#professor!draco

“Do you know how many papers I could be grading right now?” Draco spat out.

You scoffed quietly as he bent you over his desk, skirt hiked up just enough to expose the lingerie he had bought you a while ago. You could feel the way that his sleeves rubbed against your almost b109are back—the way his tie dangled just enough to graze your shoulder bone back and forth. 

“Three?” you murmured, watching as his hands folded through papers.

He hummed quietly. “Three.” he said to you. “Maybe I should give you a punishment, since you want to be so needy.” he spat. His hand made its way around the back of your neck, pressing just right against the points that made you see stars. “Three orgasms sounds like a good way to get there, doesn’t it?”

You bit your lip and shook your head no. “I’m sorry.” you murmured.

“Maybe I’ll grade each paper in between.” he said with a smirk, leaning down to whisper into your ear. “I’m sure that sorry will be escaping your brain real soon.”

You whimpered. His hand met with your ass cheek once before wrapping around the edge of your lace lingerie, pulling them down and exposing your nudity to the cold air of his office. 

“Cold.” you moaned quietly. 

“I bet.” he said to you, his fingers dipping into your drenched hole. His fingers went back and forth—slowly but steadily hitting the spot inside of you that turned your brain to mush. “You already ruined three pairs that I bought you, did you know that?”

Your eyes rolled back as your hands grabbed at his other arm. Fingers wrapped around his and squeezed just a bit harder than before.

“What, do you want me to choke you harder?” Draco asked. His hand tightened just so, tightening even more when you had moaned out his name. It was hoarse, pleading, and quite literally anything he could want from you right now. “Is that better?”

“Draco—” you moaned out. 

“Do you know how this is going to work?” he asked you. “I’m going to finger you first. Then I’m going to stick my cock inside of you.” he said. His voice was husky when he spoke, groin pressed against your crotch. “And then, I’m going to eat everything out after. Our perfect union.”

“Thank you.” you slurred out.

He chuckled fondly at that, pressing a kiss against your mouth. It was hot and heavy and everything that he needed in that moment—a way to release without cumming his pants right then and there. “You’re welcome. But I think I promised you two more after this, didn’t I?”

You nodded weakly.

“Good girl.” he said to you. His fingers moved quick and brutal. In and out of your cunt, the wet sounds of your slick echoing in what was left of your mind. You weren’t quite sure how you were meant to reach three total orgasms by the end of the night—especially since you were barely holding together for the first. 

“Such a good girl, aren’t you?” he said to you, pressing against the spot inside of you that made you see stars. “Why don’t you cum for me? Make this a little quicker for yourself.”

You tried to bite your lip and failed, a loud moan escaping your mouth the moment that it washed over you. Pleasure wracked through your entire body—leaving your mind fuzzy and your legs draped over his desk uselessly. 

“How many was that so far, hm?” he asked you.

“One.” you murmured. 

Draco kissed your cheek, just for a moment, before pulling his fingers out. You could hear the sound of his belt clicking in the back of your mind, but didn’t truly register it until he gently tapped it against your ass. Not a spank or a hit—just a reminder it was there.

“How many did I say I would give you?” he asked.

“Three.” you whined out. 

“So that means you have two left, doesn’t it?” he asked you. His hand patted your foot next right before pressing you against his bulge. You can feel it rubbing against your wet cunt, how his tip caught on your hole for a moment before passing through. 

“Yes sir.” you murmured. 

“Are you ready?” he asked you. His hands were wrapped tight around your waist, squeezing just right.

You nodded and pushed your backside against him. “Please.”

He chuckled quietly and slowly pushed inside. Your head had gone truly blank then, each in and out movement like a firecracker to kindlewood inside of your cunt. He grabbed your chin tight and lifted it up—watching as your eyes rolled into the back of your skull.

“Having fun, pretty girl?” he asked. He made sure to emphasize his words with a harsh thrust. “I bet you are.”

“Draco—“ you moaned out. 

“I got you.” he whispered. His tongue delved into yours as his hand moved to your throat, thrusts growing faster and harder by the minute. “You wanna cum again?”

“Yes!” you nodded frantically.

“Then cum.” he muttered in your ear. “C’mon pretty, I know you can.”

You felt yet another crashing over you. Over sensitive and shaking heavily from the mounting pleasure, you came again. “Thank you—“

“Such a sweet girl.” he chuckled quietly. His hand found your hair and tugged on it lightly, hips still thrusting for a moment before stopping. You could feel it when he came too, his cum spilling down your legs as he pulled out.

“Draco—“ you slurred out. 

“I still promised you one more.” he said to you. His hand was running itself through your hair—nails combing through any knots. “Can you take it, love?”

“Mhm.” you nodded. 

“Good girl.” he smirked. His knees hit the floor as his tongue hit your cunt—licking just a couple of times before he started. 

You listened helplessly to the sounds he was making, too dazed to recognize whether moans were coming from you or him. You could feel the way his hands held your shaking thighs, the way your body convulsed with pleasure.

You could feel an orgasm before he even told you to cum, feeling it rush out of you like a boat escaping a harsh wave. His tongue worked faster and faster until there was nothing left at all.

He moved his tongue off after that, leaving nothing more than a panting, wet mess. “So beautiful.” 

“I love you.” you sighed quietly.

He chuckled quietly as he stood back up, moving to kiss your forehead. “I love you too.”

hello everyone, i hope you guys enjoyed! this is my first long smut so if it sucks blame it on that. i also wanted to put a quick reminder that if you want anything specific about these two (or any of my other aus) you can always send in requests! thanks so much for reading!

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He's also known for being the coolest godfather ever, the best friend a man could have, and for being the most awesome professor ever. All three of these are the accomplishments Harry relishes in having, clinging to those compliments when the others attempt to be too heavy to carry.

He's been accused of many other things.

Never this. Never in his wildest dreams had he hoped or even allowed himself to hope for this.

Draco Malfoy was willingly in his company, willingly stepping between Harry's spread thighs with flushed red cheeks.

Things were tentative, still just new to them both.

"You have to be the most self-restrained Alpha I've ever come across," Draco murmured, lowering himself to his knees.

No one had ever accused Harry of having self-restraint. Especially not Hogwarts' newest Potion Master. The second youngest Professor to ever be employed by Hogwarts.

