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I was doing an erotic dance for my friends and you ruined it. I was in the zone and my friends were loving it.

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Write this into a fic and tag me in it it’s so cute. I’ll reblog all of them :’)

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The Devil Works Hard but Pansy Parkinson Works Harder

A/N: A short series I started a while ago and have only recently decided to come back to. When you arrived at Hogwarts and won Draco’s attention, you ruined Pansy’s perfect life plan. Now she’s hell bent on driving the two of you apart by playing on Draco’s jealous tendencies and making your life as difficult as she possibly can. Will her plan work?

Part one:

Pansy muttered an incantation under her breath and flicked her wand almost imperceptibly with a tight twitch of her wrist. A few desks down, you hissed slightly and leaned over to examine the new run in your sheer black tights. You touched the back of your leg lightly but didn’t look back at Pansy. Pansy’s eyes lightened in satisfaction. You thought it was your own clumsiness that was ruining your stockings every day. She straightened in her desk and resumed her note taking.

The hex was petty, sure, and was only a minor inconvenience to you, but Pansy loved doing it. Since you had arrived at Hogwarts, you had thrown her entire life’s plan out of whack, and that was unacceptable.

When Pansy received her Hogwarts letter on her eleventh birthday, her entire life began to fall in to place. She would go to Hogwarts and join her family as a Slytherin, where she would excel at her studies of course, become a prefect, and then head-girl, graduating at the top of her class, with a world of opportunities ahead of her. Pansy worked tirelessly, ruthlessly, to achieve her goals. She had been on a diet since the age of thirteen. She stayed up all night studying by the light of her wand and then took PepperUp potion and emerged from Slytherin common room looking like she’d just been at the spa. The pleats in her skirt were perfect, her sweaters never pilled, her shoes were polished and her makeup never smudged. Pansy believed that she was as close to perfect as a person could get.

The only problem was Draco Malfoy. Pansy had known Draco for as long as she could remember and they were destined to be together. Pansy matched Draco in every conceivable way. She took the same classes and matched his grades on every exam. She cheered for him at every Quidditch match. When Draco put a book down, she picked it up.

Even if you hadn’t stolen Draco’s attention, Pansy would have hated you. A Gryffindor, first of all, but it got worse. Though your marks in other classes were consistently average, Pansy couldn’t match you in potions. You appeared to be so disorganized that any time an essay was due, you would be at the library until midnight the night before frantically writing. You showed up to class with your hair in messy buns and your shirt untucked. It was only the sheer novelty of being the new girl which made people like you.

“Hey, Pansy?” Goyle interrupted her brooding, “What was the homework for Potions?”

“Read chapter nineteen and copy the recipe for a confusing concoction.” She muttered.

“Thanks,” Goyle said, his eyes lingered on pansy’s face for a moment but he didn’t say anything else. Pansy ignored this. He had always seemed a bit slow.

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“Hey, Pansy.” 

“What, Goyle?” Pansy was harsher than she meant to be but she didn’t apologize. She was hovering near the door of the library where she knew you would emerge with Draco any minute to go to divinations.

“I was just saying ‘hi’” He shifted nervously in front of her. He towered above her yet she seemed to turn him in to a nervous child just by looking at him. “You know, I like it better when people call me Greg.” He added.

“What are you talking about, Goyle?” Pansy was trying to see behind him, where Draco had just left the library with you.

“Greg… or Gregory even.” He repeated.

“Oh never mind.” She brushed past him, “I’ve got to go.” Pansy hurried down the corridor and turned a corner hexing the back of your stockings, she stepped behind the corner again for a moment, then stepped out to look at her handiwork. A large run all the way up the back of your leg. There’d be no fixing that one.

“Did that happen just now?” you said in bewilderment. Draco had stepped back to examine the tear.

Pansy approached from behind, “You’d better get that taken care of, Y/N. It looks pretty trashy.” You were flustered, too embarrassed to even think of a comeback. Pansy snickered.

“You go get changed,” Draco said, “I’ll cover for you in divinations.”

“Thanks,” you said looking at pansy suspiciously and walked off in the direction of Gryffindor tower.

