#muggleborn reader

[robynlilyblack]

Something magical

(kinda playboy!) Sirius Black x fem! muggle! reader

Summary: Sometimes you have to take a leap of faith...and sometimes that means running off with a pretty stranger

Warnings/tags: mentions of alcohol and drinking, first kiss, meet cute, strangers to something more, kinda loser! reader (but not really)

A/n: 1.4k words, little random one today ♡

Navigation | Sirius Black Masterlist

You nurse your drink, sitting alone while your coworkers are up dancing. They had insisted you come along, though you suspected it was more out of politeness than of genuine sentiment considering the empty booth before you. It's been a while since they’d come back to the table now, and you wondered if now was the best chance to sneak away, avoiding the awkward and insincere goodbyes.

Unfortunately that plan was short lived as some of the girls come back from the bathroom, giggling as they drop off their bags, slurring a little as they ask you to watch them as it's their song. Your head falls back a little in your seat, your happy mask falls revealing a defeated one, and you sigh a little as you take another sip of your drink

I’m such a loser

“Why so glum, sugar plum?” 

You sigh a little more as your eyes flick up, searching for the lucky guy or girl until...

“Up here darlin” he finally grabs your attention and your eyes snap to his, widening as they tentatively double check he definitely means you of all people, which he seems to get a kick out of, his smirk widening

“Did you really just say ‘why so glum, sugar plum’” you question with a slight giggle, eyes meeting his stunning grey ones as you sit up straighter

“Got your attention didn't I?” he defends with a wink and you shy away, looking back at your drink “Can I join you?” 

“Huh?” your head shoots back towards him “Really?” you reply more surprised than you mean to, causing your cheeks to heat, more so as it seems to make the man before you waver as well

Throughout the interaction so far he had been wearing an easy smile some would even consider a little cocky, but at the sound of your genuine surprise, it softens into something else, something you're not even he knows

“Would that be alright?” he asks carefully

“Oh…yeah of course” you gesture, moving a little deeper into the booth but then realise he might not have meant directly beside you “You meant here, right?” you point, to which he nods with a chuckle, more so as you shuffle a little more allowing him room to sit down

“So…” he starts, hand gently swirling his drink and drawing your eyes to the rings that beautifully litter his fingers “...what's got a pretty girl like yourself sitting all alone?” 

You let out a breathy laugh at the flattery “I’m not much of a dancer” you point towards your colleagues who look like their having the time of their lives

As his eyes follow your direction, taking in the scene, you take him in as well. It didn’t seem like this was his kind of scene either, he looked too much like a rocker to be in a place where the majority of men wore in suits and ties. If you were honest he looked too pretty to be anywhere but the cover of a magazine. And on top of all of that, there was just this air around him, like he was from another world altogether

“Your friends?” he wonders, leaning a little closer, thighs dangerously close to your own as the wisps of his curls threaten to tickle your cheek

“No, coworkers” you clarify with a slow shake of your head, meeting his side eye for a second before he looks back at them, nodding with a smile "I regret coming with them"

“I can see why...terrible dancers" he tries to cheer you up, taking a small swig of his drink “So why did you come out with them instead of…” he trails off, recoiling a little

“...actual friends?” you prompt and he nods with lips pressed together, looking thankful he hasn't offended you “The truth might make me seem like an even a glummer plum” you reply cringing, unable to stop the little sniff of a laugh that escapes at the end 

He grins at that and you can’t help but notice his free arm shifting to lay on the top edge of the booth “Try me” he gives you his full attention, something that makes you relax and feel safe...though your cheeks still feel like they’re on fire

"I figured being here was better than being home alone” you admit, looking down, not wishing to see his reaction and feel further embarrassment "My real friends worry I don't get out enough, that I'm alone too much"

After a second of silence you chance a peek up to find his soft smile hasn’t left "I get that...my friends are the same, though I have the opposite problem" he plays with his glass, a small scoff of a laugh coming through his nose "I don't have the best habit of going home alone" he makes his own confession before his head tilts “Why haven’t you left let?” he wonders, no malice or judgement in his voice "Besides my excellent company" he adds, lighting up at your giggle

“I want to...I just didn’t want to leave those alone” you nod across the table towards the small pile of bags

“Oh" his smile grows "If that's the only thing tying ya down” he places his glass down properly, standing up and grabbing one of the stray coats, throwing it gently over the bags before looking back at you, arm stretched out “Wanna get out here pretty girl?”

You smile back at him about to take his hand without a second thought when you stop yourself, glancing at your coworkers for a moment, then back at the man. You could be responsible, wait for them to get their bags and go home while also avoiding the potential heartbreak from the seasoned and flirtatious stranger before you, or…you be adventurous for once, take the leap of faith and maybe have a night you’ll remember for the rest of your life

“So?” he eyes you playfully, his smile positively beaming as you nod and accept his hand, letting him lead you out of the bar and into the snowy streets, unaware of your coworkers gobsmacked stares

“Where are we going?” you wonder with a laugh, coming to a stop as you wait for the crossing to flick to green, hearing cars hum as they whisk past 

He looks over at you with a toothy grin, turning to face you “Where do you want to go?” he leans down and flicks his nose upwards against yours, causing your heart to swoon and love at first sight suddenly seems like a very real threat “Got anything specific you want to do?” he raises his eyebrows 

“A few” you reveal “One more than the others” you grow brave, eyes locked onto his before they flick quickly down

“What’s stopping you?” he’s whispering now, the hot breath making you to feel lightheaded as he licks his lips

You giggle a little, licking your own before whispering back a soft “I’ve never kissed a stranger before” 

“I kiss too many strangers” he confesses, cheeks tinting but weirdly you don’t feel jealous, something about the way he’s treating you seems just as foreign to him

“If I tell you my name I'm not a stranger anymore” you reply, breathless with how his lips ghost yours "It's Y/n"

“Pretty name for a pretty girl” he states before connecting your lips

It’s softer than you’d thought it would be, sweeter, yet more thrilling than if it was solely fueled by passion. Never would you have thought the playboy boy in denim would kiss like a gentleman, that his hand would cup your cheek, thumb flicking over it like it was the most precious thing in the world 

“Wow” you breathe out, your chests heaving in time together as you pull away, opening your eyes to find his lips are plump, stained slightly around the edges from the remnants of your lipstick and your heart fills with new found pride at your handiwork

“Wow indeed” he lets out a breathy laugh, forehead kissing yours for a second before pulling back  “How does it feel to kiss a stranger?”

“Magical” you reply, looking down at your shoes as your unable to stop the silliest happy from smile taking over your face, but as you glance down at the floor you miss the twinkle in his eyes at your choice of words “How does it feel to kiss a girl called y/n?” you counter when you look back 

“Magical” he repeats your words but his are softer, like it’s the first time he’s truly meant them “I’m Sirius” he finally introduces himself

“Sirius” you confirm and he smiles, nodding “A pretty name for a pretty boy”

Thank you for reading ♡

[ziaverse]

‘why do you read “various x reader stories?”’

first, i’m a narcissist and will not read it if it’s not about me

second, I love the feeling of people liking me

third, I was ignored as a child

[crescentofthegods]

DISSIPATION!

pairing: draco malfoy x muggleborn!slytherin!fem!reader

request: devastion overwhelmed you completely once you witnessed how draco, your boyfriend, was unable to defend you after his friend called you a mudblood.

word count: 2,472

warnings: ANGST, swearing as usual hehe, goyle being a cow, draco being a DICK and also calling reader a mudblood but its for your own good woah, a bit of fluff before the angst but there is NOT a happy ending, all this goes down on reader's birthday, unfortunately not proofread again (it's 1am in the uk im SORRY)

author’s note: i looooved writing this request, goodness gracious me. HOPE YOU LIKE IT ANON, i put my own little twist in it if you dont mind, draco DOES call reader a mudblood towards in their argument dw<3 also theres a little easter egg from one of my other fics, youre a real one if you notice hehshhs

more draco malfoy | navigation

IN THE SPAN OF SIX MONTHS, your private friendship with Draco had blossomed into something more beautiful—a real relationship where you got to call him your boyfriend. However, there was a downside to the two of you dating… Draco made you promise that you wouldn’t tell anyone; you knew deep down that this should’ve been a red flag, that if he really loved you, he wouldn’t be afraid to tell anyone about you, about your love.

            Too bad that your naivety got the better of you.

            Sitting on the cold, stone floor of the Astronomy Tower, you tried to stifle your sobs of despair, but it was no use. Tears of your turmoil trickled down your cheeks like the waterfalls you always adored gazing at whenever you went hiking with your parents—today wasn’t the special day you had planned it to be.

            After all, it was your birthday. Your seventeenth to be precise.

            You weren’t expecting a lot, in all honesty. Just a day of happiness, spent with your closest friend… and even your boyfriend, Draco. Most of all, he had promised you—

            “I can’t believe I turn seventeen in a few days,” you whispered, more to yourself if anything as you burrowed into your beloved boyfriend’s chest, hiding away from the rest of the world… The tips of his fingernails slowly traced a line up your spine, creating a rather ticklish sensation, your quiet giggles sounding like the vocal music of the angels in Draco’s mind. He brought you closer (you didn’t think that had even been possible, not with how close you both already were) his arms wrapping tighter around your waist, his chin making a home in your many locks of hair.

            He had snuck you into his dorm. Since you were both in the same House, it was easier said than done—Theo and Blaise decided to attend class for once, so Draco took his chances.

            “Mhm,” a small smile touched his lips as he hummed, his grey eyes peering at you—he had always cherished how you fit so perfectly against him. Like he was made for you, and you him. “I bought you something, actually.” Though, as soon as those words left his lips, he immediately regretted saying them in the first place, seeing how you sat up within an instant, your wide, bright eyes meeting his.

            “What?—Why? You know I hate it when you buy me things,” you frowned, though it looked more of a pout in Draco’s eyes, his small smile widening into an amused grin.

            “And why is that? Am I not a good enough gift giver for you?” his teasing voice prompted you to roll your eyes, the heel of your hand colliding with his chest, almost like you were shoving him playfully.

            “No, you always buy really… expensive things—don’t your parents wonder where the money’s going?” you asked, your tone sounding a little more serious now. He hated how concerned you grew whenever it came to the people in his life—but, it was basically his fault. Sometimes, he thought about how it would’ve been better if he’d decided not to pursue this relationship with you.

            But, for once, he wanted to be more selfish than usual. Everyone that feared Draco seemed to conclude that he always got what he wanted, but that was not the case.

            He got lucky with you.

            “Don’t worry about my parents,” was all he said; his expression didn’t say much, but you could tell he didn’t want to continue this particular conversation. Initially, your heart dropped, worried that you had overstepped a boundary—though, the way his fingers intertwined with yours, the way his thumb rubbed the gentlest of circles across your skin… it caused your anxious feelings to dissipate.

            They never really go away. They just… stick to the surroundings. Hence why your inner voice used the term ‘dissipate’. Your mind always knew better than your soul, always two steps ahead…

            “Can you at least tell me what the gift is?” your question was much more softer this time, smiling because of how warm he made you feel—how warm his hand felt against yours. You wanted to ask another question; something that probed at your mind recently was how he always wore long sleeved shirts around you now. It wasn’t a problem entirely, it merely sparked worry inside you. In spite of that, you supposed that attempting to ask would only push him away.

            Draco was confusing in that sense. Your love for him, however, overpowered that.

            “Of course not, my heart,” murmured Draco, his grey eyes twinkling with his usual charm. Using that nickname that always made your soul melt like fresh honey. “It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you.”

            “You’re the bloody worst,” you groaned, his deep chuckle flipping your organs inside out as you collapsed against him once again, snuggling into the cotton of his grey jumper.

            Tell me about it, was what he wanted to reply, but he stopped himself. It was a happy moment. A moment of peace for once in his fucked up life. He wouldn’t ruin it.

            Not with you, the only person who believed in him.

            —That was before you stumbled upon a conversation with Draco and his friends today. Being a Muggleborn sorted into the House of Slytherin was clearly a set up from bloody Merlin himself. Unsurprisingly, you had more friends outside of Slytherin; a lot of the Hufflepuffs, thankfully, were sympathetic to your situation. That afternoon of your birthday, you had walked out of the girls’ dorms, relieved that you had found your Transfiguration homework, heading straight towards the Common Room…

            And, that was when you heard it.

            Gregory Goyle saying your name.

            “What are you so hot and bothered about?” Crabbe nudged Goyle, seeing how visibly peeved the latter appeared to be after exiting the boys’ rooms. Draco wasn’t particularly interested in the conversation after his little… rendezvous at the Room of Requirement. He simply sat in an armchair, playing with his silver bracelet.