"Is that so?" Harry's voice had dipped several octaves, coming out closer to a growl as Draco rested his hands on Harry's thighs. He smelled overbearingly sweet, the scent resting on Harry's tongue and reminding him of Honeyduke's most decadent chocolate.

"I've never had the issue of having to beg before, Harry." Draco looked up through his lashes, biting on his bottom lip. "But if that's what it will take then I'm willing to."

Harry freed Draco's lip with his thumb, smoothing the teeth mark gently. Draco's eyes were almost black as he slipped the digit into his mouth, letting his tongue brush the pad of Harry's thumb.

"Isn't there a three-date rule?" Harry chuckled, pressing down on Draco's tongue, trapping it so he couldn't speak, could use the usual Malfoy snark. "I'm trying to be a gentleman, to court you."

In truth, Harry had wanted to bend Draco over the hardwood of his office desk that day he had approached Harry tentatively on his first day in Hogwarts. He had come to make amends as if Harry could hold a grudge against the man.

As if Harry had a choice. As if he hadn't been half in love with him since they were children. The obsessive stalking, the dreams that had plagued him since he had first presented at sixteen.

There was something confusing about wanking yourself raw every time he spotted the man he was supposed to hate so fervently. Especially in the midst of a war where they had fallen on opposites sides.

But this Draco Malfoy, Professor Draco Malfoy, was no angst-ridden teenager. He was for all intents and purposes, the most attractive Omega Harry had ever seen.

Long graceful limbs, hair that had been grown out just long enough for Harry to wrap his fist in, and an arse that Harry had a hard time taking his eye off.

Harry watched saliva pool along the sides of his thumb, dribbling down Draco's chin as Harry kept his thumb in place, keeping the Omega silent.

Draco mewled, his hands sliding further up his thighs to the button of the Alpha's slacks. Harry allowed Draco to undo his button but caught his hands with his free one when they moved to his zipper. He stared Draco down when he swallowed roughly and dipped his head slightly in deference.

"I'm trying to treat you as I should. Trying to be chivalrous, walking you back to your door every night, buying you flowers, and treating you like a proper Omega should be treated." Harry reminded him. He pressed harder down on Draco's tongue when he attempted to speak. Instead, a garbled moan fell from his lips.

Harry arched into Draco's hands, pressing them tighter to his crotch with his own hands. "Coming back to my own chambers and fucking my fist thinking of that tight little hole."

Draco's eyes rolled in his head as he began to suck on Harry's thumb in earnest, flexing his hands. "You don't want to be treated right, do you?"

Draco blinked, attempting to focus on Harry's words but he was too far gone, his arousal permeating the air like a vat of Amortentia. Harry inhaled deeply, his cock throbbing. Draco flexed his hands again.

"You don't want me to buy you flowers or drop you off at your chambers every night, do you? You want me to drag you back to my own chambers and fill that tight little hole, don't you?" Harry released Draco's hands, batting them away to undo his own zipper. He freed his cock with a hiss.

Draco's hands fell down by his side as his breath heaved and his eyes locked on the almost angry-looking tip of Harry's cock like he was a starving man. "So here's what we're going to do. You're going to prep yourself, get that tight little hole all wet and loose for me. I'm going to stroke my cock and if you're ready before I come then you can sit on my cock. If not, well then I guess it's your hard luck."

Harry released Draco's tongue, spreading the saliva on it over his cock and groaning to himself. Draco watched with rapt attention, quivering in place. Harry smirked, stroking himself from root to tip before Draco spurred into action.

He vanished his trousers and pants, rather than move from his kneeled position, and his scent's potency increased tenfold. Harry groaned again, speeding his hand up and twisting his wrist just how he liked it.

He'd had a lot of time to perfect his wanking ability, none more so than in the last three months since Draco had joined the faculty. He was surprised he hadn't given himself carpal tunnel with how often he had found himself thinking of Draco exactly like this.

The man in question was moaning loudly, bouncing on the fingers he had unceremoniously shoved inside himself. He was sweating, a red flush spreading down his chest. Harry had missed him vanishing his shirt.

"That's it, baby. Just like that." Harry grunted, fucking up into his fist. "Show me how you fuck yourself while thinking of me."

Draco's eyes rolled in his head but he focused on Harry's cock again, adding another finger if his moan was anything to go by. Harry pressed his thumb against the gland that ran the length of his cock and bucked up again, clenching his jaw.

Draco appraised him with hooded eyes before deciding he'd had enough and scrambled up to straddle Harry's lap. When Harry attempted to push his trousers down Draco shook his head, one hand replacing Harry's and dropping himself down on Harry's cock.

"Let me get these off." Harry insisted, hand on his trousers again. Draco shook his head, freezing on Harry's cock as he bottomed out. His arse clenched and the tight heat had Harry restraining himself from thrusting up.

"Leave 'em on. It's hotter." Draco insisted. Harry smirked at Draco's very obvious interest in this power play, leaving him at Harry's mercy. before he could tease Draco about it his words were cut off by a loud growl as Draco began to bounce on Harry's cock.

"So good, so fucking good." Draco whimpered, falling forward to press his face against Harry's bonding gland, inhaling deeply.

"So fucking tight, Jesus Draco." Harry couldn't fight the urge, wrapping an arm around Draco's waist and fucking up into him. Draco was babbling incoherently now, every second word was Harry's name.

Slick dripped down Harry's cock, a sticky mess on his balls and thighs and he was sure that he'd smell of Draco for days to come, all of which drove Harry to fuck into Draco harder and faster.

"Please, please," Draco begged against Harry's neck, his hot breath making Harry's hair stand on end. "Knot me, knot me, knot me."

"That what you want, baby? You want to be the perfect little Omega, taking my knot, huh?" Harry growled against Draco's shoulder before biting down on the soft flesh.

Draco howled, babbling incomprehensibly again. Harry could feel the beginning of his knot, that familiar heat that had his eyes clenching shut. "Don't know if it'll fit, if you can handle me."

"Please, I can. It will fit." Draco wailed desperately. "I'll be so good, I promise. Alpha, please."

Harry tilted his head back as he thrust up, pushing the knot into Draco who screamed. Harry thrust shallowly, pulling at Draco's abused rim. "Please, please."

