I request an arranged marriage with draco x reader pls! It's actually a little surprising that there's so little fics like that here, or maybe I'm just not looking enough. Anyways, arranged marriage since they were little with draco sounds so interesting to me cuz how would knowing reader since he was little affect their relationship? No rush, pls take your time to cook!! I love your works and remember to stay hydrated!!
To have You
Okay but I need to know first⊠are we going for soft / friendship vibes? Because if not, just a warning, I have a long story (like⊠10-ish chapters), and it is dark. I mean full-on Death Eater Draco: obsessive, possessive, toxic to the core⊠and then eventually soft, Draco.
So yeah. You tell me! (full story here )
I'll leave a little something here so you get the vibes:
WARNINGS This chapter contains scenes of violence, aggression, and strong content.
If you are sensitive to these topics, please avoid reading.
âYouâre insane if you think Iâll ever marry you, Malfoy.â
âYou disgust me.â
âI would rather die than touch you.â
Hundreds, thousands of hateful words she had thrown at him over the years.
Starting from the very first day at Hogwarts, when Morgana saw him again after so many years.
That arrogant blond boy, full of command, contempt, and cruelty.
He reminded her far too much of his father.Â
A father that she hated.
A soulless man, who had condemned his own daughter to a cursed future, promising her to the Malfoy heir when she was only seven years old, without ever giving her a choice.
When Morgana was sorted into Gryffindor, she had almost dared to hope.
Almost believed the Malfoys would be disappointed enough to break that absurd agreement.
Over the years, she had prayed, begged her body to turn into something hideous, for her nose to become crooked, for her chest to remain flat, for her legs to be less firm, less desirable.
But her body had other plans.
It gifted her her fatherâs arrogant beauty and her motherâs graceful form.
And even when she refused to eat for months, in her third year, even when her flesh seemed to cling to her bones and the red in her cheeks vanished beneath her cheekbones, even then, Draco Malfoy did not seem to care.
He was, still, obsessed with her.
In a way that wasnât sweet nor romantic.
It was sickening. It was deranged.
To him, their childhood betrothal meant one thing:Â
Morgana Grimshaw was his.
She belonged to him.
Despite her screaming the opposite at him.
Despite how hard she tried to avoid his eyes during lessons or dodge his gaze at meals.
Draco Malfoy loved her.
He loved everything about her.
From her beautiful dark wavy hair to her blue eyes.
Her full lips he constantly watched, her young womanâs body that, from third year onward, filled his dreams, both at night and day.
Morgana was perfect.
None of the girls he brought to his bed ever came close.
None had her voice.
Sharp, confident, trembling with hatred every time Draco spoke to her.
But he was patient.
He stayed calm.
He could wait.
None of those bursts of hatred could shake his obsession with her.
At least, thatâs what he thought.
Until a November afternoon.
It was their fifth year.
And it was snowing.
Morgana had been invited by Marcus Flint to the Three Broomsticks for a Butterbeer.
Draco knew it.
He had read her letters.
He watched her climb the stairs, laughing, her hand wrapped in Flintâs, while the wooden steps creaked beneath them.
Draco didnât move.Â
One hand held the door slightly open, just enough to catch the curve of Morganaâs body in that crimson dress.Â
The other clenched the handle so hard it hurt.
His eyes moved slowly.
From her careless smile, to her bare ankles.
Then back up again, lingering on her thighs, covered by the thick fabric.
âWhere are you going? I thought we were already at the top floor!â
âAfraid of the unknown, Flint?â Morgana laughed, glancing back from the last flight of stairs.
Not many people knew that the Three Broomsticks had a third floor, completely empty.
Clearly, Flint didnât know either, and that seemed to amuse Morgana very much.
Draco closed his eyes, resting his head against the doorframe for a moment.
She had never spoken to him like that. Not with that lightness. That happiness. That joy.
Hatred, only hatred and revulsion. That was all he ever received from her.
He breathed in a shaky breath as he heard their footsteps reach the attic.
Slowly, he stepped out and followed the same path.
When he reached the open doorway at the top floor, he had to clench his fists and take a deep breath.
