#daisy and jordan seem really dumbed down too i hate it

[thegreatgatzbi]

i finally caved and listened to the only tracklist i could find for the great gataby musicaland By God This Sounds Like Shit. Dear Fucking Lord.

maybe they changed things up after that recording but LORD ALMIGHTY it seems like they just didnt understand the story at ALL from what i could bare listening to.

[somenewsarah]

Not Funny

Requested: Yes: “hey could you write a draco imagine where the reader and draco get into a fight and she’s giving him the silent treatment and is purposely avoiding him in classes and everything, fluffy ending please!! :) love your writing!!”

Pairing: Draco x Gryffindor!Reader

Warnings: None

Genre: Fluff with some fighting

Word Count: 1.9k

Sirius Black looms in the air like a dungbomb. Hogwarts hadn’t been the same all term long, not with the dementors lurking around all your hideout spots on the edge of the grounds. It had especially put a damper on your relationship with your Slytherin boyfriend, Draco Malfoy. You two were like magnets from the moment you first meant. He was drawn to you, and you to him, like none other.

Although, his obsession with his nemesis, Harry Potter, was getting out of control. You never really liked it when he would pick on him, and his growing obsession was getting incredibly annoying. You would never say anything about it, though. Well, you never thought you would.

Quidditch is the only light that seems to be glowing now. You shuffle towards the pitch with your fellow Gryffindors, today being such a big game for the House Cup. It was Gryffindor against Hufflepuff, and the infamous Harry Potter was going up against Cedric Diggory. If Gryffindor wins, they only need to beat Slytherin to win the cup.

“I’m sure Harry is nervous,” Hermione says, clutching at her rucksack.

“Blimey, I can’t imagine having someone out to kill me, but still trying to play Quidditch,” Ron murmurs. “Bloody brilliant.”

“He’ll be fine,” you say absently. You peer around the other Gryffindors at the sea of green that travels in front of you, but you don’t see your blond-headed boy. “Have either of you seen Draco?”

“No,” Hermione huffs. She was the only one that ever stuck up for your relationship with the Malfoy boy, but she made it very clear that she didn’t really approve of it.

“Probably off trying to get Sirius Black into the castle,” Ron hisses.

“Bugger off,” you snap. “Draco would never. At least give him some more credit than that.”

“He’s mental!” Ron exclaims. “I’ve never seen someone hate Harry as much as Malfoy does.”

“Well, Harry hates him just as much, and I find that it’s not really any of our business,” Hermione says, crossing her arms.

Together, you climb up the tower and find your seats in the middle of the bleachers. It doesn’t take long for everyone to get settled, and soon, Madam Hooch is blowing her whistle and the game begins.

The day is gloomy as 14 brooms rise into the air. Oliver Wood, the Gryffindor captain, looks menacing as he takes his place in front of the three goal posts, back arched and at the ready to block any quaffles.

 Harry and Cedric have a brief showdown, but it’s soon interrupted by the scene below.

 “Katie Bell for Gryffindor has the quaffle and is in control from the very beginning of the game! Amazing that girl is. Should really consider- Sorry professor- GRYFFINDOR SCORES, 10-0!” Lee Jordan, a fellow Gryffindor, announces.

You crane your head, your eyes trying to focus on nothing but the game, but your attention continuously averts to the Slytherin students, looking for Draco, or even Crabbe and Goyle. But they’re nowhere to be found. Only Pansy Parkinson glaring at you across the pitch.

“Harry Potter has seen the snitch! Wow, what a brilliant flier that one is! If he caught it, Griffyndor would win 40-10! A new record for them,” Lee shouts into the mic.

You watch on, and indeed, Harry was soaring above the game. He looks down at the ground, following the snitch, and you follow, trying to see it for yourself. But instead, you see something much scarier. Dementors. Harry seems to have noticed them, too. He shoots a spell, and a wispy stag leaves his wand. But what it met wasn’t dementors at all. No, McGonagall’s face pales in sheer fury as she pulls off the hoods of Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle.

 ~

“Please don’t be mad, it was just a dumb joke,” Draco says, pleading with you for what felt like the millionth time.

“It wasn’t funny,” you say, trying your hardest to remain calm. You tuck your feet under your legs, sitting in one of the oversized chairs in the library, your head stuffed in your Herbology book. “Just leave me alone, Draco. I’ve had enough.”

“Y/N, please,” he says, his voice dropping to almost a whisper.

 “Go,” you demand. Your eyes finally meeting his own. He straightens up, runs a hand over his slicked-back hair, and nods once, finally leaving you alone.

 His silence didn’t last long at all, though. Oh no, it didn’t even take a full twenty-four hours. The very next morning in your Potions class, Draco takes his seat at the table next to you.

 “Good morning, love,” he says cheerfully. “Over our spat yet?”

 Scoffing, you get up quickly and move to sit at the table with Harry, Ron, and Hermione, abandoning Draco altogether. This went on for the entire day, but by the seventh and final hour, you didn’t even sit at your usual table, insisting that it’s just easier to sit with your actual friends.

 “Thanks for sticking up for me,” Harry says to you at the end of the lesson. “I think it’s really great of you. I know it isn’t ideal, especially that your boyfriend hates your best friend.”

