#Husband Draco

[sleepparalysisdemon112]

Renewed

Summary: After not seeing your husband Draco for a while due to your job, you two are finally rejoiced

warnings: 18+ smut, love making, pinv, breeding kink, just some fluffy sex

request box open pls send me ideas!!

“I’ve missed you love,” he was kissing down your neck his breathe fanning over you through each word. Your legs were wrapped around his waist pulling him impossibly closer to your body. 

“Me too- fuck,” you moaned and gripped tighter on the base of white hair on the back of his neck. He smiled into your skin savoring the scent, the warmth. 

“I’ve missed this perfect body of yours,” he kissed your breast and fondled one with one hand before sliding back up to your face and pressing kisses to your lips, cheeks, nose, eyebrows, “and this gorgeous face,” 

“You held onto the back of his head for support, your climax almost reaching, “baby, I’m close,” you whimpered into your husband the warmth of his pale skin, the feel of his kisses and loving gropes over your body heightening the feeling intensely. “Me too love-- m’gonna give you another baby, yeah?”

“Please,” you tried to suppress any too loud of noises not wanting to wake the sleeping children a couple of rooms over. “Merlin, I love you Y/n,” 

“Fuck- I love you too,” the feeling of his length so deep inside you the warmth, the familiar feeling of a body you loved, of a body you knew so well, you were sure you could tell him by energy alone, you knew every scar-- every birthmark. 

The two of your bodies were one, and you came at the same time, and neither of you moved. His body fell onto yours and he kissed you once more before the both of you fell asleep. 

[azastr]

Shattered Reflections

Draco Malfoy

Description : Draco's past comes back to haunt him

w/c : 695

The sun was setting over the sprawling grounds of Malfoy Manor, casting a warm golden glow across the elegant estate. Inside, Draco Malfoy sat in his study, surrounded by shelves filled with ancient tomes and artifacts. The room exuded an air of sophistication and a touch of darkness, much like its owner. 

Draco was engrossed in his thoughts, contemplating the past and the choices he had made. His mind often wandered back to his days as a Death Eater, a time when darkness and hatred had consumed his every action. Those days were long gone now, buried beneath layers of regret and remorse. Draco had changed, or at least he had tried to, but sometimes, the memories clawed their way back to the surface, haunting him. 

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of laughter coming from the living room. He quickened his pace and found his son, Scorpius, playing with his toy broomstick on the plush carpet. The six-year-old had inherited Draco's platinum blond hair, but his mother's vivid y/ec eyes sparkled with innocence and curiosity. 

Draco couldn't help but smile at the sight of his son, his heart swelling with love. He crouched down beside Scorpius, ruffling his hair affectionately. "Hey there, Scorp. Having fun?" 

Scorpius grinned, his eyes lighting up. "Yes, Daddy! I'm practicing to be the best Quidditch player, just like you!" 

Draco's heart swelled with pride, but beneath the surface, there was a sadness. He knew that Scorpius was growing up, and soon, he would have to confront the truth about his father's past. The thought made Draco uneasy, fearing that it would shatter the innocence his son held so dear. 

Later that evening, as Draco tucked Scorpius into bed, the young boy looked up at his father, his gaze filled with curiosity. "Daddy, can I ask you something?" 

Draco nodded, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "Of course, Scorp. What is it?" 

Scorpius hesitated for a moment, as if searching for the right words. "I... I heard some kids at park talking about... about Death Eaters," he stammered. "They said... they said you were one of them." 

Draco's heart clenched at the vulnerability in his son's voice. He knew that Scorpius had been curious about his past, about the stories that whispered through the corners of the wizarding world. But Draco had always shielded him from the darker parts of his history, wanting to protect him from the truth. 

A mixture of fear and confusion danced in Scorpius's eyes. "Are... are you a bad person, Daddy?" he asked, his voice quivering. 

Draco felt his breath catch in his throat. He couldn't bear to see the fear in his son's eyes, to think that he had caused such pain and doubt. Pushing back his own emotions, he forced a small, sad smile. "No, Scorp, I'm not a bad person. But I made some terrible choices when I was younger. I was... misguided." 

Scorpius's brow furrowed, his young mind grappling with the conflicting images of his father as both the loving figure he knew and the notorious Death Eater. "But... but you're not like them anymore, right? You're good now, right?" 

Draco nodded, his voice filled with conviction. "Yes, Scorp. I've changed, and I've spent every day since trying to be a better person. I'll do anything to protect you and make you proud." 

Scorpius hesitated for a moment, his voice trembled as he whispered, "I was scared, Daddy. Scared of what I heard, scared of what you might have done. I don't want you to be a bad person, Daddy. " 

Draco's heart shattered at his son's admission, tears welling up in his eyes. He reached out and pulled Scorpius into a tight embrace, holding him close. "I'm so sorry, Scorp," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "I never wanted you to be scared of me. I love you more than anything in this world." 