Flint had Morgana pinned against the wall, his body pushed into hers, his hands sliding up her thighs, gripping, lifting her onto a cluttered desk, pushing himself between her legs like an animal.
And their lips devoured each other, and their bodies moved, desperate and breathless.
âFLINT!â
His voice cut through the air, breaking the silence filled with their gasps, as they pulled apart in shock.
âMalfoy, what the hell do youâŠâ
âI told you to stay away from herâŠâ Draco said through clenched teeth.
His wand cut the air and Flitch was thrown across the room, crashing hard into a dusty wardrobe, his back hitting the wood with a loud crack.
âNO!â Morgana leapt from the desk, rushing toward Marcus, but Draco was faster.
âMorganaâŠâ
âLET ME GO!â she screamed, wrenching her wrist away from his grip in disgust.
There it was again, that look. Full of hatred. Of resentment.Â
God, he hated to be looked at like that!
âYouâre sick in the brain, Malfoy. Stay the hell away from me.â
âDonât call me Malfoy, for fuckâs sake, weâre going to be married one dayâŠâ
âOh, pathetic. Stupid boy.â She scoffed, circling around him.
âYou really donât understand, do you? I would never choose you. Iâd choose death over a life tied to you. Iâve told you that before!
Draco exhaled slowly, already recognizing the familiar burn in his chest.
â It's you the pathetic and stupid one, if you think Iâd ever let you give yourself to someone elseâŠâ he hissed, stepping closer.
He saw the way she seemed to shrink under his gaze, her eyes darting to the wand still clenched in his hand and it only made him angrier.
âYou.are.mineâ he went on
âYour mind is mine! Your future is mine! And your body, most of all, belongs to me!â His voice hardened.Â
âYouâre foolish to think you could offer it to anyone but me.â
Now Morgana had nowhere to go.
Her back hit the wall, and she shivered at the contact, the damp, rotting wood of the attic pressing cold against her spine.
Even breathing felt difficult.
âBut I forgive youâ Draco murmured after a moment, sweetly almost.
 âI forgive you for trying.â
His hand moved suddenly, catching her cheek and she flinched.
Only now did he seem to realize how close she was, how real it felt to touch her.
For the first time. Ever.
âNo one else gets to touch you. I should be the only one whoâŠâ
His voice faltered.
His fingers slid down to her throat, brushing over the pulse at her neck.
Lower.
Dangerously lower.
Almost brushing her collarbones, almost slipping beneath the soft line of the boat neckline of her velvet dress.
His fingers trembled when they reached that point, where her skin softened under his touch.
When, suddenly, a faint tremor passed through her.
The echo of Morganaâs laughter filled the room, alive beneath his fingertips, disrupting his thoughts.
âDo you really think Marcus wouldâve been the first?â
Morganaâs voice cut through him, laughing, cruelly, savoring the pain her words were carving into him.
âYouâre too late, Malfoy.â
Her smile twisted, sharp and merciless.
âFar too late.â
Dracoâs hand stilled, completely, and his eyes snapped back to hers
âWhat?â he whispered, and something inside him collapsed completely.
"No..."
Morgana pulled away suddenly, taking advantage of his moment of distraction.
Being that close to him made her skin crawl.
She hated him, truly, deeply, and the feeling of his fingers on her was enough to turn her stomach.
âYouâre lying!â he breathed, his voice tight, strained.
âI donât lie. Ever.â she spat, her voice dripping with hatred.
âAnd if it helps you sleep at night, you were never even an option in the first placeâ
Morgana had thrown harsh words at him before.
Many times she had seen anger twist his face, seen indignation burn in his eyes.
But never, never had she seen this.
The pain that now darkened his gaze.
She had hurt him, truly hurt him, this time and... god, how she loved it.
âYou stay away from me, you twisted freakâ Morgana said at last, stepping past him and out the door.
Utterly indifferent to the wound she had just carved into the black heart of her betrothed.
FULL STORY ON WATTPAD
I swear there is an happy ending... more or less. Keep an eye on my wattpad: here
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â ïž Warning: Contains dark themes, violence, and non-consensual elements.
The Great Wizarding War has come to an end.
