#this is why i refuse to have her be a complete pansy little sun

[cringefailfagcat]

i think the anime Really screwed up sigmas characterisation like REALLY badly. they skipped straight to hes a pathetic guy lol when. no. shes an incredibly capable and badass girlboss who happens to have a debilitating anxiety disorder. *gently caressing my fingers over her pathetic and useless damsel in distress aura that they gave him for some reason* who did this to you…

yeah like literally she was so fucking slay in the sky casino but they barely showed her then they just made her so awkward like I've seen maybe one thing abt her being capable and her incredible memory and dedication compared to the thousands of reactions to her being danced with by dazai like... god yeah she's stressed 24/7 but she's also. done with his shit. and like in the manga she's literally the one dealing with fyodor rn like agghhhg

[yoooespinosa]

could you please write a draco x reader fic, where the reader is hopelessly in love with draco, and she's not afraid to show it. but draco doesn't feel the same. and draco being draco, he rejects the reader with no remorse. then when the reader finally comes to the realization that she deserves better, she started seeing new people (not necessarily dating, but more like talking), then that's when draco feels a bit jealous now that the reader isn't all over him anymore. the rest is up to you, love! just something really angsty, you could end it in any way you'd like.

also, sidenote. you're an amazing writer and i love you!!

a/n: Thank you for your request! ily <3

To say you had a crush on Draco Malfoy, was an understatement.

You couldn't help it, you couldn't just stop the feelings you developed every time he came around.

When he walked into the room it was butterflies breaking out of their cage, palms growing sweaty and your heart racing so fast you were scared you'd be able to see its indentions.

It was scary at first, to have such feelings at only thirteen years old. So you did your best to ignore them. You did your best to stay out of his way.

That only worked for so long.

When you are friends with Draco and the people that surround him, it becomes very hard to stay out of his path.

So it was only inevitable that your crush on him would become so much more. Especially as the years went on.

He hadn't made it much easier. Sometimes you felt as if, maybe, he returned your feelings. How could you think otherwise? With the way he walked with you to class, carried your books at times and spent time with you. Just you. Alone.

How could you not fall in love with him.

With all that simmering in you, you finally let it out. You made your affections obvious, not afraid to show Draco how you felt for him. You had thought it was welcomed. You thought that the feelings would be returned.

It seemed as though he could only tolerate you for so long. Yes, that was the right word for it, the only thing he had for you was toleration.

Your shoes sounded on the stone under you, on your way to the Slytherin common room. You had just got out of detention with professor Snape. You suppose it was well deserved, you had seen Draco almost put the wrong ingredient in his potion, so you being you had wandered to his table and helped him, much to Snapes dismay.

Whispering the password, you made your way through the dim passage. Chattering of people from all years and faint laughter was heard all around.

You spotted your friends right away, seated by the green flamed fireplace, as usual.

"She just can't take a hint." You heard Draco grumble, you paused your steps, you didn't mean to eavesdrop but it seemed as if your feet had a mind of its own.

"Wait," Blaise closes the book he had in his hold. "who are we talking about again?"

Pansy sighs, seeming they had been on the topic for some time. "We're talking about y/n."

Your brows furrow. Going back to the first thing you heard Draco say, she just can't take a hint, what was that supposed to mean. What hint?

"Why can't you just tell her how you feel?" Theo adds, his voice is laced with annoyance, maybe this isn't the first time they've talked about this.

"I thought how I felt would be obvious enough, without having to say anything." He huffs.

"Well," Theo sighs. "apparently not."

You were becoming anxious. What were they talking about and what exactly was Draco feeling? There was streak of hope in you, maybe he'd confess right here that he felt the same.

"What do you suggest I say then, oh-wise-one?" Draco asks teasingly.

"Easy, just say exactly what you tell us." He clears his throat dramatically, adopting a mock version of his voice, "Y/n, you have to be one of the most annoying girls, I have ever had the dissatisfaction of meeting. Please, oh please take the hint and leave me alone because these attempts at getting at me are getting more pathetic each time." He finishes with a clumsy curtsy.

The other Slytherins try to stifle their laughs.

You hadn't even noticed the gasp that escaped your throat until four heads turned to your direction.

"Y/n, I didn't kn-" You cut of Theo's words and apologetic stare.

"Is that true?" You ask Draco, your voice low, laced with hurt. Your nose was stinging and your bottom lip hung heavy, but you refused to cry in front of them. You wouldn't give them another weakness to laugh about.

Draco managed to keep his face blank, no emotions shining through. He shrugged, "Pretty much summed it up."

You almost flinched. He didn't even care about the hurt those words brought you.

You left without a look back. Leaving behind your friends call of your name. They weren't the ones you wanted an apology from. They had known how much you felt for him and didn't even bother telling you that it was definitely not mutual. They even laughed, like it was a joke, like your heart was a comedic topic.

The cold air hit your face, freezing against the tear stain tracks. You sat on a lone stone bench in the court yard, letting those tears make a home on your cheeks.

It wasn't obvious--his dislike to you. If it was, you would have gave up long ago. But a part of you felt that there was hope and you had chased after that.

Why couldn't he have just told you when you first let your affections known, it seemed that he had encouraged it back then, with lingering touches and soft smiles.

Looking back now, you notice that those advantages had slowly disappeared. You had been too caught up in his silky hair, those gray eyes filled with mirth and mischief, his angular face with high bones that no one could compare to, that you hadn't notice everything was unrequited.

A sick part of you even felt honored to have your heart broken in the hold of his beautiful hands, the part that saw him do no wrong.

Maybe that was the first problem, you put him on a pedestal, so high up you weren't able to see anything negative of him. You weren't able to see his cruel reality of his feelings towards you.

And he didn't even seem sorry. He didn't even look bothered by the damage of his words.

You were so nice and considerate to him. You would support him at every quidditch game, cheer the loudest even when he lost. You bought him presents for every one of his birthdays and even Christmas, each one sentimental and thoughtful. You had comforted him when he got those letters, that he despised, from his father. You had voiced encouragements when he showed a little tell sign of his insecurities. You had been there for him.

And he treats you like this, like you can be so easily dismissed. You didn't deserve that, you didn't deserve to be called pathetic for having normal feelings and then being laughed at for it.

The longer you sat on that cold bench, the angrier you got. A bitter feeling growing in your stomach, melting away those knots.

You wasted all this time and effort on some guy who didn't even deserve it, some guy who didn't appreciate you. It wasn't fair.

"Hey, you okay?" A familiar voice sounded through your revelations.

You looked up and met green eyes framed with circular glasses.

"Yeah. I was just thinking." You mumbled, the bitter taste was stuck on your tongue, you wanted rid of it.

"Mind if I sit and think with you?" Harry asked, he was nervously scratching the back of his neck, smiling warmly at you.

You offered him a smile, welcoming his genuineness. "Go ahead."

He sat there with you for hours. Surrounded by the sound of wind. It was nice and comfortable. The bitter feeling leaving you completely. You were content now, even if you could still feel the ache in your arms from holding onto Draco for so long.

Weeks had passed. Weeks of no signs of you. The first week Draco hadn't been worried, a little curious, but that was all. The longer it went on though, he became a little more than curious. Not because he cared, cause he didn't, just that if something happened to you, it would be his fault. His rejection was the reason you ran off like a fool to who knows where.

Which is the only reason he went looking for you. He already got a lot of shit from the others, he didn't need more problems stacking up.

He checked all of your favorite places. Starting with that tree down by the black lake that you enjoyed to lean on and watch the sun go down, the sunset wasn't near so he should've known you would not have been there.

He then went to the gardens, there was a bench there that was next to a small pond. It was filled with odd creatures and was home to your favorite flowers, lotus's. You weren't there either.

Lastly, he went to a certain abandoned hall. You had to be there. You went there to be alone with your thoughts, you had taken him with you there a few times. There was a big window there with a thick ledge, streams of sunlight beamed through and tiny rainbows would reflect on the opposite wall due to the cracks on said window.

He heard you before he saw you. A soft laugh reverberating through the empty hall, a laugh he had always found annoying. Hearing it now though, just made him want to get closer to you.

So he did, walking with light footsteps. He froze, you were not alone. Sitting there in the space he once accompanied, was Harry fucking Potter. What kind of sick joke was this?

Why were you sitting with him? And does that mean you just laughed at something he said?

Your laugh sounded through again, once piercing now melodic. It was a bitter feeling, Potter shouldn't have the honor of dragging that sound out of you, he shouldn't even witness it.

Draco left the hall before either of you saw him, he needed to get himself in check.

More weeks passed. Weeks of you hanging out with Potter. You were doing things with him that you had done with Draco.

It was on purpose, you had to be doing it on purpose. You were simply trying to make him jealous and it was annoyingly working.

But how could you be doing that when you didn't even look back to see a reaction.

Draco didn't know what to think. He didn't even know what to feel, or more like let himself feel. Something had changed in the weeks you were away from him.

A revelation of sorts. He missed you. Missed what you would do for him. He regretted what he said and what he never had the chance to say. Because maybe deep down those feelings had been returned, but he was just too stubborn to show.

And now he's seeing you realizing that you deserve more than blurred lines and assumptions. And he's realizing maybe Potter is that more that you deserve.

Draco doesn't like that one bit, he can't even stomach the thought. So he promises to himself that he will do everything in his power to win you back. Even if that means saying that he was sorry and admitting that he was in the wrong, something he's never had to do before.

But if that makes you his again and gets you away from Potter, then its worth it.

Part 2

[littlemissnoname13]

hi could you please make a part two to feeling colors, i LOVED your writing in it. no rush :))

Hiii nonnie! 💕 I did end up writing a second part for the fic after all. I hope you like it as much as the first. X

Feeling Colours - Part Two

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Hufflepuff!Reader

Word count: 2500 give or take

Summary: Draco’s feelings for the reader start to grow

Warnings: fluff, excessive drinking, mentions of throwing up, kissing, nothing explicit, Draco being a softie (lmk if this needs more warnings)

Masterlist | Part One 

Your eyes fluttered open to find Draco Malfoy sitting on a chair next to you, breathing quietly like sleep was finally hitting him. Ruffled blond strands of hair fell over his weary eyes and he’d used his suit jacket as a makeshift blanket. 

Your first instinct was to silently lift up your covers and check if your clothes were still intact and thank Merlin they were. 

“Have a little faith Y/n.” Draco grumbled, startling you in the process as he struggled to lift himself into a more comfortable position. “I would never take advantage of a drunk girl.”

Fragments of the previous night came back to you when you heard him say that. 

The party, the burn of the booze, the dust-filled broom closet, the throwing up, the taste of soup and the strong and sturdy arms of the boy now looking at you with a sheepish grin on his face.

You eased at the sight of his smile. There came a certain type of comfort after someone had seen you throwing your guts up. 

“Thank you for last night Draco.”

“Like I said before Miss raging alcoholic, Don’t make a habit of it.” He let out a small yawn and started to smooth out his hair but much to his dismay, the strands refused to cooperate. 

You couldn't help but laugh at the displeased look on his face. “Here, let me—”

“NO. I absolutely refuse to let you touch my hair.” He protested, grabbing both your wrists before your fingers could make contact with his precious hair. 

“Come on Malfoy.” You pleaded, now fully out of bed and trying to break free from his hands. “I swear I can fix it for you.”

“Nope.” He said firmly as he tried his hardest to maintain a straight face. ���Stop it—No please not the sides—no..”

“Please, just a bit more...ah okay….there we go.”

“Haven’t you done enough Hufflepuff?!”

“Oh. that rhymed.” You laughed, still touching his hair when the two of you accidently tumbled onto the chair he was originally sleeping on. 

Draco was agile in cushioning your fall with one of his hands balancing himself on the armrest and one hand wrapped around your waist.

It was only the second time he’d saved you from falling and you were already getting used to it. 

Something inside of you was immediately hoping that Draco would be there to break your fall for a third time too. 

It felt good with him.

It felt safe with him.

~~~

Alone at the school courtyard in the afternoon of the next day, Draco sat down in a far corner to rearrange his cluttered thoughts about you into tidy little compartments in his brain. 

It should have been easy for him. He was a natural occlumens after all.

But for some bizarre reason, he couldn't find a way to erase your name, the sound of your voice and your scent that was slowly dominating all four lobes of his brain and all four chambers of his heart. 

Even with the sun still in the sky, the occasional gust of wind made his hands turn cold so he instinctively shoved his hands into his blazer pocket to warm up. 

It was only then that he realised that he’d completely forgotten to give your locket back to you. 

~~~

A few days had now passed and Draco had gotten several opportunities to give your necklace back to you. 

First it was at the great hall.

He watched you intently from the Slytherin table, waiting for the perfect opportunity to talk to you while you nibbled on a cupcake.

His Adam's apple bobbed as he watched you lick the powdery pink frosting off your Peony lips.

He wasn’t all that fond of those cupcakes you were eating but he’d have done anything for a taste of the frosting from your lips. 

Before he could even manage to walk over to you, you stood up and walked away with your friends.

When you were close to the exit however, you paused and turned towards the Slytherin table to give him a tiny smile.

He quickly reached into his pocket to look at the locket, it was the exact pink shade of the frosting. 

~~~

The second time he tried to return it was at Potions class. 

Theo had so graciously agreed to switch partners with Draco and Snape did not seem to mind as long as the potions were brewed right. 

“Crush the petals as best you can before dropping them into the cauldron.” Snape instructed and you quickly grabbed a fistfull of rose petals. 

Draco watched in awe as you crushed rose petals in your hands, releasing the floral aroma into the atmosphere. The scent caught onto clothes and a flush crept onto his face.

“Well, are you going to help me, Malfoy?”

Draco silently copied your motion and stirred the cauldron till the potion was simmering and ready.

Returning your locket in the middle of Severus’s class did not seem like a smart idea so he decided to come up with a better one. 

“We are having another party in the dungeons on Friday. You should come and bring Abott if you’d like.”  Draco shrugged it off like it was the most casual thing ever. 

“Will there be elf made wine?” You wiggled your eyebrows at him and he let out a rather loud scoff earning the attention of the sulky potion’s master.

“Malfoy, Y/l/n.” Snape called out, looking as unimpressed as ever. “Detention.Saturday.”

“Incorrigible.” Draco muttered and you nudged him in the rib with your elbow. 

“Two Saturdays.” Snape said, before dismissing the entire class. 

On his way out, Draco discreetly sneaked a peak of the necklace in his pocket because he already knew what colour it was going to be. 

It was the exact same pink of the rose petals you were crushing. 

~~~

Two days had gone by since potions class and Draco was no longer fazed when the necklace emulated the same shades of pink from the bubblegum you were blowing or the fuschia ribbon in your hair. 

Draco also didn’t think it was necessary to make another attempt to return your necklace until Friday.

He already had a lot of things preoccupying his mind like actually planning the party. 

There had been no Slytherin Party planned for Friday before Draco invited you and now, He was getting his friends to help him arrange one. 

Crabbe and Goyle were tasked with getting more liquor,  Blaise and Theo were responsible for music and food while Draco was responsible with the overall logistics like silencing charms and getting the word of the party out. 

“All this for a girl.” Blaise mocked. Theo took this moment to whisper something to Crabbe who then whispered something to Goyle. 

“Care to say it out loud, Nott?” Draco seethed as he watched his friends clutch their stomachs and laugh out loud. 

“Theo called you a simp.” A teary eyed Goyle spluttered. 

“A what now?”

~~~

Friday’s party topped the previous one. 

More people, A wider selection of liquor, wine varietals, good food and music blasting so loud that the floors were vibrating. 

As per usual, Hannah had already disappeared into some dark little corner with her paramour leaving you all alone with a group of Slytherin girls. 

“I love your dress!” Exclaimed a tipsy looking Daphne Greengrass who herself was wearing a gorgeous turquoise number. 

“Thank you.” You replied, giving her your most polite and friendly smile. 

“Come now, let's go and dance already.” Pansy crossed her arms and rolled her eyes at the interaction. Although it wasn’t super obvious, you sensed that Pansy wasn’t too pleased to have you there. 

Daphne intertwined her hands to yours and pulled you into the dancefloor with herself, Pansy Tracey Davis and Millicent Bulstrode. 

Daphne’s surprisingly amiable nature took you by surprise but you decided to go with it. It was a party after all. 

When she placed her hands on your shoulders, you mirrored. When she swayed her hips, so did you. 

“He can't stop staring at you now, can he?” Daphne shouted into your ear over the music as you both continued to dance together. 

“I’m sorry who?” You shouted back. 

“Malfoy.” Daphne giggled. “ He’s been watching you all night actually. Why do you think he hosted this party in the first place?”

You stole a quick glance at Draco when no one was looking. He was sipping on a glass of whisky and watching you from a distance.

He had ditched his all black attire for a white button down shirt. The top two buttons were undone and his hair had a sort of laid back look to it

“See?” Daphne shouted again. “Hasn’t even taken his eyes off you once. It's driving Pansy nuts.”

Just to confirm if Daphne was in fact telling the truth, you tilted your head to the side to get a bitter view of him and the minute you did, your eyes met with his.

Heat spread all across your cheeks and he raised his glass to you as an acknowledgement before quickly turning away. 

After that, it was just an intense and tactical little gambit of who caught who staring. 

He covertly watched you sway your hips and you secretly noticed the way he tapped his fingertips on the glass he was holding.

Both of you refused to relent to whatever game this was up until the point where he grabbed a bottle of fire whisky and started to walk away. 

You didn't even need to think twice about where he was headed. 

“Go on.” Daphne nudged encouragingly.

~~~

Draco pulled the closet door open and stepped inside with a smile playing at his lips.

The last time he was there, he was introduced to you, your scent, your smile, your eyes. 

Before that night in the closet, he took colours at their face value. They were nothing more than visual representations of light—what amount, what hue, what saturation.

It was strange how things had changed for him. 

Not only did you make him see colours in a whole new light, you made him feel them, you made him hear them.

As Draco settled down with his drink, he saw the door creak open. 

It was still dark but he could already tell that it was you by the scent of your perfume. Oh, he could never ever forget that aroma even if he tried. 

Lumos. 

Draco held his wand in front of him and allowed himself to turn to his side to get a better view of you. 

Never had he ever seen someone glow the way you did under the lumos charm. The radiance in your eyes, the pearlescence of your skin and the curvature of your lips made him lightheaded.

“I feel like this closet is going to be a recurring thing for us huh?” You beamed at him and he found himself swooning. 

Salazar Slytherin. Nott was right. He was a simp.

“I guess so.” Draco quickly answered, Blaming this dizziness on the lack of ventilation while taking a big sip of his drink. 

“I don’t mind.” You said and twisted open the bottle of wine you’d brought with you. 

“Don’t tell me you brought another bottle of that god awful wine in here.”

 “It’s actually not that bad and it gets you drunk way quicker.” You shrugged. 

“Why do I feel like I might have to walk you to your dorm again?” 

He watched you take a long slow sip of wine and couldn’t help himself from noting that your lips were slowly getting stained red with the fruity nectar. 

“Might?” You shook your head. “Sorry to break it to you, but this wine is going to catch up with me soon.” 

Draco jokingly palmed his face, earning a laugh from you. It seemed like the perfect time to hand you your lost possession back. 

“Atleast, I’ll know when you are going to be sick though.” Draco said as he fished for the locket in his pocket. 

“How come?” 

“Because of this.” He explained, holding the necklace out. “I’m sorry I should have given it back sooner.” 

“That’s okay.” You murmured softly and pushed your hair away from your neck and he instantly took this as a cue to drape the necklace back to where it belonged. 

“Ah…there you go.” He whispered into your ear before shifting back to look at the gem. 

Draco expected it to be pink but to his astonishment, the gem had already turned a vibrant red. 

A new colour.

He could see red in the apples of your cheeks.

He could feel red pumping through his veins and hear red in the way his heart was rapidly beating. 

 “It’s red.” You commented and he slowly nodded. 

Even though he knew what red was for him, he needed to hear your interpretation before making his next move. 

“What does red mean to you y/n?” 

“To me, well…..red represents um..passion, something fiery, something that burns bright, leaves you breathless.” You whispered looking as if you were feeling almost as breathless as him. 

Draco swallowed hard when he noticed just how close your face was to his. 

“Y/n?”

“Hmm?” 

“If I kissed you right now, would you kiss me back?”

He noticed that your breathing was progressively getting shorter. You looked startled at his sudden question but held his gaze nonetheless. 

“I guess you’ll have to see for yourself, Draco.”

He couldn’t help but let out a hoarse chuckle before pressing his forehead to yours. “Is that an invitation hm?” 

You didn’t say a word but the deepening red color of your necklace gave everything away. 

Any remaining doubt in his mind went away when he felt you caress his cheeks with your cold hands. 

He gently let his fingers slip into your hair as he closed the distance between your lips. 

The kiss was reminiscent of the rush of first love. The innocence, the giggles. 

The kiss paid homage that perfumed night in the broom closet that had started it all. 

The kiss was bleeding, seeping, trickling In various shades of red and he was drinking every drop. 

Draco Malfoy could finally tell what the colour red tasted like. 

It tasted like your wine stained lips. 

He backed away and placed a gentle kiss on the top of your head and you gave him a shy smile in return. 

~~~

The two of you spent the remainder of the party inside the closet. 

Drinking, talking, laughing and more kissing.

So much kissing. 

“Alright y/n, let’s get you to your room now shall we?” Draco sighed when he noticed that you were getting more and more inebriated by the minute. “Come on.” 

You struggled to step out of the closet and almost tripped on your own two drunken feet.

Almost. 

“As if I’m going to let you fall face first.” He mumbled to himself before lifting you up in his arms. 

You let out a small laugh before looking up at him. 

“Draco?”

“Hmm?”

“I know you said to not make a habit of this but unfortunately for you, I already have.” 

FIN. 

~~~

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[adorerdraco]

Malfoy’s Gone Soft! ✧ Draco x Reader

Summary: Draco, your boyfriend, is mean to everyone until you call him out for it.

Warnings: mentions of bullying :( and a couple profanities :0

Words: 2K 

A/N: omg i wrote this on a whim while listening to the euphoria score soundtrack in like an hour idk if its all that but i have no idea what i’m going to do next for Healing Heart so for now i’m just going to write other things for Draco until i get inspired ! & feel free to send me requests ! also thank you for 100 followers you guys are amazingggg !!!!!!!!!!! *insert pouty emojy*

The sound of arrogant and boisterous laughter filled the courtyard, the Slytherin Prince and his minions were tossing around a book bag that a helpless 2nd year Hufflepuff was chasing around every time it was thrown to another boy. One of the boys yelled a foul, “mudblood!” that made the boy tear up as he reached and jumped up for his bag that was in the air every few seconds. It was nothing new to the school, Draco and his band of bullies would bother anyone who they found as an easy target just for the fun of it.

Unfortunately for Draco, you had been passing by through one of the corridors with a group of friends when you had seen the fiasco. As much as you adored your boyfriend, you couldn’t deny the sometimes nasty persona that he had and how much it bothered you. He would always swear up and down that he would stop his antics, but you often encountered him or heard from other people of him being in the same situations that he had promised would stop. 

You marched your way over to the group, a fire in your step and your eyes fixated on Draco who was laughing like a fool. You watched as Goyle rushed to elbow Draco’s side, earning him a look until he had pointed in your direction. All joy in the blond’s face quickly drained once he saw your vexed expression heading towards him.

The book bag had dropped from his hands onto the stoned courtyard ground, the young Hufflepuff hastily grabbed it and ran off in tears back into the castle. You stomped up to Draco, noticing how he had visibly swallowed in fear at what your reaction would be.

“What happened to, ‘I swear I’ll stop being a git to everyone!’” You asked him incredulously, mocking his voice as you quoted him. 

“Malfoy said that?” Blaise chuckled as if it were a joke. Both you and Draco turned to give him a frenzied look.

“Y/N, I...” Draco trailed off, looking around at his friends who were awaiting his response with smug smiles on their faces. Then he looked towards you, a hope glittering in your eyes that he would reassure you and be the sensitive boy you knew behind closed doors and away from his every day reputation. “I...”

“So you have nothing to say for yourself?” you deadpan, a scowl making its way onto your face when you realized he wasn’t going to apologize.

“Why do you care what I do to a stupid little Hufflepuff?” He snickers. Whatever hope you had left went up in flames, he had chosen his reputation.

“Because it’s mean,” you sneered. “Why would I want to be with an arse like that?”

With that, you turned on your heel, walking out of the courtyard and back to your friends where you walked to your next class without turning back to look at the group of shocked boys.

“I think you just got dumped, mate.”

“Merlin’s sake, do you ever shut up Zabini?” Draco fumed, his heart breaking at the question and his mind running a million miles per minute. He began walking towards the entrance of the castle to head into the common room, bumping shoulders aggressively with Blaise as he did.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

You weren’t sure whether or not you and the Slytherin Prince were broken up. Of course, it was the last thing you wanted but you were sick of the endless excuses and empty promises. You knew of the package deal Draco Malfoy came with when you started dating him, but there was a point when it all became too much. You were hoping in a last ditch effort, that if he genuinely really cared for you and respected your wishes, this would be the final push he needed to change.

It’s not like you were asking him to completely stop being himself. You were only asking for him to stop with the unprovoked teasing and pushing around of innocent bystanders. His friends especially, were a big reason why he continued to do it as he loved being the leader of the group and all that came with his positions as; the funniest, the most attractive and charming, the smartest, the wealthiest, the strongest. It was all just a game to him but he never saw the aftermath of his tormenting and how it could really affect someone or their day. You were like a broken record, repeating to him over and over again the same wish you had for him but he never absorbed it.

So now here you were, furiously writing your Potions essay in the library as your mind ran with thoughts of the aggravating platinum blond and nothing having to do with Calming Draught. 

“Write any harder and you’ll break your quill,” a certain timid voice said from in front of your table. You didn’t look up, already knowing it was Draco. You didn’t want to give in so easily to his intoxicating nature because the second his scared gray eyes were to meet yours, you’d melt. “Y/N, I’m sorry. For what happened in the courtyard.”

You sighed, setting down your quill and shaking your head, eyes still trained on your parchment. “It’s not just what happened in the courtyard, Draco. It’s that you do this to someone new every single day.”

“I’ve been this way all my life, I can’t just change who I am,” he argues. You finally look at him, the both of you silently seething at each other.

“That’s not an excuse!”

“Shh! Quiet down, the two of you or you will be asked to leave,” Madam Pince exclaims angrily from her desk. You turned back to Draco, hard eyes trained on him as he glared back at you with the same irritated look.

“I would just like to know why my girlfriend feels the need to suck the life out of all my fun,” he says lowly to you. Your face goes scarlet as you try to contain your wrath from being let out on the whole library, and on Draco who wouldn’t even know where to begin to handle it. But as angry as you were, it was quickly replaced with anguish and pooling tears as you thought of the main reason why you had wanted him to be nicer.

“Because your ex-girlfriend knows how it feels like to get bullied and targeted every day for no reason,” you spit sorrowfully. “I know what it’s like to live on the opposite end of what you think is fun and I promise you it’s nothing near that.”

You hurriedly grabbed all your things and rushed out of the library with tears streaming down your face as Draco only stood there feeling like the biggest most insensitive idiot and asshole in the world. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

It had been a week since the incident at the library and the both of you couldn’t be any more miserable. It had gotten to the point where Draco felt ashamed and gross if he was even accidentally rude to someone, let alone on purpose. The blond boy watched you intently from his Slytherin table in the Great Hall, his friends and their conversation sounding like a distant incoherent buzzing as he focused onto your sad and defeated face and figure from afar. 

He had tried everything he could think of to get your attention, to get you to hear his apologies, but you wouldn’t give him the time of day; you refused to. You were beyond hurt. Not only because of Draco, but also because of the painful memories that had resurfaced that you spent so long trying to get over. It was all just a mess and Draco regretted everything he had said to you and everything he didn’t do for you.

“Just give it a rest, Draco,” Pansy sighs exasperated at the boy’s longing stares. “She broke up with you, stop pouting about it and move on.”

“Shut up, Pansy,” Draco sneers. “Mind your business why don’t you.”

“I’m just saying, if I was her, I would never do or say anything to ruin our relationship,” she shrugs, peering up at the frowning Slytherin through her eyelashes.