“I’ll walk with you to divinations.” Pansy said to Draco but he didn’t acknowledge her.

She kept up with his long strides easily and talked to him about charms as if nothing was wrong.

“Why did you do that, Pansy?” This was the first thing Draco had said.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“You hexed Y/N’s stockings.” He stopped in the hallway. He wasn’t amused.

“Just a little joke.” Pansy shrugged, “I don’t see why you’d care.”

“You know that I do.” Draco’s voice was hard and low, in a way that prickled at the back of her neck with pleasure but also churned her stomach with jealousy.

Pansy continued walking, her shoes tapping rhythmically on the stone floor. She turned back once, looking over her right shoulder quickly to say, “The sooner you forget about that Gryffindor, the better as far as I’m concerned. You’ve heard she’s been hanging around Potter, right?” Pansy flicked her head forward, her hair bouncing behind her and grinned at the empty hallway, leaving Draco sulking behind her. Pansy liked to imagine that people watch her as she walks away, shoulders back, skirt swishing, hair bouncing.

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There was no truth, of course, to what Pansy had said about Potter, but that wasn’t important. Pansy knew Draco well and she knew his insecurities. Once the seed had been planted, he would do most of the hard work himself.

That night at dinner, you happened to sit next to potter across the dining hall. It was pure, dumb luck that you’d chosen that seat. Pansy didn’t even have to say anything to Draco. He glowered at his plate and hardly said anything all evening.

Pansy flicked her wand openly this time, aiming for one of your knees which was barely visible from under the Gryffindor table. The spell missed and instead whipped at a girl’s skirt. She laughed anyway as did Goyle who was crammed in next to her.

“Nice one, Pansy.” He said. Goyle was all elbows and knees, accidentally knocking and bumping Pansy constantly as he filled his plate and talked animatedly about Quidditch with Crabbe.

Pansy didn’t answer, her eyes fixed on you as you pushed your plate aside and stepped away from the dining table, using potter’s shoulder to steady yourself as you got up. Draco exhaled sharply next to her and she smirked at the steamed spinach on her plate. You were practically doing her job for her.

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Bad Day [D.M.]

Character: Draco Malfoy

Word Count: 1014

Requested?: Yes/No

Summary: Y/n has been having a bad day/week, and who better to cheer her up than best friend Draco Malfoy?

Disclaimer: Gif isn’t mine, credit to whoever made it

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The library was practically empty, apart from the select few people busy studying for their O.W.L.s at the end of the year. You hid behind a giant pile of books, staring at the almost-blank piece of parchment laying in front of you, seemingly almost taunting you.

You could scream in frustration. This whole week hadn’t gone so well. First of all, someone had jinxed you to have neon green hair all day (your bets would be placed on Pansy Parkinson, as she was always so jealous of your friendship with Draco, however there was no proof she had done it, which annoyed you to no end), then your skin had suddenly broke out unexpectedly, red blotches covering your cheeks that would not go away, even after countless attempts by Madame Pomfrey (another jinx you assumed), and finally, your potions essay had “mysteriously” vanished minutes before the lesson was due to start.

Professor Snape had not been pleased when you couldn’t hand in your work, hence why you were sat in the library, redoing the essay and trying to remember what you had originally written about the Draught of Living Death.

You shut your eyes tight, shaking your quill a little as you tried to think of what to write. Glancing around, you could see the few people who were sat at the other desks writing rapidly, and it only made you feel worse.

Sighing, you crumpled up the parchment and shoved it into your pocket, followed by your ink pot and quill. You stood up and walked out in a hurry, knowing that your potions essay wouldn’t have been finished even if you’d have stayed in the library all night.

Wandering down the empty hallways, you sighed, feeling your emotions reach an all-time high. In the distance, you saw your best friend Draco and his friends stood outside the entrance to the Great Hall. As you passed, Draco called out, “Y/n!”

You didn’t respond, simply wanting to get to your dorm room as soon as you possibly could, and fall straight into bed where you could cry in peace.

Draco watched as you walked away, a confused frown set on his face; you’d never ignored him like that before without reason, which made him determined to work out why you did it.

You reached your common room a few minutes later, making your way straight through the many groups of people without stopping to chat with anyone, and headed straight to your dorm.