Three more shallow thrusts had Draco clenching down impossibly tight and cumming between their bodies. He sagged against Harry, hitching sobs as Harry continued to fuck into him, chasing his own release.

"Wan' it, Alpha. Please." Draco whimpered, clenching around Harry's knot. Harry gave in, allowing the sensation to pull him under, his hands clenching into Draco's hips as his vision whited out and he came.

When Harry blinked his eyes open again he smiled gently down at the Omega who was purring contentedly in Harry's arms. Hary stroked a hand up and down Draco's sweat-slicked back and the Omega sat up, clenching accidentally around Harry's knot.

He wore a soft smile, bashful after everything. Harry raised a hand to cup his cheek and pulled him into a sweet kiss, more than aware he hadn't kissed Draco since they were leaving the restaurant they had dinner in.

"Sweet boy." Harry hummed when he pulled away. Draco groaned, attempting to hide his smile in Harry's hand. "How do you feel?"

"So good." Draco stretched, clenching down on Harry again. This time it wasn't an accident. "Think you can go again, old man?"

"You're older than me." Harry protested with a laugh. "'sides, maybe we should let this knot go down first."

"Why?" Draco asked, bouncing himself shallowly. His own cock began to stir with interest and Harry felt his breath catch as he looked over his Omega.

His head was thrown back, one hand against Harry's chest for balance and the other on his own cock. "Alpha, my Alpha."

“It’s such a lovely day outside.” She muses out loud, rolling on the bed and onto her back. 

He doesn’t say anything. He hasn’t said anything for the last hour. 

“I’m thinking picnic by the lake.” She tries to get his attention again. “What do you think?” 

“Everyone will still be out.” He reminds her, without bothering to look up from the sack of papers in front of him. 

“But I’m soooo bored, Draco.” She grumbles. Tendrils of her hair cascade off the edge of the bed and she blows a strand away to look at him. 

Wire rimmed glasses rest on his nose and above his glasses, she can see his brows furrowed in concentration. His shirt sleeves are rolled up neatly  and the corded veins on his forearm bulge just a little with every moment of his quill that is moving faster than the golden snitch. 

He makes one last scribble and drops his quill back into the ink pot. The chair creaks against the floorboard when he turns his body to face her. 

“Cmhere then.” He says, giving her a crooked grin that makes her feel lightheaded. “You can sit on my lap while I grade these papers.”

Hearing that, her body automatically leaps off the bed and darts towards his desk. She worries that she looks way too thrilled to be close to him but he doesn’t seem to mind. 

A lazy smile is pulling on the corners of his mouth and his arms are wide open in anticipation. 

She is quick to sink into his lap, her legs straddling him as she gets comfortable. When satisfied, she curls up into his chest and her face on the crook of his neck. 

Long fingers brush her spine in gentle strokes and all the restlessness inside of her is put to an ease. She can fall asleep like this. She can die like this. She doesn’t even care. 

It's terrifying how he holds so much power over her. 

“You can fall asleep.” He murmurs against her earlobe as if reading her mind. “I’ll carry you to bed if you do.” 

When she was a little girl, she’d fall asleep on her living room sofa and wake up snug and comfortable in her own bed. For a while, she had convinced herself that she was teleporting .But now, when she looks back, a nostalgic kind of sadness washes over in high tides because having someone to carry you to bed when you fall asleep in random places is a luxury. 

She’d fallen asleep with her books sprawled on the rug of his room while he was away at a faculty meeting yesterday. When she’d woken up, she found herself on the bed. As snug as a bug. 

 She knows she can trust Draco to put her to bed but sleep is not what she wants. 

What she wants is no sleep. 

What she wants is for him to cast the silencing spell on the walls of this room and take her on his desk again. She wants him to fuck her brains out all night long, 

“Don’t fight the sleep, sweetheart.” He whispers into her ears, his voice softer than lullaby. “You’ve had a long day.” 

“You would know.” She grumbles, her eyes still closed. “You gave us an enormous report to write and submit by the end of this week. Who does that?” 

“So you haven’t started on the report, I assume.” 

“Nope.” 

“May I ask why?” He asks. This whole time, his other hand hasn’t stopped grading papers. 

“Oh, I was hoping to further my academic career by sucking off my professor.” She sighs against his neck, shifting her hips a little to get more comfortable. 

They both know she’s only joking but still, he drops his quill and cups her arse in his palm. “Is that so?” He asks, giving it a squeeze. 

“But then I changed my mind.” She peppers kisses along his throat. “I’m going to get up early tomorrow to go to the library. I have some books in mind that might help with the report.” 

“Good girl.” He chuckles and kisses the top of her head before resuming his grading. She can tell he’s not impressed with any of the tests that were turned in because he keeps clicking his tongue and cursing at Salazar Slytherin. 

“That’s it.” He sighs, exasperated. “Another one of these stupid answers that miss the fucking point and I’m done with my teaching career.” 

She giggles and cups his frowning face in her hands. Her thumbs gently smooth out his creased brows and she leans in to place a kiss on his lips before removing his glasses. 

His blue-gray eyes are so vivid up close that it robs her off her breath. His pupils dilate when they focus on her and just knowing that she is the center of his attention makes her incredibly giddy. 