            It had a butterfly charm, actually. Your middle name, translated from Latin, meant ‘butterfly’. For your birthday, which was today, he had bought you a dragon charm since ‘Draco’ meant ‘dragon’ in Latin. However, you wore yours on a sterling chain around your neck, wanting it to be hidden—no one would believe that you could afford something like that.

            “Snape teared me a new one,” he grumbled, plopping himself down onto the velvety green sofas with a huff. Crabbe pulled a face.

            “You mean tore—”

            “—Shut up. Anyway, he saw how shitty my grades were and now he’s forcing me to get a tutor! Fucking unbelievable,” Goyle muttered under his breath, running a hand through his extremely thin curls, leaning his head back as Crabbe replied.

            “Nothin’ wrong with that. I’m being tutored too,” he shrugged, sitting beside him as he fiddled with his watch. Releasing an irritated ebb of air, Draco also leaned his head back, wondering how long he was going to endure this pointless discussion.

            “You’re not being tutored by that mudblood, [Y/L/N].”

            That was when you heard it. Standing under the doorway that led towards the Common Room. It was nothing new, being insulted with that term. Nevertheless, your eyes fell on Draco, seeing the way he picked his head up slightly at the mention of you.

            You waited. For a good few moments. Hoping. Praying that he would defend you.

            And, a few seconds later, he laughed, bearing his pearly whites and all.

            “Yeah, good luck with that. She’s a real fucking brown noser, that one.”

            By that point, your mind was blocking out every sound that followed Draco’s words—you made a run for it, not even bothering to look at your so-called boyfriend, dashing out of the Slytherin Dungeons before fleeing to the Astronomy Tower. You had tried to keep it in, your tears, your sorrow—it was all too much.

            To make matters worse, he had fucking followed you. As soon as he made sure that his lackeys couldn’t question him, he’d tried to catch up to you, but you were always the quicker one. If you weren’t so obsessed with academics, you’d make a real good Chaser for the Slytherin Quidditch Team.

            There Draco Malfoy stood, watching your hysteric sobs consume you, your head in your hands—he knew that you’d be upset; in fact, he knew you’d been listening the entire time. He noticed you before you had even become the topic of conversation.

            He always noticed you.

            And now, you had noticed him. Your gaze lifting momentarily, only for it to widen at the sight of your boyfriend standing there with the blankest of expressions. Sniffling to yourself, you stood up from your seat on the ground, your expression one of clear torment.

            Anger. Anger consuming you because you didn’t know why you were putting yourself through this. Dating one of the richest Purebloods a part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. When you were only a measly Muggleborn. A Mudblood.

            Even so, the same weight of dissipated dejection weighed over you. Why did he ask you out? Why did he become friends with you in the first place if this was how he saw you? If this was how it was going to be? Him pretending to care about your blood status in front of his good-for-nothing friend group.

            Maybe, after all this time, it wasn’t a pretense. Perhaps this was a prank he’d instigated just to humiliate you.

            Numerous possibilities. Numerous outcomes. They all filled your head like snakes in a vat of thick, torturous tar.

            Your voice broke the silence.

            “I don’t understand you,” your first statement filled the atmosphere like a hot vapour, suffocating not just you, but the other person in the room—Draco. Your tears had stopped, cheeks still wet with your misery as you stared at him, not just with passionate feelings of indignation, but more so disbelief. And he couldn’t handle it.

            I should’ve done this earlier.

            “Really?” His voice was quiet. Almost noiseless, like he was calculating the best way for this to go. “I don’t think you’ve ever understood me, my heart.”

            That nickname. The nickname reserved for you and you only. There was once a time where it would make your insides all warm and fuzzy, where it would make your soul melt like honey. Now… now, it felt like molten; searing, dripping lava scorching your insides, burning you—destroying you from within.

            Those anxious feelings, the ones that dissipated. They came back.

            “Seriously?” you scoffed, blinking away the fresh saltwater that threatened to spill from the very crevices of your heart. “Was all of this just some cruel joke to you? Our friendship? Our relationship?”

            Silence.

            Silence, silence, SILENCE—

            “Oh, don’t go all quiet on me now,” you muttered with a breathless chuckle, stepping forward, only to shove him where it would hurt the most—slamming your heel against his chest, where his heart would feel its impact. He certainly did with the way he turned his head to the side, unable to look at you. “You planned this to embarrass me, didn’t you? You never loved me, all these stupid gifts—” you reached inside your shirt, only to rip the sterling chain from your neck, throwing it at him— “It was all fake?! It was for YOUR enjoyment, wasn’t it, Draco?”

            No.

            “Of course it fucking was,” he finally snapped, glaring at you with those grey eyes—you swore that they had been brighter once, that they had sparkled in the sunlight during those ever so secretive moments in his dorm. Regardless, it was now darkness that devoured those orbs you always pined after. Depravity. Hatred.

            All over a blood status.

            “You’re a mudblood, [Y/N], you’ll always be a fucking mudblood—why can’t you get that through your insipid brain of yours?” he was seething now, catching you completely off guard as he grabbed your shoulders, staring into those wide, dimmed eyes that used to glow every time you saw him.

            “Theodore gave me the idea, you know?” Lies, lies, lies. “Told me to mess with you a little since no one else would dare touch such… such scum,” he laughed—he was fucking laughing. Watching as more tears rolled down your cheeks, like it was automatic. Two natural waterfalls crashing into the warm chambers of your coveted core. “I mean, come on, love—I thought you were smarter than this,” his taunts overwhelmed you like a vice, his grip on your biceps tightening, wanting to hurt you as much as he could—needing to, so you could walk away.

            “You’re just as delusional as the rest of them,” scoffed Draco, his lips, the same lips that locked with yours in the early hours of the morning, holding a barely perceptible smirk, clearly proud at how broken you looked. How utterly devastated you appeared before him. Glass-like tears decorating the apples of your cheeks like diamonds on a dress, eyelashes wet with absolute desolation—the contentment that had embraced you like a blanket earlier today had vanished in less than seconds.

            All because of Draco Lucius Malfoy.

            “Probably shouldn’t have led you on for so long, huh?” he murmured gently, like he was complimenting you. Like this wasn’t eating you up completely; terrorising you. His calloused fingers cupped one of your delicate cheeks, his thumb swiping across your skin to wipe those tears away, the ones you had fought so hard, but had escaped your crevice anyway. A whimper of sheer melancholy was all you could respond with, crying to yourself—your entire life was a lie.

            “Fuck you, Malfoy,” you whispered, shaking your head from his almost-soothing grasp, stepping away once again, feeling rotten to the core. Your eyes met his for a final moment, your bottom lip quivering, as well as your entire body—like you were cold, frostbitten. Betrayed. “We’re done. I hope I never see you again.”

            With that, you shoved past him, your hushed weeps trailing after you as you fled the tower, leaving your ex-boyfriend alone in the tower. Leaving him with his deprecating thoughts.

            She wasn’t worth it.

            Father wouldn’t have approved.

            MUDBLOOD.

            Swallowing the painful lump that grew by the second in the confines of his throat, Draco’s eyes landed on the sterling chain at his feet—the one that he had gifted you only this morning. Holding the dragon charm. Holding him. He bent down to pick it up, seizing it like it was the most delicate thing he had ever felt; and it only held that title because it was purely yours. His heart was yours and yours only.

            “Don’t worry, my heart,” he murmured to himself, the ambient glow of his Dark Mark resonating through the rich cotton of his shirt. His thumb brushing over the silver scales of the charm with an utmost gentle manner.  “You won’t.”

[slytherinsmuse]

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ Domestic Chaos | Draco Malfoy ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Fem! Reader

Warnings: I guess mention of sexual activity and condoms

Summary: Fluff, Comedy | Draco navigates through muggle life with the love of his life.

Word count: 8966

author's note: I am so sorry that this request took so long. But work has been hell before the holidays. Now that I have some time off I managed to finish it. I hope you like it! @malfoy-mrsdracomalfoy

The first week of living together with Draco Malfoy had been… an adjustment, to say the least.

You smiled to yourself as you wandered down the stairs of your new house, recalling the mix of chaos and charm that came in the start of sharing a home with Draco. Moving in together had been a big step, one you hadn’t expected to take so soon. But after months of navigating your relationship between your cozy Muggle world and his pristine magical one following your graduation from Hogwarts, it only made sense to create a space that was truly suited for the both of you.

Granted, the transition had been smoother for you than it had been for him.

Draco, for all his poise and pure-blood grace, had little to no experience with Muggle life. Your enchanted house—a quirky blend of his velvet armchairs and your mismatched cozy furniture—reflected that perfectly. It was a home where magical portraits coexisted with photo frames from your favorite vacations, where your television and laptop shared a shelf with his collection of ancient spell books.

It was perfect. Except for the moments where Draco had done his best to interact with Muggle appliances.

The faint sound of muffled clattering pulled you towards your kitchen, curiosity outweighing your desire to get yourself a hot mug of coffee. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you padded down the hall toward the kitchen. As you stepped through the doorway, you froze, your grogginess instantly replaced by disbelief at the sight before you.

The dishwasher, a seemingly harmless Muggle machine, stood wide open. Inside, dishes were arranged in what could only be described as abstract art. Draco stood in front of it with his wand drawn, muttering incantations under his breath. A suspiciously green, bubbling potion had been poured into the detergent slot, and—Merlin help him—a set of silver goblets that were very much not dishwasher-safe glinted proudly from the bottom rack.

“Draco.” you said carefully, crossing your arms and leaning against the doorframe, “what are you doing?”

He didn’t flinch, though his wand froze mid-air. “Using this infernal contraption you insisted on bringing into our home.” he replied, his tone clipped.

You couldn’t help the grin tugging at your lips. Our home. The words still gave you butterflies.

“This ‘infernal contraption’ is a dishwasher,” you corrected, stepping closer. “It cleans dishes. Without magic. That’s sort of the point.”

Draco huffed, a faint pink tinting his pale cheeks. “Well, it’s doing a poor job of it so far.”

“Probably because you’re trying to curse it into submission.” You peered into the dishwasher, your eyes widening. “Wait. Is that—oh my God, Draco, is that the antique goblet from your mother’s dining set?!”

He glanced at the goblet, then back at you, feigning innocence. “What? It needed cleaning.”

You groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose. “It’s over 200 years old! You can’t just throw it in a dishwasher!”

“Well, I certainly can’t hand wash it,” he said indignantly, crossing his arms. “Do you know how much trouble the preservation charms require? It’s exhausting.”

“Then maybe don’t drink wine out of a priceless artifact?”

“Then maybe don’t serve wine in cheap glass cups,” he shot back, a smug grin tugging at his lips. “It ruins the wine taste…”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Okay, fine. Touché. But seriously, what is this… potion?” You gestured to the green, bubbling mess in the detergent slot.

“It’s a universal cleaning tonic,” he said proudly. “Far superior to whatever chemical nonsense Muggles use.”

“It’s not even liquid! It’s oozing! You can’t put that in a dishwasher!”

Draco frowned, glancing back at the machine as if it had betrayed him. “So what’s the proper way, then?”

You sighed, grabbing the small box of dishwasher tablets from the counter. “Watch and learn, Pure-blood.”

With a sigh you carefully removed the bubbling mess he had poured into the detergent slot. Draco watched with a mix of curiosity and mild indignation as you wiped it clean with a paper towel.

“This,” you said, holding up one of the tablets from the box, “is what you’re supposed to use.”

Draco tilted his head, eyeing the tablet skeptically. “That tiny thing? How could that possibly clean anything?”

“It’s designed for this, Draco. It dissolves in the water and works its magic—well, not literally, but you get the idea.”

You slid the tablet into the designated compartment and snapped the dishwasher closed, pressing the buttons to set the correct cycle. “And this,” you added, pointing to the buttons, “is how you actually start it. No wand required.”

Draco’s expression was unreadable as the machine hummed to life, its rhythmic sounds filling the kitchen. After a moment, he muttered, “It still seems unnecessarily complicated.”

“Complicated? You were about to duel the dishwasher,” you teased, crossing your arms.

Draco smirked, his signature smugness returning. “And I would’ve won.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing as you leaned against the counter. “You’re hopeless.”

Before you could say more, you felt his arms snake around your waist, pulling you back against his chest. His chin rested lightly on your shoulder, and his breath tickled your neck.

“Perhaps,” he murmured, his voice softer now, “but I’m learning, aren’t I?”

You snorted, tilting your head slightly as you felt his lips brush against the curve of your neck in a featherlight kiss. “Barely,” you teased, though your tone lacked the bite to make it convincing.