As father and son held each other, Y/n with her unruly hair cascading over her shoulders, stepped into the room. She had been listening from the doorway, her heart aching for both her husband and son. She approached them, her eyes filled with love and understanding. 

Sitting beside them, she gently brushed a strand of hair away from Scorpius's face. "Scorp, your father made some mistakes in the past, but he has worked hard to change. He's not defined by the choices he made, but by the person he is now. Draco loves you more than anything, and he would never let anything harm you." 

Scorpius looked up at his mother, his watery eyes searching for reassurance. Y/n smiled, her touch soothing his fears. "You have the best of both of us, Scorp. Your father's strength and your mother's love. You're a part of both our worlds, and we'll always be here for you." 

Draco watched as Y/n comforted their son, a mix of gratitude and love washing over him. He knew he had made mistakes, but in that moment, he vowed to protect Scorpius from the shadows of his past and to be the father his son deserved. 

As the three of them embraced, a sense of healing washed over their little family. In that moment, they forged a bond stronger than ever, reaffirming their love and devotion to one another. From the darkness of Draco's past emerged a flicker of hope, a reminder that redemption and forgiveness were possible, even in the face of deep-rooted pain. And together, they would navigate the complexities of their intertwined lives, guided by love and the promise of a brighter future. 

______________________________________________________________

[bailey-reeds]

Husband Draco Malfoy HC💚🍀

______________________________________

●HusbandDraco! who whines like a bitch when you get out of bed before him

●HusbandDraco! who gossips with you about people at work when he gets home

●HusbandDraco! who doesn't fix his tie because he loves the butterflies he still gets when you fix it for him

●HusbandDraco! who loves when you run you fingers through his hair and baby him when no one is around (cause ain't no way he's getting caught like that)

●HusbandDraco! who proposed with a ring he got from his mom

●HusbandDraco! who loves to show you off to anyone and everyone he comes in the slightest bit of contact with

●HusbandDraco! who loves seeing you where his dress shirts because he think they look better on you then they ever did on him

●HusbandDraco! who knew he was going to marry you when he met you in Hogwarts

●HusbandDraco! who cried harder then you did when your first child was born, even though he wasn't the one who gave birth

●HusbandDraco! who could never think of a more perfect life with anyone but you

@fancy-pantaloons

[littlewinnow]

Rough sketch of a silly potions partner moment between frenemies(?)

[luvliem00ns]

That feeling when a fandom got you on a chokehold so bad that you started being active on tumblr again, resurfacing to the streets of tumblr like that one character that everyone thought was dead.

[f3licidade-d3smascarada]

drarry au where harry is a professor and draco can’t stop annoying him

[joanna13]

That feeling when a fandom got you on a chokehold so bad that you started being active on tumblr again, resurfacing to the streets of tumblr like that one character that everyone thought was dead.

[sawiet]

i never thought about it until i started reading fanfiction, but draco in the role of a healer is so amazing. such a profession requires a sharp mind and cold determination, but at the same time, you must have an infinitely large and kind heart to sacrifice your time and energy for the healing of another person. canonically, draco couldn't bear the thought of taking someone's life, and i believe he never did. the fact that he values life makes him even more beautiful in my eyes

[finalgirllx]

👏🏻 friends 👏🏻 support 👏🏻 friends 👏🏻 and 👏🏻 their 👏🏻 fictional 👏🏻 crush 👏🏻 delusions 👏🏻

[basiatlu]

My sacrifice to the ded bird app ✨😈

You can check out the full image on Ao3!

[talesofadragon]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞

Summary: In the aftermath of the war, Draco is caged in an unrelenting spiral of distaste and distrust. The pervasive tendrils of hatred threaten to incinerate every aspect of his existence, edging ever closer to Y/N. A breakup seemed like the wisest choice. But a few bottles of Firewhiskey later, Draco is faced with something more daunting than his mind’s distorted illusions—a glimpse into his future. 

Warnings: Allusions to sex

Pairing: Draco x Reader

Genre: Angst | Fluff  

Word count: 4K

All Masterlists | Draco Malfoy Masterlist

𝐈𝐟 𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐤, the weight of guilt would have long since dissipated, evaporating into the vast expanse of time.

But tattoos, Draco had come to learn, lived on a polarizing spectrum—either itched by hope’s gentle caresses or marred by despair’s morbid claws. He liked to call them insignias because he knew that, either way, those brands never faded away. And even if, by Merlin’s stupendous power, their ink were to vanish, the tales behind them would eternally reverberate through the most somber corridors of time.

The choices made and the sacrifices offered in their creation were intricately woven into the curvatures of each tattoo, amplifying the weight of these indelible brands.

“Mate, I have never seen anyone treat Ogden’s Old Firewhiskey so foully.” 

