fics etc.

Pt 1

masterlist 

Description: Shy Draco asking you to the ball

It was almost 7pm by the time Draco had worked up the courage to enter her house dormitory. In here, he stuck out like a sore thumb – the huddles of (y/h) students eyed him suspiciously. What was Draco Malfoy doing in their house dorm?

Not to mention, he felt like an absolute idiot. His hair – which he had reluctantly allowed Pansy to style – was greased up in an awful kind of 80s fashion, so completely slathered with horrible products he could probably snap a chunk off. To make matters worse, he had abandoned his usual black clothing for a gray suit that his Mother had sent him, which now clung uncomfortably tight to his skin. And, finally, to top it all of was the thick fume of cologne that wafted about him, leaving a trail of chokingly strong perfume wherever he went.

It was no wonder that people were staring.

Draco stood dumbly by her bedroom door.

In one hand, he held a ridiculously large bouquet of yellow flowers. His other hand hovered in front of the door – unable to knock. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t bring himself to do it.

Time ticked by; the sun began to set.

He shifted nervously. He had never felt so stupid, so self-conscious before – sweat, sticky and putrid, had begun to roll down his face, into his shirt – any longer, and it was sure to leave patches.

Finally, he decided to just give up and leave – when the door swung open.

Draco’s back turned stiff – he straightened upwards, ran a hand through his disastrous hair – and his eyes narrowed in disgust. Standing in front of him was not (Y/n), but rather the last person Draco had wanted to see.

“Malfoy?” Harry’s eyes went wide. “What happened to your hair?”

In that moment, a million thoughts raced through Draco’s head. Within seconds, he had it all pieced together – Harry had, as Goyle warned him, come to ask (Y/n) our. And, from the looks of things, he had won. Draco was two minutes too late.

Hurriedly, he stuffed the flowers behind his back. “Evening, Potter.” he snarled. Every syllable was marred with as much malice as Draco could muster, under the circumstances. His face had twisted itself into an ugly scowl, reddened by jealousy and hatred alike.

Eyebrows raised, Harry repressed a snicker and shrugged. “See you around, Malfoy.”

From behind Harry, a second head now popped out of the doorway. “Malfoy?” (Y/n) beamed upon seeing him. “Just the person I wanted!”

Oh?

She waved him inside. “I have your textbooks still. Since you’re here, you may as well take them back.”

Oh.

(Y/n) hurried to her desk, yanking open drawers and restacking piles upon piles of forlorn books. “Where is it?” she huffed. “I know I just saw it around here a minute ago.”

Draco sat awkwardly in the corner, tapping his knee and crushing the flowers in his hands. He wanted to aparate out of here, and straight back to his bed.

“So, Draco,” (Y/n) hummed as she searched.

The sound of his name, from her lips, made his heart skip a beat. If only he’d gotten here a moment sooner.

But then – who was he kidding? Even if he had gotten here before Potter, what were the odds of her saying yes? This entire plan was foolish, from start to end. This is what he gets for listening to Crabbe and Goyle.

“Draco? Are you listening to me?”

He flinched, her voice snapping back to reality. “Huh?”

She shot a weary glance at him. “I said, who are you taking to the ball?”

“What?”

“The Yule ball. It’s in a week, or have you forgotten?” she grinned at him. “You do know it’s mandatory to bring a date.”

“Oh. Right.” His face reddened as he struggled to keep his voice even. “I don’t know. Haven’t given it too much thought yet.”

(Y/n) laughed. “What, no one here good enough for you?”

Draco’s mouth pushed into a frown. “Not at all. Don’t be ridiculous.” Looking down at the flowers in his hand, Draco felt a new wave of embarrassment. “What do you care anyways?”

The question came out as a sneer, and he regretted it almost immediately.

Hurriedly, he rushed on, changing his tone to sound friendlier. “So, I heard you’re going with Potter.” he forced a smirk. “Disappointing, really. I used to think of you as someone with good taste.”

“Potter? The boy wonder?” she rolled her eyes and shook her head. “No. He asked me, but I declined.”

At this, Draco just about shot out of his seat. “You what?” A new glimmer of hope begun to grow in him now; warming him from the inside out. Perhaps – perhaps there was time left, after all?

“I -“ she startled at his sudden outburst. “I said no. Draco, are you okay?”

She looked closer at him, noticing for the first time how pink his face had become, and how anxiously his hands trembled. “Has someone vexed you? Why’s your hair all slicked up? And why are you–“ her eyes narrowed on the crumpled flowers in his hand. “Are those chrysanthemums?”

“Uh.” Draco pulled uneasily at his collar, silently cursing the damned material for being much too tight. “Uhm. Well.”

Her eyes were wide with confusion as she gazed at the nervous wreck in front of her. “You know,” she said softly, her voice barely audible. “Chrysanthemums are my favorite.”

“Yeah - yeah, I know.” he swallowed the lump in his throat. It was too late to back out now. “They’re for you, actually.”

(Y/n)’s eyes lit up. “For me?” Her lips twitched into the shyest of smiles, despite her attempts to hide it. “Whatever for?”

Taking a deep breath, Draco straightened upwards, and held the flowers out towards her. “(Y/n), will you go to the ball with me?”

Her smile grew into a grin, which grew into a look of shock, which grew into a laugh of disbelief. “Draco…” she crossed the room, taking the flowers from his hand. Their fingers brushed, and he stiffened. If he could see himself, he bet his face would be one of absolute terror. Beads of sweat ran down his neck, dripping free as water from a tap. He gulped again.

With a sigh, she admired the bouquet, lifting it to her face and smelling it. “Draco, of course I’ll go the ball with you.”