Draco chuckled, the vibration of it humming against your back. His kisses trailed lazily along the side of your neck, his hands tightening ever so slightly around your waist. Just as you began to melt into his warmth, a sharp, electronic beep shattered the moment.

Draco froze, his lips pausing mid-kiss. “What in Merlin’s name was that?” he asked, his voice tense and laced with suspicion.

You laughed, turning in his arms to face him. “That’s just the washing machine.” you explained, finding his baffled expression entirely too adorable. “It beeps when it’s done with a cycle.”

Draco frowned, glancing over at the machine as if it were an intruder. “Why does it need to announce its accomplishments? It’s not as though I announce every time I complete a task.”

You raised an eyebrow, smirking. “You sure about that? Because I distinctly remember you declaring victory the last time you hung up a picture frame.”

Draco scowled, though the faint pink creeping back into his cheeks betrayed his embarrassment. “That frame was enchanted to repel nails. It was a triumph,” he muttered defensively.

You couldn’t help but laugh, reaching up to brush a stray strand of hair out of his face. “Draco,” you said, still grinning, “the Muggle world is going to kill you at this rate.”

He grumbled, tightening his hold around your waist and resting his forehead against yours. “Life is unnecessarily complicated without magic,” he muttered, his tone dripping with indignation. “Why would anyone willingly choose this… process over a simple charm?”

You smirked, tilting your head. “Maybe because some of us didn’t grow up with the luxury of a wand to fix all our problems?”

Draco pulled back slightly to look at you, his lips quirking into a faint smirk. “You’re saying you willingly endured this madness? What kind of resilience do Muggles possess that I’ve clearly been deprived of?”

“Patience!”

Draco scoffed, stepping back just enough to look at you. “Patience is for people with time to waste,” he said, though the corner of his mouth twitched in amusement.

You rolled your eyes, slipping out of his arms and heading toward the counter. “Come on, your Highness,” you said over your shoulder, pulling open the breadbox. “Let’s see if you’re capable of making toast without burning it.”

Draco followed you with a mock-offended expression. “I’ll have you know I’m perfectly capable of operating a toaster,” he declared, though his hesitation as he glanced at the machine suggested otherwise.

“Uh-huh,” you replied, smirking as you slid a couple of slices into the slots. “Here, I’ll start it for you. You can handle buttering them when they’re done. Think you’re up for the challenge?”

Draco leaned against the counter, folding his arms. “You’re underestimating me again, love. I’ll butter the toast so flawlessly you’ll weep.”

You snorted, turning to grab plates from the cabinet. “Sure, let’s call that your triumph of the day.”

As the toaster clicked and the smell of warm bread filled the kitchen, Draco busied himself setting the table—his version of setting the table, which involved summoning everything with a flick of his wand and arranging it with the precision of a dinner party.

“You do realize breakfast doesn’t require formal presentation, right?” you teased, sitting down as he placed a perfectly folded napkin by your plate.

Draco smirked, sliding into the seat across from you. “Just because it’s breakfast doesn’t mean it shouldn’t be elegant.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as he reached for the now-popped toast, applying butter with such deliberate care you half-expected him to use a ruler for even distribution. Shaking your head with a soft smile, you rose from your seat and quietly grabbed a mug from the cabinet, filling it with fresh coffee from the pot on the counter.

The warm aroma filled the kitchen as you set the pot down and returned to your chair, savoring the first sip in comfortable silence. Across the table, Draco finished buttering the toast and waved his wand casually, sending the coffee pot floating over to his side. It tilted gracefully, pouring a perfectly measured amount of coffee into his mug before settling back in its spot on the counter.

You raised an eyebrow at him over the rim of your cup. “So, pouring coffee is too much effort, but you’ll put on a show buttering toast?”

Draco looked up, his expression far too smug. “Presentation matters, darling. Coffee is utility. Buttering toast is an art.”

You snorted, biting back a laugh as you leaned back in your chair. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet,” he said, taking a sip of his coffee and giving you a sly smile, “you can’t seem to get enough of me.”

“Debatable,” you shot back, though the way your lips twitched betrayed the truth.

As the two of you ate, the quiet hum of the dishwasher filled the air, mixing with the faint clinking of dishes and the comforting warmth of the morning. You couldn’t help but think that, chaotic as it was, life with Draco had its charm.

Halfway through breakfast, Draco cleared his throat, setting his mug down with a deliberate clink. “By the way,” he said nonchalantly, brushing a nonexistent crumb from his sleeve, “my parents have asked to visit for dinner this evening.”

You froze mid-sip, glancing up at him.“Tonight?” 

This wasn’t the first time Draco had invited his parents over since you’d moved in together, but it never got easier. The Malfoys had made their opinions about his choices abundantly clear. The arguments had been frequent and heated when Draco first announced his decision to move into the Muggle world. Dating mudblood, as Lucius had so delicately put it during one particularly venomous conversation, had been a sore point from the start. The disdain in their voices, though carefully masked in your presence, was never far from the surface. Still, Narcissa had tried to keep things civil, at least outwardly. Her maternal instincts, perhaps, outweighed her prejudices. Lucius, on the other hand, had never fully hidden his disapproval. The sideways glances, the veiled barbs—it all painted a clear picture. They saw your relationship as a deviation, something temporary that would inevitably pass. And yet, they remained fairly cordial in front of you, no doubt for Draco’s sake. Tonight’s visit felt like yet another test, one you were determined to pass—though it always left you walking on eggshells.

Draco nodded, as if this were the most natural announcement in the world. “Yes, tonight. Around seven, I believe.”

You blinked, setting your coffee cup down carefully. “Right,” you murmured, your mind already racing. “I’ll need to go shopping today before the shops close, then.”

Draco frowned slightly, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Shopping? Whatever for?”

“For dinner, Draco,” you replied, standing to gather your plate. “We don’t exactly have a stocked pantry suitable for hosting your parents.”

As you moved toward the sink, he waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll just send a house-elf to take care of it.”

You froze, staring at him over your shoulder. “Draco,” you said slowly, turning back toward the table, “We don’t have house-elves.”

He blinked, as though the idea hadn’t even occurred to him. “We don’t?”

“No,” you said firmly, placing your hands on your hips. “They don’t exactly come with Muggle homes, you know.”

Draco leaned back in his chair, a look of mild bemusement crossing his face. “Strange. Well, no matter—I’ll ask Father to send a couple over for the day.”

You stared at him, momentarily speechless. “You’ll what?”

He shrugged, as if this were a completely reasonable solution. “I’ll write him after breakfast. It’s hardly a problem.”

Your mouth opened, then closed again as you tried to formulate a response. Finally, you shook your head, rubbing your temples. “Draco, we are not borrowing house-elves from your dad.”

“Why not?” he asked, genuinely baffled.

“Because,” you said, sighing as you sat back down, “this is our home. I’m not dragging house-elves into it every time we have guests over. I’ll just go shopping, make a nice meal, and that’s that.”

Draco looked at you as though you’d just suggested cooking dinner over an open flame. “You’re serious?”

“Dead serious,” you replied, sipping your coffee again. “This is how Muggles do things. Welcome to the real world.”

For a moment, Draco looked as though he might argue, but then he sighed dramatically, leaning back in his chair. “Fine,” he said, his tone begrudging. “But I’m coming with you.”

You raised an eyebrow. “To the grocery store?”

“Yes, to the grocery store,” he said, his expression a mix of determination and distaste. “If I’m going to endure this… experiment, I might as well see how it works.”

Smiling, you leaned over and gave him a soft kiss. “Alright then. I’ll go get ready.”

When you returned a short while later, Draco’s gaze immediately fell on the several empty shopping bags you were holding. His brows knitted together in confusion, but to his credit, he didn’t say anything. Instead, he simply followed your every movement with the intensity of someone trying to solve an unspeakable mystery.

You set the bags by the door and reached for the keys to the house, slipping them into your pocket before pulling on your shoes. Draco’s confusion deepened. “What are you doing?”

“Getting ready to leave,” you said, nonchalantly tying your laces.

Draco raised a perfectly arched brow. “And how exactly are we planning to get there? Apparition or Floo Powder?”

You snorted softly, shaking your head. “Neither.”

“Neither?” he repeated, the word dripping with disbelief.

“We’re walking,” you said matter-of-factly, straightening up and grabbing the empty bags.

Draco blinked, his expression torn between incredulity and exasperation. “Walking? Why on earth would we walk when we could be there in seconds?”

“Because,” you explained patiently, “the shop is close by, and it would be weird to just appear in the middle of it. Muggles don’t take kindly to people popping out of thin air near the frozen food aisle.”

Draco stared at you as if you’d just suggested climbing a mountain for fun. “This is madness,” he declared.

You laughed, patting his arm as you opened the door. “Consider it part of the full Muggle experience.”

Still grumbling under his breath about the absurdity of it all, Draco stepped outside with you, his silver hair catching the sunlight as he scanned the street. “Walking,” he muttered again, shaking his head. “What will they think of next?”

You only smirked, knowing the real fun was yet to come. Draco laced his fingers with yours as you stepped out into the crisp winter air, the snow crunching softly beneath your boots. He pulled you closer as you walked, his warm breath visible in the cold. The streets were lined with houses adorned with twinkling lights, wreaths on doors, and the occasional snowman standing proudly in a yard.

“I could’ve taken the car,” you said casually, glancing up at him, “but I don’t think you’re ready to experience traffic yet.”

Draco gave you a pointed look, though his lips twitched with faint amusement. “If it’s anything like the stories you’ve told me, I’d rather not risk my sanity—or my temper.”

You laughed softly, nudging him with your shoulder. “That’s probably for the best. One honking horn, and you’d be out of there faster than you could say ‘Pure-blood.’”

He sighed, his gaze drifting to the bustling scenery around him. The sidewalks were busy with people bundled in coats and scarves, some carrying shopping bags, others chatting cheerfully. There was a warmth to it all—a vibrancy that was so different from the cold, quiet grandeur of the Malfoy Manor.

“For all the stupidity the Muggle world has to offer,” Draco murmured, his voice thoughtful, “I’ll admit… I do enjoy how lively it is.”

You glanced up at him, surprised by the rare vulnerability in his tone. “Lively?”

He nodded, his icy eyes catching the glint of the snow-covered streets. “The manor was… beautiful, I suppose. Grand. But it was so isolated. Mostly empty land, save for the occasional visitor or house-elf passing by. There was nothing like this—” he gestured to the people around you, the soft hum of life that filled the air. “—no life, no… warmth.”

Your heart softened at his words, and you squeezed his hand gently. “Well, you’ve got that now,” you said, smiling up at him. “Even if it comes with grocery shopping and dishwashers.”

Draco smirked, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your forehead. “It’s a compromise I’m willing to make,” he said, his voice teasing but sincere.

As the two of you continued walking, the snowflakes began to fall again, dusting the streets and your hair in a light layer of white. Draco tightened his hold on your hand, the moment between you quiet and peaceful as the world around you bustled with life.

As you approached the grocery store, you reached into your pocket and pulled out a coin, flipping it between your fingers before sliding it into the lock on a row of shopping carts. With a satisfying click, the cart popped free, and you grabbed it, turning to Draco with a smile.

He stared at the cart, then at you, his brow furrowing. “What in Merlin’s name are you doing?”

You laughed softly, gesturing to the coin slot on the cart. “It’s how you unlock them. You put in a coin, and when you’re done, you get it back.”

Draco’s confusion deepened as he examined the contraption with a critical eye. “Why would you need to pay for a cart? Isn’t that the store’s responsibility? Do you lose the money if you don’t return it?”

“Yes, you only lose the money if you don’t return it.” you explained, suppressing a giggle at his baffled expression. “It’s just a system to make sure people don’t leave the carts all over the parking lot… or steal them”

He tilted his head, considering this. “So, Muggles have to bribe themselves to do the responsible thing?”

“Pretty much,” you said with a shrug, trying not to laugh at the sheer disdain in his voice.

Draco narrowed his eyes at the cart as if it had personally offended him. “What a pitifully inefficient system,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Why not just enchant the carts to return themselves?”

You snorted, wheeling the cart toward the entrance. “Because not everyone has magic, Draco. This works just fine.”

He fell into step beside you, still looking slightly affronted. “I should write to the Ministry. There has to be some sort of international wizarding intervention for this level of absurdity.”

You smirked, patting his arm as you entered the store. “You do that. In the meantime, try not to hex anything while we shop.”

Draco grumbled something under his breath but followed you inside, his sharp gaze taking in the bright fluorescent lights, the neatly stacked shelves, and the bustling crowd. “This is going to be an experience,” he muttered.