“You’re not her though, are you?” Draco snarks, his eyes squinting at her as he shoots the mean remark her way. All the surrounding boys give an “oooh” at the interaction, cackling as they watch Pansy go red in the face before abruptly standing up and leaving the table in a rush. 

Draco did the same and removed himself from the table to dart out of the Great Hall and towards an empty corridor near the courtyard where he liked to hide on an large windowsill. He had enough of his despair and enough of sitting around and doing nothing to win you back, so he got to work on something that would be his last and this time big gesture, to get you to listen.

A few hours had gone by, it was sunny and there was a nice breeze that was perfect for Draco’s plan on winning you back. He especially knew that when the weather was like this, you enjoyed sitting on a bench in the courtyard, the sun caressing your face with warmth as you read a book. 

He walked out of the corridor and towards the courtyard, and just like he knew, he spotted you sitting at your favorite bench angled towards the sun and deeply entranced in whatever book was in your lap. He took a deep breath before nearing you, stopping a few feet away to where you didn’t notice his presence just yet. His hand reached into the pocket of his robes, picking out the small and large variety of origami birds notes he had written and charmed to fly over to you and around you in a pretty and gentle circle. A bouquet of red and y/h colored flowers had appeared in his hands behind his back, all he was waiting for was for you to accept him.

You looked up from your book, eyeing all the paper birds that were fluttering around you and across the way was a frantic looking Draco with his hands hiding something behind his back. You let out a deep exhale, reaching out to grab one of the birds and unfolding the note to read his perfect cursive.

I’m sorry.

Then you grabbed another.

Please forgive me.

Then another.

You are everything to me.

And another.

I promise to change my habits.

And then the final one, the biggest bird of the bunch.

I should have listened to you from the beginning and I’m sorry I haven’t been more sympathetic. I’m also sorry that you had to go through that in your past. You are so beautiful and strong and deserve everything good in this world.

You placed your book to the side and stood up, opening your arms in a hug for Draco before he bolted towards you and enveloped you into his arms with a sigh of relief.

“I’m so sorry, darling,” he apologizes again into your hair as he nuzzled into you. He pulled back, handing you the large bouquet of flowers that made you blush as red as the roses that were mixed into the assortment. “I can’t promise you I’ll be perfect, but I swear on everything I love, I’ll try.”

“You don’t have to be perfect, Dray,” you chortle. “All I’m asking is for you not to be such a terrorizing little git.”

“Done,” he grins, throwing himself into your arms again as you giggled and ran your hands through his hair.

The two of you plop onto the bench below you, Draco peppering kisses all over your face in glee and gratefulness that you gave him another chance to prove himself. He didn’t even dare remove himself from you when he saw his friends strolling by, snickering and pointing to the nearly snogging couple.

“Malfoy’s gone soft!” Blaise yells across the yard, the rest of the boys laughing in response as usual like the mindless bozo’s that they were. Draco rolled his eyes, throwing them the middle finger before nuzzling himself back into your embrace.

[missdawnandherdusk]

Dandelion, Dandelion

Draco x Hufflepuff!Reader

When I was a little girl, my mama said to me

"What's your favorite flower, darling? I'll get you the seed"

I said "Dandelion, Dandelion, " that one's so pretty

She said, "Child, that one's not a flower, that one's just a weed"

Summary: Draco has always tormented you for anything and everything. One summer you cut your hair off and get a bit better at spells and Draco has no idea what to do with you now and you have no idea what to do with all this new attention. 

A/N: Hello my darlings! This is a request from @darcypottah​ and now that it’s fleshed out a bit more, it will be a series, each part is going to be a school year (starting in the Goblet of Fire) or a summer between (the summer chapters will be shorter obviously) following the thread: A Hufflepuff!reader dating Draco and they get split up because Draco has to do something for Voldemort and doesn’t want the Hufflepuff!reader getting in the way. But eventually, they will get back together. Welcome to over 8,000 words because I have no self-control and this is the best thing ever not lying. It’s got everything and anything under the sun. Love you guys and as always let me know what you think!!

“Go ahead, run back to your friends,” He sneered. “I don’t see why they even let you into this school if you’re not going to do a spell,”

I hung my head, my long hair covering the hurt on my face as I rushed down the hall away from him.

Draco Malfoy. The most malicious kid in my year and a Slytherin no less. So, he thought it was acceptable for his taunts against me and my house. Not like I chose to be Hufflepuff. Not that I hated it either, I loved my house and my friends and everything we stood for... but why did it have to be me that he singled out?

I never said anything back, however. I could have, easily. And sometimes I wanted to, but I was more than that. I wouldn’t fall to his level. I didn’t know if I blamed him either. From what I heard of the Slytherin house; it wasn’t good company. Not that what he did to me was right... but I wasn’t going to be bitter.

Third year ended, and I went home for the summer. It was an unbearably hot summer and my hair was becoming more and more of a nuisance as time went on. My mother insisted I spend my days outside reading and practicing spells. Well, she said not in the house so... that left outside.

“I want it off!” I announced coming into the house at about midday. “Mother!?” 

“Want what off, darling?” She asked, looking up from her book.

“My hair. It’s too much. It’s too thick and hot and I want it gone,” I huffed, taking the hair tie out of it and unplaiting it.

“Well, I suppose we can do something about it,” She smiled. “You won’t be able to hide behind it any longer,” There was a glint in her eyes of mischief.

“I’ll survive,” I muttered. “And besides, I’m a lot better at my spells now, and... I don’t need it. It’s time I... I stood for myself,” I took a deep breath uttering the words.

My mother stood and smiled, nodding me upstairs. In the master bath, she had me sit in front of the mirror and took out her own wand, brushing through my hair one last time.

“And you’re sure about this?” She gave me a pointed look in the mirror.

I nodded, swallowing my anxiety. I could do this. I thought about the freedom it promised. No longer would I have to spend every morning trying to force it into submission, nor would I have to straighten it... or keep losing and rebuying hair ties and bobby pins. Freedom...

My fingers ran through exceptionally short hair. There was something reminiscent about it... maybe a Shailene Woodley copycat...

And I was right, it was amazing. I felt free and lighter and bolder. I didn’t have to hide behind my hair anymore. I could be me. And that would be enough.

On the train September 1st, my friends fawned over my haircut and how golden my skin had become though I never realized all those days in the sun had any effect on me. It left me sheepish and wanting to hide behind hair that wasn’t there any longer.

“Woah, Y/n,” It was Cedric, “Nice haircut,” He flashed a smile at me that had me blushing and my friends giggling.

Draco passed my train compartment and our eyes met. His eyes narrowed, confusion in them, but I gave a smile and waved. It was a new year. I could be kind still.

_____________________________

“Who’s the new Hufflepuff?” Draco asked, not being able to place where he knew you from. 

“There isn’t one,” Pansy rolled her eyes.

“Then who just waved to me?” Draco stopped short in his tracks.

“Y/n? Ya know the one you’ve been terrorizing for years?” Pansy said flatly.

“That was... no! She looks completely different! No way,” Draco scoffed, sulking in the compartment, not able to get your smile out of his head.

After all the years of his constant torments, you still waved at him and smiled. It must be a Hufflepuff thing. Always too trusting and kind. You were going to get hurt because of it one day.

It was ridiculous. You thinking that it would change anything by cutting your hair... and smiling a bit more... and were you tanner? Did your eyes always shine when you smiled? Had he ever seen you smile before?

He shoved all of those thoughts aside and waited for the world to make sense again.

He found normalcy in tormenting Potter and his pathetic friends, but not without seeing you on when he disembarked the train. You were laughing with your friends and talking to a few older years from your house. Again, you looked at him and smiled. When he sent a cold glare your way, you simply rolled your eyes and walked away with your friends.

______________________________

It was odd, being the center of attention rather than hide in the shadows. Everyone noticed my new haircut and new attitude... if you could call it that. I still felt like myself, just less afraid of the world around me.

The thrill of the Triwizard Tournament was a popular conversation of our house common room. Cedric was being urged to enter but he held hesitancy towards it.

Walking on my way to the library I passed him in the hall. I waved and smiled.

“Hey,” I offered.

“Oh, not you too,” He groaned.

“What?” I hugged the book to my chest, frowning. “I just said hi,”

“So, you’re not here to tell me to enter the tournament?” He asked hesitantly.

“Uh, no? I was going to the library, have a paper due in Snape’s class,” I explained, lowering my book shield and tucking my hair behind my ear. “I guess people won’t leave you alone, huh?”

“You have no idea,” He muttered, rubbing his face. “I mean, I want to do it, but now there’s so much pressure to do it that it doesn’t seem all that inviting anymore,”

“I’m sorry,” I gave a small smile. “Whatever you decide, you’ll be great. You’re the best wizard in our house, if not the school,”

“You think so?”

I shrugged. “I haven’t been here as long as you have, but I mean, it’s hard not to notice.” My cheeks flushed slightly. “I believe in you Cedric.”

“Thanks,” he stammered. “Maybe I will enter. Can I borrow some paper?”

I beamed and offered him a slip of paper and a quill.

“May the odds be ever in your favor,” I waved goodbye continuing towards the library.

With Snape’s essay done and my drawing for Herbology traced and refinished I headed back to my common room to get ready for bed and maybe get a few more chapters in of The Princess Bride.

When Cedric’s name was pulled from the cup, I jumped up screaming for him, as was the rest of my table and the entire hall it seemed. He flashed a smile at me before heading up to the front and I waved as an encouragement between clapping, beaming with pride.

“You know he’s only into you because you’re pretty now,” I heard the sneer as I walked back to the library.

Frowning, I paused, face to face with Draco.

“I’m sorry, were you talking about yourself again? And I’m flattered that you think I’m pretty,” I glared, hugging my books to my chest.

“Cedric.” Malfoy clarified. “He doesn’t actually like you.”

“And how would you know?” I snapped. “You don’t even know what love looks like,” 

His eyebrows shot up in shock, and I was shocked at myself too.

“Draco, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that,” I apologized quickly before rushing into the safe haven of books.

“Y/n?” His voice carried through the shelved. I cursed and hid as best I could. “I know you’re in here!”

Biting my lip and pressing myself against the shelves I tried to keep my anxiety under control. 

Why are you running from him? My psyche asked. Aren’t you better than this?

Maybe she was right, and I was better than this. I took a deep breath and stepped out onto the aisle. Draco spotted me immediately and stalked me down. I wanted to shrink back, but I didn’t. I held my ground and squared my shoulders.

“Since when do you apologize to me?” He hissed, inches away from me. “Too scared to say something hurtful then? Does it break your little Hufflepuff code?”

“Yes,” I said firmly. “And I’d take Hufflepuff over Slytherin any day. At least I know how to be kind to people! I’ve given you no reason to hate me, but you have for years and I have every reason to hate you, but I refuse. That’s that makes me a Hufflepuff and proud to be one,” I spat the words, glaring up at him. “Say what you want Malfoy, but you’ll never be more than a Slytherin and I feel sorry for you,”

Something flitted across Draco’s face and I didn’t quite know that it was. It looked like regret and confusion, but that couldn’t be true.

“Hey!”

We both turned to see Cedric jogging down the aisle.

“What’s the idea here Malfoy? Leave her alone,” Cedric easily got between Draco and me, pushing his away.

“Here’s your champion,” Malfoy sneered at me. “Coming to save you,”

“Buzz off Malfoy,” Cedric snapped.

Draco rolled his eyes and stalked away with the dignity of a wet cat and Cedric turned to me. 

“Are you okay?” He asked softly. “I know he likes to pick on you,”

“Yeah, I’m okay,” I whispered, watching Draco leave. “Thank you, you didn’t have to do that,” I gave a small smile.

“Well, I was trying to find you to thank you for convincing me to enter the tournament.” He looked down, shifting from foot to foot.

“Oh, no problem,” I smiled. “You’ll be amazing,”

“I... um, yeah. Thanks again,” He stammered before heading out of the library, leaving me there very confused about what just happened.

The day of the first task arrived, and I was in the stand with the rest of the school, watching the trial of dragons. The cry of despair left my lips before I thought twice when I say that the dragon had burned Cedric rather badly. I shoved through the crowd and to the med tent, arguing with the wizard on guard.

“Who is it?” I heard the mangled question. “Y/n? She can come in,” Cedric’s voice was strained.

I pushed past the guard and into the tent to find Cedric and Madam Pomfrey, who was currently lathering some sort of cream on his face and shoulder.

“My stars are you okay?” I gasped. “This is all my fault, I’m so sorry Cedric,”

“What are you crying for? I’m fine Y/n,” He laughed that turned into a grimace.

“Fine!?” I squeaked. “This isn’t fine Cedric,”

“He will be fine Miss Y/n,” Madam Pomfrey assured me. “Do you need something for your panic?”

“No,” I wheezed, sitting on the end of Cedric’s cot.

“You’re missing the rest of the task,” Cedric noted. “Go on out, I’ll be okay,”

“I don’t really think I can stomach anything more,” I confessed, looking over at him and sure enough his burns were healing before my eyes.

“You’re such a Hufflepuff,” He teased. I gave him a sharp look, smiling.

“Are you really okay?” I asked again. 

“Can’t even feel it,” He grinned.

I nodded and stood, “I should leave you be then, I’ll... Feel better,”

“Y/n,” Cedric called as I started to exit the tent. I turned. “Thanks for checking on me,”

I chuckled. “Oh, I mean there is a line of girls out here dying to know how you are,” I smirked.

“But I’m glad it was you,”

I felt my cheeks flush red as I exited the tent and caught sight of familiar blue eyes.

“Are you following me now?” I demanded.

“Can’t I just happen to be where you are?” Malfoy spat.

“Not when it’s you, and not when it’s me,” I crossed my arms. “What do you want? Come here to taunt me some more?”

A beat of silence.

“Is he okay?” I almost missed the question it was so low.

“Cedric? Yeah, he’s fine,” I frowned, confusion clouding my senses. “Or will be soon enough,” 

Draco nodded and looked out to the other trials that were going on.

“You’re not going back out there, are you?” He read me like an open book, so I shook my head. “Such a Hufflepuff,” He rolled his eyes, suppressing a smile.

“Better than a Slytherin,” I shot back smirking.

My smile dropped when I saw three other Slytherins flock his sides. I suddenly got very anxious and fearful as I rushed off back to... witnesses. My friend Abigail met me under the stands, knowing I would want to stay, and we headed back to the common room together as I told her about Cedric’s wellbeing and my encounter with Malfoy.

“There’s something not right about that boy,” Abby sighed.

“I dunno... up until lately I would have agreed, but now it’s like something’s changed.” I picked up my book.

“Oh, don’t tell me you have a thing for Malfoy,” She uttered in disgust. “Besides, I thought you liked Cedric,”

“I don’t have a thing for Malfoy. And I don’t know how I feel about Cedric just yet. He is sweet, but maybe Draco is right, and he just likes me because I got pretty,” I sneered the word.

“Did you just say that Draco might be right about something?” Abby gaped at me.

“No!” I refuted. “Yes? Maybe?” I leaned my head on the back of the couch.

“Of all the people you could be loyal to and you choose Malfoy,” Abby baited.

I laughed and rolled my eyes diving back into my book and the Fire Swamp with Wesley and Buttercup, losing myself for a while in the tale of true love.

Fast asleep, I dreamt of my book, being saved by a man in a mask with stellar blue eyes. I awoke suddenly when those blue eyes became Draco’s and not Wesley’s. Rubbing my face, I groaned and rolled over huffing.

“I do not like Draco Malfoy,” I muttered to myself and my psyche. 

_____________________________

Something burned in his veins when Draco watched you rush down to Cedric after his injury. If he had been out there, he wouldn’t have been so stupid. So, he chased after you.

He watched the fear in your eyes grow as Crabbe Goyle and Parkinson joined him during your chat and followed you with his eyes as you ran off. Did he really scare you that much? Were you so afraid to be alone with him and his friends?

Duh, The voice in his head chimed in. Look what you’ve done to her for the past three years.

He found himself regretting harassing you all those years in the quiet of the night. Of course, he noticed that you changed. You weren’t so shy anymore, and you no longer hid behind your hair or let people—him—walk over you. It was the confidence that was... attractive.

“Get a grip Malfoy, she’s a Hufflepuff,” He muttered to himself staring at the ceiling. 

____________________________

The announcement of the Yule Ball was just as hyped as the tournament was as it was the only topic for conversation as the holidays approached. Many couples paired up quickly, crossing house and school lines easily.

I didn’t plan on going. I wasn’t one for large crowds or loud music. I. preferred the quiet and softness of familiar company. Not like guys didn’t try to ask me. It was rather annoying. No once had they talked to me in three years but now, they attacked me in the hallways asking me to go with them.

I was at the end of my patience when I nearly ran into Cedric in the hall. 

“Hey,” He waved and smiled.

“Oh, not you too,” I complained.

“Now where have I heard that before?” He teased. “You okay?”

“No,” I sulked, “People won’t leave me alone. Everyone wants to ask me to the Ball,” 

“Oh, by the way...” He grinned.

“Finish that statement and I will hex you,” I snapped, earning me a laugh.

“I really doubt that.” Cedric raised an eyebrow. “But if you want, tell them you’re going with me, to get them to leave you alone,”

“That’s sweet Cedric, but I’m really not going,” I explained for the umpteenth time. “And I do not want to have to face your fangirl club.” I muttered darkly.

“Well, the offer still stands Y/n,” His smile was soft. “See you around?” He asked as the bell rang.

“Yeah, see you Cedric,”

Professor Sprout scolded me for being late, but a quick smile and she was pacified. We were reviewing for the upcoming exam, so I took out my notes from the semester. Each of my drawings were close to accurate as I took time to perfect them.

“You’re going with Cedric then?”

“What do you want Malfoy?” I snapped, not particularly annoyed as I sounded.

“You’re going with Cedric to the Yule Ball,” He restated, not really asking this time, leaning against my table.

“What does it matter to you?” I looked at him and found him staring at my drawings. I covered them quickly.

“Well, if he wasn’t going to take you...”

“Oh, shove off, Malfoy,” I snapped, anger rising in me at his game. “You think you’re funny? Asking a little Hufflepuff to the Ball so you can what embarrass me? Get my hopes up and then show up with someone else? No thank you, I’ll save myself the regret.”

“Sheesh, lighten up Y/n.” He muttered, rolling his eyes. “I... I thought maybe I could make up to you how I treated you over the years... you’re not the only one who can change Y/n.” He walked off before I could respond, and it left me gaping at the back of his head.

“Hey Y/n can I see—”

“Neville I will give you them later but come and closer and I will lose my temper,” I hissed, my voice ice cold.

Draco clouded my thoughts as the day went on. I wanted to apologize for what I said, but I never found the chance. It had been a week and I still hadn’t managed to talk to him. How had we gone from me avoiding his constant teasing to him avoiding me completely?

“You sure you don’t want to come?” Abby asked as she was leaving our room for the ball. 

“I’m sure,” I smiled, “You look amazing, have a great time,”

“It won’t be the same without you,” She sighed and gave a final wave before leaving me to my thoughts and the snow falling softly outside.

_____________________________

With Pansy on his arm Draco still couldn’t draw his thoughts from you. The words you snapped at him cut him deep because they were true. If it had been any other time, he would have asked you as a joke and done something awful to humiliate you... but he didn’t want to, not this time.

Maybe it would take a bit more to show you that he had changed, so he didn’t interfere with your life as best he could manage, giving you a break. Maybe that would show you.

He was disappointed to see that you really weren’t going, and it wasn’t just an excuse you were giving to other guys because you were waiting for someone to ask you. But you were never one for excitement or large crowds. You were never at Quidditch matches and rushed out of the Great Hall whenever you could. He thought it was to escape him, that he had you on the run, but it might have had nothing to do with him.

“You’re thinking about her, aren’t you?” Pansy asked. “Seriously Draco, leave her alone. She doesn’t want you. She’s a bloody Hufflepuff.” She scoffed.

“Better than Slytherin,” He muttered too low for Pansy to hear.

When Draco heard about the second task and the potential danger that you were in for talking to Cedric so much, he stood from Snape’s lecture and left immediately, on his way to find you if he wasn’t too late already.

Maybe that would make it up to you. Over the past couple months, whenever your eyes met his, there was a sad look behind your stare, and he had no idea where it came from or what he had done to get that sort of reaction from you. It’s not like he had talked to you, or badly about you.

“Y/n!” He was relieved to see you in the hall.

Your friend, who was chatting with you quickly scurried away, leaving you and him alone.

“Are you done avoiding me now?” You huffed, not meeting his eyes.

“Avoiding you?” He stopped in his tracks.

Sighing you shook your head.

“Forget it, what do you want Draco,” Your eyes still didn’t meet his.

“I... The second challenge... you’ve been talking to Cedric a lot lately...” He had no idea how to word what he wanted to say.

“We’re not dating if that’s what you’ve come to mock me for,” You were so closed off to him and he hated it.

Part of him was relieved to hear that you weren’t dating Cedric though. The burning in his blood faded at the thought, or rather shifted into curiosity.

“Why not?” The question left his mouth before he could stop it. 

“What do you mean why not?”

Oh, you were angry. He had never seen you so malice towards anyone. Is this how others saw him?

“I... you two... I don’t know. You’re both in the same house, and he seemed to fancy you...” Draco stammered.

“He only liked me because I got pretty,” You mumbled, his words from months ago on your lips. “You said it yourself,”

“Oh, so now you listen to me?” He exasperated. “You’re unbelievable Y/n,”

“I’m unbelievable?” You gaped at him. “Look at who’s talking! Please tell me what’s so wrong about a Hufflepuff being loyal and kind? Is that news to you!?”

“Loyal to who!?” He barked.

“You!” 

Your voice rose as you yelled at him, stopping all of the things that he wanted to yell at you. You were loyal... to him? Why the hell had you chosen him to be loyal to? He was the last person you should trust.

I have every reason to hate you, but I refuse, Your words echoed in his mind. Was that what it meant to be loyal? Not whatever his friends were to him... they had to follow him because of who his parents were but you? You were right, you had no reason to be loyal to him.

“Just... forget it Draco,” You muttered, “Forget whatever this is...” You started to walk away.

“You don’t think I’ve tried?” He called after you.

____________________________

I froze, millions of thoughts running through my head. I slowly faced him, daring to meet his eyes.

“What do you mean you’ve tried?” My voice was low and calculated.

“He didn’t like you because you cut your hair, he likes you because you’re confident, and you light up a room when you smile, and you’re nice to assholes like me,” His eyes were fixed on the floor.

“Draco?” I took a careful step toward him.

His gaze slowly met mine.

“The second task.” He muttered. “The champions have to save who they hold dear, and I thought...”

“You thought that I would be in danger,” A warm feeling spread through my chest as I pieced together his words. “And you tried to find me,”

He didn’t say anything.

“I’m okay Draco,” I reaffirmed softly. “We both are,”

“How is any of this okay?” He muttered. “A Slytherin and a Hufflepuff.”

A smile touched my lips as all of my walls and prejudices against the man before me started to fall. Maybe I had made the right choice to be loyal to him.

“Y/n!?” It was Cedric’s voice from behind me as he came trotting over. Again, he placed himself between Draco and me protectively.

“What are you doing here Malfoy?” Cedric sneered.

“Cedric, leave him alone,” I groaned, pushing past him. “He came here to see if I was okay after he heard about the second task,” Now I was between the two boys, defending Draco.

“Doubtful,” Cedric muttered. “Anyway. I’m glad you’re safe. Have you seen Cho?�� His worry for me seemed false as he quickly changed the subject.

“No? Maybe she’s the one they took,” I offered the solution.

“Right, thanks, well... see you.” He barely got out before making his way toward the lake.

There was a sinking feeling in my chest that Draco had been mistaken and Cedric really only did like me for my looks. I felt so stupid in that moment and tensed, ready for Draco to goad it over me.

“I’m sorry about that,” I whispered softly turning to him.

“Nothing I don’t deserve,” Malfoy muttered under his breath.

“Doesn’t make it right,” I retorted, a smile barely touching my lips, a sigh escaping through them. “I guess you were right, he never really liked me,” I wrapped my arms around myself. “My mother says I’m going to keep getting myself hurt because I’m so trusting.” The thought rambled its way out before I could stop it.

Draco didn’t say anything, instead he headed off in the direction that Cedric was going, leaving me alone and confused again. Maybe it was a good thing that I didn’t go to the Yule Ball after all.

It had been about a week since the second task, and Draco and I had settled into some sort of odd friendship. I wasn’t afraid to be around him any longer and he didn’t seem so defensive about everything I said. It was jarringly comforting.

______________________________

“It is to happen upon the day of the third task,” His father gloated. “We will rise to power once more,”

Draco paused outside the door, listening in but his father gave away nothing more. Fear and panic struck his heart as he thought about what his father’s words meant. He knew that the Death Eaters and the Dark Lord were planning something, but this was the most information he had heard in a while.

Then his thoughts went to you. You were so kind and trusting. It was odd to think about you in the context of these things, they seemed so much darker and sinister than the sunny world you lived in and had invited him into.

You were going to hate him as soon as you found out. You’d never trust him again.

Do you really believe that? After everything she’s done for you? The voice in his head chided.

Either way you did choose, he was going to keep you safe because his father be damned if anyone hurt you because of this madness. You didn’t deserve to be hurt because of this, and he was going to do whatever it took to keep you out of it, or safe amongst it. He would let you keep your sunshine if it was the last thing he did.

_______________________________

“Are you going to the third task? It’s at the pitch, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you down there,” Draco’s voice was quizzical as he leaned against the library table I was at.

“I don’t know,” I answered truthfully. “I’m not one for large crowds,”

“I know,” He offered a smile. “But... if you want you can sit with me, I doubt many Slytherins will show.”

I looked up from my book, surprise written in my features. Draco looked nervous as he glanced at the floor, fiddling with the hem of his robes.

“I’d love to,” A smile stretched across my face. 

“Really?” It was his turn to be shocked.

“Yes? Is there something that I’m missing?” I cocked my head, raising an eyebrow at him, an amused expression on my face.

“Well, the last time I asked you somewhere you snapped at me,” He mumbled, folding his arms.

“Oh,” My voice fell. “I never did apologize for that did I? I’m sorry, Draco, I should have trusted you.”

“I wouldn’t have trusted me,” He muttered. “I know why you did it,” 

“Didn’t make it right,” I smiled weakly.

“You’re gonna get hurt one day, being this trusting,” A smirk flickered across his face as his eyes met mine.

“Is that a threat?” I challenged lightheartedly.

He laughed and shook his head. I couldn’t remember the last time, if ever, I had heard him laugh without malicious intent.

“How can you like him!?” Abby feigned distress. “He’s... ugh. So frustrating and a Slytherin and a Malfoy!”

I grinned and hugged a pillow.

“He really is trying Abby,” I defended. “And I don’t like him, were friends, that’s it.”

“He ignored you for like a week!”

“Apparently that was him giving me a break from being teased by his friends, if he avoided me, so would his friends.”

It was the oddest explanation that Draco had given, but he was trying, wasn’t he? And I had to admit it was sort of cute how he thought ignoring a person would get them to like you but... he was trying. It made me smile whenever I thought about it.

“You are the only person in the world who would ever take a chance on him,” Abby groaned in defeat, flopping on the couch next to me. “You’re too pure for your own good,”

I rolled my eyes at her antics.

“Maybe he just needs someone to believe in him,” I whispered softly.

“And, of course, it had to be you,” Abby grinned at me and I laughed, shrugging.

The chill of winter passed and as April shifted to May at Hogwarts, and the wildflowers began to grow from the ground again. I found myself sitting beside the lake, rereading The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe.

“Is that a muggle book?” His voice was disgusted but not as cruel.

“Yes,” I smiled looking up, meeting blue eyes as Draco squinted at me in the summer sun. 

“Why are you reading it?” He scoffed.

Rolling my eyes, I placed my mark in the page and closed the book.

“Would you like to join me Draco?” I ran a hand through my hair to remove it from my face where the summer breeze had tousled it.

“Are you going to keep reading that thing?” He asked.

“Well, if you keep me company, I don’t need a book, now do I?” I challenged.

He grumbled something and sat down beside me under the tree, his eyes fixed on the horizon.

“What’s it about?” He wondered aloud, not diverting his gaze from the landscape.

“What? My book?” I looked up from my small pile of dandelions that I was currently trying to remember how to fashion a crown from but couldn’t quite get it.