Draco’s heart bucked in its chest. It catapulted. It somersaulted. He stood dumbly, silently, trying to comprehend what she had just said. “So that’s - that’s a yes, then?”

“You dolt, I’ve been waiting ages for you to ask me.” she rolled her eyes. “Plus, I’ve been hinting at it all week. I was starting to think you just weren’t interested.”

Malfoy beamed. He couldn’t help himself. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“No, you’re a bit thick, aren’t you?”

He laughed. “So, I’ll pick you up around 7?”

Peering over the flowers, she grinned. “Sounds like a plan.”

“Alright. Alright, great, okay. I can - I’ll be there.” Stuttering, he felt as if his tongue had grown thick with its own excitement. 

“And I’ll be waiting.”

Ecstatic with joy, Draco nodded, moved to leave - turned back to smile at her from the door - fumbled with the knob -

“Draco?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for the flowers. They’re lovely.”

A pink blush crept over the Slytherin prince’s face. 

With another quick smile back, he managed to open the door, gliding out. 

Warnings: Just...fluff?

masterlist 

Pt 2

“So, Malfoy, when are you going to do it?”

“Do what?” Draco snapped. The day had been a long one, from the moment he woke, to failing his potions test, to losing the quidditch match against Gryffindor. Again.

In fact, it was this very same quidditch match from which he, Crabbe and Goyle were just now leaving. His face was still caked in mud, his fingers bruised, his normally perfectly gelled hair matted in sweat – not to mention, he reeked. He was in no mode for his friends’ weary antics.

“You know,” Goyle nudged him playfully. His mouth was curved in a sly grin, an unusual sort of smile that forced his teeth to buck forwards and stretched out his cheeks uncomfortably wide, contorting his face into one deserving of its namesake. “When are you going to ask (Y/n) to the ball?”

Draco’s lips skewed into a scowl, followed by a bulging of veins in the neck, signaling that the Slytherin prince was on his very last nerve. “And what makes you idiots think I’d even consider doing anything of the sort?”

Snorting, Crabbe butt into the conversation. “Don’t get your panties in a twist, Malfoy. It’s an innocent question, and a fair one at that.” He grinned too now, watching as Draco’s skin began to color. “It’s obvious you like her.”

“I do not!” Draco burst out, whirling on his friends. It was louder than he intended it to be, loud enough to gain the attention of surrounding students. A handful of them turned to snicker at the commotion, until a sickening glare from Malfoy sent them on their way again.

Collecting himself, Draco took a deep breath, pausing to readjust his tie. “I do not like (Y/n).” he now repeated, meeting his friends’ laughing looks with his own sober gaze. “She’s an intelligent girl, and I enjoy her company. That’s all there is.”

At this, both Crabbe and Goyle began to howl. “Oh, you enjoy her company all right!”

With his large paw of a hand, Goyle thumped Draco on the back affectionately. “Come on, Malfoy, you can be honest with us. We’re your closest friends.”

“Unfortunately,” Draco muttered.

“And besides,” Crabbe chimed in. “You need a date. It’s compulsory.”

“So what?” Draco rolled his eyes, turning to walk again with a sharp flick of his robes. “That’s not a problem. I’ll just take Pansy. Unlike (Y/n), she’s a Slytherin, and a proper pureblood.”

“Boo!” Crabbe hollered after him, running to catch up. “Where’s the fun in that?

“I may not be the brightest knife in the drawer -“

“Sharpest.” Draco huffed.

“Exactly.” He winked. “But even I can see the way you look at (Y/n).”

Goyle nodded his fast agreement. “You... don’t hide it very well.”

With a tired sigh, Draco stopped to look at them. “So what? Say that even if I did like her. Just for the sake of argument, of course, because I don’t like her.”

“Whatever you say, Draco.”

“Even if I did like her.” he continued, pulling a hand nervously through his hair. “So what? She’d never say yes to someone like me.”

“Aw, that’s wussy talk Malfoy.” Crabbe grabbed his friend by the elbow, dragging him along. “You’re a solid guy. Top of the class, seeker in quidditch, most feared kid in all of Slytherin – plus, you ain’t too bad looking. Even if you wear too much hair gel.”

Touching his hair defensively, Draco finally allowed himself to chuckle. “Alright, alright, you daft ogre. Merlin, I’m half persuaded you’re the one in love with me.”

“So then? You’ll do it? You’ll ask her?”

With a tinge of bitterness, Draco shook his head. “She’ll never say yes.”

He pulled back his arm from Crabbe’s grip. “She’s too...good, really. She’s not in Slytherin, she’s friends with Potter, won’t even touch the dark arts!” Sighing again, he shoved his hands defeatedly in his pockets. “She’d never get involved with ... with someone who’s already suspected of being a Death Eater. She’ll say no.”

Goyle took the lead now, folding his arms and nodding in agreement. “I s’ppose you’re right as always, Draco. Besides,” he hid a mischievous smile with his hand, “I heard Potter’s gonna ask her.”

“What?” Draco’s head snapped upwards. Glowering, he all but charged at the other boy. “What did you say?”

“I said: you’re right, Malfoy.”

“No, you stupid, tottering, brainless dolt! The other thing! About Potter?”

“Oh!” Goyle smacked himself on the center of his forehead, as if he’d forgotten. “That thing! Yes, well, rumor has it that Potter’s planning on asking her out tonight. I guess Cho rejected him, huh?”

Hearing this, Draco’s lips flap open and shut, flabbergasted, like that of a dying fish. At long last, he manages to spit out: “But he doesn’t deserve her! She’s so much better than a second choice.”

Draco seethes, self-pity replaced by hot rage as he paces up and down. “Why should Potter get to take her? He clearly doesn’t appreciate her – “

“Then why don’t you ask her out? The worst she could do is say no.”