Draco’s silver eyes were unyielding in their pursuit of the black snake that slithered into his pale skin. He refused to look away, not when he heard Theodore Nott’s voice and not when he reached out blindly for the silver goblet, determined to drown the lingering traces of Firewhiskey within it.

As the scorching pace of the liquid coursed through his veins, his heart constricted, and his eyes stung. Yet, he paid no heed to the discomfort, having endured far greater pains in the past.

“Maybe if you weren’t a lightweight then you would have known that the whole Slytherin House and half of the Gryffindors treat it with indignation,” Draco retorted.  

Theodore's arms crossed tightly over his chest, his gaze narrowing as he observed his best friend. Draco's weariness was evident, more pronounced than even during the days of the Dark Lord. 

Letting out a sigh of resignation, Theodore settled in the chair by Draco's side. Taking the goblet from his hand, Theodore filled it with some more Firewhiskey. “Not that I am unhappy to host you, but isn’t it time to go back home, Draco?”

Draco’s fingers tightened around the goblet. If he thought the Firewhiskey was testing his endurance, then clearly he hadn’t anticipated the words which came out of Theodore’s mouth. 

“I don’t have a home.” 

“But you do.” 

“No. I do not!” His voice ricocheted against the walls, pained echoes pushing against the boundaries that confined them. Draco’s voice shook, the rage in his words dissolving into meek submission. “Not without her.” 

“Mate.” Theodore watched helplessly as Draco swung his head back to gulp down the entire goblet of Firewhiskey. He violently slammed the empty goblet against the marble of the kitchen bar, gaze stuck far ahead. “This is killing you.” 

“Let it.” 

“Draco—”

“I should’ve died long ago in that war, Theo. Maybe this is retribution for everything I did.” 

“What retribution, you imbecile? Dooming everything you’ve both built after the war?” 

“Do not mention her,” Draco seethed. His bloodshot eyes matched the color of his soul, a violent red that overwhelmed every one of his senses. He’s hated the war for so long—he failed to realize how much it seeped through his soul until he became one himself. “I don’t want to hear it.” 

Theodore scoffed. He reared back, placing his weight on the back of the chair and studying Draco’s hunched posture. “I‘ve known you since we were brought into the Wizarding World, Draco. I know that you didn’t come here to escape the fray.” 

“What finally tipped you off, oh brilliant Rowena? Was it the way I shut down every mention of her name? Or perhaps my defensive stance and guarded demeanor?” Draco mocked.

With an air of indifference, Theodore replied, “You don’t run away from battles, Draco. You wage them.” 

“That was the old me.” 

"If that were truly the case, then why did you declare war on Y/N? What suddenly woke you up, making you realize that you couldn't bear to be with her for another second?"

A flash of irritation crossed Draco's face as he interjected, "I told you not to mention her name."

Ignoring the warning, Theodore continued with a pointed intensity. "Her name itself is a battle, Draco. One you’ve ignited because of the conflict that rages within you, fueled by your selfish desires."

"Selfish?" Draco roared, his anger escalating. In the heat of the moment, he flung the empty goblet against the wall, the sound echoing through the room. His nostrils flared as he struggled to control the tempest brewing within him. "What part of letting her go for her well-being is selfish? She deserves better, Nott. So I gave her better!"

"Better, is a subjective notion.” 

"It's the only notion," Draco countered, his composure slipping as he struggled to rein in his emotions. The veneer of false placidity he had tried to maintain for days proved futile in containing his anger. "You have no idea the price I have to pay for the blood that rests on my hand. For the mark that’s refusing to die with time.” 

“I know,” Theodore whispered breathlessly. 

Draco's head shook with a heavy burden of remorse. "No, you don’t. Because being a Death Eater's son and being a Death Eater are two separate realms. I would trade anything, everything, to return to a time when I was feared and hated. Because now, I have to watch the world extend their animosity to the only woman who was brave enough to try and pull me out of the Dark Lord’s dominion.” 

Theodore pushed himself off the chair, his movements purposeful and determined. With each deliberate stride, the distinct click of his shoes echoed against the ground. "By pushing her away. By hurling venomous words at her. By replicating the very path the world forced upon you, dragging her through darkness and uncertainty."

“She deserves better! Better than a semi-stable man who was a servant of darkness. Better than a wizard whose father is serving a sentence in Azkaban and whose mother is a victim of delirium. She deserves better—”

“Than a man who is stripping her of her choices the same way his lineage stripped him of his.” 

“No.” Draco negated. If only he hadn’t drank this much Firewhiskey, maybe his breath would have come out steadier and his words wouldn’t have grappled with conviction. “I left for her.” 