He shrugged, his arms resting on his knees. Rolling my eyes at his hidden curiosity, I picked up the book ad opened to the page I was on and began to read aloud:

“Lord love you, Son of Adam, what a simple thing to say!” answered Mr. Beaver with a great laugh. “Turn him into stone? If she can stand on her two feet and look him in the face it’ll be the most she can do and more than I expect of her. No, no. He’ll put all to rights as it says in an old rhyme in these parts:

Wrong will be right, when Aslan comes in sight, At the sound of his roar, sorrows will be no more, When he bares his teeth, winter meets its death, And when he shakes his mane, we shall have spring again. 

You’ll understand when you see him.”

“But shall we see him?” asked Susan.

“Why, Daughter of Eve, that’s what I brought you here for. I’m to lead you where you shall meet him,” said Mr. Beaver.

“Is-is he a man?” asked Lucy.

“Aslan a man!” said Mr. Beaver sternly. “Certainly not. I tell you he is the King of the wood and the son of the great Emperor-beyond the-Sea. Don’t you know who is the King of Beasts? Aslan is a lion— the Lion, the great Lion.”

“Ooh!” said Susan, “I’d thought he was a man. Is he — quite safe? I shall feel rather nervous about meeting a lion.”

“That you will, dearie, and no mistake,” said Mrs Beaver; “if there’s anyone who can appear before Aslan without their knees knocking, they’re either braver than most or else just silly.”

“Then he isn’t safe?” said Lucy.

“Safe?” said Mr Beaver; “don’t you hear what Mrs Beaver tells you? Who said anything about safe? ‘Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good. He’s the King, I tell you.”

“This is ridiculous,” He muttered. “A king a lion? Ha.” He laid on the patch of grass and I lowered my book. “Talking animals,” He scoffed.

“I can stop reading,” I mused, light heartedly threatening. 

“No, keep going,” He sat up quickly, a plea on his face.

Laughing I continued to read of the Pevensie children in the land of Narnia and of the hope of Aslan. The sun began to sink behind the lake, and it became much too dark to read.

“Don’t stop now,” Draco whined. “I was just starting to bear it.”

“It’s too dark,” I pointed out with a chuckle, standing and stretching. “And we need to get dinner before it gets too late anyway.”

“Whatever,” He muttered, standing. “Here,” He thrusted the bundle of dandelions that I had been frustrated with earlier, but now they were fashioned into a crown. “Can’t do anything can you?” He snapped with less vigor than usual and stalked up towards the school.

A smile stretched across my face as I leaned against the tree, looking at the flower crown in my hands.

“No,” I answered to myself, “But he’s learning how to,”

Back in my common room, I sighed, content.

“And where have you been all afternoon?” Abby demanded. “You totally missed dinner,”

“I was reading, guess I lost track of time,” I shrugged.

“And no one in particular you spent this time with?” She was grinning.

“No,” I drawled. “No one in particular,”

“Oh, you’re a rotten liar Y/n! You spent the day with Draco!” Abby accused me, beaming. “Still don’t like him then?” She mused.

“We’re friends,” I reaffirmed, running my fingers over the petals of the flowers. “Friends,”

“Uhuh,” Abby wasn’t convinced, and neither was I.

__________________________________

Draco hated the book that you read to him. It was muggle and preposterous that you even had it on school grounds. What would his father say?

But then you started to read it to him, and he got lost in your words and the excitement. He was whisked away to a land far from the world he was living in. One of kings and queens and talking animals and prophecies that promised good and hope.

Maybe the book wasn’t so bad. Maybe the muggle who wrote it knew that someone out there needed it. To get lost in a fairytale. To shove away all of his family and his expectations, and for once, just be a king doing the right thing somewhere else.

So, he sent you a quick letter asking if you keep reading to him tomorrow.

Your response was almost immediate with a yes, and the instruction to meet you under the same tree that you had today.

“What do you mean Aslan’s dead!?” He exclaimed. “He can’t be dead!”

It wasn’t right, Aslan, the king of all just gave his life for a traitor who should have been killed instead, and Aslan just... laid himself down? When he was innocent?

“Draco, are you okay?” The concern in your voice was real.

“No! How can I be okay!? Why did you even read this to me!?” He demanded, standing, about to walk off.

“Draco!” You called, scrambling up. “He doesn’t stay dead! Will you come back here!?” 

He stopped in his tracks at your words.

“What?” He snapped.

You rolled your eyes and gestured for him to sit back down. He thought he heard you mutter “drama queen,” but he was too keen on the story to mention it. He looked at you expectantly, sitting cross legged in front of you as you settled before him and continued to read:

“Who’s done it?” cried Susan. “What does it mean? Is it magic?”

“Yes!” said a great voice behind their backs. “It is more magic.” They looked round. There, shining in the sunrise, larger than they had seen him before, shaking his mane (for it had apparently grown again) stood Aslan himself.

“Oh, Aslan!” cried both the children, staring up at him, almost as much frightened as they were glad.

“Aren’t you dead then, dear Aslan?” said Lucy.

“Not now,” said Aslan. “You’re not — not a — ?” asked Susan in a shaky voice. She couldn’t bring herself to say the word ghost.

Aslan stooped his golden head and licked her forehead. The warmth of his breath and a rich sort of smell that seemed to hang about his hair came all over her.

“Do I look it?” he said.

“Oh, you’re real, you’re real! Oh, Aslan!” cried Lucy,”

You paused, a gentle smile on your lips as your eyes searched the horizon.

“Well?” He demanded, wanting to hear more.

“It’s late, Draco,” You sighed softly, closing the book. “I think Abby will kill me if I miss dinner again,”

“You told her you’re here with me?” Curiosity riddled him.

“Of course,” You smiled, standing and offering a hand to him. He took it and you pulled him up. “Why? Afraid of ruining your reputation?” Your eyebrows quirked.

“No,” He scoffed, crossing his arms. “She doesn’t mind you hanging out with me?”

“Why would she?” A frown graced your face.

“Well, I’m... me.” He scrambled for the words.

“Don’t you know anything?” You mocked his curt tone and laughed, making your way up toward the school, leaving him alone under the tree by the lake.

“No, I don’t think I do.” He muttered.

You met him again and finished the book, a soft smile on your face as you got lost in your words, to where he had to remind you to read aloud because you had stopped, reading on in your head.

Sometimes he would watch you when you stopped reading aloud, the way you bit your lip and made expressions at the pages. It was amusing for him, but he eventually had to stop watching and listen again. You always blushed and apologized when he reminded you, trying to find the place that you had crept back into your own thoughts.

“Here,” You offered him the muggle book—the Narnia book one day after Potions.

“This is yours,” He frowned.

“I want you to have it,” You smiled and shrugged. “I’ve got another, and maybe it’s time you learned to read,” The tease was light-hearted on your lips.

“Is that a muggle book?” Pansy came up behind him, sneering at you. “Why would Draco want that?”

He watched the smile fade from your face and the light leave your eyes. Fists clenched, he gritted his teeth and took a sharp breath in.

“Because it’s an amazing book,” Draco spat back at Pansy, taking the book from your hands. “And I asked her if I could have it since no one around here has any taste,”

Pansy narrowed her eyes at Draco, but a small smile played at her lips.

“Glad you figured it out,” She grinned, the walked off.

When Draco turned around, you were gone and he was left there, the book in his hands and no idea as to what just happened. What did Pansy mean that he figured it out? What did he figure out? All he did was defend you.

Looking at the book in his hands, there was a divot in the pages, so he opened the book, finding a pressed dandelion amidst the pages—the first page you read to him about a week ago, and on that page, you had underlined:

“Who said anything about safe? ‘Course he isn’t safe. But he is good.”

He could still hear your voice saying those words. 

___________________________________

The third task date arrived sooner than I expected, between exams and avoiding Cedric inadvertently, I rarely saw Draco. I waved at him in the halls and he smiled at me, but we barely got a word in. And I missed him... I kept waiting for the courage to finally go up and ask him if he wanted to read the next Narnia book with me, but he was always surrounded by his posse and I couldn’t find a moment with him alone.

He had defended me once against his friends and the “muggle book” but I didn’t want him to have to again, so I didn’t mention it in front of anyone that Draco enjoyed the books. It was stupid, yes, but I knew it meant something more to him to keep his ‘pureblood’ status.

So, Draco and I sat side by side rather awkwardly in the stands, both straining to see what was going on below. I cheered half-heartedly for Cedric, harboring a slight grudge, and well, Draco didn’t boo, so maybe it wasn’t all that bad. The stands were crowded, and it set me on edge, but Draco was right, it wasn’t so crowded at the top of the Slytherin benches.

We watched earnestly at the games below, trying to see that was going on. When Harry and Cedric both disappeared after touching the trophy, Draco and I stood, both alarmed, but there was something hidden in Draco’s look. He knew what was going on.

“What?” I demanded. “What happened?”

“I... my father mentioned something a long time ago about this...”

“You knew something was going to happen?” I shrieked. “Why didn’t you say anything to anyone!?”

“Because I have no idea what’s going on! What was I supposed to do!?” His eyes met mine frantically. “Please you have to believe me,”

“Draco,” I pressed. “What is going on!? What do you know!?”

“He’s coming back,” The utterance was hopeless. “The Dark Lord,”

My entire world stopped. I couldn’t breathe or think or move. The anger in my chested froze into fear. I had lost my father to the first war. And now the one who killed him was back? Alive?

“Y/n!?” Draco called worried, gripping my arms. “Hey, look at me Y/n,”

I blinked and sank to the benches, beginning to hyperventilate. Draco’s arm was around me, keeping me grounded as his eyes darted around, suspiciously. The Dark Lord coming back? Now? And Draco’s father was a part of it? Was Draco apart of it?

No, he said he didn’t know. And... I trusted him. I had to trust him. If I didn’t there wouldn’t be anything left of me.

I dove into Draco’s arms, tears falling. He went rigid then timidly wrapped his arms around me, petting my hair softly.

“You’re safe Y/n,” He vowed softly. “I swear I won’t let anything happen to you,”

He was blurry through my tears, a petrified look on his face. I nodded at his words, marking them true. I believed in Draco Malfoy. The crowd gasped and I whipped around, my eyes scanning the field, not able to get a good look at anything with the swarm of people in the arena.

“Cedric’s dead,” Draco’s voice was broken as he told me the news. “Y/n, I’m so sorry,”

My voice caught in my throat as tears streamed down my face.

“No, no he... he can’t be, no,” I screamed. “This can’t... no!”

My heart shattered in my chest. Between Voldemort and Cedric’s death there was nothing left of me to break. I was completely unfixable.

“No, no, no, no, no,” I cried, burying my face in his shoulder.

He didn’t say anything because there was nothing to say that could make this better and he knew that. So instead he held me close letting me ruin his jacket with my saltwater tears.

_____________________________

Regret and pain riddled Draco through as you sobbed in his arms. Didn’t he vow to protect you from this? To save your sunshine? He thought that he was doing that by keeping you close at the third task so that he could protect you from whatever happened...

But how was he supposed to protect you from the emotional devastation that tore through you? He barely knew how to talk to anyone without insulting them or ordering them around, let alone give comfort or physical affection.

“Come on, let’s get you to Pomfrey,” He ushered softly.

He knew that Pomfrey would have something to help you, but you shook your head defiantly. He wanted to roll his eyes at your stubbornness but refrained.

“I will carry you Y/n, you need something now before you throw up or pass out. Please,”

It was the please that caught him off guard. He never said please. To anyone. Ever.

So, you gave in and nodded letting him practically drag you to the med bay—thinking the entire time it would have been less effort to carry you—where Pomfrey ushered you to a bed and gave him four vials, three for you and one for him.

“I don’t need anything,” He insisted. “I’m just here for her,”

“You’ll want it. It’s for a dreamless sleep, you both look like you need it,” Pomfrey raised an eyebrow.

He couldn’t argue with that.

__________________________________

Draco sat beside me as I curled up in the bed, clutching a pillow for dear life.

“Drink,” He ordered, his blue eyes holding no room for argument, handing me the first vial.

I complied, the liquid smooth as glass as it slipped down my throat. My nausea passed and I could breathe normally again. Closing my eyes, I took a few cleansing breaths and found him studying me as he held out the second one.

“I’m fine,” I rasped.

“Drink it Y/n,” his voice was firm and commanding.

So begrudgingly I drank the vial, this time the liquid sat heavy in my mouth and had the texture of pudding. But the numbness from my chest faded and I could think clearly as my mind started to compartmentalize what had just happened each event and thought getting its own box.

Draco.

Cedric.

Voldemort. 

My father. 

Draco’s father. 

Regret.

Guilt.

Fear.

Wordlessly he handed me the third vial that was identical to his own and we both downed them. I barely tasted this one but soon my eyes became too heavy to open again. The last thing I remembered was Draco joining me in the bed, pulling me into his arms and cradling me close.

_______________________________

“It’s against school rules!” I heard the hiss through the fog of sleep. 

“Come on, you have to admit they’re precious,” That voice was familiar.

“Will you two shove off?” And there was Draco’s annoyed groggy voice.

I peeked an eye open and saw that Abby and Pansy were standing at the foot of the bed. Then I noticed that I still wasn’t alone in the bed either. I was encased in Draco’s arms, my head tucked into his shoulder. A deep blush crept up my face as I tried to hide further in his arms.

“Pomfrey just let us in,” Abby complained. “You can at least say hi and that you’re alright,”

“She has a point.” Pansy muttered. “Been worried all night. What were you thinking Draco!? Disappearing like that!”

“Yeah Y/n! Why didn’t you tell me where you were going!?” Abby demanded. “Cedric is... and then I couldn’t find you!”

I sat up, Draco sitting up with me in light that if he didn’t, we’d both fall off the bed.

“I’m sorry, Abby,” I croaked, my mouth dry. “I... and then... and I’m sorry,” Tears pricked my eyes as Draco rubbed my arm comfortingly.

“She and I were there when it happened.” Draco explained coolly. “She... Madam Pomfrey was able to help calm her down then she gave us both sleeping potions to make it through the night.”

“I’m sure Madam Pomfrey was the one who calmed her down,” Pansy drawled, and Abby grinned.

“Lay off you two,” Draco threatened again. “We’ll be back soon. No need to worry.” The commanding tone colored his voice again as the two left, grinning and whispering to themselves.

“Well... that was odd,” I decided. “Pansy and Abby?” I mused.

Draco chuckled and pulled me into a tight embrace, before slipping out of the bed, letting me go and stretching.

“If we ever do that again we need a bigger bed,” He complained, trying to right his mussed hair. 

��Again?” I teased, running a hand through mine.

“That not— wait, forget I—”

He stopped trying to make it worse when I started to laugh and got up as well, making the bed halfheartedly.

“Thank you for staying last night,” I whispered softly, “And for being there...” 

“It was the least I could do,” There was a hint of self-loathing in his tone.

“Hey,” I interjected. “That wasn’t your fault... what happened. You didn’t do it.” 

“But I could have stopped it,” He insisted pacing away.

“No, Draco,” I chided, grabbing his hand. “This is bigger than the both of us and you know it,” 

His icy blue eyes bore into mine, but I wasn’t backing down. He did, though. Sighing, he looked down. 

“How are you feeling?” He asked softly.

“Like I want to run away to Narnia,” I offered weakly; he laughed hopelessly, and I joined in as he drew me into his arms again.

“I meant it Y/n. I will keep you safe.” He murmured softly. “No matter what it takes.”

The guilt and pain that sat heavy in my chest was lifted by his words and a glimmer of hope flickered in my heart.

It was a blur, the week that passed. Black colored every Hufflepuff’s wardrobe as well as the rest of the Hogwarts students. Few smiles could be found among us as we tried to hold our heads high. Tears were shed and more hug were given, more apologies made, and more time was spent with another.

Draco was always keen on finding me in the halls, asking me how I was, wondering if I needed anything. Pansy snapped at other Slytherins who made fun of me or Draco or any Hufflepuff who was on the verge of tears. It was an odd week, but I made it through. We all did.

At the end of year feast, solemn silence fell over the entire hall as Dumbledore spoke. My eyes met Harry’s from across the room, then Draco’s before dropping to the table before me.

“The end,” said Dumbledore rising to speak to us all, “of another year.” He paused, and his eyes fell upon the Hufflepuff table. “There is much that I would like to say to you all tonight,” said Dumbledore, “but I must first acknowledge the loss of a very fine person, who should be sitting here,” he gestured toward the us, “enjoying our feast with us. I would like you all, please, to stand, and raise your glasses, to Cedric Diggory.”

The name was like a dagger in my heart as tears streamed down my face, standing, goblet in hand as his names left my lips one last time. The entire hall stood with us, all raising their glasses to Cedric. I squeezed my eyes shut and fought back the urge to sob again as everyone sat.

“Cedric was a person who exemplified many of the qualities that distinguish Hufflepuff house,” Dumbledore continued. “He was a good and loyal friend, a hard worker, he valued fair play. His death has affected you all, whether you knew him well or not. I think that you have the right, therefore, to know exactly how it came about.”

My eye widened as I looked to Draco, who was just as shocked as I was. There was nothing more I wanted than to stand beside him in this moment. I needed to know that it would be alright, and that Draco still had my back at the words that Dumbledore was about to speak:

“Cedric Diggory was murdered by Lord Voldemort.”

As panic swept through the hall, I felt sick to my stomach as Abby’s hand rubbed my back softly, my head buried in my arms on the table as I tuned out Dumbledore’s speech.

Abby’s hand fell after a while and there was a commotion beside me that I was too miserable to notice or look up at. Another hand started to gently rub my back, and I peeked up, finding Draco beside me, his gaze fixed upon Dumbledore, no emotion shown on his face.

Sitting up, and putting on a front like Draco, I held my head high and listened as Dumbledore continued.

“Harry Potter managed to escape Lord Voldemort,” said Dumbledore. “He risked his own life to return Cedric’s body to Hogwarts. He showed, in every respect, the sort of bravery that few wizards have ever shown in facing Lord Voldemort, and for this, I honor him.” Dumbledore turned gravely to Harry and raised his goblet once more.

Again, everyone stood, even Draco, and raised his glass to his sworn enemy, before sitting back down beside me. The gesture meant the world to me.

“The Triwizard Tournament’s aim was to further and promote magical understanding. In the light of what has happened — of Lord Voldemort’s return — such ties are more important than ever before.”

At his words, my eyes flickered over to Draco then to my friends and classmates who were gawking at the Slytherin sitting at their table, some in awe, some afraid, some impressed. My eyes met Harry’s from across the way, and a look of bafflement was expressed through his features. And I understood...

A Slytherin and a Hufflepuff.

Epilogue:

“Will you come visit me over the summer?” Draco asked softly at the train landing.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea Draco,” I murmured back, not meeting his eyes. “Your parents won’t be too happy about a Hufflepuff showing up on their doorstep, will they?” A small smile made its way to my face, but there was a depressing truth behind it.

“Come anyway,” His hand came up and tilted my chin back so that I would look at him. “I meant what I said Y/n. I will protect you, even if it means from my parents,”

“I can’t ask that Dray,” I shook my head. “They’re your parents,” I insisted.

“And they’re going to have to live with the choices I make, and right now, that’s having you over for the summer,” Arrogance colored his tone as he got defiant and a smile played at my lips.

“Who’s loyal now?” I baited. “And if you really want me there, I’ll come.”

. 

. 

Chapter 2

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[askdracomalfoyofficial]

╭━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━╮

𝐌𝐢𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐄𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐝

╰━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━╯

The Mirror of Erised is an ancient, ornate mirror with clawed feet and a gold frame. It’s said that the Mirror shows the most desperate desire of a person’s heart, a vision that has been known to drive men mad. The writing engraved in the frame of the mirror was a forgotten foreign dead language but if one looks closely it says: ‘I show not your face but your heart’s desire.’ backwards.

It’s rumored that men have stood before it, wasted away not knowing if what they have seen was something real, or even possible. It’s as though the mirror had latched a hook around you, pulled you in and forced you to see what could be just beyond the mind's subconscious. But what would happen when a certain Slytherin stumbles upon this mirror, and what are the things that he may be shown?

The Mirror was supposed to be taken elsewhere after an incident with Harry Potter, but for some reason it was still around in third year, lingering like a ghost in the corner of a dark room. With how tempting the thing could be, you’d swear that it was whispering to you, pulling you in like you were in some sort of trance. That’s exactly what was happening with Draco Malfoy.

Third year was so much different compared to the last two, and it seemed as though things were just going to get even more interesting for this year. Though, he questioned how things would go within the next four years.

One lonely dark night while wandering the corridors, usually he wasn’t someone who went out of their dormitory passed curfew but there was just something itching at the surface that he wanted – perhaps needed to do. That’s when he felt the deep urge to head towards an abandoned wing of the castle, where nobody usually goes. With his wand raised, and a Lumos casted. He dipped into alcoves to hide from Filch and Mrs. Norris, but would continue on his way towards this ‘pull.’

That’s when he found it, as if it was whispering to him. Telling him to come, come see your desires that are hidden beneath where not even you, yourself could reach, even if you think you know what your true desires are. It was manipulating, a trance within a trance of its own. How strange of a magical artifact.

Slowly, he proceeded further into the empty room until he stood tall in front of the mirror. His platinum blonde hair brighter than his Lumos. “Nox.” He whispered, and the delicate glow faded from the tip of his wand before sliding it into the pocket of his robes. His molten gray eyes staring through the mirrors surface, staring back at himself mainly. Slowly reaching his hand up to glide his fingers along the golden ornate frame as the coldness seeped through the pads of his fingers while he secretly admired it.

Pulling his hand away, a brow arched. “What is my deepest desire?” He questioned. Though he swore he already knew the answer. It was power. He wanted power. He was already wealthy, that was something he didn’t need more of as he was completely set in life. Eyes closing, and he entered a meditative state as if to clear his head of anything that may mess up with what the mirror could show him, or what the mirror perhaps knew.

When his eyes slowly fluttered opened; nothing was there but just himself. There was no sign that he even desired this said ‘power.’ There was nothing in there about his future. Perhaps there was a flicker of something with not being the greatest Malfoy disappointment to his father but it didn’t linger very long. Instead, a female appeared, making his head quickly turn around to look over his shoulder to see if anyone had come in, but no one was there. When he turned back... there she was.

“You’re bloody kidding, right?” He spoke to the mirror as if it was a joke, because this certainly was not what he desired at all. Draco shook his head disapprovingly. “No. I refuse to accept that this is what I desire. You’re a phony. That’s what you are!” He raised his voice. For a student who was sneaking out of their dormitory to come stand before a mirror, yelling probably wasn’t a good idea. He just – he couldn’t accept what he was seeing.

Hermione Granger.

Mudblood.

The Brightest Witch Of Our Age.

Gryffindor know-it-all, swot.

There she was, standing before him the Mirror’s surface in a raven-colored dress with her hair slightly pinned back. Her skin glowed like a light had been casted over it showing her fairly sun-kissed tone. Her brunette curls seemed tamed, and for a moment Draco got curious of how her hair would feel falling through the spaces of his fingers.

He shook his head. No, no, no. This has to be all wrong or something.

Hermione in the mirror was moving, she seemed much like the one he knew. Innocent looking, someone who’d have her nose buried deep inside a book. Getting all the correct answers and topping him in all his bloody classes. She looked elegantly beautiful; it was terrifying to see her like that. Maybe he was dreaming, oh, he hoped that he was.

But there was a drafted breeze that shifted around in the room, blowing dust bunnies and dirt around on the floor leaving goosebumps to wake on his skin, and hairs to stand on ends at the back of his neck. Of course, that creepingly odd sensation that in a way told him that this may or may not be real. Though, he wanted to stay, and maybe that’s where he goes wrong.

She smiled at him. She bloody smiled at him, and how dare she even spread those filthy lips. How dare she even come about in the damn Mirror. No, how dare him for even coming here in the first place. Now, when and if he leaves. He’s just going to sit there and think about what the hell he’d just seen, and perhaps the way he treats her may even change and... no – no that cannot happen, will not. He refuses to let this be the case.

His mind was not his friend right now, it wasn’t helping in a situation such as this, at this time.

Draco got frustrated, ripping out his wand. “Lumos.” It lit, and the light casted over the shadows in the room, even made Hermione in the mirror fade away. He shook his head angerly and left the room all together. Leaving behind the Mirror of Erised. “What a bloody waste of time.” He grumbled to himself, quickly making his way through the corridors and back to the dungeons.

That night had come and gone the moment his head hit the pillow. Exhaustion sweeping over and covering over his body like a blanket full of comfort. Morning came, and the sun peaked through the windows just barely. Every student got dressed in their robes, including Draco himself. He didn’t wake up in a good mood, after what he had seen and dealt with last night it was something no one would understand; nor was it going to be something he even spoke to anyone about. It wasn’t anyone's business anyways.

“Hello Draco.” Pansy greeted once he took a seat at the Slytherin table. “Did you sleep well?” She asked, why did she even bother half the time anyways?

“It doesn’t look like he did, Pansy.” Goyle chimed in.

“Was I asking you? Is your name Draco?”

“No, obviously not. I answered because it doesn’t look as though Malfoy is in the talking mood, now does it? You aren’t very observant to these kinds of things, I'm not at all shocked.”

Pansy’s mouth gaped open, her eyes fleeted towards Draco as if he was going to stand up for her or something, waiting for him to defend her. Except he wasn’t even listening in on the conversation, nor was he even watching either of the bicker about him. Usually when it came to someone talking about him, his ears would get that tingly, buzzing feeling – either that or just gets that weird strange sensation inside that someone was talking about him. This time around though? He wasn’t at all moved.

They continued talking, and he drowned them out. Thinking back to last night when he snuck out, and went to the bloody forsaken room. His eyes wandered towards the Gryffindor table, in search for a certain bushy-haired brunette know-it-all witch, and for a moment he thought maybe she wasn’t there but just then she took a seat with Harry and Ron, smiling about with her eyebrows fairly loose. Her hair was slightly pinned back, much like how he had seen in the Mirror.

In the moment; she seemed so care-free, like a feather blowing in the gentle breeze. Twirling, and furrowing to its freedom. He must’ve been staring a little too long, because the next thing he knows, her eyes met his. His expression was stoic; unreadable – almost expressionless. Matter-of-fact, his heart had just dropped to the pit of his stomach. She just figured him out, all in one quick look and head on eye contact.

Their eyes remained locked. She looked almost passive aggressive, as if she was partially disgusted but also partially shocked that he was even looking at her in the first place. She was probably thinking that he was going to curse her for even looking at him, for holding that eye contact for little over a minute now. For a moment, he swore that her breath caught in her throat because her lips parted.

Her delicately soft pink lips formed a space between once was a pressed thin-line.

Draco broke it first. Turning his head away from her, and reverting his gaze back to Goyle and Pansy while they bickered.

“You never chew with your mouth closed.” She complained, (even though Goyle did chew with his mouth closed now thanks to Draco, of course).

“And you’re just always complaining about something.”

A gasp.

“You both are bloody annoying. You do know that right?” Draco finally said something, letting his eyes shift back and forth from the two. “Always on about something.”

They both shut up. It’s like they had been Imperio'd or something, because anything he says or does something they seem to either listen or just go along with it. It liked that; he liked the power he had and didn’t care. That’s what he thought – no that’s what he was sure he would’ve seen in that bloody mirror. Now that he can’t stop thinking about Her, he wanted to destroy the thing. Get rid of it.

But as of right now, his thoughts were just going to be consumed by what he’d seen in it. Hermione Granger, the little golden girl was what he desired,

And he hated it.

[lazywonderlvnd]

*hesitantly steps in the box* Umm.. soo.. I was listening to Cruel Summer by Taylor Swift again and that song (is awesome btw if you haven't listened to it already) just gives me such MAJOR drarry vibes .. like -

" And I screamed, 'for whatever it's worth I love you, ain't that the worst thing you ever heard?' He looks up grinning like a devil. "

Like if that's not drarry I'd chomp my pillows. So .. *twiddling thumbs* could you pls write something with that line as a prompt?? Pretty please 🥺🥺🥺❤️❤️❤️ maybe use the song as inspiration.. idk? Whatever you like. ALSO, don't forget I STILL LOVE YOU that ain't changing yet and you haven't seen the last of me! Imma tail after you for eternity and you better take that as the threat it is! *throws love at you* BYE!! ❤️❤️ *vaults outside the box*

my sweetest most loved angel!! thank u so much for this prompt based on a BOP i was obsessed w when the album first came out. it got sm longer than it was meant to be, so it can be found on ao3 as well!! i hope u like it ilysm ❤️❤️❤️❤️

warnings for minor drug use (weed) and implied suicide of a minor character (lucius, extremely vague reference but pls be aware!)

rating: e word count: ~5k

When Pansy asked him how it started, Draco discovered that he didn’t know what to tell her.