“You have no idea,” you replied with a grin, steering the cart toward the produce section.

You wheeled the cart through the store, stopping in the produce aisle to grab fresh herbs and vegetables for the roast dinner. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched Draco wander a few steps away, picking up various food items and squinting at the labels like he was deciphering ancient runes. It was adorable, really, but you couldn’t help but focus on your shopping. As you mentally ran through your list, you zigzagged through aisles, tossing essentials into the cart—seasoning, potatoes, stock, bread. Before you knew it, you were in the snacks aisle, debating between crisps and popcorn.

That’s when you realized it. Draco was gone. You glanced around, craning your neck to see if you could spot his silver-blond hair anywhere in the sea of shoppers. Nothing. You sighed, silently praying he hadn’t decided to duel the automatic doors or try to interrogate the self-checkout machine. Just as you picked up a bag of crisps, you heard his unmistakable voice behind you.

“Look at this!” he said, sounding thoroughly impressed.

You turned around, and there he was—holding a bright yellow plastic broom.

“They have brooms here!” he said, turning it over in his hands as if he’d stumbled upon the latest innovation in flying technology. “Never seen one like this… must be a new model.”

You froze, staring at him, your lips twitching as you struggled to keep it together. “A new model?” you repeated, barely managing to suppress a laugh.

Draco nodded, completely serious. “It’s so lightweight. And this handle… not wood, but some kind of sturdy Muggle material. I’ve no idea where the charms are hidden, though.” He ran his fingers along the bristles, frowning slightly. “Odd design, but maybe it improves aerodynamics?”

You pressed a hand to your mouth, fighting to keep your laughter under control. “Draco… that’s not… it’s not a flying broom.”

He blinked, his expression shifting from curiosity to confusion. “What do you mean? It’s a broom. What else could it be used for?”

“It’s for cleaning,” you managed, your voice trembling with suppressed laughter. “Muggles use it to sweep floors.”

Draco stared at the broom, then at you, then back at the broom. “You’re joking.”

“Nope,” you said, finally letting out a small giggle. “That’s about as far from a flying broom as you can get.”

Draco’s face twisted into a mixture of horror and disappointment as he looked at the broom again. “They’ve completely ruined it,” he declared, setting it back on the shelf with a level of disdain usually reserved for cursed objects. “What’s the point of a broom that doesn’t fly?”

You couldn’t hold it in anymore and burst out laughing, earning a few amused glances from other shoppers. “Oh, Draco,” you said between giggles, grabbing his arm. “Come on. Let’s get the rest of what we need before you find something else to ‘improve.’”

You couldn’t stop grinning as you watched Draco hover near the cleaning aisle, his gaze fixed on a row of mops. He tilted his head, his brow furrowing as he gingerly poked at the mop’s sponge end.

“What’s this for?” he asked, holding it up like it was a weapon he needed to disarm.

You chuckled, wheeling the cart closer. “That’s a mop. Muggles use it to clean floors—specifically, to scrub them when they’re wet or dirty.”

Draco’s lips parted in disbelief, and he blinked at you as if you’d just told him people used quills to sew fabric. “You’re telling me… they manually drag this thing around on the floor instead of just casting a Scouring Charm?”

“Pretty much,” you replied with a shrug, struggling to keep a straight face.

He shook his head slowly, muttering under his breath, “Primitive. Absolutely primitive.”

After returning the mop to its place like it had personally offended him, he stuck closer to your side for the rest of the trip, steering the shopping cart with surprising enthusiasm. At first, he pushed it tentatively, testing its movement, but before long, he was zipping down the aisles like a child with a new toy.

“Draco,” you called after him, trying not to laugh as he gave the cart a small push and watched it glide forward. “It’s not a racing broom.”

“Of course not,” he said, smirking but not stopping. “It’s much slower.”

Despite his antics, he peppered you with questions as you continued shopping, picking up random items and holding them out for inspection.

“And this?” he asked, holding up a box of instant pudding mix.

“It’s dessert. You mix it with milk, and it thickens into pudding.”

He frowned. “No wand required?”

“No wand required,” you confirmed, tossing the box into the cart.

He sighed dramatically, moving on to the next item. “And this?”

“A tin opener. It opens cans.”

Draco’s expression fell further. “What’s wrong with an Opening Charm?”

“Not everyone has one, Draco,” you said patiently, biting back a laugh as his disappointment deepened.

Item after item, his curiosity turned into sheer disillusionment. “Muggles really have to work this hard for everything, don’t they?” he muttered, picking up a manual whisk and giving it a dubious glance.

You smirked, taking it from him and placing it in the cart. “It’s not all bad. You’re surviving, aren’t you?”

“Barely,” he replied, pushing the cart forward with a little more flair than necessary.

By the time you made it to the checkout line, Draco had perfected his ‘long-suffering Pure-blood enduring the trials of the Muggle world’ expression, but you couldn’t help but notice the occasional glint of fascination in his eyes as he took in the bustling store around him. You were focused on unloading the cart, placing items neatly onto the till conveyor belt while Draco hovered a safe distance away from the machine. His cautious glances at the moving belt made it clear he wasn’t entirely convinced it wasn’t alive. Out of nowhere, he called your name, and you turned just in time for him to shove a small box into your face.

“What is this then?” he asked, his tone a mix of curiosity and bewilderment.

You froze, your eyes widening as you recognized the box of condoms he was holding with an almost clinical detachment. Your face turned scarlet in an instant.

“Draco!” you hissed, snatching the box from his hand and glancing around to see if anyone had overheard.

“What?” he asked, genuinely confused, tilting his head as he looked down at you. “What are they for? Some kind of… candy perhaps?”

You swallowed hard, trying to find the right words without alerting the nearby cashier or the couple in line behind you. Pulling Draco closer by the sleeve of his coat, you whispered urgently, “They’re… for, um, protection. During, uh, intimate moments.”

Draco’s brows furrowed, his confusion only deepening. “Protection? From what? Are Muggles frequently attacked during—oh.”

The realization dawned on his face, his pale cheeks tinging pink as he took a slight step back. He cleared his throat, glancing at the box still in your hand. “I see. That’s… efficient, I suppose.”

You groaned, pressing a hand to your burning face. “Can we please not discuss this here?”

Draco, however, seemed more intrigued than embarrassed now. “Do they… work reliably? Or—how do you even put it on?”

“Draco!” you hissed again, cutting him off as you stuffed the box back onto the shelf behind you.

He smirked at your reaction, leaning closer and lowering his voice. “You’re blushing, darling. It’s adorable.”

“Because you just asked about condoms in the middle of a grocery store,” you muttered, turning back to continue unloading the cart, your face still burning.

Draco chuckled softly, clearly finding your embarrassment far too amusing. He stayed quiet for a moment, but out of the corner of your eye, you noticed him lingering by the shelf where he’d found the box. His eyes narrowed in concentration as he examined the options: strawberry, ribbed, ultra-thin. Before you could say anything, he plucked one off the shelf and, with exaggerated caution, tossed it onto the conveyor belt from a distance, as if it might attack him.

You blinked at him, your confusion only growing as you stared at the box sitting innocently amidst the rest of your groceries. “Draco… what are you doing?”

He avoided your gaze, suddenly very interested in straightening his coat. “What? I want to try them,” he mumbled, his voice almost innocent.

You bit back a laugh, shaking your head as you leaned closer to whisper, “Draco, you do realize these aren’t, like, some kind of Muggle novelty item, right?”

He finally glanced at you, his pale cheeks tinged with pink. “I’m perfectly aware,” he said, straightening his posture. “I just… want to see what all the fuss is about.”

You covered your face with your hand, torn between exasperation and laughter. “You are unbelievable.”

The cashier began scanning the items, and Draco, determined to prove himself useful, did his best to place them into the bags you had handed him. His movements were deliberate and almost comically precise, as if packing groceries was a skill to be mastered.

You watched with quiet amusement as he gingerly placed eggs into a bag, his face a mask of concentration. He only paused when the cashier announced the total and you pulled out a card to pay.

Draco’s eyes widened, his gaze darting between you and the small machine where you inserted the card. “That’s how you pay?” he murmured, half to himself.

“Yup,” you replied, suppressing a grin as the machine beeped, signaling the transaction was complete.

But what truly left him speechless was the receipt. The small slip of paper emerged from a hidden compartment with a faint whirring sound, and Draco stepped back slightly, his brow furrowing in suspicion.

“What now?” you asked, noticing his confusion.

He pointed at the receipt, his voice low and serious. “Is it enchanted?”

You chuckled, taking the receipt and tucking it into your pocket. “No, Draco, it’s just a record of what we bought. No magic involved.”

He said nothing, though his expression suggested he wasn’t entirely convinced.

Once outside, with the shopping bags evenly distributed between you, Draco slid an arm around your waist, pulling you close as you walked through the snowy streets. His grip was firm and grounding, but his face was set in a deep, pensive frown. You glanced up at him, his furrowed brows and slightly parted lips betraying the whirlwind of thoughts in his mind. Deciding not to interrupt, you pressed yourself closer to his side, letting your head rest lightly against the side of his chest. The walk home was quiet, save for the crunch of snow beneath your boots. Draco remained silent, processing the bizarre journey into Muggle life. You didn’t push him, knowing he’d speak when he was ready—or maybe not at all. By the time you reached your house, his frown had softened, though his eyes still had a far-off look. As you unlocked the door and stepped inside, you caught the faintest glimmer of a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Next time,” he said as he set the bags down, his tone a mix of humor and resignation, “I’ll handle the receipt.”

—

You busied yourself in the kitchen, determined to make a flawless roast dinner for Draco’s parents. You knew they weren’t particularly fond of you or the fact that Draco was immersing himself in the Muggle world. Still, you were set on showing them that you belonged in Draco’s life, no matter how many raised eyebrows they threw your way. Draco leaned casually against the counter, arms crossed as he watched you work. His silver hair caught the warm light of the kitchen, and though his expression remained neutral, you could tell he was intrigued. You chopped, seasoned, and kneaded everything by hand, and it was clear he wasn’t used to such a process.

“You really do all of this without magic?” he asked, his voice tinged with curiosity.

“Yup,” you replied, sprinkling some herbs over the potatoes. “From scratch. It’s not so bad once you get the hang of it.”

Draco hummed in response, clearly not convinced but unwilling to argue. The quiet shuffling of aluminum caught your attention, and you glanced over your shoulder.

What you saw nearly made you drop the salt shaker.

Draco stood there holding an unpackaged, rolled-up condom in his hands, a deep frown etched on his face. He was holding it between his fingers like it was a particularly slimy slug, his lips curling in disgust.

You bit back a laugh, trying to focus on the potatoes as you replied casually, “You have to unroll it.”

“Aha,” Draco mumbled, clearly no less confused, as he turned and disappeared into the other room.

You shook your head, unable to stop the grin spreading across your face. For a moment, the kitchen was quiet again, save for the sound of the roast sizzling in the oven. Then came muffled grumbles from the other room.

It didn’t take long for Draco to reappear, still holding the condom. His face was a mix of defeat and lingering disgust as he held it up. “I have no idea how this thing works,” he admitted, his voice low. “And why does it feel so… disgustingly slimy?”

You couldn’t help it—you burst out laughing, clutching the counter for support as tears sprang to your eyes. “Oh my God, Draco,” you managed between fits of laughter.

He scowled, tossing the condom onto the counter as if washing his hands of the whole ordeal. “It’s not funny!”

“It is!” you replied, wiping at your eyes. “You look like you’ve been wrestling with it!”

Draco sniffed, clearly unimpressed. “I don’t understand how Muggles deal with this nonsense. Magical contraceptives are far less… revolting.” He glanced down at the discarded condom with a look of pure disdain. “It couldn’t even go on.”

You bit your lip, barely holding back your laughter as you stepped closer to him. Reaching up, you cupped his cheek gently, guiding his attention back to you. His silver eyes softened slightly, his frown easing as you leaned in and kissed him softly, your lips lingering against his just long enough to distract him from his frustration.

When you pulled back, your voice was low, your tone teasing. “You need to be… excited for it to work, Draco.”

Draco blinked, his cheeks immediately flushing a soft pink. He straightened, his usual composure cracking for a brief moment as he processed your words. “Excited?” he echoed, his voice slightly higher than usual.

You grinned, brushing past him to check on the roast in the oven. “That’s right,” you said casually, as if you hadn’t just sent his mind spinning.

Draco stood frozen for a moment, glancing back at the discarded condom as if it had betrayed him yet again. Then, he turned to you, his voice laced with indignation. “You could have told me that earlier instead of letting me wrestle with it like some kind of fool!”