Draco moves to rebuff this, but Crabbe quickly cuts him off. “Besides, if you don’t go with (y/n), you can always go with Pansy.”

For a moment, Draco went quiet as he contemplated this. He stared down at his feet, weighing out his options –

“What, don’t tell me you’re too scared?” Goyle grinned. He folded his arms to his side and began to squawk like a chicken.

“Fine!” Draco yelled. “I’ll do it. I’ll ask her out.”

“Tonight?” Crabbe asked hopefully.

“I’ll do it this very second if it’ll shut the two of you up.”

“Ha!” Goyle clapped him on the back, beaming with pride. “Finally manning up, eh, Malfoy? Good!

“Maybe wait till after you take a shower, though.”

Description: A whole lot of fluff! Draco wakes up from his nightmares, still healing from his fight with Harry in the bathrooms.

Masterlist 

-

Draco wakes.

Everything is drenched in his cold sweat, his lips are dry and limbs trembling. His chest feels hollow, as if someone’s scooped out all his insides with a spoon. Whimpering, Draco curls into his side, too afraid to open his eyes.

Dreams. They were just dreams. Nothing more.

He winces. The bed beneath him is unfamiliar; the pillow is hard and the blankets are stiff as paper – where is he?

His head aches, but the hazy memories come back to him. Harry Potter. The bathroom.

From the scent of things, he’s in the school’s medic wing. Somewhere in the distance, he hears the noise of owls’ hooting, the crows’ flapping and the whispering of cicada songs. Without opening his eyes, he’d judge it to be early morning, after the sun’s started its daily ascent, but before the students have begun to wake up.

What’s he doing here? What happened in the bathroom? Why does everything hurt?

With every small movement of his limbs, a fresh wave of pain shoots through Draco’s body. It feels as if his skin is covered in thousands of tiny paper cuts, all torn and gaping to the world.

“Draco?”

The timid whisper of a girl’s anxious voice ends his period of contemplation.

“Draco, are you awake?”

After a while of laying perfectly still, Draco finally forces himself to rouse, prying open his heavy eyelids. At first, all he sees are the blurry outlines of hospital beds: blotchy spots of white in neat little rows.

But slowly, the world begins shifting into focus, puzzle piece by puzzle piece.

Huddling in a wooden chair, by the foot of Draco’s bed, is a Hogwarts student. A girl, dressed in clearly abused, wrinkly robes. Her face is gaunt, exhausted from days without sleep, and her eyes are bloodshot, raw from crying. In fact, she’s such a disaster that Draco almost doesn’t recognize her.

But he does. She’s still the most beautiful girl he’s ever laid eyes on. “(Y/n)?”

At the sound of his raspy voice, (Y/n)’s face splits into a grin, and the lines of fatigue just about melt away. “Draco. You’re - you’re awake.”

He nods wearily, as if unsure himself about the certainty of her statement.

Shaking herself out of a daze, (Y/n) leaps from her seat, rushing to Draco’s side. “Are you okay? Does it hurt? Should I go get a doctor? Are you hungry? Thirsty?”

The sudden assault of questions overwhelms Draco, but he manages to grasp the last one, suddenly aware that his throat feels like dry parchment paper. “Thirsty. Yes.”

(Y/n) frets, as if just been told that he’ll die of thirst within the minute if she doesn’t act fast. “Right. Right - water, of course-“

Draco chuckles, but it comes out in a fit of coughs. Panicking even more, (Y/n)’s hands shake as she fills the glass next to Draco’s bed.

“Here. Water.”

Gratefully, he takes it from her nervous hands, downing it in a single gulp. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, of course.” she smiles softly, returning the cup to the nightstand and taking an awkward seat on the edge of his mattress. “How are you feeling?”

“Like pure shit.” he admits, propping himself up on an elbow to better face her. “What happened, anyways?”

“You don’t remember?”

“Hardly anything.”

She bites her lip, staring vacantly out the window before replying. “You and Potter…”

“We had a wand fight in the bathroom. I remember that.”

“Yeah, well,” she fiddles with her hands. “Potter used dark magic. It was…effective. You’ve been in the hospital for a week. It’s a miracle that Snape saved you in time.”

“Potter and dark magic?” he repeats, brows furrowing in confusion. Then, even more baffling, “A week? I’ve been out of it for a whole week?”

“8 days exactly.” she says. “Pretty rude of you to keep me waiting, Malfoy.”

The confusion on Draco’s face grows deeper. “I... what? You haven’t been sitting here the whole time, have you?”

(Y/n) smiles weakly. “8 days, 8 nights. I haven’t moved.”

“What?” he looks completely baffled now. “Why?”

“Why do you think, dumbass?” yawning, she wipes the exhaustion from her eyes. “I was... I was worried sick about you, Malfoy. When I found out, I just about lost it. Couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep knowing you might be – well, in any case, I came here right away.”

Draco looks stunned. He opens his lips to speak, then closes them again.

Finally: “You were... worried about me?”

She nods, and he slumps backwards in a state of near shock.

“Why?” he asks again.

Her face grows hot, but before she can answer he shakes his head. “Never mind. I - thank you, (Y/n).”

The warmth of gratitude in his voice makes her smile, and she shyly tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Yeah. Yeah, of course, Draco.”

Remembering his manners, Draco moves over to the side of the bed, opening the covers to let her in. “I can’t believe you sat in that infernal chair for a whole week. That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

Chuckling, she eagerly accepts his offer, climbing into the soft bundles of sheets. With a sigh, she eases her aching back into the pillows, relishing in this new ability to lay down.

Resting her head on the pillow, she snuggles herself into Draco’s arms. He winces some, but manages to conceal how much it hurts.

“I’m glad you’re alive.” she murmurs.