“You left her,” Theodore corrected. It always amazed Draco how Theodore Nott, the epitome of reticence, became a forceful and impassioned defender when it came to matters close to his heart, including Y/N. “You left her because you’re selfish. Because you craved your twisted path of redemption. Retribution, as you have so masterfully termed it, should not come at the expense of hurting Y/N. She fought for you with everything she had. And if you are so keen on being a masochist, Draco, then have the decency to leave her out of your descent into madness!”

With a final venomous glare, Theodore took a step back and began to march away from the room. Draco, caught in a state of disbelief, felt his hands instinctively fall upon the cool marble surface of the kitchen counter. He pressed his palms firmly against the chilled stone, desperately seeking solace from the tumultuous emotions raging within him.

In an abrupt intrusion, Theodore burst back into the room. Draco barely had a chance to meet his gaze before Theodore snatched the bottle of Firewhiskey from the counter and swiftly left. There was no doubt in Draco's mind that he must have also cast a spell to lock the cellar to deny Draco access to any and every liquor stored in the Manor. 

In that moment, Draco's vision was void of any specific color—not a glimpse of red, black, or any hue in between. His rage transcended ordinary perception, defying quantification by any shade or measurement. All that existed in his awareness was a hazy fog enveloping his sight, a world imploding upon itself.

With venomous intent, Draco's fingers slithered through his hair, viciously tugging at the strands. Curses and fury spilled from his lips, weaving a tapestry of disaster, painted with every twisted emotion inhabiting his soul.

The shattered glass before him mirrored his fractured heart, and the disarrayed furniture reflected the homelessness of his wounded spirit. If he excelled in wars and battles, then he might as well transform this space into a battleground.

He persisted for hours, tirelessly wreaking havoc until Theodore's once-familiar abode became unrecognizable. Yet, the knowledge that a mere flick of his wand could undo this chaos only fueled the flames of his fury even more.

How ironic it was that he could demolish a meaningless space in mere hours, only for his magic to effortlessly restore it in seconds. Yet, the home he had reduced to ashes remained irreparable, defying any spells he cast upon it.

With a heavy heart, Draco sank to the ground, embraced by the unforgiving coldness of the stone beneath him. Leaning back against the chilling marble, he stared vacantly at the ceiling of Theodore's dwelling. It was no longer the familiar dark maroon he had once known, but a mosaic of melancholic hues. It was in that moment, as the taste of salty tears brushed against his lips, that he realized his own hollow gaze had been the architect all along.

As his shuddered breaths gradually calmed, and the twitching of his fingers ceased, Draco couldn't help but feel his heart, exhausted from its rapid sprinting and relentless pounding against his ribs.

Standing up, he reached for his wand. "Scourgify," he commanded. Instantly, his magic eagerly clung to every surface in the room, diligently working to restore order and mend the damage he had caused.

While his magic busily repaired what he had broken, Draco made his way to the kitchen, intending to pour himself a much-needed goblet of water. As he approached the marble counter, his eyes widened in surprise at the sight of a mysterious black box neatly resting there.

“What in Merlin’s name?” It must’ve been hidden somewhere amongst the furniture because even in his stupor Draco would’ve recalled coming across it. 

Gingerly, he pulled the lid up. What he found inside was something akin to a Time Turner, along with a couple of notes. Knowing well that all those magical devices had long been destroyed, Draco’s curiosity peaked. He reached for the notes, eyes trekking along the lines of Theodore’s handwriting. 

“Temporal Surger, experimental prototype number five,” Draco read aloud. He briskly skimmed across the pages, absorbing more and more information. “Contrary to the Time Turner, the Temporal Surger springboards the wizard forward through time. Though the exact destination remains unpredictable, prototype number five provides a ten-minute window for the wizard traveling into the future.” 

Draco discarded the notes in favor of picking up the device. It didn’t look any different from the Time Turner with an hourglass in the middle and golden outer rings surrounding it. Yet, when Draco tried to nudge the hourglass, it didn’t budge. He raised his brows, eyes narrowing down to investigate the object. His fingers lingered on the rings, the pad of his index finger tracing the surface. 

Inadvertently, his fingers slipped, and the outer rings turned on themselves. Draco paid them no heed, though it became increasingly hard not to notice them when their momentum increased as they followed an unfamiliar rhythm. Draco didn’t have enough time to panic before a bright light emanated from the center of the Time Surger, engulfing him whole. 

When the light weathered, Draco immediately sprung out of his seat. Taking in his unfamiliar surroundings, he blinked twice. At first, he thought it was his broken heart playing yet another trick on him till it became evident that the Time Surger had, in fact, transported him to another place.

“Merlin’s beard, Theodore is going to murder me,” Draco said aloud. He immediately clamped a hand over his mouth when it dawned on him that he didn’t even know where he was or who was in the same vicinity as him.

Draco hardly had a moment to register his distaste for the petrifying yellow curtains and cream-colored kitchen walls before he caught the sound of leisurely footsteps approaching from his right.

