldemort was back.

“Shit” Mattheo whispered to himself, the comment was laced in worry and a tinge of fear. “I have to tell Theo about this” he continued. Looking around at where he was. Mattheo soon realized that not only he’d never been this far into the forest but when we followed the wolf he never made a mental map of where they were going, like he’d usually do when coming to new places, as to prevent getting lost. The wolf then looked at him whining a bit to get his attention.

“What?” He asked, without uttering another word the wolf looked into Mattheos eyes then started walking away, even though it had muttered no word he knew the wolf was telling him to follow it and so he did with no complaints.

They had finally reached the edge of the forbidden forest, “Thank you mystique” Mattheo said to the wolf while crouching down and attempting to pet its head, a successful attempt. Mattheo was surprised by the wolves actions knowing that the only ones that it allowed to touch it was Honey Holloway and Luna Lovegood. Mattheo always assumed it was those two because of their extremely kind hearts and immense love for all creatures, but now you were letting him pet you, though that only lasted for a bit. The wolf soon pulled away from Mattheo and run back into the forest.

Next Chapter

[50044w44s]

hp characters safe foods :)

Harry: I've said it in another headcanon, chicken nuggets. Molly's treacle tart in a good day.

Hermione: Lasagne, it reminds her of the one her mother used to make.

Ron: Anything, but fried chicken wings are always a favorite one.

Ginny: Anything sweet, she's an emotional eater and will finish three family size brownies by herself.

Draco: Mac and cheese, perfect to eat alone watching the same show he already watched seventy-five times.

Neville: Tomato soup, weird choice, but he did live with his grandma his whole life, so it has a special meaning.

Hannah: Cheeseburger, the more greasy the better.

Astoria: Sushi, she doesn't even know why, it's just something she can always trust she'll like. Draco absolutely will make puking noises to annoy her whenever she eats it.

Luna: He loves the cookies his father makes to eat at tea time, a weird herb recipe that was lost long ago but her father remembered it by heart and she made sure to write it up again. Now it's safe in her vault at Gringotts.

Rolf: Grilled cheese sandwiches, plus point if Luna made them.

[dhr-ao3]

The Monster Within

The Monster Within https://ift.tt/R9ShdzT by mariesdeluluworks Hermione stared at the diary with wide eyes. Her entire life flashed before her, memories from her childhood, from Hogwarts, and the last few years with Harry, Ron, Ginny, and her friends. All this time she thought she was a muggle-born, a little know it all who wanted to do good, defeat the monsters, and find her place in the Wizarding World. Yesterday she was Hermione Granger: War Hero and Brightest Witch of Her Age. Today, she was the daughter of a Monster. How could she defeat the monster within?? Words: 2173, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death Categories: F/M, M/M Characters: Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter, Ginny Weasley, Ron Weasley, Tom Riddle | Voldemort, Pansy Parkinson, Daphne Greengrass, Blaise Zabini, Theo Nott, Luna Lovegood, Original Characters Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy Additional Tags: POV Hermione Granger, Hermione Granger Needs a Hug, Hermione Granger & Pansy Parkinson Friendship, Hermione Granger-centric, Ministry of Magic Employee Hermione Granger, Hermione Granger Has PTSD, Half-Blood Hermione Granger, Dark Hermione Granger, Past Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Hermione is a POC, Plus-Size Hermione Granger, Secret Relationship, Pureblood Culture (Harry Potter), Pureblood Society (Harry Potter), Dark Magic via AO3 works tagged 'Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy' https://ift.tt/UVRfkAE November 25, 2024 at 05:05AM

[phoebe-delia]

Wireless Fic Claim: Stars by the Pocketful

Hi everyone! It's @hd-wireless fic claim time! I wrote Stars by the Pocketful based on "Snow on the Beach" by Taylor Swift. It's 2k, rated T, and just friends/co-workers to lovers fluff.

Thank you to @phdmama for the loveliness and encouragement and to @basicallyahedgehog for being an amazing and patient alpha/beta/overall maintainer of my sanity lol.

Here's an excerpt:

Draco arrives first, to scope out the place and pick the best bed before Potter can beat him to it. He uses the apparition coordinates the Ministry gave him and lands in front of a small cabin about the size of the Slytherin common room, plus maybe a couple of dorm rooms.

He unlocks the door using the passcode written on the note from his boss and gets settled. He makes a beeline for the bedroom and sits on both beds before choosing the one closest to the window, in case he needs an escape. Then, it’s a matter of unpacking his suitcase into half the closet and then reading a book on the surprisingly soft couch in the living room while he waits.

He’s been there maybe an hour and a half when Potter arrives, flushed and grinning. “Hey, Draco,” he says running a hand through windswept hair. “Merlin, that portkey was rough. Thought I was going to be sick when I landed. But I just took one of those anti-nausea potions Hermione brews and I’m a new man! How about you? Looks like you’ve been here a while, but if you still feel queasy, I have an extra bottle.”

Potter starts to dig through his duffel bag when Draco clears his throat. “I’m fine, Potter. But thank you.”

Potter shrugs. “Suit yourself.” He looks at his Muggle watch and swears. “Merlin, it’s nearly dinner time. Are you hungry? I can cook us something once I get unpacked if you’re willing to be on dish duty.”

Draco nods, and he’s rewarded with a bright grin. “Great!” Potter says, making his way to the bedroom. “Be back in a mo’.”

Potter cooks them a surprisingly delicious dinner. “I found a little garden out back,” Potter says between bites of hearty, flavorful beef stew, “And we can ask for groceries to be delivered by Floo. So at least we know we won’t starve.” Draco just dunks a piece of crusty bread into his bowl, chewing as he nods along.

It isn’t until later that night, when he’s sure Potter must’ve fallen asleep, that Draco whispers into the distance between their beds, “Thank you, Harry.”

He tells himself he imagines the mumbled reply: “You’re welcome, Draco.”

Read the rest on AO3