“I’m glad too,” he smirks, tentatively wrapping his arms around her. “Gladder now that you’re here, actually.”

She laughs. With a steady hand, she runs a finger across the healing scars on his chest, tracing the intricate lines that maze their way across his body.

Her finger is cool and soothing to the touch, making Draco shudder. He shuts his eyes briefly, letting her hands roam, skimming across the bumps and indents on his skin.

For a while, they lay like this, content in their own bubble of intimate silence. She continues to lazily draw shapes and patterns over his torso, while he watches her intently, quietly savoring the peace of the moment. Every so often, her eyes flick to his face, grinning when she sees how he stares.

In the end, it’s Draco that speaks first. “Wasn’t Drew upset about you being here everyday?” his mouth tightens into a rigid line, remembering suddenly the existence of her boyfriend.

“Oh, Drew dumped me,” she says nonchalantly, waving her hand in dismissal of the subject. “It’s no big deal, the relationship was mostly to appease our parents. We both knew that.”

“What?” Draco sounds indignant, as if incapable of believing that anyone could want to give her up. “Why?”

“Well, you remember the night that we slept together?”

“How could I forget?”

“Well.” (Y/n) rolls her eyes, as if still dumbfounded by the stupidity of the situation. “Well. You forgot to soundproof the walls.”

She tries to say it seriously and with bitterness, but failing to summon any anger in the tone of her voice, she settles for a dark scowl instead.

Draco contemplates these words for a moment, allowing them to take their full effect. Slowly, he grasps the implications of this. “So you mean… people could hear us?”

“From here to Timbuktu.”

Unable to resist, Draco’s lips twitch into a smirk.

Her scowl deepens. “I suppose you think this is funny, do you?”

He shrugs innocently, trying with little success to wipe the grin from his face. “I suppose that explains how my mother found out about us.”

“Your Mother? Oh dear God!” (Y/n) groans, burying her face in his chest.

Draco laughs out loud, and pulls her closer to him. “So the whole world knows you’re mine, then.” He says this with a great deal of pride, looking down at her.

“That’s a brave assumption to make, Malfoy.” she teases, pulling away from him. “Who’s to say I even want to be yours?”

“Sure sounded like it when you were screaming my name-”

She shuts him up with a glare. “Alright, that’s enough out of you, funny boy.”

Snickering, he presses a timid kiss to her mouth. To his surprise, she kisses back without hesitation, leaning into the warmth of his lips.

“So.” he clears his throat, brushing the hair back from her face. “Miss (L/n) - would you, from this point forwards, do me the honor of being my official girlfriend?”

“I would like that very much.”

He grins, kissing her again. This time it’s long and slow, tender and sweet. When they eventually pull away, an eternity has passed and the sun has risen in full.

With a contented sigh, (Y/n) buries herself deeper into the covers.

“Draco...” she says, admiring the soft gray of his eyes. “They told me that you’d be awake within three days. When you didn’t – I was so scared. It was odd, I didn’t think I’d care so much, but I did.”

“Uh, thanks. I guess.”

“No, let me finish.” she hushes him, returning to her story. “When I began to realize that you might never wake up-“

“How could I leave a world where you’re in it?” he says, still high from the kiss.

But she goes on, ignoring him. “I realized - I realized that I love you, Draco. That I’m in love with you.”

The smugness melts from Draco’s face, quickly replaced by a humbled sense of awe. “You - you love me?”

She nods, averting her eyes to her hands. “Yeah. I do.”

Draco gulps, unsure how to respond to this. It takes him a while to process it.

But when he does – he can’t help it, the widest smile blooms across his face. He glows. (Y/n)’s taken aback for a moment – it’s not the usual smirk, sly grin or mischievous twitch of the lips. It’s a real, genuine smile; it’s the prettiest thing she’s ever seen. All the weariness and age of the past months seem to leave Draco’s expression now, replaced by the brightest of joys that radiates all over.

“You love me?” he repeats, not sure whether or not to believe it. “You mean it?”

“Yeah, Draco,” she laughs now, watching the growing excitement in his eyes, which gleam with childlike happiness. “Yeah, Draco, I do.”

Grabbing her by the waist, Draco swings her up and over him, ignoring the pain and pulling her on top of his chest, catching her in a crushing kiss.

“(Y/n), you’re the most amazing thing to have ever happened to me.”

She giggles, blushing all over. “I can’t believe this. I’m in love with the evil, terrible Slytherin prince, and he’s actually just a big old sap.”

Draco opens his mouth to make a retort, but changing his mind, he opts for just kissing her again. “Merlin, I’m so in love with you.” he groans.

“I love you too, Draco.” (Y/n) suppresses her own smile, pushing off of him. “Now let go of me, it’s been a long week and I want to take a nap.”

Chuckling, he complies, easing her back onto the bed. “Goodnight, princess.”

She curls happily into his side, shutting her eyes.

Description: App. I hit my word limit on tumblr?? (I didn’t know that was a thing) so here’s like ... a mostly finished chapter 

masterlist  

-

Draco sleeps. The boy’s face is relaxed in an unusual peace, eyes shut and oblivious to the outside world.

His skin is tender, scarred but slowly healing, pale as death.

He lays eerily still, breaths shallow. The clean white sheets that cover his resting body remind more of the coffin than a hospital bed, its subject fit to match.

Quietly, unnoticed by the world, Draco dreams.

-

In this dream, Draco finds himself somewhere cold, damp. Dark. Pitch black.

Blindly, he fumbles about the room, running his fingers across the grimy, moldy walls. A thin layer of slime coats the edge, sticking to his fingers in long, gooey strands. He shudders.

