#but the people in charge of chapter 2's wardrobe...explain

[trashmouthkid]

does every movie fandom have that “i am sick to fucking death of these outfits” feeling

[fanficflaneuse]

Dear Draco - Part 1

Part 2  Part 3  Bonus Chapter 

Index 

A/N: Hello loves, welcome to my new mini series based on an anon request. It will have three parts, four at most. I hope you like this! 

Thanks for all the love I received for my birthday. And thanks for reading and letting me know how you feel about my writing. 

Details: 

Draco x reader (she/her) 

Word count: 3146 (I got carried away, sorry). 

Summary: In the summer after fourth year, Draco falls in love with a muggle.

Disclaimers: it’s going to get angsty as hell and also very fluffy. Hermione x Draco friendship. 

Enjoy! 

Hermione sat alone on the library. She was deep in concentration, reading about the Patronus charm for the next DA meeting. All of a sudden, she felt someone looming over her. She closed her book, trying to make it seem as natural as possible. The brown-haired girl looked up, only to find none other than Draco Malfoy himself looming over her. Hermione’s features turned into a nasty scowl.  

“Granger,” he tried to sound conciliatory.

“What do you wa –wait, what? Since when do you call me by my last name?”  

Only then she realized Draco didn’t look like himself at all. Gone was the haughty attitude, the cocky smirk, the puffed chest. Not to mention the posse. He was no longer an image of confidence, but rather seemed distraught. This piqued the Gryffindor’s curiosity. Still, she was not going to let him see that. These days any slip could be detrimental.

Draco shrugged, hands deep in his robe’s pockets. “It’s your last name, isn’t it?”

Hermione eyed him suspiciously. “Oh, really? So, for five years you’ve thought my last name was mudblood?” she snapped.

Draco winced as she said the hateful label, as though it physically hurt him to hear it. This was the strangest sight she had encountered so far – which was plenty, all things considered.

“Are you okay, Malfoy?” she asked, baffled and cautious.

Draco didn’t answer. Instead, he just rubbed his face with his hands before pulling his hair just slightly. Hermione had never seen him act so natural, so human and, above all, so appalled. Slowly, the ubiquitous paranoia in the back of her mind fogged all of her brain. Her mind started shooting conspiracy theories left and right. As the seconds passed, she thought about every possible way in which Draco could be tending her a trap, which meant he knew something. Hermione got nervous and peered around for someone who could potentially help her. She noted – much to her annoyance – that her tendency to study in the farthest corners of the library had her facing the Slytherin prick on her own.

Draco noticed her discomfort and felt really stupid. He was about to leave, but then he remembered why he approached in the first place. It glued him in his place. So, he just shoved his hands deeper into his pockets and swallowed his pride.

“I…I need your help,” he said sheepishly.

For a second, Hermione thought about making a run for it. But she was far too intrigued now. She definitely wanted to know what could Draco Malfoy possibly need her help for. She stayed still, eyeing him skeptically.

“What is it?”

“Not here,” he said in a hushed voice.

“I’m not going anywhere with you, Malfoy” she huffed.

Draco lowered his gaze. The silence between them was absolutely charged. Hermione’s glare made him feel exposed and ashamed.

“Please.” The sound of his desperation almost convinced the Gryffindor. Almost.

“Harry and Ron must be within hearing range.”

“Not bloody likely,” he snapped.  

“Then no,” she said, crossing her arms.

Draco sighed, defeated. “Potter and Weasel-ey can’t know. Nobody can know. Hermione, please I am desperate.”

Hermione looked at him, her eyes wide. He had used her first name for the first time ever. She realized he must have been absolutely desperate. As stupid as seemed, it disarmed her. Hermione took a deep breath. In the worst of cases, Hermione thought, she was more than capable to defend herself from Malfoy. Besides, if he knew something about D.A, it was better to get over with it. She stood up, picked her books and looked at him.

“Where?”