He sprinted across the room, his entire body whirling around itself until he spotted, what he hoped was, a door that led him to the pantry. He rushed in but left it slightly ajar, enough for him to peek through. A crease etched itself in the middle of his forehead when his eyes met a tall man with platinum blond hair tied into a bun. 

The man was shirtless, tall, and well-built. His back was littered with scars, some seemingly thinner and more recent than the others. He moved seamlessly around the kitchen, without a wand in sight, opening draws and cabinets to prepare some food. Draco tried peering closer to catch a glimpse of his face when the sound of someone apparating startled him. 

“What is Master Malfoy doing here?” a squeaky voice asked. 

Draco’s eyes bulged out of their sockets, rivaling the size of the round plates that man had been filling with fruits. He bristled, the gears in his mind rushing to concoct an explanation. But how was he supposed to explain that he’s acquired a, possibly illegal, prototype of a Temporal Surger created by none other than his best friend?

“What does one do in a kitchen?” Draco heard himself say in a mirthful tone. He sighed in relief at the plausible answer, but his relief proved to be ephemeral when he realized that it wasn’t him who spoke. 

He widened the door a bit further, revealing a house elf standing in the kitchen, gazing up at the shirtless blond wizard. With the man's face now visible, Draco was taken aback by the striking similarities between them. The man was a slightly older version of himself.

“Blinky serves the House of Malfoy. It’s Blinky’s job to prepare breakfast for her master.” 

The house elf, Blinky, attempted to pry the spatula out of the Malfoy Patriarch's hand. He didn’t relent, keeping a firm grip on it and flipping whatever he was cooking in the sizzling pan. 

“Thank you, Blinky. I do appreciate your efforts,” he said over the elf's loud huffs. “But I wanted to cook my wife a special breakfast myself.” 

A loud gasp reverberated in the narrow space of the pantry. Draco stumbled even closer to the door, almost pushing it entirely open. His eyes stumbled, intently studying the Malfoy Patriarch's hand. And sure enough, a silver band adorned his ring finger, glistening in the light. 

“Mistress Malfoy has woken up?” Blinky asked in her tiny voice. They must’ve not heard Draco’s shock over the sound of whatever it was that was cooking. 

“Hmm,” the Malfoy Patriarch hummed. He was picking up a goblet from the cupboard and filling it with pumpkin juice. “Blinky, could you please get the Mistress’ favorite flowers? I’m sure she’d appreciate the gesture.” 

Squealing in excitement at fulfilling a task for her masters, Blinky apparated out of the kitchen immediately. By the time she came back with some orchids in a small, round vase, the Malfoy Patriarch had already prepared a full assortment of food. From French Croissants to Quidditch Quaffles, he set them all on a tray and merrily exited the kitchen. Using a disillusionment charm, Draco quietly followed after his older self. 

Draco noticed that the house, or rather cottage, was significantly smaller than Malfoy Manor, yet a million times more alluring. It had a cozy and welcoming atmosphere, adorned with bright colors and pictures from his Hogwarts days. Every decorative piece, whether a vase or an ornament, seemed to have been picked with care making it evidently known that this house was not of his choosing. Whoever his future wife was, he was sure she had to be the one to decorate the house so quaintly and delicately because he could never fill any space with such beauty.

With careful steps, Draco ascended to the upper floor, his attention fixed on each stride. The walls, still adorned in their creamy hue, now bore intricate engravings of an evocative design. The sight of verdant trees and lush bushes lining the hallway welcomed him, instilling a profound sense of tranquility within him.

The Malfoy Patriarch pushed open one of the doors and casually entered. Fortunately, he left it open, making it easier for Draco to hurry inside. He found an equally charming interior, where sunlight streamed into the room, casting a beautiful glow, while the books on the bookshelf created a colorful display like a rainbow.

In the center of the bed, a woman laid peacefully under the covers. Her entire back was exposed, making a pink tint hug Draco’s cheeks. 

The Malfoy Patriarch offered a winsome smile at the painting before his eyes. He placed the tray aside and walked to the bed, letting his thumbs trace the woman’s back.

“Angel,” he called in a soft voice. “Wake up for me.” When the woman didn’t give up her sleep, the Malfoy Patriarch bent down to plant soft kisses on her arm. They were featherlight and soft caresses as if coming out of a dream. 

She sighed heavily, turning on her back. Draco watched his older self laugh, taking this as a chance to kiss his wife’s lips. 

“Draco,” she whined. And Draco had to brace himself against the wardrobe to stop himself from falling to his knees. "Please, five more minutes."

“Y/N Malfoy, you know denying you anything is physically impossible. But I really need you to get out of bed and eat something for me. Now, my love.” 

He heard Y/N say, “Don’t want to.” And Draco’s heart squeezed in his chest because he knew that she was pouting beneath the covers, and most importantly, she was wide awake but trying to get Draco to give her a few more minutes of his attention. 