You laughed, glancing at him over your shoulder. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Draco huffed, crossing his arms as he leaned against the counter once more, his pink cheeks still betraying him. “Muggles,” he muttered under his breath, though there was a faint, reluctant smirk tugging at his lips.

“Alright, Malfoy” you teased, brushing your hands off on a towel. “Go set the table before your parents get here, and I promise no more surprises. For now.”

Draco gave you a mock glare before turning to do as you asked, his mutterings about Muggle nonsense fading as he left the kitchen. You chuckled to yourself, shaking your head as you returned to your cooking. Living with Draco was chaotic, but moments like this reminded you just how much you loved having him in your world—even if he’d never quite understand all of it.

The table was set perfectly, as if Draco had spent as much time arranging it as you had cooking. You took a deep breath, smoothing your hands over your clothes as the knock on the door echoed through the flat. Draco opened it with his usual composed grace, greeting his parents with a stiff nod.

Narcissa stepped inside first, her expression polite but guarded as she glanced around the house. “Draco,” she said softly, pulling him into a quick hug. Her gaze flicked to you, and she offered a small, tight smile. “Y/N.”

“Mrs. Malfoy,” you greeted, doing your best to keep your voice steady.

Lucius followed behind her, his sharp features betraying nothing but disdain as he surveyed his surroundings. He inclined his head slightly toward you, though his lips never moved to form a greeting. It was clear that he was only here under duress, likely at Narcissa’s insistence.

“Do come in,” Draco said, stepping aside and gesturing toward the dining room.

As everyone settled at the table, the tension was palpable. Narcissa sat with perfect posture, her delicate hands folded neatly in her lap, while Lucius sat rigid, his cane resting against the table. His icy gaze swept the room, his disdain evident in every furrow of his brow.

Draco, however, seemed unbothered. He stood proudly, bringing out the food you had spent all afternoon preparing. He set the dishes on the table with a flourish, clearing his throat. “Dinner is served,” he announced, his voice filled with pride. “And before you ask—yes, it was cooked entirely without magic or the help of house-elves.”

Narcissa’s brows lifted slightly, a spark of genuine surprise in her eyes. “Really?” she asked, glancing at the dishes. “That’s quite impressive.”

Lucius, on the other hand, let out a scoff, his lips curling into a faint sneer. “Why anyone would willingly endure such a process is beyond me,” he muttered, earning a sharp glance from his wife.

You bit your tongue, focusing on serving the food as Draco sat down beside you, clearly unfazed by his father’s comment. The meal began in awkward silence, the only sounds coming from the clinking of cutlery and the occasional scrape of a chair.

Finally, Narcissa broke the quiet, turning to her son with a warm, curious smile. “So, Draco, what did you do today?”

Draco sat up straighter, his face lighting up as he launched into an enthusiastic recount of the grocery store trip. “We went to this… Muggle establishment,” he began, his voice carrying a mix of awe and incredulity. “You wouldn’t believe it, Mother. Rows upon rows of food and supplies, all sorted into sections. It was fascinating.”

Narcissa listened intently, her eyes softening as he spoke. “That does sound rather intriguing,” she said, her tone genuine.

Draco continued, describing the shopping cart, the conveyor belt, and the curious beeping machine at the till. “And did you know they have these tiny coins you put into the carts to unlock them?” he added, gesturing animatedly.

Lucius let out a low groan, pinching the bridge of his nose as if Draco’s enthusiasm was physically painful. “I fail to see the appeal,” he muttered under his breath, casting a glance toward the window as though contemplating apparating away.

You stifled a laugh, watching the stark contrast between Draco’s animated storytelling, Narcissa’s interest, and Lucius’s clear misery.

“I even packed the bags,” Draco added proudly. “It’s a ridiculous system, but I managed.”

Narcissa smiled warmly, her pride evident. “I’m glad to see you adapting so well, Draco. It’s important to understand how others live, even if it’s different from what we’re used to.”

Lucius muttered something unintelligible, his knuckles whitening as he gripped his cane.

Draco turned to you, his eyes bright with satisfaction. “See, love? Mother appreciates it.”

You smiled back, your heart warming at his excitement. “She does,” you said softly, glancing at Narcissa, who nodded in agreement.

Lucius, however, simply sighed, leaning back in his chair with a resigned expression. “Let us hope this… experiment of yours doesn’t last too long,” he said, his tone dripping with disdain.

Draco’s jaw tightened slightly, but he kept his composure, reaching for your hand under the table. His fingers squeezed yours briefly, a silent reassurance that he didn’t care what his father thought. The rest of the meal continued with a mix of awkward small talk and Draco’s detailed observations of the Muggle world. Though Lucius remained unimpressed, Narcissa’s quiet encouragement made the effort feel worthwhile. As the conversation wound down and the plates were nearly cleared, Draco suddenly leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers thoughtfully on the table. His sharp blue eyes glimmered with something unreadable, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

“I have something to show you,” he muttered, his tone casual but with a hint of mischief.

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “What is it?” you asked cautiously, your brow furrowing as you tried to guess what he could possibly be up to now.

Draco stood up, strolling out of the dining room with the air of someone retrieving an important artifact. Lucius and Narcissa exchanged puzzled glances, while you felt a flicker of dread creeping up your spine. He returned a moment later, holding a familiar box in his hand.

Your heart sank as your face turned beet red. No. No, no, no, no.

He placed the box of condoms on the table, directly in front of you, and tilted his head with a curious smirk. “You never explained properly,” he said smoothly, though the faint pink on his cheeks betrayed his nonchalant demeanor. “I think it’s time I fully understood how they work.”

The silence in the room was deafening.

Lucius froze mid-sip of his wine, his expression a mixture of horror and disbelief. Narcissa’s lips parted slightly as her eyes darted between the box and her son. Meanwhile, you felt your soul leaving your body as your entire face burned hotter than the roast in the oven earlier.

“Draco,” you hissed, your voice a mix of mortification and desperation. “Not now.”

“Why not?” he asked innocently, his smirk widening as he clearly enjoyed your discomfort. “You said it was important to understand Muggle things if I am living here.”

Narcissa cleared her throat delicately, clearly trying to suppress a laugh. “Draco, darling, perhaps this is a… conversation better suited for another time,” she said, her voice calm but tinged with amusement.

Lucius, on the other hand, looked like he was ready to sink into the ground. “For Salazar’s sake, Draco!” he snapped, his pale face turning an uncharacteristic shade of red. “Have you lost all sense of decorum?”

Draco shrugged, unbothered. “I was merely curious, Father. Isn’t that what this move is about—understanding?”

You buried your face in your hands, groaning. “I’m going to die,” you muttered under your breath.

Draco leaned closer to you, his smirk softening into something almost endearing. “Don’t be dramatic,” he said quietly. “It’s just a box. Besides, you’re the one who said they’re important.”

“Not during dinner with your parents!” you shot back in a harsh whisper.

Narcissa stood gracefully, reaching for her wine glass and glancing at Lucius, who was visibly seething. “Perhaps we should take a moment to admire the décor in the living room,” she suggested, her tone light but firm. “Give them a moment to… collect themselves.”

Lucius rose quickly, eager to escape the situation, and followed her out without another word.

As soon as they were out of earshot, you turned to Draco, glaring at him through your lingering embarrassment. “What is wrong with you?”

He grinned, his pale cheeks still faintly pink. “I couldn’t resist.”

“Draco,” you groaned, covering your face with your hands. But despite your mortification, a reluctant laugh bubbled up, escaping your lips.

Draco chuckled softly, nudging you playfully with his elbow. “Hey,” he said, his voice laced with mischief. “It looks like my parents knew exactly what the box contained.”

You groaned louder, shaking your head as you peeked at him from between your fingers. “Why are you like this?”

“Because it’s more fun than I had ever experienced in my life,” he replied, smirking. “And because your reactions are priceless.”

You swatted his arm lightly, biting your lip to keep from laughing again. “You’re going to pay for this later.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it,” Draco said smoothly, leaning back in his chair with an infuriatingly smug expression.

You shook your head, standing to start clearing the table. “Unbelievable,” you muttered, though the corners of your mouth twitched despite your best efforts to remain stern.

Draco stood as well, grabbing a plate and following you to the kitchen. “For what it’s worth,” he said, his tone softening slightly, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen my mother look that impressed. You’re winning her over, you know.”

You glanced at him, your irritation melting a little as you caught the sincerity in his eyes. “Maybe,” you said with a small smile. “But your dad looks like he’s ready to disown you.”

Draco shrugged, setting the plate down on the counter. “He’ll survive. I’d say this visit is going better than expected.”

You arched an eyebrow, gesturing toward the box still sitting on the table. “Even with that little stunt?”

He smirked, leaning closer to press a quick kiss to your cheek. “Especially because of that,” he whispered.

You rolled your eyes, but your smile lingered as you turned back to the dishes. Life with Draco was unpredictable, embarrassing, and absolutely worth it.

After a while, with the kitchen cleaned and dessert plates neatly arranged, you rejoined Draco’s parents in the living room. You placed the cake and a small pot of tea on the coffee table, smiling as Narcissa complimented the presentation. “It looks lovely, dear,” she said warmly, her eyes lighting up as she tasted the first bite. “And delicious.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Malfoy,” you replied, feeling a small wave of relief at her approval.

Meanwhile, Draco stood by the TV, flicking it on with the remote. The screen lit up, filling the room with sound and color. He had been obsessed with it ever since the two of you moved in, constantly exploring its features and marveling at the variety of channels.

“And this,” he began, gesturing to the screen, “is called a television. It’s a Muggle device that streams moving pictures and sound. There are different stations—some show plays or sports, others music or news.”

Lucius, who had been seated stiffly on the sofa, cast the TV a disinterested glance at first. But as Draco flipped through the channels, his gaze lingered, his eyes narrowing in a mixture of curiosity and intrigue.

Draco settled on a music channel, where a pop song played over vibrant, fast-moving visuals. Lucius leaned forward slightly, his cane forgotten at his side as his eyes remained glued to the screen.

Narcissa, meanwhile, sipped her tea and turned to you with a soft smile. “The cake is truly wonderful, Y/N. You’ve outdone yourself.”

“Thank you,” you murmured, glancing at Lucius, whose face was now bathed in the colorful glow of the TV. Draco was explaining the concept of music videos, his voice carrying a mix of excitement and pride.

“And these stations,” Draco said, pointing to the remote, “play music continuously. The visuals match the songs—like this one, see?”

Lucius didn’t respond immediately, his eyes fixed on the screen as if he were analyzing every detail. Eventually, he gave a slow nod. “Remarkable,” he muttered under his breath, clearly fascinated despite his obvious disdain for anything muggle.

Narcissa glanced at him with a knowing smile but said nothing, letting her husband enjoy his unexpected discovery.

After a while, Narcissa stood gracefully, placing her empty teacup on the table and smoothing the fabric of her elegant robe. “It’s getting late,” she said gently, her tone warm but firm. “We should be heading home.”

Lucius didn’t move. His gaze remained fixed on the television, where a lively music video was playing. His normally composed expression was slightly softened, his eyes darting between the screen and the remote in Draco’s hand.

“Lucius,” Narcissa prompted, her voice holding a hint of exasperation. “It’s time to go.”

He finally tore his gaze away from the screen, his brows furrowing slightly. “Yes, yes, in a moment,” he muttered, waving a hand dismissively as if he needed just a little more time to understand the contraption.

Draco smirked, leaning back against the wall with his arms crossed. “I think he likes it,” he whispered to you, his voice filled with amusement.

Narcissa gave you a knowing glance, her lips twitching into a faint smile before turning back to her husband. “Lucius,” she said again, a bit more firmly this time, “we’re leaving. Now.”

Lucius sighed dramatically, rising from the sofa but casting the TV one last, reluctant glance. “I suppose,” he said, his voice tinged with regret, “we can continue exploring this… device another time.”

You exchanged goodbyes at the door, Narcissa giving you a soft pat on the arm and a smile that felt almost maternal. Lucius remained as formal as ever, though there was an unusual glint in his eye as he glanced at the living room one last time.

As the two of them stepped outside, you lingered by the door with Draco. The crisp night air carried the faint sound of their voices as they walked toward the apparition point.

“You know,” Lucius muttered to Narcissa, his voice carrying just enough for you to catch, “we should consider getting one of those televisions for the manor.”

Narcissa’s laugh was soft but unmistakable. “I’ll make the arrangements,” she replied, her tone indulgent.

Draco closed the door, leaning against it with a triumphant smirk. “See?” he said, turning to you. “It wasn’t so bad.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I think you just converted your father into a TV enthusiast.”