“Take a break, Professor Malfoy.” 

~~~~~

Her voice is a soft silken caress on his heated skin. It feels like a crosswind, cooling him off and sedating him into a state of pure bliss. 

“Can’t.” He replies, grabbing her firmly by the hips to still him when she starts to rub up against him. 

He knows where this is going. 

She’s a siren and the rhythm in which she grinds her hips is a siren song he isn’t capable of resisting. 

“But I want you.” She says, her voice sounding like a near sob. “Look at how bad I want you, Draco.” 

She holds his large hand in her small one and guides up her skirt. Slipping the fabric of her panties aside, she presses his hand against her clit. 

“See?” She blinks her eyes so innocently at him that he loses it. She’s so wet her arousal is pooling down her inner thighs.

He allows his index finger to circle her clit and she arches her back in instant response. 

“I need to finish grading those papers.” He says through his teeth, unsure if he’s telling her or reminding himself. His cock is jerking up, aroused at the wet sounds of her pussy and he has to will himself not to bend her on his desk and pound her till she is deliriously moaning his name. 

“Please.” She is pleading now. The little brat is rolling her hips and chasing her orgasm by fucking herself on his fingers. 

“Please what?” He asks, using his free hand to grip her arse to still her. 

“Please, sir.” She chokes out, tears welling in the corners of her eyes. She is right on the edge of her orgasm and the thought of her at his mercy gets him off. 

There has always been this power dynamic at play since the very beginning. The imbalance of power is so prominent that he often wonders if he is corrupting her. Sometimes, he lies awake next to her after carrying her to bed and wonders if he is taking advantage of her. 

But then she rolls to her side and snuggles up against him. She kisses his cheek and tells him that she loves him. 

It’s always been about trust between them. He fucks her like a whore and runs her a hot bath afterwards. He massages her shoulders and gives her forehead kisses. 

He just wants to take care of her. He wants to take her to dinner and buy her every stupid thing her heart desires. 

“Are you going to come on my fingers, pretty girl?” 

“Yes.” She moans, struggling to keep the friction going. When he looks at the desperation in her eyes, he wants to let her come but not before he punishes her for being bratty. 

His hands strike her arse as she whimpers. “Yes what?”

“Yes, Sir.” She moans. “I want to come on your fingers.”  

“Then come.” He growls, pumping his fingers in and out of her pussy. He knows she needs that extra stimulation on her clit so he uses his thumb to rub steady circles on it. 

She is almost there. Her eyes are rolling back and she is clenching his fingers inside her tight little hole. He increases his pace and she makes that little whimper she always makes before she comes. 

“My girl is such a filthy fucking slut. Fucking herself on her Professor’s fingers.” His hands strike as arse again. “Imagine what everyone will say if they ever find out.” 

She’s panting. She’s falling apart. 

“That gets you off, doesn’t it?” He murmurs against her neck. “Everyone knowing what a filthy little whore you really are.” 

Her orgasm crashes through her in multiple waves. With each passing wave, she trembles and cries out his name. When she’s spent he pushes the strands of hair from her sweaty forehead away and places a loving kiss on top. 

She opens her eyes and looks at him expectantly. Her lips curl up into a pout and he has to stifle a laugh. 

“What?” Draco arches a brow at her. 

“You didn’t fuck me.” She huffs, post climax sleepiness already making her eyelids droopy. 

Draco contemplates his options for a bit. If he fucks her now, he’ll have to go to class with ungraded papers tomorrow. 

He reaches for his belt buckle and undoes his zipper. When his achingly hard cock springs free, she instantly looks more awake. 

Draco kisses her softly and begins pumping his cock in his fist. 

“Are you going to fuck me, now?” She asks. 

“No.” He smirks, lifting her so he can push his cock inside her. Slowly, he feels her velvet walls suck him in. She is clawing at his back, moaning. 

She frees her left hand and places it on the lowermost area of her stomach. “Here.” She sighs. “You’re all the way up here, Draco.”

“Fuck.” He groans. “I will never finish grading these fucking papers if you say things like that.” 

“But it’s true.” She whispers, grinding her hips.

“Sit still” He says, stilling her for the third time that day. “Sit still and let me finish grading these papers while my cock is inside of you. Then I’ll fuck you just the way you want it.” 

Her eyes dance, calculating the pros and cons of his proposal. “Fine.” She snaps and sinks back into his chest and closes her eyes. 

Draco kisses her one last time and goes back to grading his papers. Ever so often, he pauses to rub her clit. She grits her teeth but stays true to her word. She does not move one bit. 

By the time he grades his last paper, she is sniffling against the crook of his neck. His heart aches at the sight so he carries her to bed. 

“I’m going to make it up to you, sweet heart.” He brings her hands up to his mouth. He kisses her knuckles and her fingers. “I’m going to make you feel good.” 

She sniffles and nods in response.

 Draco spreads her legs apart and takes his time licking her pussy. When he gets another orgasm out of her, he lines himself up against her entrance and she sucks her breath in anticipation. 

“I love you, you know that?” He whispers into her ears when he sinks inside of her. When he rocks into her in slow steady strokes, she abandons all control and gives him the reins. 

“I love you too, Draco.” Her breathy whisper tickles the side of his face. 

The thing is, he’d do anything for her. His heart is at her mercy and he’s given her all the reins to his entire existence. 

And even when he wraps his hand around the base of her throat, he knows this for a fact. 

She’s in control. 

She’s in control. 

Life was cruel. That had always been the conclusion he came to whenever he aimlessly wandered the streets of Scotland as he retreated into his self-formed cocoon. Perhaps it was his insecurities or the queasiness inside of him, but he always seemed to believe that people all around him judged his every move. Their eyes bore into him, attempting to see who between his guilt and their hatred would cause him to run away faster. 

A bench at Springfield Meadows served as his trusted nest, his shoulders visibly relaxing as he plopped down. The familiarity of the dark wood beneath his long fingers sparked a sense of peace and serenity as he leaned forward, elbows on his knees and fisted hands above his mouth, deep into thought. 

“Thinking about it any further will not change much, you know?” Draco heard from behind him. He scoffed as the man stepped forward, proceeding to take a seat next to him. 

Silver eyes roamed the expanse of the park, gliding over the white daisies that were beginning to bloom. “The world is nothing short of possibilities, and one thought can change the course of our paths forever,” he replied, craning his head as he faced his friend. 

The tall brunette rolled his eyes. He leaned back against the bench with one arm casually draped against the wood behind Draco’s shoulders. “To be or not to be, that is the question.” He raised his free hand in the air, feigning melancholy. “Always the Shakespeare, Malfoy. Eloquent, creative, and ever brooding.”

Draco scoffed, tapping his fingers against his knees. “The world may evolve, but I’ll always be philosophical, and you’ll always remain–”