Technically, though, it had started at Ernie Macmillan’s party in the beginning of summer, with the cloying scent of Freesias and Freedom Roses (“Imported from the States,” Ernie told Draco pompously, when he asked) and all those string-lights dangling from the cedar pergola, perennial balls of fire inside their clear bubbles like tiny trapped suns. Cheap beer in plastic cups, Marlboro cigarettes, and some stupid Muggle game ... darts.

Technically.  

* * * 

“Get off me, Potter,” Draco says in a failed whisper. He’s laughing and drunk and fuzzy warm under a sprawling summer’s night sky that looks like black paint. Potter tastes like Guinness every time he kisses him, and his hands are surprisingly soft. In direct opposition to his own command he pulls Potter in by the face and glues their mouths back together ravenously. The alcohol makes him sloppy (he likes it, though — the sloppiness of it) and Potter’s skin is warm where Draco slides his hand under an ugly Muggle band T-shirt to touch. 

Around the corner, he can hear music coming from the patio where nearly every single one of their former classmates are gathered, drinking and laughing and getting along famously with a much-needed buffer of five years between them and their Hogwarts days.

Much-needed for himself and Potter as well. Apparently.

He sees him sometimes, at get-togethers like this or around the Ministry, once or twice at a dinner party thrown by a mutual friend. They’re always cordial. He hasn’t insulted Potter to his face in five years.

Except for tonight, when he couldn’t help himself loudly drawing attention to the similarities between Potter’s hair and one of the shrubs in the garden. But they’re kissing now round the side of the house and because of that he’s quite glad for his slip. And it’s their five-year reunion, so. What would it be without some bickering between the two of them?

Potter presses him into the bricks and snogs him breathless, only he keeps grinning and laughing and ruining everything just when Draco starts losing himself in it.

“Quit laughing,” he scolds him. “You’re the worst, Potter. No etiquette at all.”

“That’s rude,” Potter says. His breath wafts across Draco’s mouth. His eyes are excessively green behind their round frames, which have not changed since their school days. The scar is mostly hidden beneath his wild fringe, save for the very bottom where it slashes neatly through a dark eyebrow and touches his eyelid. “I can’t help it, I’m pissed good and proper.”

His hand moves to Draco’s hip and even through the thickness of the alcohol coating his brain like a muffler he feels that touch clear and ripe as daybreak.

“So  that’s  why you’ve decided to snog me rather than …” He waves a hand vaguely, in lieu of the proper witticism with which he might normally have trounced Potter. “You know. Beat me to a pulp.”

“I only did that one time,” Potter says, grinning. Grinning and moving his thumb in circles on Draco’s hip. “And it was because you were being a twat. And I didn’t beat you to a pulp. You’re so dramatic.”

“Semantics,” Draco says. “I had a bloody nose.”

“And you deserved it.”

“Now who’s being rude?”

Potter kisses him again.

Guinness and Freesias.

* * * 

“Macmillan’s party,” he told Pansy. “He kissed me.”

“So that’s where you disappeared to.” She looked smug. Her inch-long nails were sharpened to a point and painted a glossy black, and she drummed them against her cheek, the way a cat flicks its tail. “I’m surprised you kept it from me this whole time.”

“Well,” said Draco, lowering his gaze to his glass of wine and watching it flirt dangerously with the lip as he swirled it. His cheeks felt warm, but he wasn’t embarrassed. “We snuck around.”

Right, maybe a little embarrassed. Mostly conflicted.

“Oh?” For a single syllable the laughter underneath was remarkably transparent.

He looked up, eyebrows lifted. “Yes,” he said a little defensively. “For obvious reasons. At first it was just sex. A lot of it, so he usually came here. Apparently Granger and the Weasel are notorious for popping round his place unexpectedly.”

* * *

He feels opened up all over again every time Potter fucks into him, unhurried and so careful. His hand is hot on Draco’s thigh, both of them sticky with sweat and come. This has to be their third round at least, and Draco’s sluggish brain insists it might actually be four.

An open window lets in the late afternoon air, humid and drowsy and perfumed heavily with flowers (a la Macmillan, Draco planted Freesias and Freedom Roses outside his bedroom window and helped them along to full bloom with some careful magic). Potter’s hair is damp with sweat — from exertion and the relentless heat of July — and Draco slides his fingers into it, tangles them and pulls the way he’s learned Potter likes. If he’s honest, he’s harboured a very secret and  very  desperate yearning to touch Potter’s hair since he was quite young. He doesn’t know why.

Well, maybe he knows why.

Potter makes a quiet, whimpered noise that curls Draco’s toes. He speeds up his hips, closing in on his orgasm and putting his face in Draco’s neck even though it’s too fucking hot for it.

“Fuck,” Draco whines. He tries to lift his leg higher, wrap it around Potter’s waist to get that perfect angle, but they’re too slick with sweat and he lets out a frustrated noise when it falls back to the bed. “Potter,” he says helplessly, arching into each thrust and shaking with the effort. This third (fourth?) orgasm is building too slowly, sitting there hard and stubborn and heavy in his gut and refusing to be coaxed to completion. He’s dripping with the effort, muscles quivering. “Please — I need —”

But he seems to have figured it out for himself. He scoots forward, lifting Draco’s arse higher off the bed and bending him nearly in half. The angle helps him go deeper and he’s suddenly nudging Draco’s oversensitive prostate every time he fucks back in.

“Right there,” Draco gasps, tensing as this new angle lights a fire under his elusive orgasm. His cock is leaking but he doesn’t have the strength or energy to get a hand around it. Potter’s grunting with the effort of fucking him, sweat dripping down his temples and making his neck and torso gleam. “Right there, god, right there, please, I’m so close —”

Potter braces himself and redoubles his efforts, and it’s like he’s reached inside Draco and sunk his claws into that building storm in his belly because suddenly it’s ripped right out of him in a colossal wave of euphoria that approaches too much, cock spurting untouched between them  .  Potter keeps moving inside him while he rides it out, and at some point he feels the warm, wet explosion of Potter emptying in him, mumbling incoherent things that include Draco’s name.

They come down together too. Draco is clutching Potter’s arms and trying to catch his breath and Potter is trembling and clutching him back like an anchor in a veritable ocean of sensation. 

It’s like this every time. 

When Potter drops down onto the bed beside him Draco rolls over and kisses him, long and deep and satisfying, and Potter reciprocates with the kind of intensity that is completely unique to him as a person.

“That one was particularly good,” says Potter, and Draco laughs.

When he feels like moving, he knows that Potter will get up and go to Draco’s kitchen and make tea for both of them, and he won’t need to ask what Draco likes, because he remembered after the first time. They’ll drink it naked in bed as the sun sets on another endless summer day and transforms before their eyes into a humid and pungent summer night, in the midst of which they will fuck at least three more times, and Potter will keep smelling like sweat and bergamot and boy, and Draco will keep feeling starved for him.

And they won’t talk about it.

* * *

“And?” Pansy said.

“And what?”

“You said ‘at first,’” she pointed out, and arched a groomed eyebrow. “When did it turn into more than just sex?”

Draco tamped down on a smile, because that would have been more emotion than he cared to show at the moment. To Pansy or to himself.

He swirled his wine again and took a long sip, stalling. He wanted — needed, really — to talk this out with her, but he was becoming aware of an uncomfortable heaviness in his chest which was suggesting to him that he didn’t want to share everything. Not because he was embarrassed, but, well … it was private. It was between him and Harry.

“There was this one night he came over later than he was supposed to because of work,” Draco said. The memory stirred some emotion. He hadn’t thought of it in a while. “He had this bloody huge takeout bag of Thai food.”

 * * *

He sets it down on Draco’s desk, takes out a container, and after toeing off his shoes drops sideways onto Draco’s bed with it and uses chopsticks to shovel in a mouthful of noodles. Draco watches this in awe.

“Want some?” Harry asks once he’s swallowed (small blessings). There’s grease around his mouth. “There’s a million other things in the bag but you have to get it yourself. I’m dead tired.”

Draco thinks of asking what the hell is going on, because they’re supposed to be fucking by now, but something stops him. Harry really does look exhausted but quite content eating his Thai food on Draco’s bed, and he doesn’t have the heart to berate him for it or remind him that they’re fuck buddies, not friends, and that if he’d wanted to eat and lounge about perhaps he should’ve stayed at home.

And the food really does smell good.

He gets up and fishes another container out of the bag that turns out to be some sort of heavenly-smelling marinated beef, which he brings back to the bed. Harry’s rolled onto his back and has the container of noodles balanced on his stomach.

“They thought they found a Horcrux on a raid,” he says. His voice is perfectly casual, but Draco thinks he can see something troubled in his eyes. He has one foot crossed over the other and  it’s bouncing anxiously; he doesn’t think Harry’s aware of doing it. “Wasn’t. Obviously.” 

“But they needed your expert advice to be sure.”

“Yeah.” Harry looks at him, then his food. “Is that the beef?”

“Yes it is.”

“Good?”

“Haven’t tried it yet.”

He opens the container and chooses a piece, but instead of lifting it to his mouth he follows some crazy impulse and hovers it over Harry’s instead.

“Open, Scarhead,” he says. Harry blinks but does it, and Draco drops it in. He smiles, then chews.

“Brilliant.”

* * *

“We ate it instead of fucking. It was the first time I realised something had shifted.”

“And you let it shift?”

The question gave him pause. He didn’t answer right away, mulling it over. It made it sound as if he’d had a choice, and that wasn’t quite right.

“It already had,” he said finally. “It wasn’t a matter of letting it; by the time I noticed, it had already happened. Otherwise he wouldn’t have come over with the food.”

“But you did let it continue,” said Pansy. She wasn’t antagonising him, nor accusing him of anything. She looked amused, but not in a way that was at his expense. Pansy was both a twat and a fiercely good friend, the combination of which meant she would do nothing more or less than hold up a mirror and force you to look at yourself, gruesome as the experience inevitably wound up being. “Even after you realised he had feelings for you.”

Draco swallowed. He’d not heard it said aloud before now.

“Yes,” he said. “It felt good. Knowing he fancied me.”

* * *

Harry’s shameless in his staring.

He stands in the doorway of the ensuite bathroom and watches Draco like he’s been invited to do so. Draco pretends not to notice, stretched out in a tub full of bubbles facing the opposite way. There’s incense burning, and candles. Harry is completely silent, but Draco could feel those eyes on him from across a crowded hall.

They fucked a few hours ago and fell asleep afterwards. Draco pretended not to think about it, but had actually made the conscious decision to let Harry continue sleeping when he woke up and decided he wanted a bath.

When he can’t take it anymore he opens his eyes and tilts his head back and a little to the side, just enough that he gets Potter in his peripherals.

“Well?” he says. 

“Well what?”

“Join me, won’t you?”

Harry snorts. Then there’s a quiver of magic in the air, and a small, utilitarian chair appears out of thin air beside the tub. Harry sits down in it. He’s holding the joint they’d only gotten halfway through earlier. 

He’s in his jeans and nothing else, all limbs and sparse chest hair, and when he crosses a leg over the other one, elbow resting on his knee as he hits the joint, Draco feels a bone-deep attraction to him that’s beyond physical.

“May I?” Draco asks. Harry hands it over and Draco inhales deeply before returning it. The humidity of the room mixes with the smoke and the smell of marijuana, pungent and cloying like the flowers. 

After a length of silence, Draco says, “Will you read me something?”

“Will I what?”

He takes his wand from the floor and Summons a book from the shelf in his room — one of his poetry collections comes sweeping in through the cracked door and into Harry’s lap. Harry sticks the joint between his lips and starts rifling through it with his glasses all fogged up. 

When he starts reading Byron (“I had a dream, which was not all a dream”) Draco smiles and sinks deeper into the hot water and bubbles, letting Harry’s voice lull him into a pleasant stupor. 

 * * *

“So you led him on,” said Pansy. “Because you liked his attention.”

He stared at her, then let his gaze drop to his wine again. Had he?

“It sounds bad when you say it like that.”

“Well,” she said, smiling wryly, “I’m only saying it as you’ve told it to me. Maybe if it sounds bad, it is bad. Some things are that simple, darling. Unless there’s more to it.”

“Like what?” he said, not looking at her. There was a touch of pouty defiance in his voice he knew Pansy would detect instantly. He heard her sigh.

“What exactly happened yesterday, Draco? You didn’t give me any context.”

“What context do you need?” he muttered. “He told me he loved me.”

* * *

They’ve finished an entire bottle of wine between them. He’s not drunk, but he’s pleasantly buzzed. Harry’s sprawled on his back, T-shirt rucked up just below his navel so Draco can see the dark trail of hair leading below his jeans. There’s something implicitly erotic about the movement of his chest when he breathes, his hands folded behind his head, one leg stretched the length of the bed and the other bent at the knee.

He opens his eyes suddenly and grins when he sees Draco looking at him. 

“That wine just made me tired,” he says.

“So go to sleep,” says Draco. He takes a last swig, emptying it, and sets the bottle aside on his night table. He stretches his arms over his head and arches his back, yawning widely, thinking perhaps he’ll give into the tempting allure of sleep as well when Harry says, “I told Hermione about us.”

So he’s not sleeping, then. His stomach clenches hard and a completely irrational sense of panic rises in his throat.

“Us?” he says slowly, sitting up straighter. “What ‘us’?”

Harry looks at him upside-down, then rolls over and rises to his knees. He stares at Draco blankly.

“‘What us?’” he repeats.

“Yes,” says Draco. “What ‘us’?”

“Us,” Harry says. His voice is lower than usual. The word is starting to sound weird and lose meaning. “You and me, Draco.”

“‘You and me?’ Harry, there’s no you and me. We’re just fucking. What do you … what do you mean, you told Granger? Told her what?”

Harry looks … well, he looks fucking crushed. And angry. Draco forces himself not to look away.

“I told her I’d been seeing you,” he says quietly. There’s something … not threatening, but close to it, in his voice.

“Sure,” says Draco. “I see you three times a week, sometimes four. I s’pose if you feel the need to fill Granger in on everything you do with every second of your day —”

“Shut up, Draco,” Harry says. “You know what I meant.”

Draco glares at him. He gets off the bed, slightly lightheaded from the wine, horrified by the emotions welling up inside him right behind the panic, and he points at his bedroom door.

“Get out,” he says. 

“Are you serious?”

“Go!” he says loudly, voice rising. “If you’re gonna start turning this into something it definitely is not then get out of my flat, Potter.” As usual the window is open, but it’s the third of September and getting chilly finally and Draco’s Freesias and Freedom Roses started wilting last week. There’s a chilly breeze coming into that room that is utterly barren of the sweet smells of summer he associates with Harry these days. “It’s time we ended this anyway,” he says. “Summer’s over.”

“So?” From his position kneeling on Draco’s bed Harry shouldn’t feel imposing at all, but he does. There’s no sparkle of humour in his eyes, none of the softness Draco’s gotten used to seeing there. He looks like someone who’s realised they’ve been betrayed.

Worse than that. Someone who’s been betrayed and realises they should have seen it coming.

“What the fuck does summer have to do with anything?”

“Ever heard of a summer fling, Potter? We’re not ‘seeing each other’.”

Harry finally gets off the bed. Draco’s stomach clenches again, more painfully this time. He doesn’t feel bad, he tells himself — this is Harry’s fault. His fault for making a big deal out of something easy and fun and, most of all, temporary. For ruining this with feelings. 

 “That’s not what this was,” Harry says. It’s not an argumentative tone; rather, he sounds disappointed. Devastated, and disappointed. And that look of betrayal, like he’s surprised but not …  that  surprised.

That hurts. 

“This was as real as it gets, Draco,” he says matter-of-factly. “You and I don’t have the capability of doing anything as shallow as a fling.”

“Well, Potter,” says Draco, straining to maintain his level voice, “congratulations, because that is the most disgusting, romanticised, Gryffindorian piece of shit I’ve ever heard.”

“Yeah?” He grabs up his wand from the bedside table and stuffs it into his jeans pocket. “Well here’s another: I love you. You complete fucking prick.”

Draco stares after him as he leaves the room, cowed for the moment. He hears Harry take the Floo powder off his mantle, hears the fire start, and then the sound of Potter disappearing. 

And he feels hollow suddenly.

* * *

“And he said it completely out of the blue?” 

Draco set his wine aside. He was suddenly feeling too sick to put anything else in his body.

“Sort of,” he said quietly, avoiding her eyes. “He was trying to make something out of nothing. He was just making a point, trying to guilt me, I don’t even think he meant it.”

Pansy said nothing for so long that Draco finally looked up. She had an eyebrow raised.

“Do you really believe that?” she said.

Draco didn’t answer right away. He glanced at the bottle of wine on the table and thought about the way it always tasted a little sweeter on Harry’s lips.

“I don’t know,” he said. “No. But it doesn’t change anything. It was a summer thing, not a … a relationship, for crying out loud. Like I’d date Potter.”

“Why not?”

Draco scoffed. “Why not? Pansy, please. He’s a …”

“A …?”

“He’s an idiot! He’s Potter!  He’s …” He couldn’t think of the right word, something bad enough to express the audacity, the gall , for Potter to think even for a second  that they could …

“Draco Malfoy,” said Pansy. She was smirking. “You love him too.”

Had he felt sick before?  Now he was going to be sick.

“I never would’ve imagined it,” she went on, seeming to take pleasure from his outrage and humiliation. The bint. “Look at you, you’re blushing! Oh my god,” she laughed. And then she stopped laughing, and instead the weight of her own words appeared to descend on her. “Oh my god. You do, don’t you? You are arse over tits for Harry Potter —”

He was up and out of his chair before she’d finished the last word, absurdly,  embarrassingly on the verge of tears all of a sudden. 

“Draco —”

“I’m glad this can serve as your entertainment for the week, Pansy,” he said. A tear rolled down his cheek — could he be any more histrionic? — and he brushed it away furiously. 

“Draco, no —”

“Call Blaise, tell him!” he shouted. “You two can have a good laugh over it —”

“Draco  —”

“Poor Draco’s  fucked himself over again, what a stupid wanker!” 

Pansy got up. He slapped her hand away when she reached for him, but she only came at him again and grabbed it this time when he swatted at her, enfolding it in both of hers. He closed his eyes and hiccoughed and two more tears came.

“Darling, will you please listen to me?” she said softly. It sounded eerily like his mother, which only made him feel young and childish. He tugged his arm away and she let him go, but he didn’t move any farther away. “I am  not  laughing at you,” she told him. “Blaise might, but that’s because Blaise has a black hole for a heart, Draco, the only emotion he’s ever felt is disdain.” Against his will, Draco chuckled wetly. Pansy smiled and took his hand again, tentatively. He allowed it. “ I think it’s lovely that you have feelings for him. I don’t understand what’s got you so upset, I mean … I know it’s Potter, but we’re not teenagers anymore, right? Who cares?”

Draco exhaled a long sigh.

“He let my father go to Azkaban,” he said softly, looking into her eyes. He saw comprehension dawning. “How can I be with someone who could’ve saved my father’s life and chose not to, Pansy?”

“No one could have saved your father, Draco,” said Pansy gravely. His throat was tight, swollen. He hated that he was hanging on her words, looking for truth in them,  wanting to hear something that would make this okay. “He would have done the same thing if they’d let him go back to the manor. It’s not your fault or your mum’s or Potter’s.”

“But —”

“But what?” she cut him off sharply. “Draco, please don’t let your father keep controlling your life from the grave! My god, you deserve happiness, don’t you see that? Even if it’s Potter! In fact, I … I think that could be really good.”

“What, being with Potter?”

“Yes, being with Potter,” she said. “Darling, I say this because I love you: you need to grow a pair of bollocks and start taking control of your own life. I’m not finished!” she added when he opened his mouth to retort. “I understand that it feels like a betrayal of your father, I do, and I’m not saying you can’t have your cherished memories of him, but Draco … you cannot live your life in his shadow, doing things because it’s what he’d want or wouldn’t want. I think that choosing to explore these feelings you have for Potter is the bravest and healthiest thing you could possibly do for yourself.”

He stared at her for a long moment, eyes wet though the tears had stopped falling. 

“What if it doesn’t last?” he said finally. “What if next week he realises it was a huge mistake?”

“First of all, I doubt that,” said Pansy with a roll of her eyes that was clearly meant to be teasing. “You said you’ve been seeing him all summer, that’s plenty of time to have gotten sick of you. And, even if that did happen, I still think it would be entirely worth that week of being disgustingly in love.”

“Do you?” he drawled.

“Yes! I do!” She picked up his discarded wine glass from before and held it up. “Does the effect of alcohol last forever?”

“No …”

“Of course not! And we don’t expect it to. We expect to have fun while we’re drunk and it’ll last as long as it lasts.”

“Dating someone isn’t like being drunk, Pansy,” Draco said sourly.

“Oh, that’s not the point ,” she huffed. “We don’t do things because we know they’ll last forever, we do them because we want to. In the moment.”

“Sounds irresponsible.”

“Well, of course it is,” she scoffed. “Love is completely irresponsible, that’s the fun of it, Draco. Now take this,” she shoved the glass of wine into his hand, almost spilling it. “Drink up, and then get your arse over to his flat and fix this.”

* * *

Granger opened the door. Draco sighed.

“Hello, Granger,” he said lamely. Her raised eyebrows said she was surprised and thoroughly unimpressed by his appearance.

“Malfoy,” she said.

“Is Potter in?”

“I guess that depends.”

“On?”

She looked at him, dark brown eyes impenetrable. Then she closed the front door behind her.

“What do you want?” she asked.

“To talk to him,” he said tightly. As if this whole thing wasn’t bad enough, now he had to pass a test to get past Granger the bridge troll. “I thought he told you —”

“He did,” she said flatly. “And about yesterday.”

“Well I’m here to apologise,” said Draco. Granger’s eyebrows lifted again. Still unimpressed. “And to tell him …” He sighed again and broke eye contact, willing himself not to give up, not to take this as a sign he should just go home and ream into Pansy for giving him such bad advice.

“Malfoy.” He looked up. Her voice was softer now, and her eyes seemed a little less hard. “What are you doing? You really hurt him, you know.”

“I know,” he said stiffly. “I said I’m here to apologise.”

“Well he doesn’t need an apology,” she said. “If you’re only going to let him down again —”

“I’m not.” He rubbed his forehead and looked at her again, exasperated, defeated. “I’ve … had some sense talked into me.”

She looked like it was the last thing she’d been expecting. 

“Have you?”

“Yes,” he said. “So would you please get him for me before I lose my nerve?”

It was the right thing to say. Her expression melted into something much softer and he fancied he even saw the beginnings of a smile.

“Can I ask who affected this change of heart?”

“Pansy,” he said. And, when Granger seemed taken aback, “She’s very wise when she feels like it.”

“I see. Well …” She still looked a bit conflicted, eyeing him and then putting her hand on the doorknob. “All right. I’ll tell him you’re here, anyway, but he was really hurt, Malfoy. I don’t know if he’ll want to hear it.”

“I’ll take my chances,” he said.

Granger eyed him another moment and then went back inside, shutting the door behind her. Draco only had to wait a minute before it was opening again, and this time Harry came out. The sight of him made Draco’s heart feel tender and sore.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi, Potter.”

He waited to see if Harry would say anything else but he didn’t. He only stared at Draco expectantly, arms folded, in all ways closed off.

“I came to apologise,” said Draco.

“Well you can keep it,” said Harry. “I don’t need an apology because you told me the truth.”

“It wasn’t the truth, Potter,” Draco said quietly. “Opposite, really.”

Harry was silent. Then, “You made me feel like shit, Draco.”

“I know. I’m sorry. You freaked me out, springing it on me like that.”

A beat, then two, and then suddenly Harry was dropping his arms and sighing and he looked at Draco with so much vulnerability he nearly had to turn away from it.

“I didn’t mean to tell you …” He licked his lips, scratched his arm. It reminded Draco that beneath everything, Harry was still the same awkward dorky leader-of-the-losers he’d always been, just with a bit more confidence now and the title of Official Saviour of the Wizarding World. “I wouldn’t have said that if … I was just angry.”

He didn’t need to ask what Harry was referring to.

“I know.”

“Not that I didn’t … I mean, I … I do —”

“Please don’t say it again,” Draco said. Harry laughed.

“Right. I just meant … I really do have feelings for you, Draco. Like … mad, crazy feelings, y’know? I don’t want it to be a fling.”

“It wasn’t a fling,” he said. He moved a little closer and Harry watched him carefully, eyes flickering once down to Draco’s mouth. “I didn’t even sleep with anyone else the whole time.”

“Well that’s good to know,” said Harry sardonically. But he was smiling, so Draco found himself smiling tentatively as well.

“I wanna be with you, Potter. Properly. I thought …” But he shakes his head, deciding that now isn’t the time to explain about his father. “I thought it was a stupid idea. Now I realise that it probably is, but that I don’t really care much. I’ve decided to ignore my better judgment this one time.”

“That’s quite Gryffindor of you,” Harry commented drily.

“Yes, well.”

“So I go against your better judgment, then?”

“Potter,” Draco sighed. “Please, I don’t mean it like —”

“I’m taking the piss, Draco,” Harry cut him off. He reached for Draco’s waist and pulled him close, and before Draco could get his breath back from a short, surprised intake of breath Harry’s mouth was on his, warm and familiar and soothing. He brought his hands to Harry’s face and kissed back without bothering to hide his overwhelming relief.

Harry chased his mouth when he pulled away and Draco breathed out a laugh, holding him at bay with a hand on his chest. 

“We have plenty of time,” he said. “D’you wanna come over later tonight, after your friends leave?”

“What? No, come in.” He took Draco’s hand and gestured with his head towards the door. “Please. It’s just Ron and Hermione. They know everything.”

“Really?” Draco drawled. “And you think Weasley won’t try to kill me?”

“I promise not to let him,” Harry grinned. “Please, Draco. You said you wanted to do this properly, right?”

He thought of what Pansy said about being irresponsible, and decided it was worth a try at least.

“Okay,” he said. Harry beamed and tugged him inside.

Towards his ultimate downfall or towards the beginning of the rest of his life, he didn’t know. That, as Pansy would have said, was the fun of it.

[dindooku]

As a young student studying Criminology, Gotham was the perfect place to study the thoery of crime. But, that didnt come without it’s own risks. Without your intention, your life becomes intertwined with another’s; a life you had so vehemently tried to repress - and now it was within your grasp; the opportunity held upon a golden pedestal, just waiting for you to take it. In your own desperation to fend off the demons tormenting your soul, can you overcome the very thing your swore against? Or will you succumb to the darkness? When had being bad ever felt so good?

Rating: M/E (swearing, triggers, panic attack (not explicitly said) - alcohol abuse (OC isn’t an addict but doesn’t display healthy relationships with alcohol) - please read the tags. this fic is going to be very dark and twisted so please be warned in regards to further chapters

word count: ~5k

You needed this.

By fucking god you needed this.

You could blame it on your studies, your recent move to Gotham city to study your Masters in Criminology; the perfect setting really. And you could blame it on your stressful move; the house that you're renting not being anything like the photos you viewed online - the water-damaged walls and the odd-looking array of bullet holes in the front room, and maybe even the questionable red stain spotting along the cream-turned-brown carpet towards the bathroom.

But most of all it was this.

Moving to Gotham was the worst-best thing you have ever done. It'd do leaps and bounds for your research and personal evolution, but it was also becoming more and more apparent by the day as to why the little flat you lived in was so cheap; having an address with anything to do with Hell on it was probably a good indication.

Flat 221B, 36th, Hell's Kitchen, Gotham.

Yeah. That's why you fucking needed this.

It was an absolute shithole. You'd only been here for a week and you had experienced more crime than you had been privy to when studying at home. It was a catch 22, move to the most dangerous city you can think of and get 1-1 experience in crime, collecting data for your dissertation; or stay at home, go to a safe city and become some pansy police officer who refused to get their hands dirty.