Opening your dorm door, you were thankful to find the room empty as you shed off your cloak and crawled into bed, before letting yourself cry into your pillow. Knowing no one could hear you, you let out a few sobs, and a few frustrated yells, gripping your duvet in your fists.

“Y/n? Are you okay?” You suddenly heard Draco’s voice say from the doorway. You froze, before burrowing further into your bed, not wanting to show your tear-stained face to anyone.

You felt the bed dip as he sat down, and his hand rubbed your back in a comforting way.

“Y/n, I’m worried about you, okay? You’ve not been acting like yourself. I mean, you just ignored me in the hallway for no reason at all. What’s wrong?” Draco asked, genuinely concerned for you.

There was a long pause, before you finally emerged from underneath your duvet and sat up, wiping away a couple of remaining tears.

“I-I… I’ve just been having a bad week, that’s all,” you managed to get out, your lip beginning to quiver and tears building in your eyes.

“Love, it’s okay, everyone has off weeks from time to time. Even I do. Want to tell me about it?” He asked, taking your hand in his and intertwining your fingers together.

“Just… everything’s been going wrong. I keep trying my best and nothing is going my way! My work isn’t up to its usual standards, I’m behind on multiple subjects, exams are just around the corner, and to top it all off I swear Pansy is out to get me,” you were finally able to let out everything you’d been feeling over the past week.

Tears suddenly started to run down your cheeks again. Draco furrowed his eyebrows and reached out to wipe the tears away, though they were quickly replaced by new ones. Giving up, Draco wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into a hug.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay, I’ve got you, I’ve got you. I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere,” Draco whispered soothingly in your ear as he rubbed your back, “Everything is going to get better, you’re going to be just fine.” You buried your face into his chest as he pulled you towards to him, cradling you close.

He allowed to you cry for a while, as he continued to whisper sweet nothings in your ear, before you finally stopped, simply laying in his arms as he ran a hand up and down your arm. He pulled away slightly and you looked up at him.

“I know what might cheer you up,” Draco said, staring into your eyes as his hand brushed against yours. He stroked up your arms and glided the pads of his thumbs across your jaw, before cupping your face with his hands, making your cheeks burn red. “W-what are you doing?” You said, your voice barely a whisper. “If you want me to stop, just say so,” Draco whispered back, his warm breath hitting your face.

He inched forward, before brushing his lips with yours gently. His left hand moved round to cradle your head, as he finally pushed against your lips, kissing you softly. You could barely think; the only thing you were able to do was kiss back, as the passion built between you.

Draco’s tongue glided along your bottom lip, and you gladly granted him access, enjoying the feeling of having his body pressed so close to yours. He gently nibbled on your lip before pulling away slowly, both of you breathing heavy.

“How are you feeling now?” “Better than ever.”

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Draco’s Boggart [D.M.]

Character: Draco Malfoy

Word Count: 705

Requested?: Yes/No

Summary: Draco faces his Boggart in front of the class, however no one but him expects who steps out…

Disclaimer: Gif isn’t mine, credit to whoever made it

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The air was tense, the feeling of dread and worry surrounding every student in the room. With each child facing their biggest fear, it was expected that there would be an aura of anxiety and nervousness.

Draco plastered his trademark smirk onto his face, determined to not let anyone find out just how scared he really was of his Boggart. He knew what - or who, to be more exact - his Boggart would be, and with every passing second, Draco could feel his heart racing faster.

“This is absolutely absurd,” he muttered to Crabbe and Goyle, who both agreed instantly, “Just wait ‘til I tell my father about this. He’ll put a stop to it.”

Draco clenched his right fist as he hesitantly shuffled forward, the large wardrobe seemingly much bigger than he previously thought. Stepping to the left, he tried to discreetly slip behind Crabbe, hoping that it wasn’t obvious the dread he was feeling.

“Mr Malfoy, your turn,” Draco heard Professor Lupin announce. His blood ran cold as his breathing became uneven. He could see his classmates staring at him expectedly.

And Potter. Potter was stood somewhat near the middle of the queue, along with Weasley and Granger. Draco couldn’t refuse to face his Boggart in front of them - no, definitely not.