“Charming?” 

“More of a nuisance, to tell you the truth.”

The man hit his friend across his chest, eliciting a groan from the platinum blond. Theodore, the tall “nuisance” as Draco referred to him, raised his left foot, resting his calf on his right knee. He remained silent, watching the birds that soared above them. His hazel eyes gazed at his best friend for a moment, noticing him succumb to his deafening fears once more. 

Draco’s attention was elsewhere and nowhere all at once, his knee rising and falling in anticipation of the upcoming decision he was going to have to make. His mind filled with the words he had read this morning–the promise of a chance to start anew. 

“Was it you?” he pondered aloud, the back of his head now resting against the wood, silver orbs looking away. “ Where you the one who suggested my name?”

Theodore considered his answer for a moment. “At the risk of sounding like a lousy friend, I didn’t even think about mentioning you, mate.”

Draco huffed out a half-laugh, the ghost of the past paying him an unwanted visit. He hated closing his eyes because he never found the escape he craved to seek refuge in. He’d instead find himself surrounded with traces of a reality so discouraging and shameful, it entangled itself within his worst nightmares. “Then why the hell are they asking me to come back?” After everything.

“Hogwarts has been struggling to find a competent literature professor since you left–”

“Since I was forced to,” Draco corrects bitterly, the bright silver in his eyes dimming, a wounded shade of grey taking the reins.

Theodore nodded absentmindedly, seeking the right words. “Right, well. McGonagall has now been appointed as the university’s president. And she specifically requested for you to return.”

“Hogwarts,” Draco repeated. The word fell from his lips with a bitter taste in its wake. “The most prized institution in Scotland, in Britain, struggling to hire a decent professor? That’s quite hard to believe.”

“I never said the instructors weren’t decent. They just lack your competence, Draco.” 

The man let out a deep exhale, his palms digging into his eyes and rubbing away the irritation. Not to sound narcissistic, even though Draco Malfoy is just that sometimes, but there could never be someone that garnered as many skills as he did in that domain. 

He knew every cadence of literature. He studied its facades and its realities so vehemently, there was no message that could escape his thirsty eyes, no matter how well hidden it was between the lines. Perhaps this was a result of the sanctuary he found within the pages of every book he has ever read in his times of loneliness. Or maybe, it was the ostentatious life he had lived as the only son of billionaire philanthropists Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy. 

Whatever misfortune had led him to acquire such knowledge of the craft was the only tribulation he welcomed so openly.

“I can’t go back.” He shook his head. “Not after everything.”

“You can’t, or you don’t want to?” Theodore didn’t wait for an answer before he completed the rest of the monologue that waiting to be set free. “Listen, mate. I know the circumstances weren’t in your favor, and you’re dreading having to relive the past. But you need this. You need to give yourself another chance.” 

Draco closed his eyes and groaned. A thousand scenarios ran in his head laced with fear and doubt, all telling him to run the other way. But Theodore’s words were also there. You need this. Need. Since when was ever Draco granted what he needed in life? 

A hand on his shoulder awoke him from his reverie, albeit reluctantly. He peered his eyes away from the monochromatic thoughts he was having, catching Theodore’s hazel orbs. Think about it, the brunette tried to say without so much as moving his lips. And with that, he was on his way. 

Draco’s mind was suddenly engulfed by the silence. Again, the man sighed, letting his head fall back against the wooden bench. He didn’t know what was better. The overcrowded streets of doubt and despair that his mind fabricated or the noiseless alleys of solitude he sometimes wandered to.  

His fingers unconsciously drummed against the wood–an anchor that was keeping him tethered to reality, fearing he might find himself far too lost. 

Suddenly, his forehead creased, and the traffic in his head came to a standstill. Everything became eerily quiet. All those malicious possibilities halted, hanging in the air. His mind stung, an unwelcome sensation probing at the back of his head. He looked around, searching his consciousness, only to find a red light blaring soundlessly, yet ever so brightly, as if it was trying to warn him about something. 

Draco opened his silver eyes to the real world, his mind still reeling from the effect of his raging thoughts. He looked around with furrowed brows, trying to decipher what might’ve caused his duress. And then the red lights blared once more as soon as he locked eyes with a pair of curious Y/E/C eyes. 

His brow unconsciously arched at the sight of the girl that stood a few mere feet away from him. Clad in a long-sleeved dress, she gnawed at her lower lip, her cheeks heating up as soon as she met Draco’s questioning gaze. 

Her eyes fell back down to her lap where her open notebook lay, her pencil gliding over the pages. But Draco paid close attention to the young woman, noting the nonexistent flick in her wrist. While her eyes were cast down, they didn’t seem to be moving—more so trying to find their footing. Instead, they were on the edge of the paper, awaiting the right moment. 

Draco’s suspicions were proven true when those same curious Y/E/C eyes met his. Bashful and reluctant, they retreated back to their checkpoint as soon as they were caught. 

10 seconds, Draco took note, studying the pattern the girl followed. This time he pretended to look away when his silver eyes were strategically positioned in a way that allowed him to catch a glimpse of the girl. 

The same thing happened, albeit this time it took 10 seconds more before the girl’s eyes fled once again. 

It continued twice more before Draco decided to do something about it. This time, when the girl snuck a peek, her brows scrunched at the empty bench that faced her. A small, imperceptible sound came out of her lips, almost similar to a sigh. She tilted her head, searching side to side before she yelped in surprise, her hands dropping her notebook, and immediately flying to her mouth. 

“You’ve been staring at me for the past five minutes,” Draco remarks impassively, his hand in his pockets. “Care to explain why.” 

The girl, who looked no more than twenty-five, fumbled with her hands. She gazed at Draco, her lashes fluttering in trepidation before she moved to pick up the leather notebook. “I wasn’t… I didn’t. I’m sorry. It wasn’t my intention to make you feel uncomfortable.” 

“And what was your intention, young lady?” he asked, his brow raised in anticipation. 

The girl’s cheeks heated once more at the feeling of being reprimanded like a child, her hands automatically moving to loosen the scarf wrapped around her neck. 

“I just… you looked pensive,” she articulated, feeling small against Draco’s intense gaze. Her nails picked at the leather of her notebook, her words almost getting lost in her throat. “Are you okay?” 

If Draco’s eyes had been wide before, then they were as wide as saucers now. He studied the girl, an incredulous look overcoming his features. Draco scoffed, loudly at that, turning his head the other way. His hand settled on the wood near her head, causing a certain agitation and jitteriness in the girl at the sight of his long and calloused fingers. 