“Not bad for one evening,” Draco said, wrapping an arm around your waist. “Though I’d say the real victory was your cake. Well done, love.”

You smiled, leaning up to give him a gentle kiss. “Thanks, but I think your TV demonstration might’ve been the real winner tonight.”

He smirked, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Of course. I am rather persuasive.”

Shaking your head with a laugh, you turned off the living room lights—a concept Draco still found mildly perplexing. He mumbled something about how inconvenient switches were compared to a simple wand flick as you guided him upstairs to your bedroom.

By the time you finished washing up and changed into your pajamas, Draco was already tucked under the covers. The glow from his nightlight—a softly enchanted orb you’d insisted on for his comfort—bathed the room in a warm, golden hue.

You paused at the vanity, applying cream to your face while sneaking a glance at him through the mirror. He was sitting upright, his brow furrowed as he read the label on the back of the box of condoms. His lips moved faintly as if he were trying to work out some sort of  instructions.

Biting back a laugh, you shook your head and turned off the main lights, leaving only the dim glow of his nightlight. Crawling into bed beside him, you couldn’t resist teasing him.

“Still trying to figure that out?” you asked, propping yourself up on one elbow.

Draco looked over at you, holding up the box with a faint smirk. “The instructions are absurdly detailed for something so… basic.”

You chuckled, resting your head on the pillow. “I’m not sure what you expected. Magic?”

“Honestly, yes,” he replied, setting the box on the nightstand and settling under the covers. “Everything’s unnecessarily complicated without it.”

You leaned over, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Well, if it gets too overwhelming, just remember—I’m here to guide you through it.”

Draco turned to you, his smirk softening into something warmer. “I’ll hold you to that,” he murmured, brushing a thumb lightly over your hand before pulling you closer.

As the nightlight cast its soft glow over the room, you snuggled into his side, grateful for the quiet comfort of the moment. Life with Malfoy was a whirlwind, but here, in the stillness of your shared space, everything felt just right. Draco was silent for a while, though you could feel him thinking, his body slightly tense beneath yours. Finally, his voice broke the quiet, soft and hesitant. “Could you show me how to use them? Tonight?”

You lifted your head to look at him, his silver eyes meeting yours, a faint blush creeping into his cheeks. Leaning in, you placed a soft kiss to his lips, lingering just long enough to reassure him. When you pulled back, you smiled gently, your voice a quiet whisper.

“Of course.”

The room fell into a quiet calm, the only sounds the faint rustle of the sheets as you moved closer to him. Draco’s arms wrapped around you, his touch steady and warm. Life in the muggle world had turned out to be far more surprising than Draco had ever expected. It wasn’t as grand or as effortless as the magical life he’d always known, but there was something about it—something real, unpolished, and oddly comforting.

Though, as he discovered later that night, the condoms were nothing special after all.

Likes, reblogs and comments are always very much appreciated! ♡

© slytherinsmuse. please do not copy, claim, translate or steal any of my works as your own.

[mischievousmoony]

hey can i request headcanons for sirius and the fireworks prompt? maybe he's the one lighting them, but it's up to you!

of course thanks for the request!

jolie's summer kickoff 𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐩𝐬 from the cooler ⋮ aka headcanons contains: boyfriend!sirius black x reader, surprisingly not a muggle au they’re wizards for this one, reader is either muggle born or familiar with muggle things

Sirius and fireworks are a nerve-racking combination.

Not that he doesn’t have extensive knowledge about them.

Back when you were still in school, fireworks were Sirius’ specialty. He was always using them for some kind of prank.

From planting small fireworks in the Slytherin dorms set to go off in the middle of the night, to disrupting classes with a sparkling show in the halls, and even spelling out cheers in the sky during Gryffindor’s quidditch matches that doubled as a distraction for the opposing team.

The problems arise when he gets his hands on muggle fireworks, which he knows nothing about. If anything, they’re more dangerous than the magical kind.

A tap or a wave of his wand could light most of the magical sort of fireworks. And a lot of them can be held in your hand when they go off.

The muggle ones Sirius came home one day with do not have such properties. He’ll have to light the fuse and back away quickly to avoid getting singed.

“They’re not as cool as the fireworks you’re used to,” you try to sway him.

“That’s why I’m rigging a chain of them. They’ll put on a proper show, don’t worry.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about. Do you even know how to do that?” you ask warily.

“Yeah, the bloke at the store told me how. I remember all the important bits.” The way he shrugs doesn’t make you feel any better.

He’ll be fixated on the muggle fireworks for at least a week. Then, completely forget about them. Until something reminds him of them, and he’s messing with them for another week straight.

And without fail, he’ll always pretend he’s burned himself or blown his hand off to mess with you, and you fall for it every time. Sirius is a good liar, after all, and good liars make good actors.

Besides, you’d rather let him fool you than not help him in a real emergency.

All things considered, he actually is quite skilled with them.

Except for that one time he blew up a tree.

But that was one time!

Anyway, no one can make a fireworks show as cool as the ones Sirius comes up with. Not with muggle fireworks, anyway.

One time, he arranged them to make a series of heart shapes in the sky on your anniversary. Sirius isn’t usually the sappy type, so that was really something special.

And despite any of your worries, it is always fun when Sirius brings out the fireworks. There’s something endearing about the way he tugs you outside at night, makes sure you're standing a safe distance away and wrapped snuggly in a blanket if it’s cold out, before excitedly showing you his latest masterpiece, keeping a close eye on your reaction.

No matter how long you two have been together, he’ll always be trying to impress you. Like a boy with a crush on someone he thinks is far out of his league, which, for the record, Sirius is adamant that you are.

[hibiscusfairys]

☕️ draco malfoy ; unrequited love, part 1 (hufflepuff fem reader)

photo from pinterest

♪ the other woman — jeff buckley

♡ warnings: angst

part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5

☆

You saw how he looked at her.

Astoria Greengrass — a beauty, no doubt. A head of hair brown and gorgeous, a personality kind and thoughtful, and alluring dark eyes like liquor.

What made it worse, is that she was good natured to you too.

It only made you love her more, but jealousy engulfed you like a blanket, wrapping you warm, yet you were still cold.

You had always admired her.

The guilt was too heavy to weigh.

It was 4th year when you began falling for the blonde boy, when you were paired with him in potions. You couldn’t fathom why or how your feelings for him formed, especially when he had a cruel mouth, in which he wasn’t afraid to open. He was a spoilt, arrogant person. And his family was no better.

You both had obvious differences — you were an ordinary girl, a muggleborn. You were also placed into Hufflepuff, a house unfairly stereotyped for their sensitivity and unwillingness. But you knew they were all much more than what people believed. He, on the other hand, was a Slytherin, a pureblood, and seemingly compassionless.

You faced the many difficulties of working with him. Being disrespected was an often thing, but you persevered through it until he began to unfold. He eventually got used to you, a few remarks were still thrown around here and there however, deepening your insecurities the more you were around him. Every time his gaze landed on you, you felt like sinking deep into an empty hole. Although, you knew a heart was hiding beneath his thick skin.

The unpredictable, and possibly accidental warm gestures he made, sparked something. You began to feel insecure around him, but for different reasons. You wanted to look and feel pretty.

You were normal, to him.

To him, he felt no spark. He indeed, found you exceptionally ordinary, and even quite embarrassing. You weren’t a Slytherin, and you weren’t of high prestige like him. To be caught talking to a Hufflepuff of muggle blood was something he’d usually avoid.

That’s when you asked him to help you pack away the lesson equipment, when his gaze landed on Astoria. You saw his eyes enchant with delight. Of course, who wouldn’t look at a girl like her and not feel something? She was gorgeous.

But it speared your heart deep.

Her perfection only made it worse.

He began to distance himself from you in order to get closer to the girl. Your stomach churned the more he spoke, and the more the smiled. The more his vision lay on her, you were swarmed with envy. You wanted to rid of it badly, due to the guilt of feeling such emotion towards her. She had never done you wrong, and you were slowly beginning to resent her. How immature it was to dislike a girl for being loved by the boy you liked. But you admired her too, a role model who was so perfect it was impossible.

The Yule Ball came around, and that’s when things only got worse. You were waiting, and waiting to be asked, but your heart stood empty. You even asked a few people, but they were already taken. And you knew you wouldn’t stand a chance with Draco, as Astoria was apart of his life. Your impatience began to grow, along with your heartache.

“What’s wrong with you?” The boy asked, solemn. His concern was little in his voice, almost as if he was condescending.

You performed a smile on your face. “Nothings wrong, just having difficulty finding someone.”

Draco looked at you awkwardly. “…Oh.” He was unsure of how to respond, and was cautious about being seen by his friends. The teasing would last for weeks.

You looked up at him, noticing his pale face. “Say, are you going with anybody?” You already knew the answer, but a chance was still there, and you clung onto it for dear life.

“Yes,” He responded, rubbing his neck. “Greengrass’ agreed to go with me.” His lips curled at the mention of her name, his face blushing with a red hue.

“Oh, that’s great then..” You responded, your voice quietened in disappointment.

“What’s with the sad response?” He asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“You were kind of.. the last person I would ask. Everyone else I’ve asked already had someone.” You replied, knowing that, and him loving somebody else also.

“Oh,” He said, guilt not present. “Going by yourself isn’t bad though.”

His cold words were enough to freeze. A lump in your throat began to form, composure slipping. “Yes, it isn’t too bad..” It was a one time experience. Why couldn’t you have the joy everyone else shared? Going by yourself would ruin the entire party, and it wouldn’t be worth going.

“Or maybe, just don’t go.. I don’t know. If you don’t have a date, what’s the point?” He remarked, unknowing of the pain that laced his words. He noticed the usual smile on your face begin to disappear, and your face looked slightly pained. “Come on, you know I didn’t mean it in that way.”

“Maybe you didn’t.” You snapped, your voice wavering. “But what could I have expected from you? That you’d comfort me, and reassure me that it’s alright? That would be delusional.”

He appeared shaken by your response, as if he was expecting you to agree and understand. But this time, you had enough.

“I’m glad you get to go with Astoria, Draco. You are one lucky guy. Do you treat her the same you do me?”

“No, I don’t,” He retorted. “You know I can’t, for one, I like her. I don’t like you like her.”

“I know that!” You hissed. “But at least think twice before you say something, you prick.”

You grabbed your bag, sliding it off of the table. An empty glass vial shattered onto the floor.

“You’re too touchy.” He whispered under his breath, huffing as he followed after you.

☆

thank u for reading!!!! im doing a part two to this too, i want there to be a happy ending cause ik ill be too broken without one lol :(

[moominlovely]

(Part two)Nobody's supposed to be here

Summary: Things were meant to be different here, yet in her fourth year at Hogwarts, she finds that no one knows her name. Perhaps one day she will carve out a place for herself, or perhaps she will remain invisible.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: I just had to continue; I'm on a roll, so I better not stop now. Please comment on what you would like next. Thx for reading!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Do we have to study?

Severus didn't speak much , they just sat next to each other in the library. Now that she thinks about it, he was studying while she was just sitting there looking stupid.

That was when she suddenly found the courage to say something. "So..." she looked around the library, which was a little emptier now. "Do you study a lot then?" She immediately felt like she sounded stupid. The little voice in her head mocked me, "Do you come here often?"

He just sighed and stopped writing, setting his quilt down gently. Then he looked at her. For the first time, he looked at her. "Why are you still here. If you wait it out, Slughorn will assign you a different tutor." His words were not what she was focusing on , it was his eye, so dark and full, glassy almost. He's beautiful.

His entire face screamed unity, as if he had been crafted that way. As he shifted to look back at his potions book, she caught a glimpse of his side profile, his nose was the cherry on top as if it wasn't there, it would have been off. Despite the acne on his cheeks, he was perfect in her eyes.

“I won’t bother you. I can just read your notes on potions, and I’m not that bad at it,” she groveled almost pathetically. She was absolutely horrible at potions. But he doesn't need to know that.

Severus didn't bother looking back at her, almost as if he was dismissing her. He threw a page of parchment on the desk and continued to write. " Notes, take them and study. am not a teacher. and I'm not going to teach some imbecile who can't follow simple instructions." Then he dismissed her almost as if she were a dog. And she just took it, it was the most interaction she had in weeks and that was just listening to a bored painting for three hours.

She didn’t say anything; she just got up and left, trying to keep her promise.

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That night at dinner, she couldn't stop looking at him; it was a new feeling for her. He wasn't pretty like Regulus, who had a girlish beauty or the muscle that scouse Quidditch player had all the girls were talking about. He was dark and moody, he kept his hair framing his face and his dark eyes trained on his potions book.

