Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Reader
Warnings: Swearing, angst, fighting
Summary: Y/N, curious about Dracoâs suddenly hostile attitude towards her, confronts him and gets an answer far from what she expected.Â
A/N: This imagine is somewhat based on the song âShe Had the Worldâ by Panic! at the Disco. Also, I usually write longer imagines but this one is just sort of an introduction to my style of writing and the types of imagines I will be writing in the future.Â
   Thick scarves and layers of mysterious forest green and chilling silver. Sleepy skies with booming, crackling shouts and the bribery of everlasting sobbing. November had struck Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, which marked the halt of cheerful skies and the dawn of bone-rattling cold. While December would bring pearl painted grounds and the anticipation of Christmas, the wonder of the month of Octoberâs autumnal falling leaves and singing winds were gone; for the students of Hogwarts, November was merely a limbo mode between the happy months it was mashed between. Y/N loved November. To her, November meant the early morning frosts that tinted the grounds an almost-gray. Hot cocoa and Quidditch, and most importantly, Draco Malfoy.Â
November was the start of Draco Malfoyâs season. No, it wasnât his birth month, or his favorite month, but it was the month when, in Y/Nâs eyes, he looked most himself. Soft, pink rouge would rise in the apples of his cheeks, and his pale eyes stuck out like the most mystical chunk of moonstone. Most thought Dracoâs eyes were cold and estranged, just like him, but Y/N knew his too well to agree. When the days had gotten colder and the layers had become thicker, Draco found himself outside and thriving with his friends. They would chuck snowballs at kids, torment everyone in their sight, but Draco seemed to always have a nearly forbidden smile, and thatâs all that mattered.Â
This November was different. Around mid-month, Y/N really noticed it. Dracoâs skin was gray and sickly, and he looked as if he were in a state of such unpleasantness that no words could escape his dry, chapped lips. The purple, puffy bags under his eyes sunk in deep and he seemed far more quiet; quiet, but stingingly, sharply rude in the few words he had spoken to Y/N. It was such a shame, seeing how swollen with pride he was at the beginning of the school year, dangling some secret above Y/Nâs head yet refusing to tell her. She couldnât tell if Dracoâs friends knew this secret, and she assumed that whatever it was had already been resolved and long forgotten months before so, naturally, she forgot.
âDraco?â Y/N asked from her laid down position on the couch in the Slytherin common room.Â
âWhat?â He responded coldly. Y/N simply frowned; she normally wouldâve shut up and absorbed the brutal words, but she had taken too much already to not say something. Too many attitudeous remarks, treating her as if she were inferior to Draco. Too many times sitting back and allowing herself to be treated like this; Y/N was done.
âWhat is wrong with you?â Y/Nâs voice was raised to an almost-shout. âI do absolutely nothing but love you, and stand by your side like I know Crabbe, or Goyle, or even Pansy would never do, and this- this is what I get?âÂ
âYou donât understand-âÂ
â-What, what could I possibly not be understanding?â Y/N was getting louder and louder by the minute, and Dracoâs attempts at shushing her down were far from working.Â
It was then, that the two made eye contact like they never had before. The normal silvery eye color of Dracoâs seemed to be cracking through itâs bloodshot barrier, and Y/N saw the bratty little boy that Draco once was peaking through the crevices of a plastered over, stone cold man. And Y/N understood everything. No, not everything, not the exact reason why Draco was acting how he was, not the secret he had bragged about a couple months before, but horrible cement-job and finish of the barrier between man and child. But Draco wasnât the person who made this horrible plaster, it was someone else, someone he feared, someone much older. The only explanation Y/N could think of was his family.
The Malfoyâs were sickening in Y/Nâs eyes. Pure-blood supremacists whom Draco vowed never to tell about Y/N. Y/N was a half-blood, after all. Dirty blood that infected and disgraced the Slytherin house. Draco was learning to empathize, but he never really could. Though Y/N had never met Lucius or Narcissa, she assumed that sheâd never want to, at least, if she wanted to live a little longer. According to Draco they werenât that bad but Y/N could never risk itÂ
âWhatâd they do to you?â Y/Nâs voice cracked a bit, as if she were about to burst into tears.Â
âYour family. Did they convince you that Iâm some sort of evil? Iâm not, I promise Iâm not.â The tears began to trickle as images of Dracoâs mind being grotesquely twisted to hate her swarmed around her brain as if a gathering of bees entered in through her ear and were stinging the mush of her brain.Â
âNo, no they didnât. They still donât know about you.â Draco responded solemnly, as if there were something he still needed to get off his tongue, but feared the consequences.Â
âThen whatâs going on, why are you avoiding me?â
âBecause I donât love you. I never have, I never will.â The tone of Dracoâs voice shifted and now, he was once again the vulnerable little first year whose only worries were picking on Harry Potter or showing off his incomparable wealth. Y/N could tell he was lying.Â
âLook at you, a perfect little half-blood who can get anything you want, as you please. Youâre too pure to be in Slytherin and I donât know why you were sorted here.â He sniffed back his doubts and rebuilt his cement wall. âYou only took a liking to me because you wanted to fix me, I refuse to be your pity project.â
â-No, Iâm not lying. I wanted to see how much innocence you could lose at my hands. I just wanted to mess with you. I am the biggest bully in school, arenât I?âÂ
âShut up Malfoy, youâre lying.â Y/N was soon sobbing, and she hoped that the sight of her breathless and mortified would evoke at least the tiniest bit of empathy from Draco, but it couldnât.
âNo, Iâm not, but donât act like you love me. Nobody can love me, just look at me. Iâm untouchable, Iâm a mean, cold Malfoy who has no feelings.â Draco stated simply, as if this were a fact that heâd reviewed and analyzed over and over again. It was like he had practiced his lines over and over again so that he could say them without crying. He failed this time.
âDraco Malfoy youâre a goddamned liar. You know I love you, and you love me. Theres something going on with you and youâre going to tell me now. Iâm going to help you, because I love you unconditionally.âÂ
The moment his wall crumbled again, and the waterfall behind his corneas burst out wildly, the first snow of the season fell upon Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Dracoâs seesaw of emotions had completely slanted to one side, and in Y/Nâs arms Draco felt at home. This back-and-forth of moods had dulled to the somber, raw, falling speckles of snowflakes which masked the envious, bit prideful green fields and mountains of the Hogwarts grounds.
And everything was alright in that single moment, and all was nice as for just that encounter, Draco felt a sense of hope. He knew things would be changing at a rapid pace in the future, and he knew Y/N would berate him with difficult-to-answer questions, but he was okay, just for a second, and that was all that mattered.Â
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