You were always one for taking risks.

So, as you downed your last home-made margarita and stuffed your bits and pieces into your shoulder bag, you were off out the door.

Tonight was a field day; an excuse to go out and get absolutely trollied all in the name of science. It was just getting late, the sun had set a few hours ago and the Gotham nightlife brought the streets to life; ironically, considering the insanely high murder rates. Some would call you mad, a single, young, attractive woman walking unfamiliar streets at this time of night, in Gotham. And you supposed you were. See, the only reason you were studying crime was out of pure fascination. Fascination, yes. The theory of it, really - how the human mind comprehended such decisions and why you lived in such a society - who branded these rules? Desperation was a word you liked to play with. Its meaning subjective depending on your own reality, really. You had always seen the world differently... criminals weren't inherently bad people to you, they were just often misunderstood, brandished, acting out of desperation at someone else's greed. Obviously, you had the complete and utter fucking mentalists, but even then you could find an argument in their favour - like the Joker; he was misunderstood, torn and thrown around like a rag doll until he made a stand, a particularly violent one, but a stand nonetheless; a stand out of desperation to be heard, to be understood. And deep down you resonated with his actions, being driven to the extremes to be listened to.

You knew exactly how he felt. You had the scars to prove it.

Enough on that, though; you're here for a good time, right? Right. You're going out to forget about the stingy shithole you'll be returning to once the night bleeds into morning, to forget about the mountain of case studies you've yet to work through. It was all a bit overwhelming; thus solidifying your burning need to procrastinate and forget about it all, and what better way to do it than get black-out drunk in a bar you've never been to before?

You weren't an alcoholic by any means, you didn't rely on the sweet burn to see you through the days, but that didn't mean you couldn't revel in the double-ended spear of its toxicity - drinking so much to forget, but its effects only temporary. You were a student, after all, you had to live up to the stereotype?

You scoffed at the thought, murmuring out loud, "Fucking hell." Ok maybe you needed to slow down a little bit... you put the hipflask back in its pouch whilst you continued to walk to your third bar of the night.

You were on a pub crawl of sorts, embarking on your own little quest to scout out the best club in town for further investigation. You were just balancing on that fuzzy tightrope between bliss and blindness, the perfect haze to blur out the dangers of the night and warm your skin despite the bitter cold. You were in your own little world it seemed, and as a bright neon sign for a secluded back alley club came into view, you knew you had to investigate.

"Card." Came the burly voice in front of you. You had to crane your neck up to meet their eyeline, trying your best to pull a serious face and not laugh at the imaginary comedy sketch playing out in your mind.

"Card, you mean ID?" You ask, one eyebrow furrowing in question. You had all the relevant stuff, and deep down you'd be offended if they didn't ask, you'd only just turned 21, a few months ago in fact.

"No, Entry Card, VIP." He reiterates, crossing his hands in front of his chest. You scoff at the idea that a place like this required VIP cards to get in. 'Really? They'd have to pay me to not go in, ha' you humour to yourself, finding the joke a little too funny in your drunken state.

"What's so funny?" The man asks again, a bit more aggressively this time, like he knew you were mocking him in your head. And you were. You knew you shouldn't push your luck, his size easily outmatching yours. But fuck it.

"Nothin sweetheart, just surprised 'tis all," You tease, rolling your eyes as you put your ID away and prepare to leave the queue.

The bouncer can't help himself, "Surprised?"

"Mmm, yes, surprised, or disappointed? You choose." You smirk as you turn away, hips swaying in a drunken swagger that you would never normally possess. Something about you tonight just screamed fucking goddess - and 'don't fuck with me else it will be the last thing you do' - you didn't know why; you were in no state to start a bar fight and win. Maybe it was the tight, black faux leather flares and wrap around corset that filled you with a placebo pill of confidence; but by god did you have a stunning poker face, one that seemed to have caught the eyes of someone other than the bouncer you were antagonising.

A whistle stopped you in your tracks.

You stood on the edge of the pavement, back to the club, your hair flowing slightly in the wind. You tilted your head slightly towards the sound, your minimal movement the only sign of your acknowledgement. You really hated catcallers. It was one of the few things that would really wind you up, your short and temperate anger fizzing and popping under the surface.

"Let her in." Came a new voice. You turned around, eyes landing on an unfamiliar face. He was a tall guy, with an ice-white buzzcut and a sculpted face sporting scars; new and old - his brows knit into a harsh line and his piercing gaze instructing you with just his silent intention. You decide to play along, smirking back at him as you turn and saunter your way back to the entryway. As you walk past the bouncer you position yourself against him, slighting a faint touch of your body to his, sure to leave a whisper of your perfume lingering in the air as a sort of poisonous parting gift - a nicely packaged fuck you.

Your pupils instantly dilated to the sight laid before you. Ok, you take it back. This was no dingey club. Your skin was coated in an inciting shade of red; the coloured theme of the club. It was stimulating, the atmosphere - reigniting that previous cockiness you had been secretly harbouring through the night and twisting it into something still unfamiliar to you, the inner thrumming residing behind your naval indistinguishable from the music reverberating around the club.

The man who had whistled at you had disappeared, so you took this as your opportunity to grab a couple more drinks, to scout the club, of course...

You sauntered over to the bar and after a moment of getting yourself comfortable on the stool, locked eyes with the bartender. They didn't hold the same ferocity as the man before, and you felt your outer guard falling slightly at the soft tones lacing their eyes, their general aura giving off nothing inherently dangerous. They walk over, one hand wiping away at a newly washed pint glass with a rag.

"What can I get you?" They ask politely. They seemed young, too young in fact to be working behind the bar, but now wasn't the time for serious investigating - you highly doubted he was underage, just in fact sporting an inherent babyface. You smile sweetly back at the bartender as you purr your reply, "Whiskey on the rocks, please."

"Oh? Honey that's strong?" He questions, an eyebrow furrowing at your request. You giggle at his innocence.

"Mhm, make it a double." You smirk, and he only reciprocated, pouring a double and a little extra.

"You're new 'round here, aren't you?" He states as he passes over your drink, and you nod as you take a sip, soon following up with a further reply, "That obvious?"

"No, I just would've remembered a pretty face like yours if you'd been here before." He flirts, leaning down onto the bar, elbows sitting comfortably on the dark mahogany surface - it was a tactical move, you knew it, he was getting closer to you by the minute and you noticed his blatant interest the moment he locked eyes with you. You'd play along for a little while, it was good practice anyway, investigating.

You smile before replying, a brief pause between sips to sell your contemplation, "I can tell you're not one for wasting time..." You pause, implying silently for his name.

"Alex." He smirks, holding his hand out to you. You shake it, surprised by the dexterity. But as you thought things were going well, he pulls away sharply, his gaze dropping from you as he scurries back to the other side of the bar nervously. Your face scrunches in confusion, wondering exactly what you'd done wrong.

A firm hand around your waist answers your question.

The presence of another behind you makes you tense momentarily, their forward nature catching you off guard. A hand swirls around the small of your back, stopping at the natural curve of your waist, their palm sitting comfortably in the dip as their fingers latched into your exposed skin. The grip is tight, possessive - possessive for someone you didn't even know the face of. Your nervousness quickly turns into a tizzy, frustrated at the being behind you and their audacity to hold you so. You twist, turning your head to meet the side of their face, eyes rough with your bubbling anger.

The sharp-edged, stubbly profile of a man greets you, a little too close for comfort.

"Alex, two of whatever she's ordered on me, 'kay?" The man says. You roll your eyes at his cockiness, picking up your whiskey glass and downing the rest of the hot honey, burning your throat in the process - but you invited the pain, it's scorch momentarily masking the uninvited heat that was building elsewhere.

"I can order my own drinks, thank you." You scoff, sliding off of the barstool and away from his grasp, picking up your bag so that you can leave.

The man scoffs, using one hand to bring the red-tinted shades sitting on his nose sliding down, tilting his head to give you a better look. You turn and face him at the wrong time it seems, interrupting his very blatant scan of your form. You scoff at his actions, turning harshly to go, muttering to him as you walk past him and towards the exit, "In your fucking dreams."

Yeah - you tell him, girl. Too fucking right, that's what he gets for...that. Maybe you were overreacting, but the way your skin heated like wildfire at his unexpected touch, the way the previously dormant thrumming deep within your stomach tinged with a spark of something you hadn't felt in a long time, a feeling that was unfortunately not one of pleasure to you - you panicked. You'd never reacted like this, but something about his presence was just dominating your senses and you had to get away, to clear your head; maybe it was the alcohol, you didn't know - you didn't care, you just wanted fresh air and five minutes to get whatever the fuck has come over you out of your system.

"I see manners are not your chosen language," The man jokes, but he doesn't bother hiding the icy bitter frustration at your rejection. But you carry on, moving away from his ensuing footsteps.

"Neither are they yours," You retort, turning the corner towards the back exit. But you don't make it to the back exit. The scarred man from before moves from the shadows and grips your upper arm, swivelling you in one motion to face your incessant assailant. You don't give him the privilege of your attention, instead choosing to stare wide-eyed at the ground. Your bubbling anger evolves into something more pertinent, more feral, "What the fuck is it with you guys?" You spit, trying your best to yank your arm free. It was no good, every time you moved his grip on you tightened.

"That's no way to speak to a kind gentleman, is it darling?" The stubble-haired man chides, waving a hand in a dramatic swish as he talks.

"You and gentlemen is a bit of a reach, don't you think? And kind too, don't flatter yourself sweetheart -- hey! Let me go!" You scorn, yanking away harder. Your heart was starting to race now, the phantom ghost of familiar brutish hands that had hurt you before were blurring with your present reality. You couldn't go through that again, no. You'd moved away for a reason, even if it were disguised by your University Degree, the real reason was to get away from him.

Your change in body language seemed to shock both men, and soon the bearded man orders the other to let you go.

"Zsasz, let her go." He says sternly. As soon as his grip is off of you, you practically run to the bathroom, locking yourself in the stall. You close your eyes. You were trying so, so hard to help yourself, but it was just not to be. The last 12 months come crashing down on you, and you were helpless against the murderous gravity of it all. Your panic quickly turned into terror, and no matter how hard you tried to suppress the overbearing feelings blistering your heart, their clutch was now embedded into your conscious and they were working their way out, ripping and tearing, leaving nothing but devastation in its wake. It was brutish, the power of it all; how after all this time those short few moments held such a crippling power over you, a power no matter how hard you tried to overrule, decimated you each and every time. You're so caught up in your emotions that you don't hear the lock on the bathroom click, nor do you hear the faint rustling of a velvet suit making its way towards your stall.

However, you do hear the tap-tap of leather-coated knuckles against the door.

"Fuck off," You spit, not even attempting to mask the raspy panic between each word. The other person didn't say anything, and silence engulfed the room momentarily, only the occasional piercing sounds of your choked panic ripping the hazy-yellow neon light animating the bathroom. The clink of glass to wood brought your head up, your attention distracted and now upon the glass of whiskey being slid underneath the door.

"A peace offering," A familiar voice clarifies. You snatch up the drink and down it in one, desperate for a distraction; a controllable discomfort. You cough roughly at the strength, the new soreness from your rasped panic mixing distastefully with the burn from the alcohol - note taken; don't ever do that again.

You take a second to let the burn cool before speaking, "Thanks...for the drink." 

He doesn't bother with a reply.

Another few moments pass and you feel you have yourself under control. You take in a deep breath and straighten your clothes out as you stand, brushing the stray hairs from your face and trying your best to look presentable despite the absence of a mirror. You unlock the door and move to step out, hand holding the empty glass out aimlessly for the other man to take.

He doesn't take it.

You furrow your brows and pause in your movements, and it is only now you chance a look into his eyes for the first time. The moment your eyes meet his, you regret it. Not because you're scared or frightened, no; you regret it because you know those are eyes you will forever see in your dreams. This man's eyes told you similar tales of the navy shores from home that you had often resided to in search of peace, the lighter hues telling tales of the midwinter sky you would doze under; and the occasional slash of cobalt reflected the darker depths of his soul, mirroring the light of unnamed stars. His eyes painted your soul in a colour you'd yet to see, a colour only he could grace you with, and it made you weak.

You were transfixed, held stationary by his unspoken authority. He raised an eyebrow at you, his understanding all too clear. You broke from your haze and scuffed, a hot blush creeping over your tear-stained cheeks.

Embarrassed couldn't even cover it.

"Fuck," you whispered, wiping away once again at the drying streaks of once warm tears on your cheeks. "FUCK!" You shout louder this time, chastising yourself as you come back to reality. What the fuck are you doing? You're stronger than this?

"How about we fix you another drink, hmm?" He says. You chuckle as you pinch the bridge of your nose, the heavy daze from the whiskey starting to mount its assault on your senses. Fuck it, you came here to get blackout drunk, so you're going to get fucking blackout drunk - for free by the looks of it.

You roll your shoulders and pick your head up, holding it high. "Sure, ugh--?" You say, holding out your hand to shake his as you hint for his name.

He replies with a smirk before turning you towards the door, catching himself before he places a hand at the small of your back, "Roman, Roman Sionis."

"Well, Roman, how about a pitcher or two?" You challenge, "Ever drunk with a student before?"

He didn't reply instantly, but you didn't let him, storming confidently out of the bathrooms and to the bar. You honed in on Alex, and at first he looked excited to see you, but as you approached he saw the darkness in your eyes and instantly knew you were'nt to be messed with. He poured a double shot of Vodka and Coke as quick as he could; it didn't even reach the counter before its contents were emptied by yours truly and slammed back onto the mahogany.

"Another." You growl, and Alex doesn't hesitate, the next drink landing in your hands within moments. You sink this one like the last, face maintaining the deadly glare it had held since you entered the room. Roman was soon at your side, marvelling at your drinking abilities; it was scary actually, how you managed to down your alcohol with such ease, expressionless. His grin faltered on your fourth shot and he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, breaking your anamatronic trance and stealing your attention to him; that's better - Roman always got what he wanted, and he wanted you. He raised an eyebrow at your anger, wondering how he could capitalise on this and turn the situation in his favour. But for some reason, he hesitates; the thought of being cruel to you made his skin shiver in an unpleasent way - oddly. See, Mr Sionis was a criminal, a violent, feral monster who, if he did not get his own way, or was undermined or disrespected, made sure that those were the last things said person would inflict - for disrespecting the King of Gotham's underground was a penalty punishable by death. A slow, torturous death, courtesy of his own cynical ministrations. He was the Black Mask, and the Black Mask felt no mercy. Why should he sympathise when he could not receive such pleasures? Others can't have what he cannot, that simply is not fair, its preposterous. And like the narcissistic bastard he was, he reasoned with this part of himself, convincing the little golden figure sat perched on his right shoulder that he was doing the nice thing by not kidnapping you right now and keeping you for himself. Something about you was different, he could sense it - he recognised the brutal blaze swirling in the depths of your eyes. They reflected his own - murderous. And that's when the little red devil on his left shoulder made their attendance known, reinforcing Romans suspicions. This girl had the devil in her, the same devil within him.

"What?" You asked, incredulously. Roman had been staring at you for longer than was comfortable, and you knew he was deep in thought over something. His eyes flicked like an old VHS tape, his physical thoughts and their direction reflecting in the depths of his scrutiny over you.

Roman grinned at his plan. He had to have you, but he knew now that forcing himself was not an option - he had to wait for you to come to him. And what better way than to get someones attention by no longer wanting it? It was the ultimate power play he thought, his excitement at the idea of you being his under your own intention ignited a blistering fire of self admiration within him - Roman Sionis was a fucking genius he thought, no, he knew.

"Nothing Darling, ciao." He replied smugly, his lips stressing a shit-eating grin at his own devious plan. He waltzed away from you to find Zsazs, desperate to let him in on his incredible plan.

You scoff at your dismissal. The fuck was all that about?

Rolling your eyes, your turn to Alex. You take a second to allow the room to catch up with you, "Did you see that?" You ask Alex, moving your head slightly to the side in a nod towards the now retreated Roman. Alex scoffs, placing a pint of water on the bar in front of you. You cut him a look of displeasure but knew you should probably slow down if you wanted to get back safe tonight.

"That guy, my dear, is Mr Sionis." Alex said, lifting his brows as at your confused look.

"Mr Sionis...right, and he is...?" You say, waving your hands in a confused manner.

Alex looked stunted, but continued to serve a few orders before continuing his conversation with you, "Well, Mr Sionis is the owner of this club."

Your eyes widen at the realisation, "The owner?" You mutter.

"Mhm." Alex hummed, amused.

But the conversation took a new direction, a direction Alex was not expecting.

"Tell me about this Mr Sionis, Alex." You murmur, gliding into your soft, convincing voice you used to get information about men.

"Well, he's the owner of this club, and my boss. He pays well." Alex starts, trying his best to close of the conversation.

"Hmm, yes; but what about him? What type of person is he?"

"I don't think--,"

"Alex," you growl, darkly. Your face dropped the sweet smile it had held before and Alex visibly winced. He knew he couldn't say too much, and he didn't know much either, but he also didn't know you, and if living in Gotham had any perks; he knew those eyes - they were the eyes of someone you did not fuck with if you wanted to keep breathing. So, Alex moved across the bar, leaning in on his elbows so he could whisper to you over the loud music; where only the two of you could be heard.

"He, he has a particular personality - colourful, bold,-" Alex starts, his eyes shifting past your figure a few times to make sure he wasnt being watched, "-Possessive. He gets what he wants - always. And he will do anything to do so, there's no limits with the guy. You fuck up, you're done."

"Done?" You whisper back, leaning in closer to Alex, only a hairs breath away.

Alex stalls, trying to find a way to answer your question without sinking himself to that fate. But he doesn't get the chance to, as you're pulling away and turning towards an unknown figure behind you.

The next few moments were a blur.

The next thing Alex knew, there was a face being buried into the hard mahogany of the bar, and the loud crack of the mans nose being broken shook Alex from his trance.

You moved so effortlessly, your movements only so perfect through hours of repetition. You didn't even stumble, and with the effectiveness of your ruminations, practically no attention was drawn to the now escalating scene at the bar.

"On what fucking planet is it ok to grab anyone like the way you just groped me, huh?" You whispered into your assailants ear. They whined and coughed, shifting under the mounting pressure you were placing at their shoulder. You had grabbed them by the arm the moment you felt their hand sliding across your ass, and the quick pinch had you seeing red - moving through muscle memory and destabilising the man by using his own weight against him. He was now bent over the bar, head buried in broken glass, his shoulder ready to pop at any moment. He was at your mercy and your blood turned primitive. You'd had enough of creepy perverts tonight.

"The fuck is wrong with you lady? It wasn't anythin' bad," The man groans, blood pouring from his nose and staining the white shirt he was wearing.

You pressed harder, muffling the pop of his shoulder joint and his cry of pain with a loud laugh, "Say, Frank - how bout you walk out this club now under your own premise before I have you wheeled out in a bodybag?" You sigh.

"The fuck, how'd you know my name was Frank?" he growled, grunting at the pain.

"Not only are you incredibly rude, but you're also rather obnoxious too, you fucking loser." You sneer, shifting his dislocated shoulder further round. He screamed, but only briefly, as you soon shut him up with a face full of glass.

"Fuck off, Frank, and don't come back."

You release him and he instantly turns and scampers away like the injured hyena he was. Rolling your eyes you turn back to Alex, who's eyes are wide with shock.

"Alex..." You mumble, and he gulps, his eyes searching yours out of panic over what you'll do next, "Just fix me a drink and I’ll be off. Sorry for the mess." You say calmly as if nothing happened. And that's the way it seemed, as no one even batted an eyelid to the violent display from moments ago. Alex says nothing but does as he's told, making you up an extra strong rum and coke. You down the drink and place the glass down.

"Where's the emergency exit?" You ask Alex, and he points to the door behind the bar. You smile, sliding him a small tip - hush money - and exit the building.

You made it about five minutes down the road before things began to get weird - real weird. This wasnt the same type of blurry you got from alcohol, this was colourful, dazy.

"Fuck - that fucker drugged me!" You sneer, words merging together as you propped yourself up against a brick wall. You tried to run over the events in your head, wondering where you tripped up. And then it hit you, the pint glass - when you leaned in to talk to Alex, he’d slipped something in the drink.

"Fu-cckk" You mumble, eyes incredibly droopy now.

You needed to get back to your flat, safety - yes.

But you didn't, as when you tried to move your legs they gave out from under you. This was an incredibly dangerous situation for anyone to be in, especially a young woman on the streets of Gotham. But the drugs worked quickly against your system, and before you had any time to prepare yourself for your inevitable demise, you blacked out

[chilling-seavey]

Passchendaele (AU) – Daniel’s Last Choice

A/N This is an alternate universe blurb for my Passchendaele universe; what would happen if Daniel’s PTSD got the better of him after returning home from the war…this is not part of the storyline we usually follow.

T/W: Major trigger warning for this. IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE TO DESCRIPTIONS OF SUICIDE/DEATH OR BLOOD, EVEN ONLY SLIGHTY, PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS BLURB. Passchendaele has been written as a completely uncensored and raw work of realist fiction and this blurb is no different. It is extremely graphic and can possibly be upsetting and triggering to some readers. Read at your own risk and please remember that suicide is not the answer and to reach out and get help if you need it. It does and will get better.

Daniel kept his eyes closed, head resting back against the trunk of the tree, the warm summer sun falling against his face. Elizabeth was resting on his lap, a book in hand, and her gentle voice filled the garden as she read aloud to him, her blonde curls housing his hand as he played with the soft strands. 

It was peaceful.

He looked down at her slowly, watching how her light eyes scanned the page she held in front of her as she read, her soft lips moulding each perfect word and he dragged his fingertip over them, interrupting her sentence. Elizabeth’s eyes shifted past the book to Daniel’s face that was hidden slightly from her view and she lowered the book to focus on him.

“Are you bored?” she asked.

Daniel shook his head lightly, caressing her face with his hand as if trying to memorize her, rubbing his thumb over her cheek and she leaned into his familiar touch. She turned to kiss his hand before shifting her head on his lap to start reading again, clearing her throat lightly.

As she continued where they had left off in their book, Daniel silently pulled his pocket watch from his pocket and read the time before slipping back away. She didn’t notice, simply continuing to read even if he wasn’t paying attention to the story anymore. His fingers danced over her jaw and down her neck to her collarbones that peeked out of the top of her dress and he traced them ever so gently. Elizabeth faded out and looked back at his face. Daniel didn’t even notice she stopped reading, eyes locked on his hand moving across her porcelain skin.

“Dani.” she rested the open book over her stomach and laced her fingers with his, pulling them to her mouth to leave a tender kiss to his hand. She shifted up on one hand against the grass on the other side of his lap to face him and they both stared at each other for a moment. “What’s wrong, darling?”

“Nothing.” Daniel breathed, eyes on her lips.

Elizabeth smiled softly and leaned in to kiss him, lingering there for a moment before pulling back again, just as quickly. Daniel moved back in, raising his hand to the side of her face to keep her close as his lips locked with hers in a gentle kiss. She smiled into it, her hand holding onto the front of his shirt as they stayed motionless for a moment. Daniel finally pulled back first, watching how her eyes stayed closed for a beat longer, as if she was stuck savouring the feeling of his kiss for as long as she could.

“I need to go home for supper.” Daniel whispered.

Elizabeth licked her lips from the familiar taste of him, replied with a just as quiet, “Okay.”

Daniel leaned in to kiss her softly again, staying against her lips for a few seconds before pulling back again, “I love you.”

Elizabeth grinned bashfully, reaching up to run her thumb across his cheek and then pushed it into the back of his dark hair, bumping her nose against his, “I love you too.”

They breathed together for a few moments, eyes locked on each other’s face and noses touching with how close they were. Daniel’s hand slid down her arm and to her waist, his hand trailing the curve of her corset, and across her back.

“You’re so beautiful.” he breathed.

Elizabeth pushed her lips on his strongly, full of passion, pulling him close by the front of his shirt until he was leaning over her a little and her other arm was tossed around his shoulders. Their lips met and parted a few slow times, sharing loving kisses until they were nearly breathless, heart beating hard in their chests. Elizabeth pulled back slowly first, massaging her fingers through the back of his hair as their eyes met.

“I will see you later then.” she whispered.

Daniel nodded weakly.

He had already made up his mind.

His house smelt like his brother’s favourite supper when he returned home and Daniel didn’t speak as he closed the front door behind him. He kicked off his shoes and headed down the hallway slowly.

“Where have you been?”

His father’s voice stopped him in his tracks and he turned his head to the right slowly to look at his father behind his newspaper in the parlour. The paper was lowered and his father’s cold stare burned into him.

“Have you been with her?”

Daniel bowed his head, staring at his socked feet, “Yes.”

“I mustn’t be surprised, however, I still am. While the real men are fighting for our country, my cowardly son is going out and chasing girls who do not even know their right place in society. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

Daniel just continued walking towards the kitchen without an answer to his father. It was routine to be ridiculed by his father day in and day out; so much so that it hardly phased him anymore. He had endured so much that his words just seemed to bounce off his numb conscious and fall at his feet like a ball and chain, weighing him down more and more.

He helped his mother and sister set the dining room table, setting each fork and knife down with a gentle clink after clink. Four place settings. The chair beside Daniel’s usual chair sat empty. 

The family sat around the table as his mother served dinner and they all said a prayer before starting to eat. Daniel didn’t pitch into conversation, eyes downcast as he stared at his dinner plate, pushing around his food with the tip of his fork. Whenever he zoned out he could hear gunfire and the screams of agony from the war, still fresh on his mind. Daniel snapped back to the reality of his dining room with a gasp as his father slammed his hand down on the table top, rattling the dishes and cutlery.

“See what I mean?” he snapped across the table to his wife, pointing his knife in the direction of Daniel at his right. “He doesn’t speak anymore! He comes home early and refuses to speak! I haven’t heard one apology out of his mouth since he got off that train six weeks ago!”

Daniel took a silent bite of his supper, his hand trembling as he held his fork. He stared at the perfectly crisp white tablecloth, ignoring how his family stared at him; the rage and disappointment of his father, the worry and sadness of his mother, and the concern and confusion of his younger sister.

“Everyone in the congregation at church asks me why my son is home while theirs are fighting still. What do I say to that, huh?” his father continued loudly, angry eyes boring into Daniel. “That my pathetic excuse of a son is too much of a pansy to man up and fight for his country? That the actual pride of our family is rotting in the Belgian fields and not crying himself to sleep warm and safe in his bed?! Might as well just say both of my sons are as good as dead.”

Daniel scrunched his eyes closed and gently set his fork and knife on the side of his plate with gentle clinks, resting his forearms against the tabletop. His mother set a hand on his arm gently, as if to console him.

“Do not coddle him! He’s a man, not a wounded puppy!” his father snapped.

His mother’s hand lifted slowly from his arm and Daniel’s lungs shuttered.

“Or so he should be.” his father grumbled sharply under his breath as he took another bite of his dinner.

No one spoke for the rest of the meal. 

Daniel didn’t touch his dinner after that. He lost his appetite.

He had already made up his mind.

When supper had concluded, the family moved to the parlour for tea before bed. The father with his newspaper, mother with her knitting, and Anna with her book, Daniel was sat in perfect silence, staring at the fireplace. The fire flickered steadily, reflecting in Daniel’s blank eyes. He was unmoving, expressionless, numb.

He didn’t remember getting ready for bed but soon he was laying down, staring at the ceiling, listening to his parents argue in the next room over. This wasn’t unusual either; his parents bickering after the family retired to bed; his mother taking the side of ‘just let him be’ and his father taking the side of ‘he puts shame on this family’. They didn’t know that Daniel heard it all. Every night.

It was 2:30am.

Daniel’s eyes snapped open from another nightmare. He hadn’t planned on sleeping, but he must have drifted eventually. He was covered in a cold sweat yet again, chills tearing down his spine like he was back in the rain-soaked trenches, his eyes wide and staring up at his bedroom ceiling through jagged breaths. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears and each shaky breath he took.

The house was silent. Daniel sat up and swung his legs over the side of his bed, his bare feet touching the cold wooden floors. He took the stairs slow step by slow step but he felt like he was floating, unphased by the darkness of the house or the chill of the flooring, his hand dragging down the banister after him. His eyes locked on his destination: the small writing desk in the corner of the parlour where his father took his paperwork. It looked unused as it usually was – his father usually choosing to do his paperwork at the church – and Daniel walked over slowly to stand in front of it.