He didn’t speak to anyone; he just nibbled on his roast potatoes. Every once in a while, he would look up at her, the pretty redhead who sat giggling with all her friends. Y/N felt that familiar pang of jealousy. Why couldn't she have that? What's wrong with her? Why wasn't he looking at her?

Twice in one day, she had another bout of confidence. Standing up suddenly, spoking the girl beside her who didn't even notice Y/N was there. For the first time, her head held up high. She stopped behind him with the last of her courage, she tapped his shoulder. She touched him.

Severus tensed, and the boy next to him looked up at her and started to giggle. At that moment, she had no idea what to do next. The blonde giggled even harder, drawing more eyes to her. This is more attention than she ever had before. The kid from the neighbouring table stared to look over "Is this your girlfriend, Severus? A bit young for you, no?" Embarrassment she wanted more the anything to disappear.

Her eyes looked down at the floor, tracing a crack in the stone as she tried to ground herself. "Can you explain some of your notes tomorrow, please? I don't quite understand," she said. Before she could get an answer, she hurried off. When she reached her bed, she curled up under her thick duvet, the crumpled page of parchment clutched in her sweaty hand, the ink smudged. She fell asleep like that, not looking forward to speaking to him the next day.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

A.N: Was this any good? I have not slept for the past 20 hours. Sorry if it doesn't make any sense. thx for reading.

[myinsanitysoul]

Bound by blood - Chapter 1

Synopsis: In a wizarding world ravaged by war, a new birthrate policy enforces arranged marriages between young adults to “rebuild magical society.” Evangeline Phantomhive, a brilliant and cynical Muggle-born, is forcibly wed to Draco Malfoy, a disillusioned former Death Eater. In a dim, sunless office, they sign a contract that binds them for life. Between bitterness, sidelong glances, sharp wit, and haunting pasts, they’ll have to learn to coexist… and maybe, understand each other.

Fandom: Black Butler x Harry Potter

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Evangeline Phantomhive (OC)

Themes : Forced marriage, post-war recovery, prejudice, redemption, slow-burn enemies-to-lovers, class divide, trauma, magical politics, family legacy, romantic tension

Trigger Warnings: Forced marriage, blood status discrimination (pureblood vs. Muggle-born), post-war trauma, misogynistic and xenophobic remarks, anxiety, nuanced consent, +18

Universe: Canon-divergent / Post-war AU (restrictive magical laws – reconstruction of the wizarding world after the war)

_______________________________________

Tuesday, March 15th, 2004 – London, Ministry of Magic, Department of Administration and Natality

Evangeline’s heels echoed against the polished floors of the Ministry of Magic.She was humming “God Save the Queen,” as she always did when anxiety gnawed at her nerves. The cause of her distress? Her own wedding. And yet, this was not the joyful event it was for most people.

She passed through the Ministry’s atrium, breathing shallowly as she spotted couples her age — or close to it — gathered in the grand hall.

Room N23.

The blonde stopped in front of the massive wooden door looming over her. It felt as though the building might swallow her whole — or perhaps it was just her cortisol — flooded body trembling uncontrollably.

“Now or never... Preferably never,” she muttered with a forced laugh. “Lord, help me.”

She knocked three times.

The ominous door creaked open with a cheerfulness far too gleeful for her misfortune. Still, she stood tall and walked in with apparent confidence, though her insides twisted with dread. Her green eyes scanned the small room. A middle-aged couple sat grimly off to one side, and three Ministry officials stood behind the oak desk facing her.

Her heart leapt into her throat when she noticed the two chairs before the officiant — one already occupied by a man whose hair was as pale as moonlight.

Her future husband.

A wizard who bore the beauty of an angel yet carried the weight of death. A former Death Eater.

The chair legs scraped sharply as she pulled it out and sat down. She didn’t look at him, and she had no idea whether he looked at her. But she felt eyes burning into the back of her head.

Her gaze roamed the room for any detail that might distract her from the nightmare she could not wake up from. The officiant opened his arms with a politically polished smile.

“Ah! Miss Phantomhive, we were just waiting on you!” the man sang with a voice too saccharine to be sincere.

She suppressed a shiver of discomfort. As he began reciting their marital duties, her eyes drifted — against her will — to the two empty chairs to her right.

The ones her parents should have occupied. But they’d been deemed too “Muggle” to attend their own daughter’s wedding. A rush of water drowned out the sounds around her, as if her ears had been submerged.

“Miss Evangeline Celestia Rachel Phantomhive, do you take Mr. Draco Lucius Malfoy as your husband, and vow to fulfill the duties incumbent upon you?”

One. Two. Three heartbeats. Blood pounded in her ears, her mouth went dry. She opened her lips — then closed them again. She averted her gaze and nodded.The silence in the room was deafening, the world spinning around her like a hellish carousel.

She could have been anyone.

“Sign here.”

She could have fallen in love on her own, chosen her fate — like she had always dreamed.

Been free.

Instead, here she was, in a drab office where sunlight dared not enter, marrying into a pure-blood dynasty.

“I hope you’re not planning on shaving my head,” she muttered, her tone laced with dark humor.

A reference to the punishment given to women accused of consorting with Nazis during the Second World War. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw one of the witnesses flinch and lower his gaze. The others didn’t react — confusion couldn’t pierce the icy atmosphere.

The quill trembled in her hand. She pressed too hard against the parchment, causing the nib to splatter ink as she signed her name.

“There you are — married. Congratulations. The Ministry of Magic is grateful for your participation in our reconstruction initiative,” the officiant declared, smiling with dead eyes.

She couldn’t stop the cynicism from slipping past her pale lips.

“Thanks. This is exactly how I imagined my wedding: dressed in black, in a windowless room untouched by sunlight, surrounded by people who look like they’re attending a funeral. Is this my marriage or a kidnapping?” she asked with a trembling voice and a nervous smile.

For the first time during the entire ceremony, she met the steel-gray eyes of her husband. Surprisingly, she didn’t see hatred there — only exhaustion and resignation.

Reflexively, she clutched the family ring her father had given her, seeking comfort. Because no matter what name she bore now, she would always be a Phantomhive.

Her thumb brushed against the blue gem — the Hope Diamond, as her father had called it. Once a necklace, it had been shattered; the Phantomhive family inherited half of it. The stone had a reputation for being cursed — for bringing tragic ends to its bearers.

Like her, she thought with an ironic smile.

She barely registered the disdainful look her new in-laws cast her way — likely thrilled to see their precious bloodline soiled by a Mudblood.

As they left the room, a bitter thought crossed her mind. Can’t wait for them to check my menstrual cycles.

Draco and she stood outside the office, both avoiding eye contact as if the other might contaminate them.

“Where will we live?” she asked, her voice slicing through the air like a blade through linen.

Draco looked up, miserable. “I have a house. A cottage. A short distance from Hogsmeade.”

“In Scotland?” she choked.

That meant she’d be far from her parents — still living in Surrey, in southern England, where they governed the county.

“Yes.”

And so, the bell tolled on her new life.

[cutielando]

Hello, can I request draco x muggleborn! reader where the reader is actually a member of the royal family in the muggle world?

family relations | draco malfoy

synopsis: in which his father is wrong about you

pairing: draco malfoy x royal!reader

my masterlist

Being a Muggleborn was hard in the wizarding world. Especially when confronted with people who didn't believe that you were worthy of having magical powers.

But being a Muggleborn while dating Draco Malfoy, practically magic royalty? Now that was a whole other story.

Draco didn't care that you weren't a Pureblood. He loved you regardless of that. His mother was the same, she was just happy that her son found someone to love and cherish.

Lucius was the problem.

Ever since Draco decided to tell his parents about your relationship, his father made it very obvious to him how much he disliked you and didn't approve of you. You'd never even met the guy and he already hated you.

But that was all going to change because Draco had decided to take you to his house for dinner during spring break.

"Are you sure you want me to come? I don't want to be the reason you fight with your father" you had asked Draco one night before while you were lying on the couch in the Slytherin common room.

"I'm sure. My mother has been insisting that she meets you and we've put it off enough. I don't care what my father has to say, I'll still love you no matter what" he explained, pecking your lips to reassure you.

"Have you told them the 'thing' about me?" you asked quietly, not trusting that others wouldn't hear your secret and make a big deal out of it.

"Not yet, figured I should wait and we'll tell them over dinner. Maybe my father will come around and respect you when he hears"

You thought for a second and nodded, leaning back into Draco's embrace and letting the warmth emanating from his body envelop you and lull you into a peaceful sleep.

♡♡♡♡♡

"Are you sure about this? Last chance to run" you told Draco as you stood in front of Malfoy Manor, your hand tightly gripping his.

“Love, I’m sure. Are you sure you’re up for this? We don’t have to if you want to” he turned to you and put the hand that wasn’t holding yours on your cheek.

You looked him in the eye for a minute, feeling safe and sound as you let his eyes calm you down.

“Let’s do this. Together” you finally spoke up, determined to get this over with and make it work.

Draco smiled and leaned down, pecking your lips and then forehead.

As you sarted walking towards the front entrance, a million thoughts started racing through your mind.

You were so engrossed in your own mind that you didn’t even notice you were already standing in front of the large black oak doors, Draco having already knocked.

A small, petite house elf opened the door and bowed immediately to his master, scrambling to usher you inside.

“Master Draco, your presence has been highly anticipated. Mistress Y/N, your presence has been waited upon as well. Master Lucius and Mistress Narcissa are waiting for you in the dining hall” the elf explained before quickly hurrying down the corridor and entering, what you presumed was, the kitchen.

“Ready?” Draco whispered, standing in front of you and holding your arms.

You nodded, giving him a small smile.

He returned it and pecked your forehead before taking your hand again and entering the room.

Lucius was sitting at the head of the long dining table and Narcissa was sitting next to him, smiling once he saw you entering.

“My boy, oh how I’ve missed you” she got up once we reached her and enveloped Draco in a tight hug, the boy returning the gesture.

When they pulled away, Narcissa turned to you and smiled.

“Hello, Mrs. Malfoy. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you” you said swiftly, tryinf to calm your nerves.

“You’re even more beautiful than Draco described” she gushed and pulled you in a hug, chuckling when she heard Draco swear under his breath.

A sudden cough made you all freeze. Narcissa pulled away from you and turned to her husband, gesturing for you to sit down next to him.

“This is my husband, Lucius. Lucius, you remember Y/N from Draco’s letters, don’t you?” Narcissa put her hand on his shoulder, most probably considering she could take control of the situation.

“I remember her vividly. The Mudblood, of course” he spit, venom clear as day in his voice.

“Father!” Draco hissed, glaring at him.

“I thought I told you to never bring this Mudblood into my house. What is she doing here?” Lucius asked Draco, glaring at you from the corner of his eye.

“You will not speak to her that way. She is not a Mudblood and she is certainly not your common Muggleborn” he said and stopped, looking at you for approval.

You gave him a small smile and nodded, resting your hand on his leg in order to keep him calm.

“Oh, she’s special now, isn’t she? Do tell me, what could possibly make this girl special?”

“I’m a member of the Royal Family” you spoke up for the first time in front of Lucius before Draco could speak.

The silence that filled the room was thick, almost deafening. Lucius was staring at you like you had grown two heads, Narcissa was beaming at you and Draco was sitting back in his chair, enjoying the reaction from his father.

“Excuse me?” Lucius finally said, his face as white as a sheet.

“I’m a member of the Muggle Royal Family. Quite literally a princess”

Lucius was silent for a minute, deep in thought, before he slowly nodded.

“In that case, I would like to apologize for my harsh words and behavior towards you, Y/N. You have my blessing to date my son and consider this your home from this day forward” he nodded curtly and stood up, walking away from you three and leaving the room.

You turned to look at Draco, whose smile was as wide and bright as the Sun.

“Told you” he said, making you roll your eyes.

You were just glad his parents finally approved of you and Lucius came around.

Because there was no way in hell you were leaving Draco.

Ever.

comments and re-blogs help us grow!

much appreciated!!

REQUEST HERE

[thecorefrisk]

I love writing Harry Potter x OC (the actual Harry Potter not one of the characters in the Harry Potter franchise) because sometimes it’s super poetic and lovely and commentary on pureblood society and questions on ‘are there limits to magic?’ And ‘should there be?’ but also half the time it’s like this:

When the golden trio is out searching for the horcruxes:

Harry Potter: …

Hermione: …

Ron: …

Harry Potter: *sigh* I miss my girlfriend—

Hermione: omfg— she literally betrayed us!

Ron: And she was not your girlfriend, mate, you never asked her out.

Harry: well, she could’ve been, I would’ve asked her out eventually!