Eventually, the wall comes to an end, and Draco’s hands discover something new. It’s freezing to the touch, smooth, rounded in shape. As Draco gropes at it, he begins to understand what it is.

It’s a metal bar.

And sure enough, there’s many of them. Jail bars. It’s a cell.

Draco’s breathing grows frantic. He feels claustrophobic all of a sudden, his lungs growing tight with new terror.

Snatching at the bars, he begins to shake them furiously, yanking then backwards and forwards. They rattle in his hands, filling the hallway with echoes of metal clanging. “Hey!” he yells, pressing his face against the bars. “Hey! Where am I?”

A raspy giggle comes from the opposite cell. “Don’t you know, little boy?” it builds up into a loud, high-pitched cackle. Shrilly, it screams with joy: “You’re in Azkaban!”

Draco’s stomach knots. His palms turn clammy with sweat and he begins to yell louder. “Hey! Where am I? Who’s keeping me here?” A sob builds up in his chest, but he keeps it in, slamming his fists against the cell bars. “Hey! You can’t do this!” he shrieks, “You can’t do this!”

Cackling. Rattling. Shaking, crying.

Tears begin to spring to Draco’s eyes when there’s a sudden creakkkk. A door inches open, letting a sliver of yellow light pass into the room.

This is followed by a long, dark shadow that falls across the floor.

Instinctively, Draco steps back from the bars as a cloaked figure sweeps into the room.

“Oh, Draco.” A man’s familiar voice booms through the room. “Young Malfoy.”

Lifting his face upwards to meet the newcomer, Draco’s eyes narrow in recognition of the gray beard and robes.

Dumbledore glowers down at him now, his face half concealed by the darkness. 

“So young. So proud. So full of potential.” he clucks his tongue in disappointment. “Like a pig for the slaughter.”

With a start, Draco jumps to his feet, feeling the sudden need to vomit. “Listen, old man-”

But Dumbledore begins to laugh and laugh. “Do you mean to scare me?” He winks. “You think you can kill me, Malfoy?” His lips curl into a grin. “No. We both know you won’t be able to do it.”

“That’s not true!” he screams.

“Oh, Malfoy.” Dumbledore chuckles. “They’re going to snuff you out like a candle.”

-

The scene changes. Draco stands on the field of his Manor’s garden; the ground is soaked with rain, lightning flashes overhead. It’s a dimly lit evening, and the moon sits tucked behind thickets of bellowing clouds, hiding from a sky of crushing downpour.

Dazed, Draco holds his head, trying to make heads or tails of the situation. But there’s no time for that.

A bloodcurdling cry spills out into the night. He jolts, head snapping in the direction of the noise. 

“Hello?” he calls out. He tries to sound brave, but his voice shakes. “Who was that?”

In the distance, a woman cowers by the woods, keeled from exhaustion. Her breaths come out in ragged pants, desperate and fleeting.

Draco’s eyes narrow as he recognizes the blond streaks of hair.  

“Mother?”

But before Narcissa Malfoy can heed her son’s voice, she sights something that makes her legs tremble. Muffling her shrieks, she picks herself from the ground and flees into the woods.

Draco watches in dumb terror as he spots the cause of his mother’s stress; a shadow of black dementors chase her into the forests, their tendrils of smoke reaching closer and closer to the hem of Narcissa’s dress.

Stumbling, Draco breaks out into a wobbly sprint, pulling his wand from pocket. Arm outstretched, he thrusts the wand desperately in the direction of the dementors, screaming his mother’s name.

But it’s no use; the wand is no more than a pathetic piece of wood. Draco Malfoy cannot produce a patronus - never has, never will.

His mother’s foot loses ground, she stumbles over the gnarled root of a tree and soars towards the ground.

Draco cries out -

And then the trees begin to morph before his eyes, shifting into an entirely new scene in the way that dreams often do.

Falling backwards, Draco finds himself now in the crowded ruckus of a party - no, a dance. The gloomy night has disappeared, replaced instead by the golden walls of an extravagant ballroom.

Slow music pours out into the halls, mingling with the sound of chatter and merry giggles. Frantic, Draco looks about, to where Hogwarts students are whirling, spinning all around him. Everywhere, the long skirts of glittery gowns twirl upwards in wide arcs, brushing against his face, obstructing his view.

Among them, he sees, is (Y/n) – lips painted red, hair done up, her face glowing with delight. Her hand, small and delicate, lays on the arm of another boy – someone lean, handsome, strong –

He says something to make her laugh, and her eyes crinkle in adoration.

He makes her happy.

Draco tries to stand – to join the party, or to demand some sort of explanation, he’s not sure – but he never quite gets there. His robes have grown ten times their usual size, they sag, tripping his feet and weighing him down.

With a cry, Draco crashes into the ground, splattering against the hardwood floors.

The crowds notice him now, and watching his blunder, they fall into collective hysterics – (Y/n) is gone, and so is the boy on her arm – and everyone just keeps laughing and laughing and laughing –

-

“She’d never go for someone like you.”

-

Description: Draco’s been different ever since the war ended, and after everything, he really doesn’t think he deserves a chance with someone like you.

Masterlist  

-

“(Y/n)!” Draco jumps in surprise when he sees you coming, practically tripping over his own feet.

You start to laugh at his reaction, until you see the genuine terror on his face. It’s become a habitual expression of his.

Since the war’s ended, he’s been a shaking shadow of his former self, constantly drained, nervous and easily startled.

Despite the unexpected release of him and his family being found innocent, on the grounds of them having defected during the war, Draco still lives his life like a man on death row. From the sunk in hollows of his face, you’d almost believe he’d already served the sentence.

“What’s wrong, Malfoy?”

He looks more worried than usual, wringing his hands together in a display of unusual shyness. His eyes shift left and right, wary of the bustling dining hall around him.