The Malfoy Patriarch pulled away, surprising Draco. He walked to the tray he had placed aside, grabbing the goblet of pumpkin juice. Y/N opened her eyes when she noticed her husband’s ministrations came to an abrupt end. She hugged the sheets to her naked chest, pouting when she saw her husband against the wall, sipping from the drink.

“This is delicious,” he teased. Y/N made a face. 

“Give it.” She held her hands out, opening and closing her palms in anticipation. Her husband diligently took the whole tray to her side, positioning it on the bed. “I hate you,” she huffed while dipping one Quidditch Quaffle in honey. 

The man in front of her beamed, shaking his head. “You must hate me fiercely, angel. Your ardor set my soul ablaze a million times over yesterday night. And I've got marks on my back to prove it.” 

Both Y/N and Draco choked at the heat that permeated the air. Y/N’s gaze meandered across the room, trying to escape the heat of her husband’s scintillating eyes. 

“Well, you set mine ablaze a million times over every day, Draco! Go put a shirt on instead of teasing me!” Y/N grunted while reaching for the goblet. 

The Malfoy Patriarch’s laugh roared within the four walls of the room, and even Draco had to cover his mouth to avoid laughing at her retort. 

“Is my wife looking forward to dessert already?” 

Y/N let out a sound that was both a whine and a sigh. She pushed the tray aside and reared back, burying her body in the pile of pillows on her bed. Her husband laughed, studying her pout. Her hands rested on her stomach, and if Draco hadn’t been shocked to his core before, he was baffled at the sight of Y/N cradling a very noticeable baby bump. 

“Draco, please.” 

“Please what, angel?” 

“Not that! You know if we do that now we won’t get out of bed for another three hours!” 

“Would it be such—”

“Yes!” Y/N interjected. She looked like an angry little pixie with her narrowed eyes and pointed glare. “It would. Because we have so much to do today.” She went on to explain that she and Narcissa were supposed to meet for tea in the afternoon and that Draco had to finish seeting up the nursery. Y/N kept on listing everything they had to do while her husband intently listened without saying a single word. Instead, he watched her, letting one of his hands wander to her stomach and cover hers. “What are you thinking?” Y/N finally asked, coming to grasp with the realization that her husband had zoned out. 

He didn’t answer at first, noticeable lost in his wife’s beauty. “I’m not thinking. I’m feeling.” 

Y/N let out a semi-laugh. “What are you feeling, Draco?” 

“You,” he replied solemnly. He interlaced their fingers together, keeping their intertwined hands on her belly. “Time and time again, I only feel you.” 

“Dray.” Y/N’s expression softened. She tugged on her husband’s hand, and even though she had lamented that they couldn’t stay in bed for long, she let him pull her to his chest while he made himself comfortable on their bed. “I love you.” 

“I love you so much.” It was Draco that said it. With teary eyes and a battered soul, he surrendered to the images of his older self caressing Y/N’s lips and her cheeks. 

“I love both of my girls. And I only hope our little princess can learn to love me despite all my flaws.”

Y/N shot her husband an indignant look, her gaze filled with disapproval. However, a hint of tenderness softened her eyes, conveying a complex mix of emotions. 

“She does.” 

“How do you know?” 

“She's currently expressing her displeasure at your words by stirring up a commotion inside my belly.” 

“Oh, yeah?” the Malfoy patriarch laughed. He tightened his hold on Y/N and pulled her even closer. One hand on her belly and the other in her hair, he peered down at her and locked his silver eyes with hers. “She’s a tornado, like her mother.” 

Y/N chose not to respond, embracing a peaceful silence instead while staring at her husband. He arched an eyebrow in a silent question. “I’m feeling,” Y/N spoke out. “Time and time again, I only feel you.” 

While her husband's gaze fixated on her lips, inching closer to his own, Draco's attention was abruptly seized by the Time Surger stirring once more. His eyes dropped downward, observing the rings spinning autonomously. 

Torn between stealing a final glimpse and safeguarding the precious moment, Draco reluctantly withdrew from the room. Hastening his steps, he hurriedly exited, stealing one last glance at his future self tenderly pulling the sheet away from Y/N's body until a blinding light dissolved the scene. 

The curtain fell, and he found himself back in Theodore's living room. 

Draco struggled to catch his breath, hurriedly placing the Temporal Surger back inside its box. His restless eyes darted across the room, overwhelmed by the torrent of emotions surging through him, dragging him deeper into the abyss. Gasping for air, his head whipped around, desperately trying to make sense of his surroundings.

His eyes landed on the box, the notes still outside. Future, he read in Theodore’s perfect handwriting. 

“Nott, you knobhead. If you were here right now, I would have kissed you with such intensity time would stop. And even your stupidly brilliant Temporal Surger wouldn’t have worked.” 