“Why should I answer that?” 

“Pardon me, sir. I truly didn’t mean to pry.” She paused, licking her lips and trying to search for the right words to say while attempting to mask her intimidation. “You just seemed to be worried. If… if you’d like to talk about your worries, I would gladly listen.” 

“Hasn’t your mother ever taught you not to talk to strangers? Why in the name of God would I want to talk to you about my problems? I don’t even know you!” 

“Exactly,” she retorted, unfazed by his hostility. A gust of wind brushed her bangs, causing them to almost cover her eyes. “I’m a stranger. I don’t know you or your back story, so I can’t exactly judge. I can only listen, which is sometimes all that someone needs.” 

Draco narrowed his eyes, trying to read the girl in front of him. Despite the blatant glare he was giving her, he received nothing but a kind and gentle smile in return.

He let out a half-laugh half-scoff while repeating the girl’s words in his head, his feet immediately changed course, the sound of fallen leaves wailing beneath the soles of his shoes. 

Though his back was turned, his ear picked up on the sound of the girl shifting in her seat. He could hear her pen tapping against the notebook, debating whether or not it was worth going back to doing what she was doing before this conversation even started. 

Just as he heard her open her notebook and ruffle through the pages, he surprised even himself at the sound of his own voice. “What do you think about second chances?” 

“What?” she asked, surprised. Draco turned around to face her, the glare he gave her made her shuffle around. “Um, well… I think… I believe that we all deserve a second chance. Not just to rectify our first mistake but to prove to ourselves that we can do better. That we are better.”

“Interesting way of phrasing it,” Draco said. He placed his hands in the pocket of his trousers, fallen leaves crunching beneath his feet as he strolled back to the bench. 

The girl watched him with a sheepish smile, scooting over to allow him some space to sit. He didn’t. 

“We’re often too hard on ourselves, and second chances are a way to help us find a calming voice louder than the sound of our doubts and insecurities,” she declared. This time her voice was steadier and less meek.

“What if we’ve messed up too badly to rectify our errors?” 

The girl craned her head and pursed her lips, her eyes narrowing on the grass as she contemplated the question. “Then, maybe this second chance is an opportunity to make sense of those errors.”

“You’re too much of an idealist, kid,” Draco scoffed. He was surprised to see the young woman unfazed. 

“Sometimes, reality is too overcrowded with negative emotions. Idealism helps you find glimpses of the truth buried beneath the rubble of self-doubt,” she spoke slowly, a small smile decorating her lips.

“And a philosopher, too,” Draco scoffed. He had heard all he needed to know but hesitated to leave, a single question lingering in his mind. He glanced down at the girl. She stared at him with large doe eyes, her fingers nipping at the leather of her notebook. He looked away then down to his shoes, swallowing the lump in his throat. “What if the truth is that there's no place for you anymore? What’s the use of a second chance then?” 

Y/E/C orbs clashed with a stormy silver, somehow, their warmth and gentleness calmed the storm. 

“Sometimes, we outgrow the places we've once deeply planted our roots in. After that, it's no matter of fitting in but standing out." Draco’s brows furrowed as he hung on to every word coming out of her lips. “And your second chance becomes an opportunity to find the strengths in what was once your weaknesses, the rights in your wrongs, and the reality in your fears."

Draco remained momentarily silent. His fingers began to clench and unclench as he mulled the words over. Could this perhaps be the reason why he was offered a second chance? Not to rectify his errors but to make sense of them? To look at belonging through a more ideal lens. 

He spent so much time thinking about it that he didn’t notice the girl leaving him alone with his thoughts. And when he turned to face her, mouth wide open and mind racing with more questions, he was disappointed to find the bench she sat on empty with no trace of her around. As if she was never there.

When Draco was a child, he struggled to sit still. He remembered always being on the edge of his seat, waiting for a cue that would allow him to dash out of the living area and onto Malfoy Mansion’s open garden. 

Maybe that was because he hated the company his parents brought over, or maybe it was an act of rebellion for being molded into everything a toddler shouldn’t have been—stripped from the childhood he deserved. 

And somehow, thirty or so years later, he found himself in the same position. But this time, instead of fiddling with his fingers, he was fiddling with the fabric of his green tie. And while he left the Malfoy Mansion behind him years ago, it was the comfort of his apartment in Haven Lane that beckoned him over. 

“Mr. Malfoy,” the assistant told him, causing him to abandon his escape plan. He hummed in acknowledgment, passively leaning back against his chair. “President McGonagall is ready to see you.” 

To say he was nervous was an understatement. It had been about three years since he last saw Minerva McGonagall. Three years since he last held a coursebook, let alone spoke to someone about academics on any level. 

He straightened up, squaring his shoulders, getting ready to meet the president. As he stepped through the contemporary wooden door, he realized that not much had changed. Not the light brown and minimalistic furniture, not the beige-colored walls, and certainly not Minerva McGonagall with her thin-framed glasses and welcoming demeanor. 

“Draco, please take a seat. It’s so lovely to see you.” 

Draco nodded In acknowledgment, placing his briefcase down and unbuckling the button of his black blazer. “Thank you, Minerva,” he said as if no time had passed. “How are you doing?” 

“Very well, even better now that you’re here.” She smiled kindly, extending the cup of tea and water she had already set aside for him. McGonagall cleared her throat, her hands on the table, fingers intertwined together. “Draco, as you well know, your extensive acumen in the subject matter along with your experience make you one of the most eminent literature professors Hogwarts has ever seen. The board and I are aware of what happened during your past tenure; however, we are willing once more to give you a chance.” 

Draco gulped down the water, his fingers curling around the glass. He tapped his index finger against the rim, his eyes trained on the principal. “Surely there are other competent professors. So why bother to go through all that trouble and reach out to me?” 

McGonagall adjusted her thin glasses, her lips forming a small smile. “Multiple reasons, some you may believe while others not so much. If you want an answer that will appease your doubts, I’d say the principal reason would be our new School of Creative Writing.” 

Draco tilted his head, his brow scrunching in confusion. “I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

“A year ago, we opened a new school, offering an array of writing degrees to undergraduates and graduates alike. We’ve been trying to receive accreditation from the Dumbledore Association of Creative Thought, but many of our employed professors have been struggling with the coursework and the basic accreditation requirements. We decided to look for someone who’s resourceful, unconventional, and agile in their way of thinking. We found no one better suited for this role than you.”