Having come back to Hogwarts in an attempt to redo his last year, Draco’s been ostracized and isolated in a way he’d never known before. The loneliness that had plagued the lengths of his childhood knew nothing to what he now faced, and his head hung often with the embarrassment of it.

Having been his friend for many years now, you stayed loyal despite his family’s allegiances, though he didn’t really understand why. Even a blind man could see how it hurts you, how it mars an otherwise shining reputation.

“Nothing’s wrong,” he snaps, but it comes out more of a tired sigh.

“Malfoy.” You walk closer, closing the gap. “There’s clearly something the matter. Out with it, now.”

Draco swallows, his gaze searching your face. His eyes are the color of gray skies before the rain, and they remind you of the mist riding above the sea.

“(Y/n),” he says shakily, as if the English language has fled his mind and he’s forgotten how to speak. He straightens upwards to his full height, chiding himself to refocus. The sight of you in front of him, the familiar expression on your face, it all somehow makes him feel stronger, more resolved.

“(Y/n),” he starts again, “I think I’m in love with you.”

The last sentence is spat out so quickly, you wonder if you heard him correctly.

His face colors red and he goes on. “I think that I’ve fallen in love with you, and that I’ve felt this way for a very long time. Ever since the war’s ended, I’ve wished that I had just died, or that I could turn back the time, act differently. Knowing what I know now. But I can’t, and everyday’s been its own special little hell for me.

Except for the times that I’m around you.”

Draco stops to take a shaky breath.

“You’re the highlight of my day. My week. My whole existence. Just talking to you makes me feel, like, like I’m worth something.”

Rubbing the back of his neck, his eyes drop to the floor. “It’s not - it’s not fair to you, and I know that, I don’t expect anything back, it’s just that I-“

The softest of groans falls from your lips, forcing Draco’s face to darken even more. “My apologies for putting all of this on you. I’ll - I’ll leave now.”

He starts to make his way towards the exit, but you catch him by the hand at the last moment, tugging him back and sighing in annoyance.

“Draco.”

He turns back, suddenly and acutely aware of your hand on his.

You give a little huff of irritation. “I miss the old Draco, you know that?”

After a short pause, he raises an eyebrow. “And why’s that?”

“...Because.” your lips curve into the slightest of smiles, and you pull him ever nearer. “Because the old Draco was a cocky, arrogant arsehole who would have known, from day one, that I was head over heels for him.”

And, before he can even start to understand what’s happening, you stretch up onto your tip-toes, planting a kiss to his parted mouth.

His lips taste like fresh peppermint against your own, warm and tender to your touch.

At first, Draco tenses up all over, stiff with confusion. But slowly, he melts into it, closing his eyes and kissing you back with all the affection in the world. He wraps his arms around you, holding you in a soft embrace.

When Draco pulls away, his eyes glimmer with a semblance of their old spark.

“(Y/n).”

“Mm?”

“Everybody is watching.”

You look around. Indeed, the entirety of the hall is now gaping at you.

Without meaning to, you start to laugh. “So what if they are?” you throw your arms around his neck and laugh again. “Let the whole world see!”

A grin breaks out across Draco’s face, and he spins you upwards with a loud, celebratory cry, before pulling you back in for another crushing kiss.

“I love you, (Y/n).”

Description: Harry/Draco bathroom scene from Draco’s POV

Masterlist 

-

Harry screams out his spell, and Draco begins to feel strange. His inwards grow hot, he can feel his flesh twisting in on itself. Horrified, he looks downwards. Scarlet holes begin to blossom across his arms and legs, red gouges slowly pry his skin apart.

An awful shriek rattles out of Draco’s lips. He stumbles sideways, crashing into the ground.

-

“(Y/n)’s never going to be with you, you know.”

Draco startled at the sudden voice in his room. He whirled around, brows furrowing when he spot the origin of said voice. “Granger? What the devil are you doing in here?”

“I overheard your conversation, and I just wanted to warn you –“

“Spying on me again? It’s really becoming a bad habit, isn’t it.”

“Stay away from my friends, Malfoy.” Hemione snapped. “Nothing good ever comes from you or your family, and I don’t want to see (Y/n) getting hurt. Besides,” she sniffed, “She can do so much better.”

-

The bathroom tile is hard and cold on his skin. Icy water pools his arms, soaking through his shirt, washing away the red that now flows freely from his pores.

His skin gapes open like ragged cloth, the thick heat of his own blood pooling at his feet.

Draco writhes helplessly on the floor, white eyes rolling slowly up into his head. His chest begins convulse, forcing pained gurgles to spew from his open mouth. He grasps emptily at the air around him, fingers twitching, curling, thrashing in the water.

It hurts. Everywhere hurts. It stings. It stings so, so bad, across every inch of bleeding skin. Hazy memories drift sleepily before his eyes, and he wonders if he’s dying. 

-

“Draco Malfoy.” The letter began. It’s written in his mother’s scrawl, and before he even started to read, Draco knew the trouble he was in. His mother never addressed him like that unless something was wrong. 

“Your Father’s situation has taken a turn for the worst. His release from prison does not promising, and the price of his liberty will be steep. The Dark Lord, meanwhile, is growing impatient.  

“I’ve heard from my informers that you’ve begun a relationship with the (L/n) girl. I pray that the information is faulty, but I fear that it is not. Need I remind you the harm and the trouble that her family has caused us?

“Draco, your safety, as well as mine and that of your father’s, relies upon you completing this mission. You cannot afford to be distracted now. He will not forgive any imprudence, and I fear for the worst. 

“As you are my son, I have full faith in your abilities, and that to make the right choices. Stay focused, Draco. You’re a Malfoy – don’t forget that. 

“With love,”

Etc. 