Draco turned on his heel and guided Hermione to moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. She eyed him suspiciously as he motioned for her to get into a stall. He shot her a pout and Hermione rolled her eyes, but entered anyways. She thought she must have been going crazy as she found herself just inches away from Malfoy, who seemed unfazed by the whole affair. He felt so hopeless in his situation he didn’t really care what he had to do at this point.

“So,” she said awkwardly.

Draco didn’t listen. Hermione realized he was casting a silencing charm around them. Only then, did he dare to spill the secret that had been locked in his heart.

“Hermione, I am in love with a muggle.”

As the Hogwarts’ express arrived to platform 9 ¾ after their fourth year, Draco found himself alone. This was a strange occurrence; usually his parents were there to greet him. Their absence hinted something unpleasant, considering the dreary note in which the schoolyear had ended, and suddenly he didn’t feel like apparating back home. Not knowing where else to go, Draco joined the crowd of students heading towards muggle London.

He had never been to the muggle King’s Cross station and he’d be lying to say he wasn’t startled by it. He was mesmerized by the buzzing of the crowd, the smoke coming from the muggle trains, and the elegant simplicity of the station. He was eyeing the entrance curiously, wondering if he should step out or apparate back home, when he bumped into her. Or rather, she collided with him and their trunks were suddenly scattered around.

“Bloody muggles,” he murmured, as he picked his belongings.

“What did you call me?” the girl growled.

“Nothing,” Draco said, startled. He was not used to people talking back to him. The only ones who did were the infamous golden trio, but after five years of bantering he considered it part of his daily routine. Everyone else bowed their heads and carried own with their lives. He was expecting the muggle to follow suit.

She didn’t. So, he softened his scowl to take a good look at her, only to find the most striking girl he had ever seen. Draco was absolutely smitten. She tilted her head, eyeing him curiously.

“You have pretty eyes,” she said casually, as though she was talking about the weather. He felt his face getting hot, his eyes opening in a very unbefitting gesture of surprise. He wondered how she could be so…so easy-going about stuff like that. He had been thought to be suave, but four words of her had beat him.

Draco realized she was waiting for a response. “T-thank you,” he said embarrassedly. He grimaced when he heard her chuckle. The girl tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and stood up, offering a hand for him. Draco looked at the stretched hand for a while and took it just before she let it drop. They were soon shamelessly staring at each other, until a wave of people pushed them.

“Where are you going?” she asked. Draco shrugged in response, not knowing what to say.  

“Well…I don’t want to go back home. Would you want to go somewhere with me?”

Draco shoved his hands in his pockets, not knowing what to do. He didn’t want to go back home either. He had an enticing girl in front of him, one that didn’t hesitate to tell him – a stranger – his eyes were pretty and invite him somewhere. But that girl happened to be a mudblood. He shook that thought off his head, realizing, once again, that he was lost in thoughts and the girl was looking at him, waiting for him to answer.

“My name is (y/n),” she said as she pushed her trolley.

“Draco,” he answered, pushing his own trolley, “Draco Malfoy.”

(y/n) giggled, which filled Draco’s stomach with butterflies. “What is it?” Even he could hear the amusement in his voice.

“Was it after the constellation or because it’s Latin for dragon?” she mused.  

Draco gave her a small, genuine smile. “Both.”

He soon realized he had no idea where they were going. (y/n) seemed to read his mind, as she explained that they could leave their trunks at a luggage storage while they a stroll through the city. He then noticed that (y/n)’s trolley had trunks, big wooden trunks that resembled his own instead of the ungodly and shabby suitcases he had seen some mudbloods carrying around. He regarded her for a moment as they walked, examining her wardrobe: she wore a carmine coloured skirt, a matching blazer, black tights, black patent loafers and a creamy button-up with a dainty black bow at the collar. Her hair was up in a complicated hair-do. Draco noted that, by her side, he didn’t look particularly out of place in his sweater vest and tie. They could pass as two eccentric, rich kids.

“I gather you’re not from London.” She caught him staring in awe as they left the station, which made him feel self-conscious.

“N-no,” he stammered.