His mind was blank as he dragged his fingertips over the edge of the desk and down to the top-drawer handle, playing with the wooden knob for a moment before pulling it open. His father’s FN 1910 pistol was sat in velvet in the drawer, as if it was patiently awaiting Daniel’s arrival. It was a shining black, not even so much as a fingerprint was on it, and it drew Daniel closer, his hand dropping into the drawer to lift it carefully from its warm bed and into the air of the cold dark parlour. He held it up in his strangely steady hand – all too used to carrying firearms and weaponry from his months in the war – and admired it, turning it slowly to see all sides, his eyes lingering on the magazine filled with seven shiny golden bullets.

Daniel’s eyes drifted from the pistol to the fireplace mantle just next to the writing desk, catching the reflection of the moon light coming through the window off the photographs framed on top. He took a few shuffling steps across the floor to stand in front of the unlit fireplace with the pistol still in hand but hanging lazily at his side, his eyes falling onto the image of Christian staring back at him. The pride of his family that was rotting in the Belgian fields. Each framed photograph on the mantle stared back at him blankly, Christian’s face taunting him with freedom he wasn’t lucky enough to endure in the war. Daniel took a step back, not tearing his eyes from his brother’s photograph until he reached the doorway to the parlour.

His bedroom door closed behind him. He stood with his left hand on the handle for a few long seconds before stepping back from it, now in the privacy of his small childhood bedroom. The pistol was still in his hand and he looked down at it before sitting on the side of his single bed.

Daniel felt crowded and heavy, like he wasn’t alone, and he looked straight ahead into the mirror above his dresser. His reflection stared back at him, framed on either side by Christian and Zach in their military uniforms. The three of them all together were sickly pale.

Daniel didn’t speak, his mouth dry, and he looked between his brother and his best friend on either side of him through the mirror. They sent him small peaceful smiles. Zach glanced down at his hands in his lap and Daniel dropped his gaze to the black pistol sitting heavy in his hand. Out of the reflection of the mirror, Daniel was alone, but he still felt the presence of their two bodies as if they were pressed up right at his sides.

He shut his eyes tightly, tightening his grip on the pistol, the haunting memories of his brother and his best friend’s deaths coming back onto him in full force; the weight of his brother’s body on his lap, watching the life drain from his eyes, and the fear in his best friend’s face, replaced by his warm blood trickling down Daniel’s cheeks. It was a never-ending parade of disturbing and very real memories and Daniel was stuck living a nightmare he couldn’t wake up from day after day. There truly felt like only one way out. Only one way to feel truly at peace.

He raised his eyes back to the mirror across from him, the forms of Christian and Zach staring back at him calmly, unbothered, peaceful. Daniel stared at the mirror and reached his free hand out to touch his brother beside him but his hand fell right to the mattress instead, going right through the hallucination in the reflection. Christian looked down at his brother’s lap and Daniel followed his gaze back to the pistol. He raised his hand to the barrel and pulled the slide slowly, the click of the gun cocking momentarily echoing off his small bedroom walls.

His father was embarrassed of him, his mother pitied him, his community shamed him, and Daniel hadn’t felt true happiness for far too long. Every day was a struggle, every day was frightening even without the direct threat of warfare, and every day was miserable. He had never truly left the trenches. Daniel just wanted it all to end.

He raised the pistol higher, his hands starting to tremble slightly as he stared at it in front of him. He didn’t feel scared. He felt impatient.

His mind was blank. Perfectly blank.

He craved the escape from the memories.

He craved the feeling of calm again.

He craved the sweet, temping, delicious release of death from this hell he was living.

Daniel looked in the mirror again, the hazy reflection of his brother and best friend staring back at him as urging him to come join us.

Come join us where we can be at peace together.

Daniel turned the pistol around in his right hand, the barrel facing him straight on and he stared at the small dark hole at the end of it that was to be his way out.

Christian and Zach stared at the gun in his trembling hand; unmoving, silent, yet comforting.

Daniel kept his eyes on the mirror as he parted his lips and set the muzzle of the pistol in his mouth, staring himself right in the eye.

He wasn’t scared.

The taste of metal on his lips was more than apparent but it nearly made his mouth water with desire. His finger dropped steadily to the cold metal switch of the safety and he flicked it off.

Daniel moved his finger to the trigger, eyes flicking between his brother on his right and his best friend on his left through the mirror, watching them eye the pistol in his mouth calmly.

He wasn’t scared.

He inhaled.

Christian and Zach looked right at him through the mirror and smiled reassuringly.

He closed his eyes, tightening his finger on the trigger.

He wasn’t scared.

He exhaled.

A single shot rang through the house, echoing and loud for a split second before returning to eery silence just as quickly. The body had fallen backwards onto the bed with an ever so gentle ‘thud’, the dark red splatter against the white wall starting to drip steadily towards the wood flooring, being caught by the bedsheets halfway, matching the pool of blood soaking through the pale coloured quilt almost instantly and seeping thickly into the mattress. The lifeless blue eyes stared up at the ceiling; almost just as blank as they had been since they returned home from the front lines, weak hands letting the pistol fall to the floor with a dull clatter.

He laid alone.

The sun rose like any other morning, the rest of the world begin to wake with it. The kitchen was soon filled with the sounds and smells of breakfast prep, the mother peacefully working, unknowing that her second son was lying dead in the room right above her.

The sister sat in the kitchen with her mother, keeping her company while she cooked breakfast, discussing the new stitch she had learned for working at the factories, unknowing that her second brother was lying dead in the room right above her.

The father sat in the parlour with the morning paper, waiting for his wife to deliver his morning coffee, unaware of anything different in his household, too distracted and too busy to notice his desk drawer laying open across the room.

The mother noticed it first, after bringing her husband his morning coffee, making her usual stop by the fireplace mantle to offer a silent greeting to the photograph of her eldest son when her eye caught on the open drawer. Her heart stopped for a moment as the velvet inside was cradling nothing but the heavy air that suddenly seemed to settle over the room.

She whipped her head around to look towards the stairs, frozen in place for a beat.

“Daniel.” she breathed.

Her husband looked up at her over his paper and then turned to look towards the stairs too, and, when he saw no one there, he just turned back to his reading.

The mother took the stairs two at a time on shaky legs, pulling herself up the flight by the banister before reaching the closed door at the top. She didn’t even knock before pushing it open and nearly falling right inside the small bedroom.

The sight she came across had her breath halting in her lungs for a second, her only other son’s body laid limp across his bed, the blankets below him completely soaked in a dark red and the wall behind him stained in a gruesome splatter. The pistol laid on the ground at his feet.

The mother’s blood curdling scream nearly echoed through the entire town, her heartbroken shriek of her son’s name filling the house, “Daniel!”

She was sat his side in a fleeting moment, as if she could somehow save him, grabbing onto his arm and trying to pull him off the bed through her blurring tears, clutching him to her chest as she fell to her knees on the ground through wracking sobs, covering herself in her son’s warm blood and his heavy lifeless body.

Simply another casualty of the Great War.

[merflk]

if your cascade, ocean wave blues come.

main pairing: ginny weasley x blaise zabini background pairings: neville longbottom x astoria greengrass, percy weasley x pansy parkinson, oliver wood x marcus flint words: 6021 link: ao3 soundtrack: peace - taylor swift

Every wedding she’s attended since the war reminds her of Bill and Fleur’s.

She can’t help it. No matter the venue, or the people getting married, or the guests attending, every single time she’s pulled back into that tent in her parents’ backyard.

It was bad the first few times. The war sparked a lot of tragedy, but the war ending made people feel like taking the leap together. In the past seven years, she’s been to thirteen weddings total. The first time, it was like she was transported back into the war in the middle of the ceremony. She had a quiet panic attack that no one noticed and, eventually, got home absolutely plastered. After that happened a second time, she realised that it was a wedding thing. So for a little bit she attended none.

That didn’t last very long. Hard to get to wedding number fourteen otherwise.

The thing that saved her was her camera. As it turned out, taking pictures was a ton of fun, and she was kind of good at it. At first, it was because she ignored every single ‘rule’ photography had. She paid next to no attention to classic perspective and lighting. She just went ahead and snapped. People said it was artistic. That made her feel a little proud, so she kept taking them.

At some point, the camera became an extension of herself. And she became a photographer.

Now, wedding photography is like a little treat. She only does it for friends and family, not as an actual career choice, choosing to stick to other subjects for that. When Neville asked if she would take the pictures for his wedding to Astoria, she agreed to it immediately. They’re having a spring wedding, full of flowers and sunshine, and now that she’s standing here, looking around, she feels free from Bill and Fleur’s wedding for the first time.

Ginny smiles and snaps a picture of Harry, Ron and Hermione, who are laughing loudly near the buffet. The wedding is outside, in the large garden of the Greengrass estate. As far as Ginny knows, it took a lot of convincing to get Astoria’s parents on board with her marrying Neville, but with the help of her sister Daphne (who was a grade A politician) they had managed to figure something out.

The gardens are huge, and the wedding is smack in the middle of them, so the house seems pretty far away from here. Even so, she can still make out its luxurious white exterior. Neville is marrying into big money. But…

Ginny glances over at Neville and Astoria, who are quietly dancing in the middle of the dance floor, their foreheads pressed together. The hem of Astoria’s dress is slightly smudged with mud, and she has three flowers in her hair. It’s like they’re their own little sun with the amount of love and happiness radiating from them. The other dancing couples orbit them, basking in their light.

She takes a picture.

Even if Astoria’s parents never accepted Neville, even if they had disowned their daughter like they’d originally threatened to do, neither of them would have wavered. They would have had a tiny wedding somewhere in a forest, and Ginny would have taken the exact same picture there.

Damn, love is kind of beautiful.

Thinking of Neville and Astoria as the sun puts the wedding in a different light, though. Ginny looks around carefully, looking at the way that groups of people move together through the space. Although this wedding is one between a Gryffindor and a Slytherin, that mixing of houses doesn’t extend to the party guests. Now that she’s looking for it, Ginny notices the way that there are clusters of isolated guests spread out. A couple of former Slytherins here, a few former Gryffindors there. There are two or three places where the houses meet, and of course there are people of all houses here. Hannah Abbott is chatting with Romilda Vane. Padma Patil is having a very playful conversation with George. Pansy Parkinson says something to Percy as she steals his glass of champagne right from his hands. But, afterwards, they move towards their own group of people – Percy to Fred and Angelina, Pansy to Daphne and Blaise Zabini.

When Ginny follows her with her gaze, her eyes land on Zabini for a moment, and she catches him looking back at her. Perhaps it would be more fair to say that he catches her looking at him. As a reflex, finding the perfect excuse, Ginny lifts up her camera and takes a picture of the three of them from a distance.

When she looks at the screen briefly to check the photo, she notices that Blaise is smiling in it, looking straight into the camera. He looks so good that she wonders if that was his reflex – put on the model face. He probably has modelled for something or other, right? She thinks she heard that rumour somewhere at some point. That his parents live in Italy and he’s done some modelling there after the war. No, wait – just his mom. She’s notoriously remarried a bunch of times. Lady Zabini is a bad bitch.

“Did it come out well?”

Ginny jumps and almost drops her camera, like she’s been caught red-handed doing something embarrassing.

When she looks up, Blaise Zabini is right in front of her, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his perfectly-tailored suit and a smile on his face that tells her he knows exactly why she just almost jumped out of her skin.

Get it together, Ginny, she scolds herself. You’re the wedding photographer, for Merlin’s sake. You’re just doing your job. He can’t prove anything.

“Yeah, I got a good one,” she says with a polite smile, “Astoria expressly asked me to take some extra pictures of the friends and family today. I think she’s making an album.”

Blaise snorts, and his smile softens for a moment. “Sounds like her.”

His response piques her curiosity a little bit. “Are you close with the family?”

“I suppose.” He smiles at her, something sly that makes her feel like they’re sharing a secret. “We’re all pretty tight-knit.”

Ah. So he’s aware of it too, hm?

“I can tell.” Ginny looks around again. “People stick together.”

Blaise sighs. “People are obsessed with the comfort zone.” He scrutinises her face for a moment, and Ginny has to think of ice water to keep from getting flustered. This man has a very intense gaze.

Shark eyes, she thinks to herself.

“Not you, though, aren’t you?”

It’s supposed to be a compliment, she thinks, but it feels undeserved. “I’m not so sure,” she tells him honestly, “If that was really the case, maybe I wouldn’t be standing behind a screen the entire time.” She holds up her camera.

Blaise hums softly, a deep, warm sound. Unexpectedly, Ginny feels something inside of her light up.  

“But you’re brave,” he presses, “With that, uh… Gryffindor spunk?”

She laughs, and he smiles like that was what he was angling for in the first place.

“I guess. At least I can be honest about it. Not sure if that’s the Gryffindor spunk, but well.”

“So maybe it’s the Weasley?”

She arches an eyebrow at him. “I’d like to think it’s the Ginny.”

He tilts his head. “Fair enough. It’s admirable, in any case.” He grins. “And kind of sexy.”

She laughs again, the flame inside of her glowing brighter. She wonders if that’s how love works – if a sun like Neville and Astoria makes all the other stars brighter too. Maybe she’s getting swept up in the atmosphere. But…

She looks over Blaise curiously. “Smooth,” she teases.

He’s still smiling at her, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. “I tend to speak my mind.”

“I like that.”

“Good. Can I get you something to drink?”

She can’t help but laugh again. She likes how obvious he’s being about it. It’s bold.

“Sure,” she says, “But no alcohol. I’m on the job.”

“Ah, yes,” he grins, “We can’t have you distracted now, can we, miss Weasley?”

“Thank Merlin I have an iron will.”

He chuckles. “We’ll see about that.”

She stares straight back at him, issuing a challenge. “Don’t tempt me.”

***

The next wedding sucks.

And, no, it’s not because things didn’t work out between Blaise and her. That has nothing to do with it. It’s fine. She’s fine.

It’s not even like it lasted very long. They dated for three months, then were together for eight. That’s less than a year. Nothing to write home about.

Of course, that had been one of the biggest issues: home. She hadn’t expected her parents to be so against her dating Blaise. He continuously made a bad impression on them. It was in the way he talked, the way he walked, the things he did, the things he said… Blaise and her family just didn’t match.

She didn’t do much better with his family. Lady Zabini is an incredible woman in her own right, but she definitely can’t stand Ginny’s attitude.

But that should have been fine. If it were real, they could have worked around it. Instead, they just fell apart.

Maybe we don’t want the same things in life, was their conclusion, maybe we’re too different.

Now, almost a full year later, she can admit that maybe they are too similar. Both too stubborn for their own good. Both too fucking scared of all of it. The real commitment, the intimacy, the vulnerability. Maybe it wasn’t that it didn’t work, it was just that they weren’t…

They weren’t ready.

But how the fuck were they supposed to know that?

It doesn’t matter. It didn’t work out. It happens. It’s fine.

Ginny lifts up her camera and takes a picture of her parents, the biggest traitors in history, who are laughing and chatting with Pansy in her gorgeous white dress. Pansy managed to do what Blaise couldn’t: she completely won over the Weasleys, despite her Slytherin heritage.

It probably had something to do with Percy’s attitude as well. Percy saw the way her parents treated Blaise, and when he started dating Pansy he wouldn’t stand for that kind of behaviour. He refused to talk to them until they gave her a fair chance. Ginny remembers a family dinner which ended in a very uncomfortable screaming match. When it came down to it, Percy had screamed that it didn’t fucking matter whether Pansy was a bitch or not. She was his. And if they could accept him for who he was, they very well could except the girl he loved as well. And that was that.

That night, Ginny kept her mouth shut. She regrets that more than anything. But maybe the fact that her parents didn’t like Blaise was just the perfect excuse not to bring him home to them. Not to let him get that close.

Frustrated, Ginny grabs one of the nearby waiters and downs a flute of champagne. These days, she kinds of hates herself.

She can forgive herself for the shitshow that was her relationship with Blaise Zabini. She can forgive herself for her mistakes. She can even be proud of what she’s learned from the whole experience. She knows more about who she is and what she wants now than ever before.

She just can’t stand that she’s still so fucking sad about it.

She locks eyes with Blaise over the rim of her empty champagne flute and for a moment the world stops turning. They look at each other. He arches one of his perfect eyebrows, and she remembers the moment she told him that she doesn’t drink on the job like it happened three minutes ago. She flushes in shame.

But fuck him, honestly.

She represses the urge to flip him off, hopes she conveys the emotion with her gaze, and walks the fuck away.

She absolutely hates that they now move in the same circles more than they did before. Since Pansy and Percy got engaged, every party she’s been to has seen a number of Slytherins that she would have never been able to predict hanging out with. Moreover, they’re great. They’re fun. People are falling in love all over the place. It’s kind of beautiful. But it would be so nice to just not see Blaise for a little while.

He knows her better than she would like, so she knows he’s aware that she hasn’t been doing great since their break-up. Sure, she’s been going to therapy, which was about fucking time, and that’s been very helpful, and she’s been learning a lot about herself, but it’s all been so exhausting and it shows. It shows on her face, it shows in her art, it shows in the state of her relationships. She’s lost a bunch of friends rather suddenly, but she’s kept the important ones close-by (Luna has been an actual saint) and she thinks that’s fine for now. Weirdly, she’s grown pretty close to Percy through it all.

He’s a little bitch, of course, and doesn’t let her get away with anything, but he sticks around anyway. And that’s just how her brother is, she supposes. She’s pretty sure he’s really annoyed with her most of the time, but he’s there anyway. He picks her up for brunch. He responds to the memes she sends him. He lets her make one harsh comment about Blaise every few weeks, and if she tries to do more he tells her to stop deflecting and take some responsibility for her life. It stings, but it’s a sting she welcomes. She needs a Percy in her life.

Just one, though. That’s enough. And sometimes, she really needs a break.

She takes a picture of him now, standing with some of his friends near the back of the room. He has a good, solid smile on his face, one that makes him look like their dad, and he’s clearly enjoying himself. She’s happy for him. The ceremony went well. Pansy looks like a fucking dream. Everyone’s behaving themselves. She might actually be the biggest problem factor at the entire event, nursing her little grudges, and she feels like she’s done a decent job of keeping that under wraps.

She glances at Blaise again. He’s talking to a woman at the bar, and she hates him. She hates it. She hates this. She hates that she cares. The woman is gorgeous. Maybe she should walk over there and hit on her. That would be a double win – hot lady and sticking one to her ex.

She doesn’t like the bitterness of her own thoughts, and represses the itch to get more alcohol in her system. It’s her brother’s wedding. She’s not going to get smashed. He deserves better, and she’s definitely not going to give Blaise the satisfaction.

She points her camera at Percy again, but he’s already looking at her with a frown on his face, annoyance flashing across his features.

Ginny looks down in surprise, wondering if she spilled something on her dress or something, but she looks fine. Still, when she looks back up, Percy is stalking towards her.

He didn’t read her mind, did he? No. No, he can’t do that. He doesn’t have the… Can he do that?

“You’re doing that thing,” he accuses her when he reaches her.

“What thing? I have several things.”

They’ve done in depth analyses of all of them. Him, accusing her of being a brat. Her, impatiently explaining to him that some coping mechanisms and behavioural patterns aren’t pretty. All over a bottle of whiskey in the middle of the night.

She’d never imagined she would one day be the closest to Percy out of all of her brothers. But here they are.

Percy shoves his hands into his pockets. “The thing where you look like you’re trying to set someone on fire by sheer force of will.”

She is trying to set someone on fire by sheer force of will.

But she’s not going to admit that to him.

“Come on, you couldn’t pick out a look like that from all the way over there, that’s ridiculous. At most you saw me glaring a little bit.”

Percy doesn’t let up on his accusatory stare, so Ginny shows him the palms of her hands in defeat.

“Look, I’m trying, okay? I’m doing alright, aren’t I? I’m not bothering anyone. You’re the only one who picks up on these things. And you can’t tell me that you’re not having the time of your life. You’re practically glowing.”

He is. He looks healthier than he has in years. Pansy makes him wear fashionable glasses, and he has leaned into all the better aspects of himself since they got together. Now, having just married her, he looks proud and satisfied, like a cat in the sun.

“As you should, by the way.” Ginny nods her head in Pansy’s direction. “She looks like a dream.”

He follows her gaze. “She does, doesn’t she?”

Percy smiles like he has a secret. Ginny wants to shake him until he shares it. Instead, she focuses on how seeing him happy kind of makes her happy too.

She nudges him with her elbow. “I’m fine. I’m not setting anyone on fire. Go dance with Mrs Parkinson-Weasley over there.”

He looks back at her, but she can tell he’s already halfway to Pansy’s side. “Don’t set anyone on fire,” he warns her.

“Promise,” Ginny grins.

She doesn’t set anyone on fire after that. If she’s still thinking about it, no one else calls her out for it. She gets through the night, her brief chat with Percy fuelling her determination to be okay for him. This is not the time and place to wallow. Maybe the time for wallowing is pretty much over in general. Maybe it’s time for her to finally take the next step towards growth by letting go of some of this bitterness over that one failed relationship.

Perhaps she could meet someone new.

***

She probably would have been alright after that if it weren’t for Blaise motherfucking Zabini.

Initially, she’s off to a great start. By the end of Percy and Pansy’s wedding, she had taken one picture of Blaise, where he was smiling into the camera with his arm around Theo, and she’d given him a brief nod to let him know it turned out the way she knew he liked. He was nearly floored by the gesture, she’s pretty sure, but he nodded back. That was progress.

After that, it was almost like they could become friends. At the very least acquaintances. She had lost contact with most of their mutual friends at that point, but she ran into him when she wanted to show up for Percy. Percy had practically disappeared into Pansy’s friend group at that point. The only person he really stayed close with outside of them and his direct family was Oliver. Of course, it helped that Oliver and Marcus finally stopped bullshitting each other and admitted that their rivalry was perhaps more of a romantic-tension thing than anything else by that point.

But for Ginny it mostly meant that she spent a night every few weeks in the presence of Blaise and maybe six to ten other people. Pansy and Percy had moved after their wedding, but their new place was only slightly bigger than their former one, so there really was no avoiding each other on nights they hung out.

It helped with some of the lingering bitterness. But it also kept him in her orbit. And that just made it very clear that Blaise Zabini? He’s impossible to forget.

Every time she wasn’t annoyed with him, she liked everything that came out of his mouth. When they bantered, she felt alive. When he looked her up and down as she entered the room, she couldn’t keep herself from grinning.

She missed him.

That wasn’t new. She knew that she missed him. It didn’t mean anything. At least, it didn’t change anything. They didn’t work. She realised why. She missed him. She wasn’t falling for anyone new. The facts weren’t great, but not a threat in any way.

Except that some nights, when she was more sober than she would have liked to admit afterwards, that feeling of missing him crossed the line into exceptionally dangerous territory.

I want him, she’d admit to herself, I want him for myself again.

During nights like that, it was especially nice to have Oliver there. She could distract herself by bringing up Quidditch with Oliver and Marcus and then the night would fly by. In the end, they grew rather close.

So, yes, of course, when Oliver asked her to do the photography for their wedding, she happily agreed.

So here she is at another wedding.  

Admittedly, she’s having a pretty great time. Oliver and Marcus decided to have their wedding on a small island off the coast of Scotland, underneath the wide open sky. There isn’t a theme, but, just like with Neville and Astoria’s wedding, Ginny manages to find something like a theme – freedom. Both men flew into the ceremony on their brooms. There are aerial artists at the reception. The air smells of salt and seaweed and a hearty wind has been blowing through the clusters of guests since the moment they stepped onto the island.

Some of the guests are complaining, running after hats or constantly brushing their hair out of their faces. But most of them are enjoying breathing a little deeper than normally, feeling the fresh ocean air fill up their lungs and making their minds expand beyond the walls they usually find themselves enclosed in.

The wind makes Ginny’s job a little harder, since it’s hard to catch people being photogenetic with hair in their faces, but she likes a challenge. Moreover, with conditions like these, the good shots she does take aren’t just good – they’re brilliant.

She’s caught Oliver and Marcus a couple of times, grinning brightly and holding hands. They fit each other so well that it perplexes her sometimes. Every time that happens, she feels her gaze wander, looking for the shark-eyed man who recalibrates her sense of gravity.

She tries not to. It’s just so hard not to indulge – Blaise looks like a Greek hero, briefly sequestered on some island or other while he is on his way back home to Athens. The ceremony was in the morning, at eleven, so the party is in the middle of the day. Although the sky isn’t as blue as it was this morning, instead turning a cloudy light-grey, the day is still warm and as wonderful as they could have hoped for. The island is rocks and weeds, mostly, so sand isn’t much of an issue, and since the island isn’t lived on, it’s like they’re out in a piece of wildness.

Blaise has taken off his jacket, like most of the men who are bothered by the heat and inspired by the free feeling on the island. Most of the women have taken their heels off and are walking around bare-foot. It’s like they’re all letting their hair down and taking a break from social conventions, even while politely asking after each other’s families and addressing people by their formal titles.

She catches someone teasingly calling Neville ‘professor’ and looks over to see him grinning at Hannah, who is holding Millicent’s hand. With a smile, Ginny brings up her camera and snaps a picture of them.

Then she returns her attention to Blaise.

He’s grinning with Draco and Adrian. Adrian and he are bare-footed already, and Draco is toeing of his shoes, leaning against Adrian to keep his balance. Marcus calls out a jab to them and Draco flips him off good-heartedly.

Blaise looks up and catches her gaze like he was expecting her to be looking at him.

“Gin!” he calls out, making her chest ache, “Please, this has to be memorialised!”

Ginny pushes through the pain and laughs, taking a photo of Draco stumbling around with one shoe and a stark white sock in his hand. Blaise lets out a cackle just as she takes it, and when she checks the picture her eyes are immediately drawn to the perfect, joyful expression on his face. No matter what he’s doing, she has never managed to take a bad picture of this stupidly photogenetic asshole.

The second she sees the picture, she knows she’s going to cherish it. Something about this feels right. She’s here with her friends and family, and everyone is happy, and the air is as fresh as the first day of the world.

She loves him, she realises. It’s all very simple suddenly. She loves him.

And, with that, everything doesn’t feel so right anymore. Because even though they’re all here, together, and Blaise is right there for her to smile at and touch, and she loves everyone, and she loves him, she isn’t with him. They’re just existing in the same space.

Tears blur her vision and she flinches. Panic shoots through her at the thought of everyone being able to see, so she whips her hair in front of her face with a nod and backs away from the scene, her fingers shaking. She needs more air.

Ginny walks briskly towards the edge of the party, where the people are more spread out and engaged in deep conversations. She finds a nice rock and sits down on it, pretending to look through the images on her camera while she tries to find her bearings.

Well fuck. This is just excessive, isn’t it? Love him? When the fuck did that happen?

Somewhere between spending a year in his arms and another year wanting him back, she guesses. Still, aren’t you supposed to notice when you start loving someone? She definitely didn’t start just now. So why hasn’t she noticed before?

Fuck. It doesn’t matter. It’s going to take a while for her to process this. The best thing she can do right now is gather herself up and get back to the party. She’s going to have to put this off.

Ah, crap, Percy is going to have a field day with this.

“Are you alright?”

Blaise is frowning down at her, his hands shoved into his pockets, looking wind-swept and perfect.

Of all the goddamn times for him to be considerate…

“Hm?” she says, frantically trying to get her erratic heartbeat under control.

He purses his lips. “You alright?” he repeats.

She forces a smile. “Yup. Lovely ceremony, didn’t you think?”

She couldn’t make it more obvious that she’s trying to change the subject, but if he’s in a considerate mood, then maybe-

“Cut the crap, Ginny.” He sits down beside her, cocking his head in her direction. “What’s wrong?”

Ah, hell.

“I don’t want to get into it.” She returns her attention to her camera.

He nudges her. “You can talk to me.”

There’s something weird about his voice, so she looks back up at him. The wind blows her hair into her face, obscuring him. But she can make out the expression on his face – it matches his tone.

Nervous. A little hopeful.

Her lips part in surprise, and suddenly she is all ears for whatever he has to say. The monster of hope roars up in her chest, threatening to swallow her whole.

“Why?” she asks, “Do you have something you wanted to talk about?”