-

“Murder! Murder!” Screams Myrtle. There’s a splashing noise, and the distant sound of someone coming to help.

Potter? he tries to call, but the name dies out on his heavy, drooping tongue.

The bleeding doesn’t stop. The gashes grow long across his chest. He wouldn’t mind dying, really. Fat lot of good life is, anyways. 

Dying, at least, would mean no more Death Eaters, no more Voldemort, no more pressure to be brave. 

No more (Y/n). 

-

That morning, he woke up to the sound of cussing in his bedroom corner. He opened his eyes blearily, immediately aware of the empty space on the mattress where her body had so recently been.

She was already shuffling on her clothes, trying and failing to do the buttons of her shirt. Her fingers shook, her face was colored in irritation.

“What’s the rush, princess?” He smirked. “It’s a Saturday. We have plenty of time, come back to bed.”

“Draco...”

“Or, if you want, I could take you to Hogsmead for breakfast,” he rushed on, “My treat, of course.”

But one glance at her worried expression, and he knew it was futile. His heart sank.

“Well, can’t blame me for trying, right?” but his voice faltered, and the joke petered our into silence.

“Draco, I meant what I said when I said only one night.” She shook her head. “This was a mistake. What if someone finds out? I - we shouldn’t have done this.”

He swallowed. “Didn’t feel like a mistake to me.”

The words were weak and hollow, they hung heavily in the air. 

(Y/n)’s hands fumbled, the buttons refused to clasp, wrenching an frustrated cry from her mouth. “Agh!”

Sighing, Draco slid out from the bed and closed the distance between them. Quietly, with gentle fingers, he finished the buttons for her.

“Thank you,” she mumbled.

He nodded, carefully adjusting the tie around her collar. 

(Y/n) forced a smile, and turned to make leave. At the door, she hesitated, looking back for the last time. “I’m sorry. About everything.”

Then she was gone. 

-

Two strong arms pick Draco up from where he lays on the bathroom surface. Draco hears the air whistle past his ears as he’s carried away, sees faintly the spots of light that pass behind his eyelids.

A tingling sensation throbs through his limbs, signaling to him that someone’s using magic to heal him now.

I guess I’m not going to die today.

Description: “Just one night, Draco.”

Warnings: Uh smut

Masterlist 

-

“I love you.”

Draco carries her to the edge of his bed, and sits her down slowly with the same delicacy one would handle a porcelain doll.

“As you’ve said,” (Y/n) says, leaning up to catch him in another kiss.

Their lips barely graze before he pulls away with a chuckle. “Not yet, love.” He presses a wet kiss to her collar, breathing in her scent and letting his hands roam downwards. “I want to take my time.”

Draco drops to his knees and begins to unbutton her shirt, never once breaking contact with her skin. “If I only have one night, I’m going to make the most of it.”

One by one, each clasp comes off as Draco sucks hungrily at her chest. She lets out a small moan, digging her fingers into his hair and pulling him closer still.

Finally, the whole of her shirt is undone. Hastily, she shrugs the cloth off, reaching down to strip the boy in front of her.

He stops her with a glare. “I told you to wait, didn’t I?” Draco unknots the tie from his neck, winking up at her. “Hands together, baby girl.”

She hesitates, and he frowns.

“Do I need to repeat myself?”

(Y/n)’s stomach flutters in its impatience, and she quickly complies, stretching out her hands for Draco to bind.

Smirking, he loops the tie around her wrists, shackling them together with a series of knots. “Hands above your head, understood?”

She nods quickly, and Draco smiles. “Good girl.” He unclasps her bra, tossing it to the floor.

Forgetting himself for a moment, Draco leans back to admire you. “Merlin, you’re so perfect,” he mumbles. Draco can feel his pants tightening, and he knows he can’t take it much longer.

With one hand, Draco palms himself through his jeans and makes haste in pulling off her skirt with the other.

“Lay back.”

He peppers her inner thighs with lazy butterfly kisses, skimming his lips upwards, inch by inch. Draco takes his time, grinning when he hears her whimper. He knows what he’s doing, and he relishes in it.

(Y/n) squirms in anticipation, trying to squeeze her legs together to gain some release.

Draco laughs, pushing them wide open again and kissing gently at her core. “Let daddy take care of you tonight, baby girl.”

“Draco, you piece of-“

He clamps a hand over her mouth, and pulls her panties as far back as they can reach, before releasing them with a sharp snap! against her slit. Jolting, she cries out against him in a mixture of both pain and pleasure.

Quickly, Draco removes the last of her undergarments. With a steady hand, he roughly massages her stinging clit, pushing his thumb up and down the slick of folds.

She moans, and her back arches upwards towards the ceiling. “Draco, do something already,” she whines – or at least tries to, before he slides a finger into her open lips.

“You’re so hot, baby girl,” he mutters, the fan of his breath spreading across her core. “You’re driving me crazy.”

He eases himself forwards. He stops, taking his hand away.

“You’re sure you want to do this, right?”

“Draco, you son of a bitch, if you make me wait another second -“

He clamps his lips down on her clit, sucking harshly.

It evokes a sharp gasp, and she lets out a moan before he swiftly jams in the length of his tongue. He takes his time exploring her, his tongue curling expert and hungrily inside of her.

She pants breathlessly, knowing that she’s already close, and he doesn’t pause for long. With muscular arms, he keeps her legs pried open, allowing his tongue to dart in and out of its prey, hitting her spot with every movement.

(Y/n)’s desperate for something to grab onto, but remembering the rules, she turns her head to the side and buries her face into the mattress.

Just as she’s ready to burst, Draco thrusts in his middle and index finger, stretching her as wide as she can. (Y/n) screams out her orgasm, his name ricocheting across the bedroom walls.