“I truly appreciate your words, Minerva. But are you sure there’s no one else?” 

“Perhaps there is,” McGonagall answered, reaching for her tea. “But none are quite as deserving as you.” 

The day had started fairly well. It didn’t take Draco too long before he slipped back into “professor mode.” He quite missed it actually—the commanding presence he held in the classroom, the eager eyes and ears that lingered on every word that slipped from his lips, and the passion he shared with his students. 

He realized later throughout the day, and much to his advantage, that many of his previous colleagues no longer worked at Hogwarts University. Sure, there were some old faces that seemed shocked to find him sauntering carelessly in the hallways, but there were others that were more curious than anything else. 

He didn’t dwell too much on the thought, preferring to focus on the second chance life had offered him. He wanted to do it right this time–correct all the previous wrongs. Not just for the sake of his reputation but for his own piece of mind as well. 

At precisely two in the afternoon, Draco walked into one of the classrooms on the middle floor of the building. Pushing the golden doors, he strolled through the large beige-colored auditorium where a handful of students sat in their brown chairs. Given the rigorous nature of the Creative Writing program, Draco discovered that no more than 15 students were accepted every year, split between his classes and Theodore’s. 

The man placed his books on the table, strolling around it before he leaned against the oak. “How many of you are waiting to get the syllabus for this course before running to catch up over coffee with your friends?” Draco questioned, a small smirk playing across his lips. “It’s okay. I won’t judge.” 

He was met with some lighthearted giggles as the seven students, unevenly scattered, adjusted themselves in their seats. Draco placed his hands in his pockets, crossing his legs together. “My name is Draco Malfoy, and I will be your new professor for the length of this course. Some of you may have heard of me while others not so much, and I don’t know whether either is a good thing. To say the least, I’m not your typical course instructor. I don’t follow the rules, because I believe that literature and the creative arts are not meant to be tamed. There will be no syllabus for this course as the topics we’ll cover will depend on you more than on me. I’m here to help turn your passion into something you are proud to share with the world. Some things are not going to make much sense, but as you progress, you’ll begin to understand my methods and their true value.

“If this is not something that you feel comfortable exploring, then you still have time to switch classes and seek Professor Nott’s guidance. However, if you choose to take part in my classes, then I guarantee that you will not only be investigating the depths of writing but also the inner workings of your mind. For those of you who’d like to step out, please feel free to do so now.” A pregnant pause settled as everyone looked at one another, but no one made a move to exit. “Lovely, but please do remember that it’s not too late to change your mind. Now, how about we start with a round of light introductions to get better acquainted with each other? You can go first, Miss…?

“Granger, sir,” the young woman at the forefront answered. She flipped her brown hair back, her brown pools meeting Draco’s. “I’m Hermione Granger, a second-year creative writing major. I’ve been a student at Hogwarts for five years now, having already obtained a bachelor’s in English literature and a minor in communications.”

“Impressive, Miss Granger. And what is it you’re excited to learn in this course?”

“How real-life experiences are translated on paper, and more particularly, portrayed across various mediums of communication.”

“Interesting, Miss Granger. What about you, Miss…?”

“Lovegood,” the blonde replied. 

One by one, each student started introducing themselves. Some talked about their passions, others their backgrounds and Draco quickly noticed that a few of the students present have picked his course as an elective. Nonetheless, he listened to them as they expressed their interest in learning more about writing and kindly answered their queries. 

At last, there was only one person left—a girl who was writing away in her notebook. Draco curiously studied her hunched frame as her pen danced across the paper, even though he couldn’t for the life of him understand what she was writing about. 

“That leaves only you, Miss…?” His voice trailed off as Draco waited to see whether the girl was paying enough attention or not. She placed her pen gently on the notebook and raised her head, adjusting the black frames on her nose. 

“Y/L/N, sir,” she replied. The shy voice and the vibrance of her eyes caused Draco’s shoulders to tense as he stood upright upon hearing her speak. “Y/N Y/L/N. First-year creative writing major. A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Malfoy,” she smiled kindly at the man. 

Draco gulped, his hand gripping the wooden desk. His stomach lurched, and his head pounded. Sometime, after a beat of silence, he realized that there was something about this girl. It was no coincidence that he met her twice now and would ultimately have to see her for quite more. But something told him that fate was playing a dangerous game, one that Draco was ultimately going to lose. All because of a girl with a radiating smile that was too real to be a farce. 

Witchlings, guess who's back?

So excited for this series and the upcoming projects I've planned! What do you think so far?

"And that's about it for today's class, guys. Make sure you do the reading from pages 200-210 in your Advanced Potion Making textbook. It'll help you for the next class." You said, quickly dismissing your students. You'd hoped they'd leave soon and wouldn't question the ordeal that happened at the beginning of class. But of course, teenagers must speak their minds.

"Professor Y/L/N?" One of your favorite student's hand shot up, which prompted everyone to stop moving and focus on you.

"Yes, Mr. Diggory?" You sighed, immediately knowing what he would ask.

"Um, a-are you and Professor Malfoy..."

"Great co-workers? You bet! Class dismissed." You nodded, pointing at the door sweetly.

You knew this would happen at some point. Draco had come into your classroom to "drop off some papers," but you teaching different subjects made it evident to you that he just wanted your attention.

"Well, hello, Mrs. Malfoy!" Draco said, sneaking up behind you to pull you to his chest.

"Hi, Mr. Malfoy." You relax, letting his arms hoist your body up. Being a professor was exhausting, but you loved it. No matter how many times Draco offered for you to stop working, claiming that his wealth would take care of you and many other generations, you always refused. Besides, it was nice to be with him all the time. The lunches and free periods you spent together were your favorites, and when your son Scorpius had a free period, too, it was all the better.

You thought it would be distracting if people knew you and Draco were dating and always preferred to keep your relationship private, anyways. You didn't go out of your way to convince people Scorpius wasn't your son, though. Instead, you and Draco gave him all the affection and then some behind closed doors. You even snuck him into your room in the castle when he wanted to cuddle at night. Being the Head of House for Slytherin, Draco could essentially pull his son in and out of class whenever Scorpius wanted. Despite him being fifteen, he would always be a mommy's boy and clung to you at all times to prove it.