Blaise freezes for a moment and then glances to the side, in the direction of their friends and family. He’s getting somewhere, though. She can tell.

“I’ve been thinking,” he finally says, looking back at her. Now that he’s made up his mind, he completely zones in on her. From one moment to the next, it’s like the rest of the world around them doesn’t exist anymore.

He has a look on his face that she remembers very clearly. He’s hovering right on the edge of vulnerability – of letting her in. Most of their relationship had been spent dancing on that knife’s edge.

But this time, he does something that he has never done before: he takes a shaky breath and plunges right off that edge.

“Can we try this again?” he asks, his expression open and pleading, “Us?”

Something inside of her is pulled taut. “You’ve been thinking about that?”

“Yes.”

There’s no hesitation or reluctance in his expression. She traces the lines of his face with her eyes, looking for anything even remotely unsure. Despite how he may present himself, Blaise is an overthinker. He overcompensates for his insecurities by pretending to be sure about things.

But right now…

She’s learned to read him, over the years. She’s seeing nothing of that now.

He’s serious.

The corners of her mouth turn up into a smile as hope turns into elation. “Yes,” she tells him.

His gaze flits across her face, and she knows he’s looking for the same things she was looking for just now. He won’t find any. She’s never been more sure about anything in her life.

“Yes,” she repeats, reaching out to take his hand. And because he has shown her how to do it, she lets her walls down for a second and squeezes his hand. “Please.”

A smile similar to her own unfurls on his face and he grips her hand more tightly. “Yeah?”

“Absolutely,” she states with a nod. She starts laughing.

He reaches for her like he can’t stop himself, pressing his hand into her cheek and scooting closer towards her so he can press their foreheads together, his fingers tangling in her hair.

Ginny laughs again, so overwhelmingly happy in that moment. She turns her head to press her lips to the palm of his hand, then moves back to press her forehead square against his.

She’s still holding his other hand. She never wants to let it go.

She’s not going to.

***

“Smile,” he whispers into her cheek, his hand pressing against her lower back.

“My jaws hurt,” she complains, but her lips curve up into a smile anyway.

She listens to Blaise chuckle while she poses for the camera, trying not to flinch when the flash goes off. The photographer looks at the image for a moment and then sticks up his thumb with a grin. Ginny gives him a polite nod and turns to Blaise as he walks away.

“That shot did not need a flash.”

Blaise smiles at her and tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “You can lecture him tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow, I’m going to be lounging in a pool in Italy,” she corrects him, brightening up at the thought.

“Tomorrow, you’ll be passed out until three,” he correct her in turn, grinning at her.

She elbows him for the innuendo she knows is in there, but he’s right. Even if they do nothing but sleep tonight, she’s going to be absolutely floored tomorrow. All of the preparations have taken a bigger toll on her than she expected, and this day is very wonderful, but also very long.

Worth it, though.

She places a hand on Blaise’s cheek, looking at him while his gaze glides over their surroundings. People seem to be having fun, at least. The twins are drunk, which is rude, she supposes, but she just thinks it’s great. Plus, it’s hilarious to see their genuine interactions with all of Blaise’s stuck-up cousins. She’s pretty sure they’ve pranked at least three of them already.

She joins Blaise in his surveillance of the scene. They’re standing in the middle of their own backyard, where a dance floor has been put out, surrounded by fairy lights that her father insisted on buying for them. She kicked off her shoes before their first dance and Blaise keeps playing with her hair, which probably looks nothing like the elegant up-do that Fleur helped her with earlier that day.

She has never been happier in her life.

Everyone is there. Every single couple she’s ever photographed for, all of their family, their friends… Even Lady Zabini has a small smile on her face now, despite her company. She insisted on paying for the entire wedding, so Blaise and Ginny decided to have it in their backyard to spite her. Although Lady Zabini has come around to Ginny since she and Blaise got back together, she’s still stupidly hoity-toity about power and status when it comes down to it, and isn’t too happy about her son marrying into the Weasley family.

Well, she’ll have to get used to it. Against all odds, Blaise is a Weasley now.

And she’s a Zabini.

 She looks back at her husband – her husband – and lets that sink in for another moment. Before she’s through, one of Blaise’s cousins has come up to congratulate them personally, and she’s swept back into polite conversation. As soon as the guy leaves, she groans and scrunches up her nose.

“We should have eloped.”

Blaise fondly rolls his eyes at her. “You’re the one who didn’t want to.”

“I’m an idiot.”

I told you that you’d hate a big wedding.”

“I don’t hate it. I love it. I would just also love to sit down.”

He shakes his head at her and her gaze drifts down to the new ring on his finger. After months and months of planning, today finally came. The ceremony is over. She’s all set. For life. It’s incredible.

Blaise pulls her against himself and presses a kiss to her crown. “I told you,” he says again.

She sighs. “Fine. You were right.”

“I usually am.”

               She sticks out her tongue at him. Behind her, she hears the click of a camera. She turns her head to spot the photographer, not able to resists checking whether he’s doing an okay job. But Blaise catches her and sweeps down to kiss her. He doesn’t hold back either – he kisses her thoroughly, until some of the guests start cheering and whistling at them. Then he pulls back and kisses the tip of her nose before standing up straight again with a satisfied grin.

She can’t help but laugh at him. Ridiculous, perfect man.

“Let the man do his job,” he teases her.

“I am!”

“You’re hovering.”

She gasps. “You take that back.”

“It’s true.”

“Goddammit.”

He’s right. She needs to let this go. The next wedding she attends, she’ll be able to take her own pictures again. She’ll use all of the tools she likes best and play with the light and look for the best angles. She’ll have her settings just right and will get down into the dirt to get that perfect shot. For now, she just has to enjoy her own wedding for a change. It’s going to be the last one she’ll ever have, if it’s up to her.

She smiles at her husband. “Well, then, Zabini. How about you distract me?”

“Am I a joke to you? What have I been doing for the past hour?”

“Your best, I’m sure.”

“Ohohohoho… You did not.”

He pulls her against him, making her laugh, and drags her back onto the dance floor for another lazy waltz. She presses her cheek against his chest and closes her eyes, feeling the heat of his body against hers, the thump of his heart; her favourite sound. Around them, the party goes on, filling the evening air with drunken laughter and laid-back conversations. Blaise is humming along with the song, his chin on top of her head. Everything settles into place for a brief moment.

According to some people, time isn’t real, so this moment will last forever. Even when the night passes and she gets on a plane to Italy, holding her husband’s hand. When she spends the next few weeks lounging in his arms and making him feed her grapes and bruschetta. When they wake up on a Sunday morning twenty years from now. When she’s old and brittle and every memory she’s ever had begins to fade.

She will still be right here. With him.

[razorblade180]

Melody of Emotions au

*A giant white sandy beach in some strange place. The stars are out and shining brilliantly as a massive bonfire illuminates the area. Countless RWBY confusingly appear here*

Yang:Uhhhh where the hell are we?

Raven:Yang?

Yang:Mom? What are you doing here?

Raven:How should I know? Where is “here” anyways?

Weiss: *looking around* Well this is unexpected. Also way more random than usual.

Winter:*behind her* Are you telling me there’s things that happen like this to you regularly?

Weiss:Winter!? You’re here?

Winter:I’m not the only one. *points to Whitley and their father a couple feet away*

Weiss:Oh boy.....

Nora:Look Ren, we finally made it to the beach!

Ren:Yeah but, what beach exactly?

Jaune:Sigh, another day of shenanigans. I’d like to sleep in for once.

“Long time no see Jauney boy...”

Jaune:*sees Cardin*...........I hate this already. This place is hell.

Nora:J...Jaune? Did we all die because... *turns him around*

Pyrrha:.........H...hello again.

Jaune:........*eyes widened* what is going on?

*Mercury and Emerald walking around*

Mercury:Anyone else really confused here?

Emerald:I recognize just about every here. You think Cinder is here?

Mercury:Probably not.

Cinder:I’m right behind you....

Mercury:*jumps* Gah! Don’t sneak up on people!

Emerald:Cinder!!!! Where are we?

Cinder:I haven’t the foggiest clue. It seems though this place doesn’t care about the rules of life or death. *points ahead*

Roman:Woah! You miss me kiddo?

Neo:*hugging him and crying her eyes out*

Yang:Ruby!!!! You around here somewhere? R- *sped away with her mom and brought to a group of friends and family*

Ruby:*letting them go* This place is crazy! I’m finding so many people. *dashes off *

Blake:*stands with her family, Sun, Neptune and Ilia* she’s been doing that for awhile. By the way everyone this is my family.

Ghira:Hello....

Kali:Nice to meet you all.

Sun:Uh Blake, don’t look know but.....

Blake:*Adam walking over* How!?

*everyone reaches for their weapon to realize they don’t have them*

Adam:Don’t waste your energy; I’m just as confused as you are.

*Ruby comes back with Qrow, Tai, and Oscar*

Raven:Boys....

Qrow and Tai:Raven....

Ruby:Okay I think that’s everyone import-

“Salutations friend Ruby!”

Ruby:.........

Penny:*standing behind her smiling*

Ruby:I’m going to turn around and when I do you better actually be there. *tearing up* because I’m gonna be really upset if-

Penny: *hugs her* I missed you....

Ruby:*tears run down her face* This has to be a dream. If so I don’t want to wake up either.

Oscar:Oz where are we?

.......

Oscar:Oz?

Qrow:Uhhh kid? I don’t think he’s in your head. *looking at Ozpin and Glynda hug it out right next to team CFVY*

Raven:*screams* CAN SOMEONE TELL US WHAT IS HAPPENING!?

*silence over the entire beach*

“Stop screaming....”

Raven:Who the hell said- you too....?

Summer:Uhhh hey everyone? Long time no see?

Ruby:........

Summer:Hey squirt, you’ve grown like a wee- *tackled to the sand*.......

Ruby:*weeping* You’re.....you’re here.

Summer:*holding her* I am my little rose bud. Good to see you again.

Tai:This place wants to throw any other surprises at us?

*Ozma in front of the fire*

Ozma:Give it time.....

Qrow:*looking at Oscar, Ozpin, and Ozma* Okay I need answers in the next minute before I lose it. I feel like I’m poisoned again.

Tyrian:*in the distance with the rest of Salem’s crew* That could be arranged!

Qrow:Why are you here!? Why is any of them here.

Salem:*groaning* I remember this stupid place. Of course this place still exist.

Watts:Which is what exactly?

Ozma:It’s a small magical world that exist outside the rules of remnant. It brings in whoever it wants from time to time. *eyes darting around* Looks like it’s a bunch this time. Hello Salem, I missed you.*smiles*

Salem:Don’t act like we’re on good terms here.

Ozma:Wasn’t talking to you.

*Salem as a human walks pass her and into Ozma’s arms*

Salem: Hello my love, it’s been ages! *kisses him*

Salem:Of course she’s here too.....

Jaune:Not that I’m complaining but why are we suddenly reunited and meeting everyone we know.

Ozma:For this worlds amusement.

Velvet:I don’t like the sound of that.

Ozma:This world only craves one thing. The honesty of the heart.

Villains:*groan loudly*

Whitley:So what exactly does that mean? Is this a giant confessional?

Ozma:Yeah but you can’t just say what you mean.....

*instrumemts form around the fire*

Raven:Oh no....

Weiss:Oh yes!!!!! *grinning*

Ozma:In here everyone can hold a note, perfect pitch, musically gifted, etc.... because you have to sing. I do mean everyone *points at Neo*

Neo:......

Roman:Hey, try saying something.

Neo:Cinder’s a bitch....

Cinder:I hate this place.

Mercury:And if I refuse to sing!?

*bonefire erupts to a pillar of flames and bloody screams*

Everyone:*slowing stepping away*

Mercury:Okay! Message received!!!!

*turns back into a majestic bonfire*

Salem: Rules are simple; bonfire gives a criteria and you have to meet it if you’re chosen. We then vote on your performance honestly to decide if it was good. Unless the rules dictate otherwise like only having to impress one person.

Ozma:Don’t know how long we’ll be here but there’s always a prize that it gained when returning home. An extremely lucky break.

Vernal:Some of us are dead!!!!

Amber:My luck is all out...

Pyrrha:Same....

Adam:Kinda serves no purpose.

Ozma:I’m dead too in this form. However, who’s to say by some miracle I can’t look like this again? Just because you may be gone doesn’t mean your hopes or dream have to die.

Pyrrha:So if I wanted my team to be become strong and remain safe.....

Ozma:They might catch a lucky break in a fight that should’ve killed them. They might even get revenge for you in a flawless win.

Cinder:*slight panic* (This world is dangerous)

Adam:No amount of luck is gonna make my goal a reality. Only one person had the resolve to see it through and it was me. Now I’m dead on some ledge.

Sienna:*laughing in the background*

Blake:Actually you fell in the water....

Adam:What?

Yang:Yeah you hit your head on the way down and landed in a deep river. Pretty sure you’re dead. He’s dead right? Right!?

Raven:I don’t know; you really left it vague and up to chance didn’t you?

Cinder:Should’ve looked for a body.

Adam:*completely motivated* I guess today might be my lucky day. You guys can’t actively vote against me either!

Yang:I’ll doubt you’ll impress anyone.

Blake:He already knew how to play guitar and sing.

Yang:Fuck......

Ozma:One final thing. If you sing along or help with someone’s performance you automatically saying you like the song. It’s very easy to get persuaded to sing here so putting on a good show can only help you.

Coco: What if everyone hates your performance?

Salem: Nothing good.......*stares at the fire* please don’t suck.

Ozma:That’s all I really know about this place. Everyone make a big circle around the fire and have a seat.

*everyone getting into position around people they know or tolerate*

Neptune:Why does this place have to be by the ocean?

Ilia:Stop being a pansy. No one is making you go in it. It’s actually very beautiful here; calming even.

Sun:Makes sense if you want people to be honest. Alright bonfire, show us what you got!

*the flames rise and forms words in the sky*

Sun:I didn’t think it could actually respond but okay.....

Ruby:Oooo I hope we get to sing fun songs. How hard can singing about your real emotions be?

Weiss:It’s not as easy as it looks. Especially if it’s about-

“First category: Songs pertaining love”

..........

Weiss:*sighs* Yep....this gonna be a long night.

[smolfelton]

Love, France - Part 19

1  ♡  2  ♡ 3  ♡  4  ♡  5  ♡  6  ♡ 7  ♡ 8  ♡ 9  ♡  10 ♡ 11 ♡ 12 ♡ 13 ♡ 14 ♡ 15 ♡ 16 ♡ 17 ♡ 18 ♡ 19 ♡ 20 ♡ 21 ♡ 22 ♡ 23 ♡ 24 (coming soon)

“I just don’t know what to do,” Draco groaned, slumped against the pale blue sofa. Luna sat beside him, listening as she sipped her tea. “Snape wants me to cut him off until after the runway, but I don’t think I can.”

“Then don’t,” Luna said simply, taking another sip.

“What?” Draco asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

“If you don’t want to cut him off, then don’t cut him off.”

“But- But-”

“How long have you been modeling now?” Luna asked.

“Since I was 18,” Draco answered. “So 7 years.”

Luna hummed and nodded, setting her teacup and saucer down onto the coffee table. Draco watched her out of the corner of his eye, trying to figure out what she was thinking. He had come over to take her advice, seeing as she was the smartest person he knew. He desperately wanted to speak to Harry, but refused to until he got a second opinion.

"Draco, you've been in the business for a long time. You have been focused on your work for years and your personal life has become almost non-existent. Maybe the time has come to focus on yourself. Find something, or someone, who makes you happy and stop worrying about what others think.”

Draco stilled. She was right, he knew. He didn’t have much time to himself nowadays, and only had so often to visit his friends. The only reason he saw Pansy and Luna so much was because Pansy was in the business as well and Luna only lived a few blocks from him. Other than seeing his friends or family, he never went out with anyone. The last time he had been on a real date was perhaps two years ago, and the press had been all over it.

“You’re right,” Draco said. “I... I think I’m going to tell him.”

“You mean about modeling?”

“He will understand... I hope,” his throat went dry at his own words.

No more secrets, Draco thought.

-

Draco hid part of his face behind his scarf as he pulled Harry behind him. He was so focused on staying hidden and not being recognised that he almost didn’t even realise that he and Harry were holding hands for the first time. Just thinking about it made him blush a little.

Despite the butterflies in his stomach, Draco was intent on not being noticed. Usually he wouldn’t mind being seen when he was alone, and would even sign a few autographs here and there or take a selfie with a fan. But the last thing he wanted was to be seen with Harry as well, and that wasn’t how he wanted the man to find out. He had to tell him himself.

“Where are we going?” Harry repeated after a few minutes.

“We’re almost there,” Draco said as they walked over the bridge.

Draco dragged him along until they reached his building, pulling him through the basement car park and to the stairs. He avoided the lift at all cost, though Harry eyed it for a moment, then looked to Draco with confusion as if he were wondering why they were taking the stairs instead. But he said nothing, simply allowing himself to be lead upwards.

They walked until they reached the 4th floor, which was also the very top, and Draco pulled him down the hall quickly. If any of his neighbours discovered who he was, it would be a disaster. He let go of Harry’s hand and took his key out of his pocket, quickly unlocking his flat and pulling Harry inside by his sleeve.

“Wait,” Harry said. “Is this where you live?”

“No, Potter,” Draco replied with a smirk as he closed the door behind them. “I just have a key to a complete stranger’s house and let myself in.”

Harry snorted out a laugh and looked around, his eyes wide as he took it all in. He seemed shocked, to say the least, and Draco couldn’t blame him. Even he could admit his flat was pretty luxurious.

“Would you like some tea? Or coffee, perhaps?” Draco asked and headed into the kitchen. Harry followed not too far behind him.

“Er, tea is good,” he said, still looking around with wonder. “What was it you said you did for a living? Business management, right?”

“That’s right.” Draco nodded as he set the kettle on the stove.

“What kind of business?” Harry asked.

“Um,” Draco felt a lump form in his throat. “It’s mostly clothes and beauty products. And I help with advertisement for the companies.”

It’s not a lie, Draco assured himself. I’m going to tell him more. I just need to find the right time. Maybe after a cup of tea.

“Go make yourself comfortable on the balcony,” Draco said quickly, not wanting Harry to ask him anymore questions about work. “I’ll be out in a moment.”

“You have a balcony?” Harry asked, his eyes wide with surprise. He quickly left at that, probably in search for said balcony. Draco couldn’t help but chuckle at the expression on the man’s face.

After a few minutes the tea was finally ready and Draco assembled a tray. He took a deep breath and walked to the balcony with it, sliding the glass door open with his foot. Harry stood there, leaning against the railing as he watched the sun just beginning to set. Draco sat the tray down in the table, closing the door behind him silently as he watched Harry.

The man was very handsome, even from behind. His shoulders were squared and strong-looking even from beneath his coat, and his hair was shaggy yet adorable at the same time. Draco admired him for a few seconds before coughing into his hand to get Harry’s attention.

Harry turned to him, a bright smile upon his face revealing the cutest dimples Draco had ever seen. His heart made a loud ‘thud’ noise in his chest, and his cheeks began to warm ever so slightly.

“I can see the bakery from here,” Harry said, pointing to the shop down below before sitting at the table with Draco.

“Indeed,” Draco said, pouring them both a cup. “It’s probably the best place around if you have a good sweet tooth. Although they’re a bit pricey.”

“You’re telling me,” Harry snorted. “That small cake I bought was the price of two full size cakes you could buy at the store.”

Draco shrugged and took a sip of his tea, thinking to himself. Alright, Draco. Just tell him now. You can do it.

“Man, the view is amazing here,” Harry said in awe as the sun began to set.

“Just wait for the lights to come on,” Draco chuckled with amusement. Harry seemed like a little kid, all bubbly and excited. It was a new side of him that made Draco happy to be able to witness.

The two sat and drank their tea for maybe fifteen minutes before the sun began to sink faster. The sky faded from blue to orange, pink, and purple until the stars finally began to show overhead. The city lights started to flicker on, and in the distance Draco could even see the Eiffel Tower light up as well.

Draco stole a glance at Harry and could feel his pulse rate speed up at the sight of him. His big green eyes were bright an shining with long eyelashes framing them, while his silly glasses reflected the lights from the city around them. His lovely, thick lips were parted ever so slightly, and a look of utter amazement was written plainly across his face.

“Wow,” Harry finally said as the sun disappeared. “So beautiful... You have the best view in the entire city, Draco.”

“You think that’s nice?” Draco asked, eyebrow raised and a smirk playing on his lips. “Just wait until our date at the tower. The view from there is the best.”

Harry smiled and ducked his head down. Even with the sunlight now gone, Draco could see the man’s cheek redden in the darkness. A cool breeze brushed past them, making Harry’s hair blow out of his face for a moment. It was only then that Draco noticed a scar on his forehead. He wanted to take a closer look and ask him where he got it from, but decided not to. He didn’t want to ruin the wonderful mood that had been set.

Okay, Draco. Now’s the time. Tell him.

Draco opened his mouth only to be cut off by a phone ringing. Harry shot Draco an apologetic look as he pulled it out and answered it. Draco tried not to listen, but guessed it was one of his friends that was on holiday with him. After a minute Harry finally hung up, stuffing the cell back into his pocket.

“Sorry, my friends were just wondering where I went off to,” Harry said and sighed. “I should probably be heading back now.”

“Alright,” Draco felt his heart drop to his stomach and stood along with Harry. “I’ll see you out. Or would you rather me walk you back to your hotel?”

Harry shook his head. “That’s okay, I’ll be fine.”

Draco nodded, escorting him inside and to the door. Before leaving, Harry stopped and turned to Draco, a small, shy smile gracing his gorgeous face.

“Thanks, Draco,” he said, his voice sincere. “This was nice.”

“Yes,” Draco agreed, heart thudding wildly in his chest. “See you Saturday?”

“Most definitely,” Harry said, biting his lip. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” Draco replied as Harry left, shutting the door behind himself gently. He stared at the white door for what seemed like ages, wishing that he could run after him and ask him to come back. But he didn’t. Instead, he sat on his parlor room sofa and buried his face into his hands.

I didn’t tell him, Draco thought with dread.

-

To everyone wondering, I’m actually not sure how far I plan on taking this series. At first I was going to end it after about 30 parts, but I guess that’s out the window. It’ll probably be somewhere from 40-50. Let’s see how it goes!

[writings-of-bored-gal]

Getting Hurt

Draco Malfoy x Reader

Word Count: 2467

Summary: Takes place in 6th year of Hogwarts. Her and Draco have been friends for years and she truly loves him, but his actions leave her questioning what she wants.

Author’s Note: I haven’t written Draco before so I was a bit nervous but he’s definitely a favourite of mine! This can also be relevant to someone from any house because I wanted it to be universal! As always, tag lists, requests and asks are open- Abby x

Masterlist

________________________

She sat on the cool grass, her hair blowing softly in the breeze coming from the Black Lake that also rustled the pages of the book in front of her. The early autumn sunlight warmed her skin, that was, until Draco decided to come and loom over her, blocking the sun and casting a long shadow. She didn’t give him the satisfaction of the the attention that he so obviously desired, so instead waited for him to sit down and join her on the grass.

Draco had been her friend for a long time, but recently he’d proved more difficult than usual. He had a lot going on, which she understood, but she felt as though he was hiding something more, something that she couldn’t uncover and couldn’t bring herself to ask him about.

“What’s wrong this time?” She asked instead, not taking her eyes from her book.

“I just received a letter from mother. Father’s being released from Azkaban.” Draco’s tone was solemn. It wasn’t the petty comment about Potter or Pansy that she’d been expecting, this was serious. She put the book down and looked at him properly for the first time in what felt like months. He looked older, more tired. She reached out and touched his hand, but he flinched away.

“I’m sorry, Draco.” She wrapped her arms around her legs, closing in on herself.

He watched her, her hair falling in front of her face as the light began to go down. He felt awful, watching her upset and closed off and knowing that he was the reason, but it also had to be. He couldn’t have her find out about his new role, and the dark mark on his arm would expose her to his secret.

Draco sighed and moved closer to her, earning him a weak smile in reply. His heart thawed at the gesture. He’d been in love with her for as long as he could remember, but refused to give into his feeling to keep her safe. She was too sweet, too kind, too innocent, to be entangled in his messy world of dark magic and family secrets.

“How does your mother feel?” She questioned him timidly, knowing that he’d either answer her honestly, or close himself off entirely and not talk to her for a week.

“She’s…” He hesitated, drawing her in, “She’s on edge. She knows that it won’t just be father in our home again, there will also be…”

“Death eaters.” She finished the sentence for him. The words hung in the air. The light had almost gone completely now. Draco sat in silence, staring out at the lake in front of him, the water strangely calming. She tentatively reached out, placing her hand on his. He held on, forgetting himself for a moment, but then relaxing. It felt good to share this burden.

“We should go back to the castle.” He whispered eventually, letting go of her hand. He missed the warmth immediately, but tried to hide it.

________________

“I can’t believe you’re actually going to that bumbling idiot’s party.” Draco scoffed. The snow had begun to fall, but none of it had actually settled on the ground yet. She’d been determined to stay warm despite Draco’s insistence that they go for a walk around the grounds, but he’d already made fun of her matching scarf and mittens.

“Well, it would be rude to reject an invitation from a teacher, whether he’s a bumbling idiot or not.” She sighed. “I was going to ask you to come with me but I’ll assume that the answer is a no?” She raised her eyebrows at him defiantly, and Draco couldn’t hide his shock.

They’d been friends forever, but they’d never been one another’s dates before, not even to the Yule Ball. She’d been asked by a Dumstrang boy and Draco had gone with bloody Pansy because he knew she didn’t like her and he wanted to make her jealous (which he thought had failed, but really she was seething when she saw them together). Their friendship had always seemed to be an excuse not to have anything romantically. They had a good thing going, so why should they make it more when it could get careless and chaotic?

But recently, she found herself longing for Draco. Every time they were alone together, she felt the need to comfort him, to make him feel better. She saw how tortured he was at the moment, and it just made her care for him more. She decided to take the chance.

“I’ll go if you really want me to.” He mumbled into his scarf.

“Really?”

“Yeah…” He said, raising his eyes a little to see her reaction, “You’ll need some intelligent company.” She smirked and playfully nudged his arm, but couldn’t help feel a little bit giddy that he’d agreed to come.

________________

She glared at him as Filch held him up by his collar in front of everyone. She’d made an effort tonight, and she looked pretty. Her hair hung in loose curls around her face and she wore a silvery blue dress that shone in the light. When she’d met Draco on the staircase, he’d hardly looked at her, making her bitterly disappointed.  

Draco was distracted. He had to go to the room of requirement again. His father had been sending him a letter everyday until this got done. Tonight would have been the perfect opportunity, if it hadn’t been for his commitment to Y/N. He’d hardly registered anything she said to him on the way there, and he’d ditched her whilst Cormac disastrously was attempting to flirt with her in a pathetic bid to make Granger jealous. He’d made it to a few classrooms outside of the Room before Flich and Mrs bloody Norris caught up to him.

She was ready to rescue him from Filch’s grasp until Professor Snape appeared, taking Draco out into the corridor by himself. She knew better than to follow straight away, so instead lingered at the party for as long as she could bring herself to, which was only really about 10 minutes.

She went out into the corridor, where the darkness enveloped her.

“Draco?”

“Piss off.” He grunted back. Her eyes adjusted and she saw him sitting on a bench next to one of the large windows, his head in his hands. She strode over to him, stopping just in front.

“I will not piss off.” She said, crossing her arms. Draco lifted his head and watched her. “You’ve acted atrociously tonight and I know something else is going on that you haven’t told me about and honestly, I don’t even care what it is anymore I just wish that you’d-”

“You look pretty.” Draco had barely listened to a word she’d been saying. He’d finally realised just how pretty she looked that night, despite how angry she looked now. Her dress looked even more silvery in the moonlight coming through the window, swishing as she spoke. She was wearing makeup, her lashes longer and her eyelids glittery.

“Compliments aren’t going to get you out of this, Draco. I mean really, you expect me just to follow you around and make sure that you’re not doing something stupid, although I mean-ugh you know what Draco I-oh!”

And suddenly he was kissing her. He couldn’t seem to stop himself, he stood up, took her by the waist and placed his lips on hers. It definitely shut her up. At first she was in shock, unable to respond, but eventually she gave in, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him back whole heartedly.