“Where are you from, then?”

“Wiltshire,” he blurted out. Draco realized he must look totally awkward, stuttering every answer as though he never had a conversation in his life. He didn’t know if he was nervous because of her or the fact that he was walking to the unknown with none other than a muggle, but it was totally wrecking his suaveness.

The girl seemed patient enough and smiled at him softly. Maybe it was even out of pity, but he found it adorable. “My grandma lives in Wiltshire. My mother makes me go there every once in a while, but I don’t like it that much.”

“Why?” he asked, genuinely interested.

“It’s a beautiful place, don’t get me wrong. And my grandma’s estate is marvellous, but such a vast house makes the solitude much more…real, you know?” Draco was hanging onto her every word now. She was describing, unabashedly, something he had felt since childhood. He admired her capacity to say this kind of things without the need of closed doors or silencing charms.

“I…I feel just the same,” Draco answered. He was surprised by the idea that him and muggles could have something in common.

(y/n) stopped on her tracks and Draco, who was following her around like a lost puppy, bumped into her back. He was about to apologize when she stopped him. “Given that you’re not from here, let’s do some touristy stuff. We can start here,” she said pointing out the building behind them. It was a grand construction, all in brick of a pinkish colour.

“British library,” Draco mouthed unsure. He noticed how (y/n) blushed slightly and her smile fell a little.

“We could…we could do something else,” she offered a bit ashamed. Draco felt terrible, he wanted her to smile again, to talk to him excitedly as she had done just a couple of seconds before. So, without really thinking about it, he grabbed her hand and pulled her towards the building.

She clasped his hand, an easy smile on his face, and was soon guiding him through rows and rows of muggle books he had never heard before. Draco tried to listen to everything she said. He wanted to remember names and references and look them up to have more things to talk to her about. Draco found himself wanting more conversations with her, more tours through libraries, more recommendations.

(y/n) was an open book. She told him that her parents were divorced. She lived with her mother in Edinburgh. Her father was a professor at LSE – whatever that was. He imagined, by context, it was a muggle Hogwarts.

“I like how you’re unphased by it,” she said.

“What do you mean?” he asked, eyebrow raised.

“Whenever I tell anybody my dad works in LSE, I get a lot of praise. No matter how bigshot the person is, they want the easy way in to the school,” she shrugged. It meant nothing to Draco, who scratched the back of his neck in confusion. (y/n) laughed and carried on, pulling him through different streets with their fingers intertwined.

Draco just let go. He was having so much fun with her, he almost forgot about how weird the situation was. They talked about astronomy and Greek mythology, topics he – thankfully – dominated. They talked about their love for reading and learning. They bonded over the fact that their parents had very high expectations for them and they were top of their classes.

“Top of your class?” asked Hermione, eyebrow raised, as he told her this.

“I’m the second best. She didn’t need to know about you.” For the first time ever, Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy shared a laugh. He then carried on with the most unlikely story ever.

Draco avoided telling her as many details as he could, but they managed to connect over the most universal feelings and situations. They talked about loneliness and pressure, about finding joy in the most unexpected things, about creating a façade for people. When she told him she enjoyed nature, he told her he played “a sport”. He smiled softly and agreed – almost unironically – when she said she would love to fly. When she told him about her pets, he told him his house was full of peacocks.

“She has a dog named Matisse, a snake named Medusa and a cat named Catsby,” he said.

Hermione laughed, which confused Draco deeply. “What’s so funny Granger?” He was getting defensive.

“Catsby,” she said, “what a very nerdy joke.”

Draco furrowed his brow. “Explain it to me. Merlin, maybe for once I can laugh at one of her jokes. She thinks I have the most backward sense of humour,” he ranted, hiding his face in his hands. Hermione thought it was almost – almost – adorable.

She told him in length about The Great Gatsby, F. Scott Fitzgerald and the Lost Generation, because she figured they were some references that would come in handy if he kept talking to (y/n). Once he understood the reference, Draco snorted.

“She’s such a smartass,” he said lovingly.