"Just came to drop off some papers." Draco said snazzily, slapping a stack of papers for his class, Astronomy, down on your desk. "Return it to me by the end of the day, please." He whispered against your lips, tipping your forehead on his, pulling your waist closer to his body.

You laughed at his neediness, pressing a kiss to his lips. "Okay, my love, I will. Now go before one of my students-"

"Professor Y/L/N? Professor Malfoy? What-" Draco immediately pulled out his wand and slammed the door, but it was already too late. You'd been caught. The staff and your close friends knew about your "secret" marriage to Draco, but none of your students were allowed to know.

"Oopsies." Draco cracked a weak smile while you were busy becoming highly anxious for the next class. "Don't worry; you'll figure something out." Draco said, pressing quick kisses on both your cheeks. "I'm sorry, darling, I need to go. My next class started a minute ago." Draco checked his watch, furrowing his brows. He was obviously reluctant to leave. "Your lunch break is after this class, right?" You nodded your head, still nervous. "I'll come to see you, then." He smiled and opened the doors to your classroom. "Well? What are you waiting for? Get on, go inside!" Draco said to the shocked students, who were now looking at him in a way different light than before.

You thought you could escape your students' curiosity, but news traveled fast around Hogwarts. The next day, you'd received three questions in one class about your relationship to the former Slytherin, and you knew they wouldn't stop until they got an answer.

"But Professor Y/L/N!" One student cried out, urging you to spill all on your personal life.

"Look! There! A ring on her finger! That must mean she's married!" Harry Potter's daughter (one of your goddaughters), Lily yelled, pointing at your wedding ring. "Professor Malfoy has rings, too! Although, I'm not quite sure which one would be his wedding ring..." Lily pondered, holding her chin.

"Young lady, this is highly inappropriate." You said, looking at her with a stern look. You and Draco eloped straight out of the war and only told immediate family and adult friends after you'd gotten married. No children knew about your relationship, but it was safe to say you were freaking out about the possibility of it.

"Well, if you don't have the hots for Professor Malfoy, then prove it!" Lily's brother James evilly cracked. You narrowed your eyes at him, knowing you wouldn't be able to get on with your lesson if they didn't receive confirmation.

"Okay." You said defeated. "Rose, go fetch Professor Malfoy for me, please. Tell him I'll watch his class next period as payment for interrupting his class." You enunciated, annoyed at your students' determination to ruin your secret.

The class broke into excited murmurs, and you turned into a nervous wreck, waiting for your husband to return. The chatter died, and everyone was staring at the petite redhead and tall blond standing under the massive doorway.

"You guys, I was in the middle of teaching about Cassandra, my favorite constellation!" You carefully eyed Draco, knowing that's what the baby girl inside you would be named. He only smirked, looking at you for just a second. "What's this about?" He said, stifling a laugh while running a hand through his hair.

"Teach later. This is an intervention." James said poshly before his cousin Rose pinched his arm and whispered something to his ear. "Reckoning - this is a reckoning. We know you guys are together."

"Really? And what makes you say so?" Draco said, stepping over to your elevated platform where you stood. He placed an arm around your waist gently and rested his hand on yours.

"That! Right there!" James pointed, wide-eyed.

"Oh, this?" You said, smirking. "We're just terrific friends." You said, resting a head on Draco's shoulder and smiling.

"Ugh, this is killing me!" Hugo, Rose's brother, exclaimed, banging his head harshly on his desk.

"Mr. Weasley, don't hurt yourself." Draco scolded his godson.

"Prove your love to each other, or we won't do our work." A familiar voice protested from the back of the class. But, of course, you and Draco immediately knew who it was without even having to pinpoint the blond head of hair and piercing gaze: Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy. You'd recognize your baby anywhere. He must've been tired of the back and forth, or else he wouldn't have spoken up.

"Fine." You said, glaring at your son, although you weren't actually upset. "Draco, I think it's time we tell the kids." You whispered softly into his ear, ignoring the eager eyes and wide grins on your students' faces.

"I agree, my beautiful wife." Draco said, which pulled dramatic gasps from the rest of your class, apart from Scorpius.

Draco pulled you in for a short but deep kiss, now relieved that the cat was out of the bag, and he could refer to you as his wife to everyone.

"Scorpius!" Lily yelled to the back of the classroom. "Does this mean..."

""Professor Y/L/N" is actually Professor Malfoy and is also my mom?" Scorpius flatly asked. "Yes." Scorpius didn't mind keeping your secret. Because of the number of students that found you attractive, he believed it would be incredibly unsettling if people referred to him as your mom while complimenting you. Still, he loved you and his dad uncommonly. He was excited that people now knew about your relationship with both of them. Until then, people thought that Draco was a single father, never noticing that Scorpius had the same eyes and nose as you.

It was safe to say you lucked out with your son. He was the perfect combination of Draco and you and the most mature fifteen-year-old you knew. He loved when you and Draco told him the story of your love because it was a long one. He cherished the moments where you'd hug and switch between kissing Draco and him. All of this to say, he was the perfect son to you.

"Since when?" Hugo dared to speak. You favored him over all your friends' children simply because of his blatant idiocy at times. It was heart-warming. As for your friends' children, they were in the dark about a lot of things. They often caught you and Draco together, feeding each other at reunions and birthdays, or stealing a forbidden kiss, but they were too young to remember it. You and Draco had been extra careful since then.

"Since I found out I was pregnant with him?" You said, a bit confused at what else you were supposed to answer. Snickers ran across the class at Hugo's tendency to be a male bimbo.

"Speaking of..." Draco said, bringing a hand to your belly and smiling down at you with glistening eyes.

The kids immediately got the hint and erupted into cheers, congratulating Scorpius, who was now smiling widely, excited for his baby sister to arrive.

"What's all the noise about?" Your lifelong friend and now boss, Headmaster Potter, came in, surveying the room for any danger.

"Secret's out." Scorpius told Harry, who was his favorite one of you and Draco's friends.

"Yes!" Harry said, jumping for joy. "Professor Weasley-Potter owes me so many Galleons." Harry said proudly. "Well, everybody, I say we give both Mr. Malfoys and Mrs. Malfoy a proper celebration." Harry said, pointing his wand up into the air, which elicited many excited noises from the kids. The students did the same, and at his command, launched beautiful fireworks into the high ceiling. You called your son up to give him a family hug, and he happily obliged, beaming. The colors reflected brightly on your skin and Scorpius,' and Draco's heart couldn't help but overflow at how lucky he was to have you three.