He gulped quietly, before turning around and facing the wardrobe. The handle rattled menacingly, seeming to taunt Draco as the door opened slowly. A pale, wrinkled hand curled around the wood as a tall figure stepped out.

Draco could hear the whispers of his classmates, but in that moment couldn’t spare a thought about what they thought of him. Right then, all he could think - all that consumed him - was the sight of the man looming above him, with his long blonde hair and evil eyes, and the hand that once opened the wardrobe door now grasping the cane that Draco was so deathly afraid of.

Lucius had not once hit him with it, but the mere thought of the merciless Death Eater holding what could only be assumed as a weapon - his father didn’t need help walking and so that could not be it - was enough to make Draco shiver in fear.

“What a disgrace you are to the family, Draco! How dare you bring dishonour to my very name!” Lucius’ voice boomed out, eerily loud in the cold silence of the classroom.

Draco shakily lifted his wand. “Rid… Rid…Riddik…” he tried to say the one word that could make his “father” stop saying these dreadful things, however the word wouldn’t leave his mouth, his brain refusing cooperate at that moment in time.

“You are unfit to be the Malfoy heir!”

He could feel tears pricking his eyes as he failed to speak one tiny word, before swallowing the lump in his throat, still not wanting to show himself to be weaker than he already had. That would make his real father disappointed in him, not just the Boggart.

“You’ll never be as good as P-”

“Riddikulus!” Draco blinked, his arm dropping to his side as he heard Professor Lupin say what he couldn’t.

Draco bit the inside of his cheek as he slowly turned around to face the class. Everyone stared at him as his once pale cheeks began to burn with embarrassment.

Then, he hurriedly left the room, almost sprinting for the door as he tried to escape the judging stares of his classmates. The door slammed loudly, the sound ripping through the air as the class stood in shock.

Outside, Draco rushed through the halls, heading straight to the nearest bathroom, before locking himself in the closest stall, and collapsing against the wall, sobs racking through his body.

His tears felt like fire as they ran down his cheeks, all the pain and anger he’d felt in his life bubbling up to the surface in this instance.

Because, though Draco openly taunted Potter and his friends for being blood traitors, being poor or being muggleborns, he genuinely thought, deep down, that his Boggart “father” was right.

Draco was a disgrace to the family. He did bring dishonour to his father’s name. He was unfit to be the Malfoy heir.

And he would never be as good as Potter.

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Listen, Tom Felton is aging horribly. It’s true.

Someone tell that boy to put some sunscreen on. 

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anyway, that part of harry potter when dumbledore asked “after all this time, u fuckin greasy loser??” and then snape said “always, bitch!!!!!!!” and then threw a live deer at him, that shit hurted 😔😔😔😔😔

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the older i get the more i can understand why people back in the old fairytale days would just fuck off and be a hermit in the woods. just chilling out in the middle of nowhere and occasionally telling random heroes cryptic shit. living the fucking dream.

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just to clear up some rumors

i DO have blood and I do have ALL of MY bones and I didnt take them from anyone I grew them myself so stop asking

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I was reading my writing today, and let me tell you, it may not be good, plot is not the best, and characters are a bit stereotypical, but boy do I have fun writing it

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ACT THREE SCENE NINE

SCORPIUS ‘You have no idea how good it is to see you again.’

ALBUS ‘You just saw me two minutes ago.’

SCORPIUS hugs ALBUS in the water, a difficult task.

I want to draw more of their hugs

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Whether you like Cursed child or not can’t we all just be happy that it’s proof that Draco Malfoy is canonically a great father.

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This is an art of some weeks ago, I was rereading The Cursed Child and ….I don’t know, I just love Scorbus. I know that the cursed child is not much appreciated, but I can not help it..I love them! sorry!!

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If your fic is 1000 words long, you can’t tag it slow burn. It’s not slow burn. That is a matchstick. And this is my personal bias here but if those motherfuckers you’re writing experience significant forward momentum in their relationship in under 5k words, then that is just a regular old burn. Slow burn should be borderline intolerable and a mistake to start reading at 2 in the morning.

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