Hermione couldn’t believe her eyes. She was dying to know what he needed from her, but refrained from asking, allowing him to gush some more.

(y/n) invited him to afternoon tea. The tearoom reminded him of the grandeur of the tea parties back in the manor. He felt comfortable, and ventured to tell her little details about his boarding school. He told her about his favourite places and pastimes – the ones that could pass as muggle, of course. He told her about his friends. They talked and enjoyed tea and pastries until it was very late.

As they picked their trunks, they promised to meet the next day. They spent together almost every day of that summer. He was very careful when sneaking out, but soon realized his parents didn’t notice much, so he had free reign over his time as long as he was back for dinner. They met at the entrance of the station and they would stroll through the city together. (y/n) thought him how to use the tube. She taught him history as they walked hand in hand through museums and libraries. She recommended books he had to read in the middle of the night. And before he could even realize it, Draco caught feelings for her.

They kissed for the first time one month after they first met. They had spent the day walking through Camden Town. They visited little stores and swayed to music in the middle of the street. As every single afternoon, Draco didn’t want to say goodbye. (y/n)’s arms were locked around his neck and his own were on her hips. His chin rested on top of her head and they stayed like that for a while. Not saying anything. She pushed away from him just a little to see his face and they could feel the desire engulfing them.

Draco leaned in first, slow and calculated. (y/n) closed her eyes as soon as she felt their lips touching. It was a delicious sensation, their lips moving in synch in a kiss they had been waiting for a long time. As they pulled away, they were both a bit breathless and absolutely happy.

After that day, things changed for them. Every day they grew more attached to each other and it was harder and harder to say goodbye. And then the last day of August came by. (y/n) gave Draco her contact information for him to write and call her. When she asked for his, though, he made an elaborate story on how his school was very strict and prohibited letters from outsiders. (y/n) hadn’t bought it.

“I don’t get it. What kind of school doesn’t allow you to receive calls and letters?” she said, not very convinced. Draco didn’t want to look her way, knowing very well that he’d give her everything she wished if he saw her adorable little pout.

“So, I won’t hear from you?” she sighed, “Is this true or are you trying to get rid of me?” Draco finally looked her way and his heart broke. (y/n) was trying to hold back tears. He hugged her tightly, protectively.

“Hey, hey,” he said, taking her chin gently with his hand, “Never in a million years would I try to get rid of you.” He wiped away her tears, feeling miserable for making her sad. He hated that she had jumped into that terrible conclusion.

“I promise I will do everything I can to contact you. I’ll find a way. I’ll break the rules,” he said, not a hint of doubt in his voice. (y/n) hugged him tightly.

“I am going to miss you so much,” she said in a small, quavering voice.

“Me too, love,” he answered, hugging her back and trying to remain strong for both of them.

That is why he has here, three weeks into their fifth year, almost begging for Hermione’s help. He was desperate because he hadn’t thought about a way to contact (y/n) and he missed her so much his heart was genuinely aching. He imagined (y/n) must be heartbroken thinking he had played her and that thought alone was enough to give him nightmares.

Hermione was still trying to process everything he was telling her. Still in disbelief, she gave Draco a hug. The Gryffindor felt how he stiffened with her touch, but then he heard him sigh and relax. The Slytherin hugged her back and Hermione’s whole body tinged with hope. If Draco Malfoy had fallen for a muggle, anything could happen now.

“Is this why you didn’t join Umbridge’s squad?” she asked curiously.

Draco shrugged. “Mostly.”  

Hermione agreed to help him and they soon found a way. For the rest of the year, Draco handed in (y/n)’s letters to Hermione. She owled them to her own parents and they sent them by Royal Mail to her. Occasionally, Hermione would sit next to Draco in Myrtle’s bathroom. She would explain to him the references he wouldn’t get, which were mostly about culture. At times, she’d stay a little longer and they would gossip. To their surprise, they soon became each other’s confidant.

tags: @cleopatera @okaydraco @naomi02hook @the-hufflefluffwriter