Ron: You would have not.

Hermione: And she’s a traitor! It wouldn’t have worked out because she betrays! She does that! And terrorist organizations apparently!

Harry: She does not do terrorist organizations—

Hermione: Maybe not do them but she certainly—

[cinnamonrollandtea]

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Healing a heart

Draco Malfoy x fem! reader

[Requested – see request here]

Summary: Draco felt half alive after the second wizarding war, that was until he found the two pieces he had been missing

Warnings: swearing, mentions of food, cannon character deaths, pregnancy and sex, ptsd, hurt/comfort moments, kissing, mostly fluff, time jumps

A/n: 8.2 k words, I written this mostly from Draco’s point of view, usually I like to switch and give both perspectives but I feel like this is his healing journey so I want to focus on him. Reader is a muggleborn and ex Hufflepuff. As usual I got so carried away and this is more of a oneshot since I decided to combine an idea I had preivously with this request. I hope you like it, the first half is the reader and Draco’s story and the second his Draco and his daughters, enjoy x

Navigation | Golden Era Characters Masterlist

Draco sighed as he ate breakfast, looking around his barren flat he couldn’t help but feel empty inside. It was however better than living in his family’s mansion, there were too many bad memories plaguing that place, the screams of the people his aunt tortured, his marking ceremony and many others he still relived every night. At this point he was just existing, only thing that gave him any satisfaction were the people he helped as a healer, even that was tainted as many people refused treatment from him as soon as they saw the remanence of his dark mark or heard his last name

Once he got to work he headed through to his little office. On his way one of the senior healers called on him “Yeah?” he tilts his head as he approaches her

“We need you in the general wing, our regular guy is off with his new born so we need you to cover for the next few months until he’s back from paternity leave” she explains

Draco nods “Fine” he wasn’t going to argue, he usually got stuck with crappier work, not that the general wing wasn’t a nice place to work but it was the place he got the most hate if they saw his mark. He cursed the day for being so warm as he prepared himself to overheat in the long-sleeved shirt he was wearing

Walking in he looks around trying to find the older women who usually worked when he saw someone groaning on one of the nearby beds. He decided to help them first then go off to find her.

Afficher davantage

[thequibblah]

i think what i love most about come together is that you make it feel like they are actually living in War Times. the pixie scribes are some of my favorite world building of yours, it feels like such a scary and evasive and Vivid concept, but other things like WOMBAT and such also make the list. what makes you think of all the Evil Ministry doings?

well. im glad you like that part of the fic… certainly real life doesn’t inspire it…

[ziaverse]

he’s my girlfriend. what do you mean murder. hes just a lil cunty. what…

[crescentofthegods]

twitterpated

pairing: james potter x muggleborn!animagus!fem!reader

request: Hi! How are you doing? If it’s alright, can I please request a female muggleborn Gryffindor reader watching Bambi with James Potter? ~ anon

word count: 1,686 words

warnings: FLUFF, set during the christmas holidays of sixth year, mentions of bambi's mother's death (honestly so heartbreaking even if we didn't see it)...

author's note: before reading this request, i hadn't watched bambi EVER (i know, it's a literal crime), so i watched it because i didn't want to get anything wrong with this request and i imagined james being completely distraught after the death of bambi's mother because he imagined the reader as her whilst watching so YEAH. also, i'm not fully in the marauders fandom (i've read atyd and art heist baby - both fics are utterly heart wrenching but so good), so i don't know if james knows what a tv is, but pretend he doesn't! btw, i'm literally so happy someone requested for a marauder, i hope you like it, anon! 💘

masterlist | navigation

JAMES FLEAMONT POTTER was twitterpated, but he didn't know that yet. He had plucked up the courage to meet your parents during Christmas break. Your parents were Muggles, meaning he would have to do more than be his charming self. You loved your parents dearly, and you’d do anything for them. So when they asked to meet your Quidditch-obsessed Wizard boyfriend, you just couldn’t say no.

And, for once in his life, James Potter was nervous. He stood outside your door for at least twenty minutes, wondering how he would greet your parents. He spoke with his friends, Sirius, Remus, and Peter, before he Disapparated to Bristol, where you resided. However, James ignored Sirius’s protests, knowing that his idea would be too much of an exaggeration.

So, he took Peter’s advice, which was simple, but it made the most sense.

“Just be yourself!” Peter sighed, shrugging. “You’ve charmed everyone you’ve ever met. It won’t be different with [Y/N]’s parents.”

James sucked it up, knocked on the door, and was welcomed into your humble abode by your father (unfortunately, your father didn’t let James in properly until he ensured your boyfriend had the right intentions).

James also had to compose himself after seeing you in a ruby red dress, which flowed above your knees. He didn’t know how he did it, but he achieved it.

An hour later, he had won the hearts of your parents gallantly. James had enjoyed your mother’s pot roast and vowed he’d come over often (if your father allowed him).

Currently, James sat on your comfy bed, tilting his head at the massive cube you were meddling with. He crossed his arms, pushing his glasses up as he gave up, muttering under his breath.

“Did you say something, my love?” you asked, glancing at him as you pressed several buttons on what James perceived as an even longer cube.

“I was just wondering what in Merlin’s name is that?” he replied, his tone exasperated as he stood beside you with crumpled eyebrows. “Why is it glowing?” Your lips curled at his confusion, refraining from the urge to giggle as you cleared your throat, putting the remote down once you found the right channel.

“It’s called a television, darling,” you smiled, taking his hand and sitting him against the headboard. You made yourself comfortable, your eyes lighting up once you saw that the movie was beginning. As you laid your head on James’s chest, he remained adorably confused.

“[Y/N/N], love, I still don’t understand what you’re on about,” he sighed, looking down at you as you laughed, taking his hand.

“A television is an incredible invention where you can watch movies,” you answered, your eyes lighting up once you saw the movie title arrive on the screen, “And, right now, we’re watching Bambi!”

“What’s a Bambi?” James replied, his tone innocent as you shook your head. The opening theme began playing as your smile grew.

“It’s a name for a fawn. Trust me, you’ll like it!”

“Fawn?” he muttered, “Like a younger version of a stag?” You nodded, seeing a grin form across his lips as he turned his head towards the television. You looked at James, smiling to yourself before beginning to pay attention to the movie, relaxing in his warmth.

Forty minutes into the film, you and James approached the scene where Man shot Bambi’s mother after being caught eating a bit of grass in the snowy meadow. So far, he enjoyed the film thoroughly, making jokes about your Animagi (his Animagus was a stag, while yours was a doe), which were incredibly awful, but you laughed nonetheless.

Unbeknownst to you, James had imagined you as Bambi’s mother and him as Bambi’s father (he gathered that the Great Prince was Bambi’s dad since the fawn was named ‘The Young Prince’), which, for some reason, made the film more entertaining. The thought of beginning a family with you was always music to James’s ears. 

As the monstrous scene unravelled before you, you scratched your neck, noticing a crease in James’s forehead as the fawn and the doe sprinted towards the woods after the first gunshot.

James was a courageous person who wasn’t afraid of anything, yet you were slightly cautious of him breaking down after seeing this scene.

“[Y/N]…” James began, uncertainty lacing his tone as he leaned forward. “Do not tell me that Man is going to—”

Gunshot.

As Bambi continued running for his life, his mother didn’t follow. Slowly, your eyes met James’s expression, deflating when you saw his distraught countenance.

“James…?”

“This is just absurd—”

“I know—”

“Man could’ve shot any other doe in the forest, and he chose Bambi’s mother?”

“Let’s not say things like that, shall we—?”

“This makes no bloody sense. Why is Man so cruel—?”

“Well, that’s just what poachers do—”

“Shouldn’t he be sent to Azkaban for this—?”

“JAMES!” You exclaimed, James’s eyes snapping towards you with raised eyebrows as he looked back at the television, frowning slightly before turning to you.

“Promise me you won’t get shot by whatever poachers are,” he muttered, his hands on your shoulders as you furrowed your eyebrows, beginning to laugh.

“What—?”

“Promise me—”

“Why would bloody poachers shoot me?” You guffawed, confusion etching your face as he tutted loudly, shaking your shoulders.

“As an Animagus! You are a fricking doe—”

“James, that will never happen. Never in a million years—”

“PROMISE ME—”

“OH MY GOD, FINE!” you yelled, leaning against the headboard as you sighed frustratingly at your boyfriend’s dramatic antics. “I promise I won’t get shot by poachers as an Animagus…” Your voice trailed off as you saw James’s expression. “And as a human.” You watched James ponder for a moment as you crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow at his thoughtful expression.

“I’m not satisfied.”

“Why did I decide to go out with you—?”

“Swear in Amora’s name.” Your jaw dropped at his sudden statement, your hand aching to grab the pillow behind James so you could suffocate him.

“You want me to swear on my dead cat’s life?” You gasped, starstruck, as he shrugged hesitatingly, leaning away from you. “What’s next, an Unbreakable Vow?”

“It couldn’t hurt—”

“JAMES FLEAMONT POTTER—”

“OKAY!” He pressed his back against the headboard as you held the pillow above him, slowly lowering it when he put his hands up in mock surrender. You pressed your lips together, putting the cushion down, satisfied with James’s relieved sigh.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he frowned at your offended expression as he pulled you onto his lap, causing you to sigh. “I’m just very protective of you.”

“Hm, I’ve noticed,” you hummed, remembering when James and the other Marauders hexed a group of Slytherins after they called you various vile names (you can guess what the most evident insult was). “But I will not get shot up by a group of poachers. And how do I know you aren’t going to get hunted by them in your Animagus form as a stag?” You countered, your lips curling as you awaited his response.

“Because I’m profoundly intelligent—” You dramatically gasped at his statement, your mouth falling open.

“Did you just call me dumb—?”

“I would never do that, darling—”

“You just did—”

“I didn’t mean it like that—”

“I will kick you out of this house right now,” you threatened, pointing an accusing finger at him as he grinned lazily, glancing at your lips before looking into your eyes.

“Your mother wouldn’t allow that,” James winked as you gasped again. You grabbed the pillow, climbing off of him before bashing his torso, causing the brunette boy to laugh as he lay on the bed, shoving him repeatedly.

“Wait until I tell my dad you’re flirting with my mum,” you teased, causing James to immediately sit up, widening his eyes as he smiled nervously.

“You wouldn’t—” You gave him a pointed look as he nodded, looking down before peppering your face with kisses, making you squeal as you giggled, attempting to push him off you.

“You slick bastard,” you guffawed, sitting up again, “We’ve missed most of the movie now,” you joked, not noticing his shocked expression.

“Go back, please,” he pleaded, grabbing your hands while kissing your knuckles. You smiled at his behaviour, taking the remote as you rewind to the scene you were on, allowing James to lay his head in your lap. His eyes were glued to the television as you bit your bottom lip, running your hands through his curls as he sighed contently, peeking at you through his glasses.

“We’ll have our own Bambi one day,” James grinned cheesily as a faint blush appeared on your cheeks, leaning down to whisper in his ear.

“We could try right now,” you whispered teasingly, snickering as his cheeks flushed, his eyes flitting to your bedroom door.

“Your parents are downstairs,” he replied in a hushed voice as you covered your mouth, practically dying with laughter.

However, as you laughed away with the subtle tunes of Bambi playing in the background, James couldn’t help but admire the wide smile written on your face, smiling with you, regardless of your mocking.

James was, as Friend Owl just stated, twitterpated. The term was practically the definition of your and James’s relationship. During fifth year, in the middle of spring, he was minding his own business, walking under the cherry blossom trees on the Hogwarts grounds, when he saw you sat against one, scribbling away on a piece of parchment. You suddenly looked up, noticing he was staring at you and only you, so you smiled, blushing before you waved him over to the spot next to you. 

The rest was history. Day after day, he became weak in the knees after catching a brief glimpse of you. Day after day, his head was constantly whirling just by hearing your voice. Day after day, he felt light as a feather as he trailed after you, walking on literal air as you did your own thing.

You had knocked James for a loop.

He’d completely lost his head.

And he was not ashamed.

James Fleamont Potter was proud of himself. After all, who wouldn’t want to be twitterpated?

fun fact! amora (the reader's dead cat 😔) is the name of my oc for the hp book i'm writing :)

[severussnapemylove]

(During a battle)

Voldemort; “You are playing with forces beyond your ken.”

Y/N; “Yeah, well your Ken can kiss my Barbie.”

[tomriddlehyperfixataion]

Fear street - 1942

i have fear street brainrot now that its getting back into the spoopy months so here have this from my brain-Fear street au/dumb idea of mine of Tom Riddle being put in situations.