The numbness of his heart dissipated, and the crippling guilt roaming across his forearm vanished. Draco breathed deeply, embracing the placidity around him. Maybe Theodore’s walls were grim compared to the ones his future self occupied. Yet all Draco could feel was the warmth of Y/N’s voice and the tranquility of the mornings they were yet to share. 

He rushed to Theodore’s fireplace, not bothering to fix himself up. Tossing a handful of Floo Powder into the fireplace, Draco finally spoke aloud. “Take me to Y/N Y/L/N.” 

He finally realized that whether time turned or surged, him and Y/N Y/L/N were bound by a string of fate that was unyielding in its war against the Sands of Time.

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

Draco Taglist:

@imabee-oralizard@ameliaphoenix@arcana-greenleaf@dittos-blog-dylanobrien

I have been wanting to write this one for a while! Feels good to be writing again for our favorite Slytherin!🪄

Let me know if you would like to be moved/removed from my taglists.🤍

For those who want to be tagged in my Harry Potter/Marvel works, head over to “The Owlery” section on my profile and send me a message!

#draco malfoy x reader #draco x reader #draco x y/n #draco x you #draco malfoy fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x you #draco imagine #draco malfoy imagine

[woman-of-many-fandoms]

reverse trope writing prompts

because I wanted to add some of my own

Aliens tried to stop them from doing it

Parents from the past show up

Sanity pollen

Last kiss

Marks/timers to show you to your next one night stand 

Hate potion 

Accidental divorce

Non period compliant homophobia   

add your own!!

[azastr]

Sweet Reminiscence

Draco Malfoy

Y/n feeling nostalgic on seeing similiarities between Draco and Scorpius ✨

fluff

Draco's Smirk 

Several years had passed since Y/n and Draco's time at Hogwarts, but some habits die hard. Y/n found herself in the kitchen, preparing a late dinner for the family. As she chopped vegetables, she caught a glimpse of Scorpius mimicking Draco's signature smirk in the reflection of the window. His mischievous grin and raised eyebrow were a mirror image of his father's. 

The sight warmed Y/n's heart, and she couldn't help but chuckle softly to herself. She recalled how Draco's smirk had once infuriated her, but now it was a source of comfort and familiarity. Seeing their son adopt the same mannerism made her feel a deep connection to the past, a reminder of the journey they had taken from enemies to lovers. 

Mirrored Souls

Y/n sat in the living room of their cozy cottage, a book open in her lap. Her attention, however, kept drifting away from the pages as she watched her son, Scorpius, as he played on the carpeted floor. He was engrossed in a game of building blocks, his small hands carefully stacking them to form a tower. She watched him with a soft smile, her eyes reflecting a mixture of love and nostalgia. 

As Scorpius concentrated on his task, his brows furrowing in concentration, Y/n couldn't help but notice how Scorpius's mannerisms mirrored Draco's during their Hogwarts days. She vividly remembered him sitting in the common room, his platinum blond hair falling over his forehead as he meticulously worked on his Potions homework. His focused gaze, the way he ran his hand through his platinum blond hair in frustration, and that mischievous smirk whenever he finds the solution, reminding her of the boy who had become her husband. 

 The Ferret Incident 

As Y/n observed Scorpius further, her attention was drawn to the way he moved. His gracefulness and elegance mirrored Draco's own demeanor. She recalled the incident in their fourth year at Hogwarts when Draco was turned into a ferret by Mad-Eye Moody. The memory brought a playful smile to her face. 

"Hey, Ferret," Y/n called out, using Draco's old nickname. Scorpius turned to her with a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. "Yes, Mum?" he replied innocently, reminding her so much of his father. It amazed her how traits and habits were passed down through generations, making her feel a deep connection between her past and present. 

The Slytherin Ambition 

Y/n's thoughts drifted back to their time as students in Hogwarts. Draco's relentless ambition to prove himself, to uphold his family's honor, was something she had both admired and despised. She remembered how he would strategize and plan, always aiming for success. 

Scorpius, too, exhibited a similar determination. Y/n watched as he practiced his spells, his little face filled with concentration and determination. It was as if he had inherited Draco's relentless drive. Despite the fondness she had for these traits, she knew it was important to teach Scorpius the value of empathy and compassion, unlike the old Draco. 

Kindred Courage 

Y/n's mind shifted to another memory, one that had always fascinated her. She recalled how Draco had surprised her during the Battle of Hogwarts, standing up against his family's expectations and joining the fight on the side of good. It was a moment that changed everything for them. 

As Scorpius stood up to defend his friend on the playground, Y/n's heart swelled with pride. He displayed the same kind of courage and defiance she had witnessed in Draco that fateful day. In her son, she saw the perfect blend of her own blood and Draco's unwavering determination. 