Draco runs his tongue down the length of her clit, lapping up her juices from her skin.

Drenched in sweat, (Y/n) pants heavily, mind foggy as she stares up at the ceiling.

“Draco, that was amazing,” she sighs.

He laughs against her core, gray eyes darting up to meet hers. “Princess, I was just getting started.”

Before she can respond, he has something long and cold pressed against her opening. With a hum, it begins to vibrate, and (Y/n) can feel the knot in her stomach growing tight again.

“How the fuck-“

“It’s amazing, the things you can do with a wand.” Draco winks. “Depending on the talent of the wizard, of course.”

(Y/n) groans, causing the vibrations to speed up, provoking her almost unfairly.

In a momentary slight of forgetfulness, she reaches down to try and relieve some of the tension.

Immediately, the vibrating stops, and she cries out in horror. “Draco!”

He frowns. “No touching, remember?” He pumps his own shaft, licking his lips. “You broke my rules.”

“I’m sorry.” she almost sobs, “Please, baby, let me cum for you.”

“Hmm.” Malfoy considers this thoughtfully, refusing to reveal how turned on he is right now. “I suppose I should punish you, then.”

With a mischievous glint, he slides in a finger. “How much of Daddy can you take?”

She muffles a groan, and bites her lip intently.

He slides in a second, and then a third. “More?” Draco’s breaths stiffen, and from the strain of his voice, she can hear how much he wants her.

She nods rigorously, earning a grin. “That’s my girl.”

Slowly, he pushes in his fourth finger, thrusting the flat of his hand in and out of her hole.

“Draco... Oh my -“

With a sharp thrust, he forces in all five digits, until almost the entirety of his hand is swallowed up.

(Y/n) throws her head back with a deep moan. He moves at a leisurely pace, in and out, until she orgasms for the second time all over his arm.

Exhausted, she sinks back into the cushions.

Without time to break, he climbs on to the bed, hovering above her. “Ready for a third time, kitten?”

“Draco - no, I can’t -“

“One more time.” he presses a kiss to her forehead, and pulls off the tie around her wrists. “You can do whatever you want to me. After all, it’s only one night.”

When she doesn’t respond, he relents, voice softening. “It’s alright if you can’t, love. We can just go to sleep.”

(Y/n) stares up at him. Gulping, her pupils dilate involuntarily, awestruck by how gorgeous Draco Malfoy looks right now, his eyes dark with lust and hair matted with sweat.

Clumsily, she reaches upwards to move her hands under his shirt, letting them roam free. As skinny as he looks, Draco’s body is strangely toned beneath the fabric, ripped with hard and tawny muscle. She runs her fingers across the defined lines of his stomach, giggling as he tenses beneath her touch.

“You fucking idiot.” she mumbles, letting her hands wander downwards. With great relish, her fingers dance over the bulge in his pants, playfully stroking it with her thumb.

That’s all it takes before Draco is on top of her again, attacking her lips, chest, stomach, licking streaks up her torso before landing hungry kisses on her open mouth. (Y/n) kisses him back desperately, tasting herself on his tongue.

Within seconds, his shirt is gone, and then his pants.

She barely has time to appreciate the muscular curves of his body, the pretty outline of his arms, before he’s pumping the length of his shaft, lining it up with her entrance.

“You ready, baby girl?”

“Fuck me, Draco.”

Draco groans as he slides himself into her, panting at the feeling of her warmth around his cock. His eyes flick to her face, making sure that she’s adjusted, before he begins to roll his hips forwards.

At her command, his thrusts become harder, faster, ramming himself inside her with rapid, messy strokes.

Moaning, she drags her fingers across his back, clawing red marks into his skin.

Draco raises her leg, stretching it back over his shoulder as he snaps his hips forwards again. She cries out his name, digging her nails into his shoulders frantically.

Groans spill out of his lips as he moves, her name pouring out into the room with steady fevor.

“Draco -“ she pants, clutching tight at the sheets, mind dizzy with euphoria. “I’m gonna come baby,”

He nods his permission, “Come for me, kitten,” and with that, she falls apart in his arms. Her walls clamp down around him, forcing Draco to bite down on her shoulder, muffling a moan. Her juices spill out over his prick, slicking them both in lubricant.

“Fuck, princess,” he grunts, thrusting forwards one last time. “You’re so fucking tight,”

And with that, he pulls out, aiming his shaft and spraying her in a coat of white liquid.

With a sigh, Draco eases off, viewing his own handiwork with pleasure. “You look so good covered in my cum, you know that?”

She lays limply on the mattress, too tired to retort with anything with something sharp.

Chuckling, Draco disappears for a few moments before returning with a pile of towels, blankets and clothes. After wiping her down, he covers her up with an old T-shirt (“Nirvana?” “Shut up, my mom got it for me”) and wraps her snugly into the blankets.

“You alright, princess?”

He settles down besides her, and she buries herself into his arms. Smiling, Draco slow rubs circles against her lower back, occasionally stopping to kiss the bare skin of her shoulder blade.

“Perfect,” she mumbles, opening her sleepy eyes to look up at him. It’s impossible, she thinks, and yet Draco Malfoy is actually glowing with warmth and affection. Her eyes gleam with adoration as she looks at him, lips twitching into a smile.

“Goodnight, Draco.”

Draco’s heart flutters, as if he can’t believe that this is really happening. That she’s really here, in his bed, looking at him the way that she is – it must be a cruel trick of the mind, a dream that he’ll soon wake from.

But no – it’s real.

“Goodnight, (Y/n),”

With his arms wrapped protectively around her and her soft snores lulling him to slumber, Draco Malfoy finally falls asleep.

For the first time in many years, Draco rests easy.

-----