Harry Potter is dead.
The Dark Lord rises victorious, ushering in his new reign and rewarding his most loyal Death Eaters. Draco Malfoy has always known what his reward would be.
A.n. I love this fucking story so much. I have written in 2023, and I am now publishing on Wattpad. Ready it here link
"All these tears for a worthless little Mudblood. Draco warned me you'd make a scene."Â the witch drawled, stepping closer, and the blood in Morgana's veins froze at the sound of that name.
Draco.
Draco, who had let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts, Draco who had made all of this possible.
That had caused all those deaths.
Dumbledore. Harry. Hermione.
Morgana's vision blurred, swallowed by a sharp, blinding rage that only deepened when the woman brushed her cheek with the tip of her wand, studying her like something mildly interesting.
"Well... at least he'll have some fun with you"Â she added with a careless shrug.
"You are rather pretty."
The moment the wand left her skin, Morgana went rigid, her breath catching as Bellatrix's voice rang out into the corridor.
"DRACO. Care to do the honors?"
A second later, Draco's figure appeared in the doorway, framed by ruin and smoke.
Impeccable. Untouched.
The youngest Death Eater.
The pride of the Malfoy name.
His eyes barely lingered on Hermione's lifeless body before snapping to Morgana, scanning her quickly, searching,until they stopped at the blood soaking through her shoulder.
"I couldn't find you anywhere"Â he said quietly, stepping toward her and Morgana stumbled back with every step he took.
"Stay away from me."
She tried to say it, but the words died in her throat, escaping only as a strained, bitter whisper.
Draco stopped.
For a moment, he simply watched her, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes, before turning his head slightly toward his aunt.
"Aunt Bellatrix" he said, his voice calm, almost detached
"leave us."
There was a pause.
"And close the door" he replied evenly.
"I'd rather not be interrupted."
Bellatrix's lips curved, interest sparking in her gaze as she studied him.
"Well"Â she hummed
"...aren't you full of surprises tonight."
A low, delighted laugh slipped past her lips as she turned, her robes sweeping softly against the stone as she stepped into the corridor.
Just before disappearing, she glanced back at him, something knowing lingering in her expression.
Then she was gone.
The door creaked as it swung inward, and shut with a heavy, echoing thud.
Morgana raised her hands, disarmed, as his presence grew too close, his scent too strong, his body nearly touching hers.
Now, truly,
truly,
truly, she had no way out.
She was trapped.
"You nearly scared me to death"Â he whispered, brushing her cheek.
"I thought they'd mistaken you for a Mudblood"
"Don't you dare..." she tried to push herself away from the wall, jaw clenched, but his touch tightened into a painful grip around her chin.
"You don't get to tell me what I can or can't do, Morgana. Do you understand? It's over"Â he breathed against her.
There was no trace of the concern from before.
Only adrenaline.
Something darker.
The thrill of finally having her within reach.
"Now, nothing you say will matter. You're my reward. He promised me that..."Â he murmured, his lips grazing her cheek in a sweet kiss.
Morgana shivered.
Breathing felt impossible.
"Now you're mine. Completely."
Draco hesitated for a moment, as if it still didn't feel real, as if he was almost afraid to touch her.
"I told you I would protect you..."Â he whispered, lifting her gaze to his.
"We'll marry, and I'll protect you. "
His voice softened, almost gentle, and the tears slipped from her eyes.
Draco waited, just a moment longer, before finally pressing his lips, slowly, against hers soft, despite the pain tightening them.
His body ignited like gasoline thrown onto a fire.
Finally.
Finally, he was kissing her.
After years spent only imagining the taste of her.
After years spent imagining what it would feel like to cross that threshold that now resisted his tongue.
But Morgana had no choice anymore.
Draco refused to give her one.
He grabbed her hair with one hand, and the pain forced her mouth open, leaving him free to explore it with his tongue.
Morgana pulled away, her legs giving out beneath her as she tried to escape downward.
Perhaps it was only then that Draco realized he could do more than just kiss her, that he could take in all of her, not just her lips.
It was the reason he had worked so hard to please the Dark Lord with such zeal.