The Dragon  

Y/n sat on the edge of Scorpius's bed, tucking him in for the night. As she smoothed the covers over him, she noticed how he clutched a small toy dragon in his hand. It was a replica of the one Draco had owned during their time at Hogwarts, a token of their shared history. 

Her mind wandered back to the days when Draco had carried that dragon with him everywhere, fiercely guarding it as if it held all his secrets. It had been a symbol of his vulnerability, a glimpse into the depths of his guarded heart. And now, seeing Scorpius hold the same toy, Y/n was reminded of the fierce love Draco had for their son and how he had softened over the years. 

These little moments, where Scorpius's habits echoed those of Draco in their younger days, served as gentle reminders of the journey they had taken. 

Passion for Quidditch 

Y/n sat by the window, a cup of tea in hand, as she watched Scorpius zooming around on his toy broomstick in the backyard. His skill and enthusiasm reminded her of Draco's days as a Seeker on the Slytherin Quidditch team. 

Draco had always been passionate about Quidditch, and Y/n vividly remembered the countless matches she had watched him play from the stands, her heart swelling with pride. Scorpius had inherited his father's love for the sport, spending hours practicing his flying skills and dreaming of the day he would play for Hogwarts. 

Y/n's reverie was broken as Scorpius crashed his toy broomstick into a vase, sending it toppling to the floor. She hurriedly rushed to pick up the broken pieces, but as she did, she noticed the way Scorpius pouted, his gray eyes mirroring Draco's in both color and expression. 

It was a stark reminder of the past, when Draco's smugness and arrogance used to irritate her to no end. He would often wear that same pout when things didn't go his way, and Y/n couldn't help but find it endearing now, even though it used to infuriate her back then. 

Bookworms

In the cozy reading nook of their home, Y/n found Scorpius curled up in an armchair, engrossed in a book. His platinum blond hair fell over his face, much like Draco used to do when he was deep in thought. 

Y/n quietly approached, and as she watched her son's eyes move across the pages, she couldn't help but recall the countless nights she had spent with Draco in the Hogwarts library, studying for their exams.

“Scorp, your hair is a mess. Just like your father's used to be.” Y/n called out gaining her son’s attention. Scorpius looked up, a playful glint in his eyes. “Mum, you know you love it when I resemble Dad. Admit it, you're a sucker for the Malfoy charm.”

Making Y/n chuckle, ruffling his hair affectionately, “You got me there, ferret. You and your father have a way of melting my heart.” Y/n watched Scorpius return to his book, she couldn't help but feel a surge of nostalgia 

The similarities between Scorpius and Draco served as constant reminders of the love that had blossomed between her and her former arch-nemesis. Their journey from enemies to lovers had been a tumultuous one, but seeing their son embody the best of both of them made it all worthwhile. 

The scene repeated itself in different forms throughout their lives, as Scorpius continued to grow and flourish, always reminding Y/n of the boy she had once despised and eventually fallen in love with. The fluff-filled moments served as a testament to the enduring bond between Draco and Y/n ,and the legacy they had created through their son, Scorpius.  

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

not proof read

[halloworhorecrux]

Scorpius : I just think he could have used his words better

Harry: That's what I'm saying

Teddy: Exactly, the aurors had to come

Liliana Narcissa: Really, mother could have done worse.

Jamie: I've seen worse

Harry: You're right

Draco: Right about what?

Scorpius, Teddy, James, and Liliana running away*

Harry: That's you don't look a day over 25 * tries to apparate away but can't*

Draco: hmm really? Because it sounded like you were saying I was overreacting, sweetheart

Harry: * pushing at the kids door* huh what is that guys. I'm coming

Draco: I'm sure, you would never say that though. Right, Harry James Potter? There is no way you would call the person currently carrying your child, irrational. Right, my dear husband?

Harry: * running away* I think Ron is calling me. Bye

[antlers-boi]

Jegulus raising Harry.

Harry: I need to tell you something.

James: What is it?

Harry: …

Regulus: We will love you no matter what.

Harry: I’m bi…

James: That’s great!

Harry: And I’m dating Draco Malfoy..?

Regulus: That’s less great.

[fanfic-lover-girl]

Best Harry Potter Hubby

I am curious as to who people think the best husband is. Please try to be as objective as possible. It doesn't matter if the man is a villain or antagonist. It's not even about the ship. Like you can prefer Hinny over Romione but think Ron makes a better husband than Harry for eg.

It's a bit hard for some of these guys since their marriage may not have a lot of screentime or no screentime at all. Use how they acted as boyfriends as a rough estimate??

Propaganda from moi:

I personally think Vernon is the best husband in HP. The dude is an abusive jerk to Harry but the man is always ready to throw hands to protect his family. Plus, the dude treats Petunia like a queen and respects and loves her. I just think the Dursleys have the best marriage on paper. Unlike other HP couples, I can't find any fault with Vernon as a husband.