 “Yeah, well,” you start, shoving books in your rucksack. “You hate him just as much. You’re not as awful to him as he is to you, I’ll give you that, but you still assume some awfully untrue things about him.”

And with that, you sling your bag over your shoulder and march out of the classroom, heading to your dorm.

~

It’d been a long week, and you still didn’t know where you stood with Draco. Sometimes you felt like you might be ready to forgive him, others it felt like he never really changed.

Today is your first trip to Hogsmeade since coming back from Christmas a few weeks ago, and you were more than excited to visit Honeydukes and the Three Broomsticks. You weren’t particularly excited to visit alone, but Fred and George were going, so maybe it wouldn’t be so awful after all.

 You walk in the snow, kicking the ground a little with the tips of your boots, when Draco catches up to you.

 “Can we talk?” He asks, his eyes full of hope. “I miss you.”

 You keep your eyes on the ground, ignoring him completely. You just weren’t in a place where you were ready or willing to talk without it all blowing up in your face, so you keep quiet, trying your hardest not to look over at him. You always give in to those grey eyes.

 He sighs, but doesn’t push his luck. He pushes forward, stuffing his hands in his coat pockets and walking farther out of your sight, catching up to Crabbe and Goyle.

 “Are you alright?” Hermione asks, moving to walk next to you.

 “Yeah, this is just really annoying. Why can’t they just get along?” You ask, running a frustrated hand through your hair.

 “I don’t know,” Hermione says, shaking her head. Ron moves to walk with the two of you, but smartly keeps his mouth shut about the situation.

 Hogsmeade managed to cheer you up loads. Your pockets were more than emptied, but you were fulfilled with your purchases. Chocolate frogs, bottles of butterbeer, and Zonko’s trick wands lined the insides of your bags, and you thought you might find yourself in a sugar coma if you ate anymore.

Walking towards the common room, you notice something unusual and red on the floor. Upon further inspection, you find small rose petals between your fingers. You follow them up Gryffindor Tower and all the way to the Fat Lady.

“The new password for you, my dear, is the place where you had your first kiss with Mr. Malfoy,” she says, her cheeks rosy, and a small giggle escaping her lips.

“Oh,” you sigh. “Can’t you just let me in with the usual password?”

“It’s romantic,” she snaps. “Now, the location?”

“The Astronomy Tower,” you say, trying to suppress your own smile. You feel your cheeks heat up as the portrait swings open. There is no chatter from the common room like there usually is, but instead soft music.

You walk inside, following the rose petals on the floor. Inside, each wall of the common room is covered in your favorite flowers. One side is roses, one is daisies, then tulips, and finally, orchids. Draco stands in the middle of the room, holding a bouquet of sunflowers and baby’s breath.

“Draco,” you sigh, moving to stand in front of him.

“I need to say something,” he starts. You move to speak, but he shushes you. “Please, let me say it before I chicken out.”

“Go on,” you say, covering your mouth with your hand to hide your own grin forming. His cheeks are pink, and his eyes dart nervously.

“I picked out these flowers because not only are they your favorite flowers, but because each of them remind me of you. Roses, because your cheeks always turn this perfect shade of red when I kiss you, or tell you how much I adore you. Daisies, because I’ll always remember our time together this past summer and how you’d wear daisies in your hair, and how beautiful they looked. Tulips, because that perfume you wear drives me crazy and they smell the same. And orchids, because they remind me how, even though you’re so strong and sturdy, you’re still delicate and beautiful and the things that I do can really effect you. And for not realizing that, and for being a jerk to one of your closest mates, I’m sorry,” he says, finally looking up at you.

 You uncross your arms, taking a step towards him. “And the sunflowers?”

“Sunflowers are your favorite flower. I know that. And because you are my sun, Y/N. No matter where you go, I want to be looking at you. You’re the sun, in this situation, and I’m only a flower, following you wherever you go,” he says confidently. He reaches up, caressing your cheek with the back of his hand.

You smile, wrapping him in a hug around his neck.

 “This is so beautiful, Draco,” you say, hiding your forehead in his neck. “Thank you so much.”

 “Does that mean I’m forgiven?” He asks, fingering your hair softly.

 “Yes, I think it does,” you smile up at him. He leans down, kissing you gently.

 “Why baby’s breath in the sunflowers?” You ask, finally looking down at the bouquet.

 “Oh, is that what they’re called?” He asks, looking quizzically down at the flowers in his own hand. “I just thought the green stuff went well with the yellow. Had a lot of help from my mother.”

 “I believe it,” you giggle. “Seriously, thank you for taking me seriously.”

“Always, my love,” he kisses your forehead. “From now on, I’ll try to be more pleasant to Potter. No more stupid jokes.”

“Alright,” you nod. You move from his arms, sitting on the couch in front of the fire, breathing in the aroma of all the flowers. “Stay a while?”

He sits next to you, pulling you into his arms once again. The two of you spend much of the night together, unbothered in the Common Room, laughing and talking, and filling each other in on the mundane events that happened while you weren’t speaking. Draco fulfilled his promise for the rest of the year, and kept his comments to Harry light, and for that, you would always be grateful.