________________

She closed her eyes and tried to concentrate, but it was proving incredibly difficultly with Draco standing so close to her, smelling like apples and clean laundry.

“Y’know, I actually need this apparition license.” She smirked. “You’re proving to be quite the distraction.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” He matched her smirk mischievously, placing his hands on the back of her waist, kissing her cheek, making her gasp and giggle.

Draco smiled at his girlfriend, but his eyes followed Potter on the other side of the room.

Things were getting worse. Draco was now receiving letters from Bellatrix, with threats that would hurt not only him, but Y/N as well. He thought that she would be the one safe part of his life, but it was proving difficult, especially after the slip up with Katie Bell.

She tried to lose herself in him, but something still nagged at the back of her head. When they were alone, walking the grounds or hiding together in a a broom cupboard, things were fine. In those moments, they were a normal couple, but if other people were around, it felt as though Draco didn’t see her. He was too busy watching for danger, his eyes always suspicious.

And yet she loved him. She loved him more than she ever thought was possible. Everyday she was able to run her hands through his soft hair and look into his bright green eyes, she fell deeper and deeper in love with him.

He wanted to protect her. He wanted to push her away, and yet the last two months had been the best he could remember. When he’d gone home for Christmas, she’d written to him every single day. She knew something was wrong but wouldn’t give up on him the way that everyone else had seemed to. Draco refused to tell his family about the true nature of their relationship. They’d scold him fro getting distracted, but Narcissa caught on. She watched her son soften at each letter and the way he tried to hide this from everyone else.

A crack behind the two of them made them jump, making her laugh harder. Draco watched, her smile blinding him to the darkness of everything else going on, and he lost himself in her for the moment.

________________

“Professor what’s going on?” She demanded, marching into the hospital wing. She stopped short when she saw Draco, sleeping, blood across his chest. Her breath caught in her throat and she forced the tears that stung her eyes back down, at least whilst Snape was there.

“Mr Malfoy has been injured. It seems that the spell Sectumsempra was used causing him severe blood loss. He will need at least a few days in the hospital and I felt as though you should be informed.” Snape was cold, watching for her reaction, but she refused to give him one. Instead, she looked past him, not taking her eyes from Draco’s body where Madame Pomfrey was fussing around him.

“Thank you, sir.” She whispered. He nodded soberly and left.

The hospital was silent apart from footsteps. She walked over to the bed, sitting on one of the chairs that was placed next to the bed.

“You should get some sleep, Miss Y/L/N.” Madame Pomfrey whispered, looking at her with soft eyes.

“I don’t really see myself sleeping anywhere tonight, I’m afraid.” She smiled a little tearily and wiped her eyes with her sleeves, placing her other hand on top of Draco’s. It was frighteningly cold.

Draco’s eyes opened, just a little. He felt her hand on his and he closed them again. She was there. Of course she was. He opened his eyes again, slowly, so that they adjusted to the harsh light of the room. She sat on the chair, her head bent forward, sleeping, her eyebrows furrowed. Her hair was a mess, falling out of the bun that she had been wearing the day before. Draco smiled little, remember how he played with the loose strands next to her ears the afternoon before. He gently squeezed her hand, waking her up.

“Draco?” She asked sleepily, her hand leaving his to rub the sleep from her eyes.

“Y/N.” He breathed, his voice hoarse. “Can you grab me that glass of water?”

They sat quietly for a moment. Draco drank and she watched him, her hands unable to keep still in her lap.

“You’re not going to tell me what happened, even if I ask.” She shuffled closer to the best, gently playing with his hair, “I know something’s wrong Draco. It goes deeper than things with your family or at Hogwarts.” She waited for a response but didn’t get one so she continued. “I don’t need to know everything about you Draco, I let you have your privacy, but when something like this happens-“ Draco watched as a tear escaped her eye, landing on the pillow next to him. He hated himself for having caused it. Her voice turned to a whisper as she finished. “I just wish that you didn’t have to hurt this much.”

“I don’t hurt when I’m with you.” Draco took her hand and kissed it, so softly that she barely registered the gesture. He wanted to tell her, but he was scared. Scared that she’d hate him, even more scared that she would get hurt if she didn’t.  

She stayed with him all day, refusing to leave his side. She didn’t need to know what was wrong, she didn’t need to know, she just wanted to make it better.

________________

The castle was in chaos.

Death eaters ran, casting spells, destroying anything they could get their hands on. She grabbed some second years and shoved them towards the common room, pushing them into safety as quickly as she could.

It was then that she saw Draco, doing the crowds, running up as high and as fast as he could. She beckoned a friend over to take care of the younger students and ran after him.

“Draco!” She shouted up the stairs, but he carried on walking, pretending not to hear her in the crowd. She caught up to him and grabbed his shoulder. Her face was stained with grime and tear trails. Draco’s heart fell, but he had to do this now. He had to.

“Y/N-“

“Save the bullshit, Draco.” She spat at him, her words filled with such hate it made him flinch. “I know this is you. I know this is what’s been happening. I don’t know or care how you did it, but I need you to stop and see the damage it’s doing.” Her breath was shaky when she finally added. “Never come near me again, Malfoy.” He paused before turning away, darting up the stairs again. He wanted to scream. He wanted to tell her that he wasn’t the person that he was being forced to be, but he couldn’t.

He stopped on the stairs, watching her grab and 4th year and protect them from Greyback. She would always be good, and him not good enough, so he carried on up the stairs to finish what he had started.

Part 2  

[my-darling-luna]

Glitch Chapter 2

Glitch Masterlist

Summary- After three years at Hogwarts, Scarlett Dean thought that she was ready to take on another year. I mean how hard could it be, right? Wrong. So very wrong. Things turn sour when secrets are spilled and friends are made with those who she was told to stay away from.

--

  "I can't believe that it's here already." Lyra mumbled to Scarlett as the two made their way down to their dates together.

"I can't believe that Lukas had the guts to ask you out." Lukas was a quiet and nervous Durmstrang boy that had asked Lyra out two days before the big ball.

"He's actually really out going when you talk to him more than once." Lyra pointed out to Scarlett as the two of them carefully walked down the stone steps to decrease the chance of falling down in their heels. "Speaking of confusion, why did you say yes to Cormac? He's a complete tosser."

"Oh stop, please. I've already gotten the 'Cormac is a jerk' talk three times already from you and at least once from everyone else I told. He's...sweet; just a little misunderstood, maybe."

"Stop making excused for boys being jerks, they don't deserve it. Just admit that he's an awful bloke and move on." Scarlett watched as Lukas took Lyra's hand once they reached the bottom of the staircase. "See you in there!" She leaned in close and whispered in Scarlett's ear. "Remember what I said." The couple walked away with their arms hooked with each other. Standing on her tip toes to look over the crowd, Scarlett could barley see the edges of people's hair in the entrance to the Great Hall.

"Hey Lettie, you ready to go in?" Scarlett turned around to face the voice when it clicked what he had said.

"Don't call me Lettie." Cormac didn't even waver as he steered Scarlett to into the decorated hall.

Scarlett was sure that she almost froze when she walked into the Great Hall. She could feel her eyes widen as she took in every detail, from the glittering snowflakes to the ice sculptures in the corner which she was sure would be broken by the end of the night. The punch bowls were even in what looked like bowls made of ice and with cups that matched.

"You coming?" Scarlett jumped at Cormac's whisper in her ear. She was sure that it was supposed to sound sexy, but it rather scared her half to death.

"Yeah...yes, of course." She moved to the left side of the hall with Cormac as the two waited for the four champions and their dates to walk in. Padma and her date, Ron Weasley as Scarlett recognized him, moved to stand next to her.

"Isn't this just brilliant?" Padma squealed as the two girls hugged.

"Yes it is." Scarlett lowered her voice to whisper in her friend's ear. "What in the hell is Ron wearing?" Padma pulled back and gave a small shudder.

"I have no idea, but-" Padma was cut off by cheering and the large oak doors opening to let in the four champions. "Is that Hermione Granger?"

"With Viktor Krum?" Scarlett didn't realize that Cormac had, at some point, slithered his arm around her waist and tightened it at her question.

"No way, it can't be." Ron seemed to be convincing himself more than anyone else.

If an hour passed, or two, or three, Scarlett had no idea. The Weird Sisters came on maybe three songs ago and she couldn't even think straight with the volume of the singing and screaming from the crowd. She had previously pulled Padma away from the brooding Ron and Harry to come dance with her, her friends, and their dates. They spent the time since jumping around, laughing, and talking with each other before another song ended. As the cheers began to die down, Scarlett managed to pull out of Cormac's grip and tell everyone that she was going to take a breather. Pushing out of the crowd, she began to walk over to the tables when someone blind sided her.

"Bloody hell." She mumbled under her breath, steadying herself on her heels.

"Oh...um sorry." Scarlett looked at the boy her ran into her and immediately knew who he was. You were probably stupid or a muggle if you had no idea of the story of Harry Potter.

"It's okay, I guess. This was crazy cliche, like something that you would see in a Disney movie." She rambled and he nodded, his eyes flashing in recognition.

"You're muggleborn?"

"My mum is a muggle, don't know what my dad was." He didn't flash a sympathy smile, knowing from experience how much that made everything worse so he kept it in. "Don't feel sorry. I can't be sorry for something I don't know about. Anyways..." Harry awkwardly scanned the room.

"I- what's your name?" Scarlett barked a laugh which made Harry look at her with a weird look.

"I've sat across from you in Transfiguration for four years and you still don't know my name?" Harry flushed.

"Sorry, if it makes you feel better, I don't pay much attention in that class."

"I'm Scarlett Dean."

"Harry Potter."

"I know." Things soon became more awkward as time went by and Scarlett stepped back towards the group of students dancing. "Well I'm gonna go. Nice meeting you, Harry Potter." She turned around and shimmed her way back to her date and her friends to keep dancing.

"Hey mate, you done getting something to drink?" Ron asked from the table that they were sitting at and he began his walk back to get some punch.

***

    "I don't know if it's because I'm hung over or that the firewhiskey was switched out with Amortentia, but I never noticed how fit Draco was." Scarlett pressed the back of her hand to Lisa's forehead.

    "I thought you had something going on with Zacharias Smith?" Lisa pushed Scarlett's hand away from her forehead.

"Yeah, there is, but that doesn't mean that I can't look." Her brown eyes scanned the Slytherin boy up and down.

"Maybe you should go back to the dorms instead of going to class. You seem to be going through something." Mandy offered, but Lisa shook her head.

"I'm fine, I just think that looks wise, he's handsome, I mean, look at his hair." The five girls strained their heads to the boy turning to go into the opposite corridor.

"I'm thinking that his hair cannot be real. He really decided to pull out his four bottles of Sun In."

Lisa rolled her eyes at Padma's explanation. "Maybe this the push to get new friends."

"Oh please," everyone turned into the Transfiguration class and took their normal seats, "the only other person that would like to talk about Draco's hair is Pansy Parkinson and I wouldn't mess with that even if I was being payed four hundred galleons." Scarlett high fived Lyra under their two-seater desk. "Any letter from your mum?" Lyra whispered to Scarlett once all of their friends and classmates were not paying attention.

"No, but I'm not awfully surprised. I reckon that she's gonna send me something begging for forgiveness or something like that."

     "I'm still staying the summer with you, right?" Lyra tried to sound confident, but her voice wavered at the thought of being homeless for the summer. The Zabini family kicked out their only daughter through a letter on the day after the sorting. Lyra's pride caused her not to say anything to anyone about it until two weeks before the end of term. When she mentioned it to Scarlett, her friend refused to leave without her at her side for the rest of the summer. She sent a letter to her mother asking about it, but her mother said that she would be in America for the summer so it didn't matter. Every summer was the same, starting and ending with Scarlett's mum in America with another man that she met by her side.

"Yeah, of course." Scarlett clicked out of her thoughts. "I would never leave you alone." Lyra nodded, fear still engraved in her eyes at the thought of being homeless for a whole summer.

Padma opened her mouth when Harry Potter walked passed them and smiled right at the girl with blue eyes. "No way." She whispered, her dark brown eyes twinkling in the winter sun.

Lisa winked at Scarlett before she grabbed the girl's hand. "So...when did that happen?"

"Nothing happened." She lightly pulled her hand out of Lisa's firm grip. "We just ran into each other at the ball and introduced ourselves."

"I'm calling that you two are going to start something." Mandy stuck her nose in, more than excited to watch a romance that didn't include her. She didn't say it out loud, but she was very obviously scared of romantic relationships.

"Like I said, I just introduced myself, plus, you guys know that I fancy Cormac and we have something going there." The rest of the girls groaned.

"We told you that we don't like him." Lyra said, her protective nature jumped out in her voice.

"You guys just don't know him well enough. I'm sure that once you lot meet up, you'll be fine with him." Scarlett tried to console herself more than her friends, but it went unnoticed by the fake gagging group. "Oh come off it."

[drarry-fanfiction7]

The mistletoe

After so many years Draco should already know that he shouldn’t piss Pansy off, but, since he doesn’t now he had to suffer the consequences.

It was the week before Christmas break and Pansy was feeling extra inspired by the holidays when she decided to point her wand at Draco and now he had to walk around with a mistletoe hovering above his head.

“What do you mean this will only go away once I kiss the person I love?”

“I mean exactly that, darling” she smirked. “Next time, don’t piss me off.”

“But I don’t love anyone” Draco tried.

“Shut up, Draco, if you didn’t the spell wouldn’t have worked.”

She smiled at him and left him alone, in the Slytherin common room, with a mistletoe on top of his head.

_________________________________

When Draco got to the Great Hall the normal noise of the conversations faded. The Slytherins were smirking at him – Pansy had already told them everything, probably; the Gryffindors were trying not to laugh, but it wasn’t really working; and the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws were looking at him weirdly, but amused. Even the teachers were looking at him from the head table trying to understand what was in front of them.

Draco just raised an eyebrow, scowled and, with squared shoulders and head held high, headed to the Slytherin table.

“How are you, Draco?” Blaise smiled innocently.

“Good.”

“When are you going to get rid of that?” Pansy asked and Blaise laughed.

“Shut up, you two.”

That made Pansy and Blaise laugh even more and Draco asked himself the same question his friends had asked him before.

____________________________

For the rest of the week Draco walked around with the mistletoe, since he didn’t dare kiss the person he wanted to kiss.

“I can’t believe you didn’t get rid of that before the break” Pansy narrowed her eyes at him.

“I told you I don’t love anyone.”

“Shut up, Draco” she hugged him since the train was already ready to go. “We both know who you love.”

“Goodbye, Pansy, Blaise is already waiting for you.”

“Enjoy your holidays, darling.”

________________________________

Draco wasn’t sure if he would enjoy his holidays. He was one of the five only Slytherins that were staying at Hogwarts for the holidays and the other four were all younger than him.

After supper, Draco went to the library wanting to, at least, study in the holidays since there wasn’t much he could do. He was in the middle of a transfiguration essay when someone sat next to him.

“Whoever you are I’m not going to kiss you!” He said without looking up; he had already had some people going up to him offering a kiss because of the mistletoe.

“What makes you think I came here to kiss you, Malfoy?”

“What are you doing here, Potter?”

“I came here to study, hope you don’t mind.”

“Don’t let me stop you.”

They studied for some time, ignoring each other and focusing on the books and parchments in front of them.

“When is that going to go away?” Potter asked suddenly.

“What?”

“The mistletoe. It’s very distracting.”

“Why?”

Draco was really confused, not understanding what Potter was trying to tell him with this stupid conversation about the stupid mistletoe, but Potter started packing his things and got up before answering him.

“The answer to your question is that the mistletoe makes me want to follow the tradition” he grinned before exiting the library.

__________________________________

It was Christmas day and the students that had stayed at Hogwarts were having supper together, all sitting at the Hufflepuff table.

“Can I sit here?” Potter asked behind him.

“If you want to” Draco shrugged.

Harry smiled a little and sat next to him, starting a conversation with the Ravenclaw boy in front of him.

“Potter” Draco called when they had almost finished supper.

“Yes?” Harry looked at him.

“The other day in the library… what did you mean?”

“What did I mean when I said what?”

“Stop being difficult, you prat!”

“I mean exactly what I said… Draco.”

“Can people stop saying that?” He muttered. “And since when are we on first names basis, Potter?”

“You better get used to it and start calling me Harry.”

“You didn’t answer my question!”

“You know what I meant.”

“If I knew I wouldn’t be asking.”

Harry grinned and got closer to Draco in order to whisper on his ear.

“I meant that I want to kiss you and that that mistletoe on top of your head is making it harder to ignore the urge.”

Harry saw Draco blush and tried to hide his smile behind a spoon full of desert.

______________________________________

Harry was near the lake watching the sunrise; he had gotten up early just to watch it, the beautiful colours of the sun shining shyly and reflecting on the snow calmed him.

The sound of the snow crunching under footsteps made him rise his head and look at the place the sound had came from. He was surprised to see Draco appear in his view, but his lips curved into a smile when he saw the boy’s nose and cheeks red from the cold, making him look adorable.

“I didn’t know someone was here” he said once he was close enough for Harry to hear.

Draco moved his hand to take the hair out of his eyes and Harry’s eyes were drawn to the mistletoe above his head and his heart warmed with hope seeing that the blond boy hadn’t kissed anyone yet.

“Come sit with me” Harry smiled at him. “We can watch the sunrise together.”

“The sun has already raised, Potter.”

“I don’t care, just sit with me.”

Draco raised an eyebrow, but sat next to Harry anyway and looked at the view with a little smile on his face.

“I see you still haven’t done anything about that” he pointed at the mistletoe.

“Good to know your eyes work.”

Maybe if it was some years ago Harry would have answered in a different way, but now he couldn’t feel offended and he didn’t have the urge to reply in the same way so he just laughed like he never thought he would do with Malfoy.

“What are you laughing at, Potter?”

“It’s just… you’re funny, Draco.”

The other boy just looked at him surprised and, even though he tried to cover it, there was a smile on his lips when he faced the view again.

“What does it take to get rid of the mistletoe?” Harry asked curiously.

“A kiss.”

“Just that?”

“Yes.”

“Then why haven’t you kissed anyone yet?”

“Firstly, because I don’t go around kissing random people” he narrowed his eyes. “And because it has to be a kiss from the person I love.”

“And why haven’t you kissed that person yet?”

“Because I don’t think that that person wants to kiss me.”

“So you’re just going to walk around with that on top of your head your whole life?”

“Well, I don’t think this person would ever want to kiss me, but I’m hoping that Pansy has a counter spell.”

“Why do you say that that person would never want to kiss you?”

“Just drop it, Harry” he sighed.

“I don’t see why anyone would refuse to kiss you.”

“What?”

“I think you should just go for it, Draco. No one in the right state of mind, unless they are taken, would refuse you a kiss.”

Draco looked around with rosy cheeks that were like that not only because of the cold and a confused expression that made Harry’s heart warm and sad at the same time, because Draco shouldn’t be this insecure.

“I’m trying to give you a hint here, Draco. Stop overthinking and just get on with it.”

“Are you trying to say what I think you are trying to say or am I completely misunderstanding you?”

“I have to do it myself, don’t I?”

“Do what?”

“Honestly, Draco!” Harry shook his head with a chuckle.

Harry smiled at Draco with shiny green eyes and placed his hand on the back of his head, leaning forward and placing his lips on the other boy’s ones. Draco gasped a little and after a few seconds of wide eyed surprised he gripped Harry’s arms and kissed him back.

“I’m glad to see it’s gone” Harry smiled when the kiss ended.

“Is it?” Draco’s hands flew to the top of his head. “How did you know that it was you? How did you know that I love you?”

Harry sucked in a breath when he heard the other boy’s confession.

“I didn’t know, Draco, but I was hoping that you did.”

“Why?”

“Because I love you, too” Harry said simply and kissed him again.

Draco couldn’t help but think, when they were watching the beautiful colours of the early morning while walking back to the castle holding hands, that Pansy would be extremely disappointed to know that Draco and Harry kissed and he got rid of the mistletoe while she was still home.

Masterlist

[spacecollaborative-blog]

Short Story: Alien

The plants on Gliese 581 c are pitch black and the sky is dark red. Because Gliese is a little nearer to its sun, a red dwarf, than we are to ours, the planet is tidally locked so one half always faces the sun whilst the other never sees the light. As a consequence, one half of the planet is so cold it freezes life immediately, whilst the other is so hot it melts life immediately. Yet, there is a small strip of land encircling the planet that’s not too hot, not too cold and could sustain life. There’s also a massive cosmic structure called the Large Quasar Group which is four billion lightyears wide. Scientifically, it makes absolutely no sense. Cosmic structures can only physically grow to a size of 1.6 billion light years. Yet this Large Quasar Group, the LQG for short, has another 2.4. No one knows why or how. The fact that scientists have also found rips in space hardly needs mentioning. But with all these mysteries, all these uncomfortable little uncertainties, all these completely unexplainable happenings, people still question the probable fact that we’re not alone in this universe.

The question of whether life exists beyond Earth is one of humanity’s most profound and unanswered questions.’ – Dr Kevin Hand

It was only when Daniel came to tidy his lawn at 9am that he saw the letter beneath two crushed and empty Fosters cans. It was beginning to peel open as the cold dew festered through its white envelope, smudging the words Mr Daniel Hardy on its front. It had been a while since Daniel had received an interesting letter, especially one that refused to be delivered through the post box. But, there were things to do. Not only were there the two Fosters cans that guarded the mystery letter, but there were another three under the Rhododendron bush and one, this time a Corona bottle, standing by the pansy pot. Also, there were four dead pansy heads that needed removing, a new weed by the fence, the whole garden needed watering too. But this little letter with his smudged but legible name on it was waiting so the garden must be tidied. It only took him a few minutes.  

He took a little while, when the garden was done, to look over the envelope. It was exciting, receiving a letter, and Daniel wanted to take his time over it. Take a few minutes to wonder about who was writing to him and why. But anticipation ate in to him, as it often does, and when it came to it he ripped the envelope open.

‘There may be aliens in our Milky Way galaxy, and there are billions of other galaxies. The probability is almost certain that there is life somewhere in space.’ – Buzz Aldrin

‘Sounds like your classic scenario.’ Rachael had said when she finally replied to Daniel’s email. ‘Check the forum, though.’

Daniel had, of course, checked the forum and they had, of course, confirmed it to be your classic scenario. But Rachael had a certain expertise in the subject that Daniel had yet to truly find elsewhere on that website, her knowledge on extra-terrestrial life could only be rivalled by his own. She had, one time, encountered an alien in the flesh on a holiday to Thailand, she was an expert on the details and theories of Roswell and she had many a time offered her own convincing theories on the government’s reasoning for keeping evidence of alien life away from the public. Her profile picture, however, was the 5th Doctor which was obviously a complete denial of the new dimensions Christopher Ecclestone brought to the character. Alas, that was of no matter, Rachael was one of the few online who could actually make a distinction between fictional works and factual evidence. She was the only person worth consulting over the mystery letter, and he daren’t investigate it any further without her approval.

But her confirmation of it to be ‘your classic scenario’ gave Daniel the authority he needed to start planning. It was well known within his community that you do not go searching for an alien without proper preparation. Aliens are not to be trifled with, if they made it to earth before we made it to them, then their technology is far superior to our own. The general rule was to keep away and watch from afar. But, there is a certain amount of protection that must be acquired in order to ensure safety if an unprovoked attack ensues, of course. Daniel had exactly twelve and a half hours until the letter stated he needed to be in the clearing by the park in the woods and he had rather a lot to do.

‘I believe alien life is quite common in the universe, although intelligent life is less so. Some say it is yet to appear on planet Earth’ – Stephen Hawking

‘Hey,’ said someone from down the aisle. ‘Hey, Sir.’

It was one of the boys who lived up Daniel’s road. He had curly, dirty blonde hair, most kept behind his studded ears but some dripping down over his eyes. He was wearing the same brown jacket Daniel always saw him wear when he walked to the bus stop for school every morning, although Daniel sees him less and less nowadays, and his name was Jack.

‘You’re the one who lives up the road, ain’t you?’ He said.

‘Yes, Jack.’ Daniel replied.

‘How’d you know my name, Sir?’ Some of his friends had joined Jack now. A girl with long hair and two boys with short hair who were smiling. ‘Are you a pervert, Sir?’

‘Jack.’ Said the girl as the boys laughed. She knew his name too.

‘You’re right, you’re right. Sorry, babe. Can I help you, Sir? What you here for?’ Jack said.

Daniel was at the corner shop for batteries. Double A, for his torch. He already had two in there, but who knew how long they were going to last? They’d been in there quite a while now and batteries notoriously never say when they’re going to leave. Better to get replacements now then to be stuck in the middle of the woods in the dark.

Jack’s friends left him then, but Jack himself offered to show Daniel the way to the batteries. But by the time they got there (the batteries, it seemed, where really quite far away) there were no double As left.

Imagine the moment when the world wakes up and the human race realises that its long loneliness in time and space may be over — the possibility we're no longer alone in the universe.’ – Matt Mountain

Daniel sat by the edge of the clearing. As of yet, there had been no other life save the two rabbits whose eyes had shone white in the glare of the torch. It was thirteen minutes past one and there was no sign of any extra-terrestrial life. Daniel clung to the letter, safely protected by its now dry envelope. Fourteen minutes past midnight and still nothing. The slight clench of frustration began to creep up through his body. Fifteen minutes and nothing. Sixteen and nothing. Until, seventeen and something. Something had appeared through the gap in two of the trees, a silhouette against the orange glow of the city sky down below, and Daniel froze. He tried to shine his torch toward it but the light was beginning to dim now and only reached a few metres forward, casting no light on the mysterious shadow that stood frozen at the opposite side of the field.

And then, suddenly, white light. The whitest Daniel had ever seen, coming from four quite large circular sources. It glared through the wood, casting long, willowy shadows across the clearing and bathing Daniel in its luminous glow. Another two figures appeared in different gaps in the trees, forcing two more stretched stripes of black to lay across the clearing. This was accompanied by a low hum of engine, crackling against the silent of the night, and the acute smell of melting rubber. No doubt the smell of the burning petrol used by this species.

It was overwhelming, and absorbing. Every sense was met with something alien and every thought Daniel had ever had had been confirmed in an instance. It was a feeling of complete fear and complete excitement. Every ridicule, every rebuke, every rejection had been justly destroyed, maybe even parodied, but this moment. How Daniel wished he had a camera, there would be no feeling greater than sending this to every person who had denied the existence of aliens; away to his teachers, his friends, his parents. He had met aliens and he was filled with a satisfaction so great it made him realise how it was Rachael came to be the way she was. But how was he to communicate with them? His first words to this new lifeform would be printed forever.

‘Hello?’ Almost a reflex reaction. Ah well.

And then the lights went off and Daniel was thrown to the bottom of a black lake. The darkness went over his head, encompassing his whole body, filling his throat and restricting his breathing. He blinked and took in staccato breaths until the red city highlighted the figures once more.

And they were running. Running towards him at such a speed Daniel barely had time to register his panic before they were almost upon him, completely black with the orange of the city keeping its distance behind the trees.

He ran. He was completely ashamed of it but he got up and ran. Absorbed by panic and fear, he ran. But they kept coming at him.

He daren’t look behind him but long, metal pellets were hitting his back. And the silence was marred by high siren-like shrieking.

They followed him until he hit the first street lamp.

Watch out if you would meet an alien. You could be infected with a disease with which you have no resistance.’ – Stephen Hawking

He first told Rachael everything and then he wrote it down in his folder. He wanted to check with her before he posted it on the forum, he wanted her to tell him the most important details, to help him recall the experience in the most convincing way. She would know how to put it, what words to use to make it sound real and then he would tell the world that they were real. The infinite universe full of impossible happenings, full of diamond planets and dust clouds that taste of raspberries and smell like rum, full of unexplainable rips and phenomenon cosmic structures, has the most likely thing on earth: life. And Daniel had proof. His fear turned to a hyperbolic excitement the moment his front door slammed behind him. He’d been searching his whole life. And now he knew that they were not alone in the universe.

He checked his computer. Rachael hadn’t replied yet.

Two possibilities exist: either we are alone in the Universe or we are not. Both are equally terrifying.’ – Arthur C. Clarke

- Rhiannon Whale