#draco malfoy x female reader

[august126]

enemies with benefits

draco malfoy x female weasley reader

warnings: Hate Sex,Nicknames,Rivals With Benefits,Name-Calling,Insults,Nipple Play, and Nipple Licking

a/n:This is my first attempt at fanfiction so please be kind.and I tried with my grammar so  be gentle.

"Oh fuck, yes! y/n feet were lanted on the mattress next to Draco's hips, leaning back so his cock would slide all the way down to the base, press all the way to the back of her cunt.

She rode him so hard, arms wrapped around his neck for leverage, bucking against him almost violently.

Throat and cheeks red, sweat beading between her tits, sweet sounds spilling from her lips — Gods, it was like she was using him.

“That’s it, Red, take what you need,” Draco groaned, leaning forward mouthing her cute tits, swirling his tongue around one nipple and then switching the other.

“Stop calling — oh fuck, just like that, Malfoy! Damn it, stop calling me Red !”

Draco released her nipple with a wet pop, pretty pink and shining with his spit.

“Hm, what would you prefer then? Bitch? Whore? Slut?”

“Fuck you, Malfoy!” she spat, nails sharp against his skin as she ground down on his cock viciously.

“You already are, Red,” Draco drawled, feeling her pussy squeeze around him.

 She never commented on the nickname, but her body couldn’t lie to him.

“You’re dripping all over me, Red. You wanted to fuck so bad, hm? Needed my cock that much?

Draco slid his hand from her waist over her mound, pressing his thumb against her clit, letting her movements brush it against his thumb.

"Oh, oh my — ngh!" She was mindless. Whines and whimpers, eyes closed, brow furrowed in concentration as she smacked her ass against his thighs, riding him like a toy.

It was deliciously hot, watching her lost in lust — but annoying how she chose to ignore his taunts.

“weasley .” His voice was low and harsh as he pinched her clit lightly.

y/n squealed, her hips jumping up, pulling half his cock out of her and she glared at him.

“Malfoy, you rotten bastard!” She seethed,  “I was so close!”

“Oh, Red.” Draco pressed her hips down, forcing her to take his cock until their thighs touched. y/n was already panting, the edge in her eyes softening, her teeth plucking against the edge of her bottom lip as she started using her feet to rock back and forth against his cock. “You know better than to ignore me. That is, if you’d like to come.”

y/n froze, with her mouth parted for a moment, Draco smirking back at her.

And then she exploded, Weasley temper at full force.

“Who the hell do you think you are, Malfoy? You think just because you’re a little bit good at fucking, I have to answer you?! You aren’t shi — oh my Gods!”

Draco started fucking up into her, y/n hips automatic, meeting him thrust for thrust as she whimpered and moaned. Hot anger replaced with need as she bounced on his cock.

Draco hugged her body close, y/n wrapping her legs around his back now, as he used the give of the mattress to thrust up. Draco pressed his mouth against her neck, licking roughly and swallowing down the sweat.

“Yes, Merlin, yes, keep doing that, Draco,” her voice was light and breathy — so different from her usual tone, it was erotic in how sweet it was.

Draco groaned into her neck before using teeth, biting down just hard enough that y/n began squirming in his lap.

“Oh, oh.”

“You love that, don’t you, Red? When it’s a little rough like that?” Draco kissed the bruises he left on her neck, y/n thighs trembling against his own. She was so close, wet and fluttering around his cock.

y/n moved her hands from his neck, tangling in Draco's hair, pushing his head down back to her tits. Draco didn't fight her, kissing and sucking on her nipples, leaving them swollen and red as y/n moaned and ground down on his cock. Nasty, wet sounds echoing in the room from her dripping cunt sliding up and down his length.

“That’s it Red, fuck, squeeze around my cock just like that, love,” Draco murmured against her tits, looking up at y/n who stared back down at him, her eyes almost black with desire. “I can feel your pussy fluttering around me, so close aren’t you? Going to make a mess on my laps and ruin my sheets?”

y/n seemed to be lost for a moment, a beat filled with the sounds of wet cunt, her low moans, and squeaking mattress, until her nails dug painfully into his scalp.

She yanked his head back, glaring down at him once more, even with the haze of need and lust in her eyes. “Don’t. Call. Me. Love.”

Draco’s jaw dropped.

This witch, this fucking bitch!

A low growl spilled from Draco’s lips, bringing his hand up to one of her breasts, pinching and pulling on the nipple, rolling it between his fingers.

“You are beyond infuriating, y/n!” Draco hissed before he took her other nipple in his mouth, sucking hard, hollowing his cheeks, then swirling his tongue against it.

Draco saw the arrogant flash of her teeth, the same sort he remembered from his youth. Her fingers flexed in his hair once more, pressing his face into her breasts, encouraging his abuse of them as she rode on his cock. “I know, ferret. And I know how much it turns you on, too.”

Draco didn’t bother replying, instead biting down, harsh, on y/n nipple, her punishment and her reward. The witch shattering around him with a scream, her luscious cunt squeezing and milking him, until he came too with a groan.

y/n still clutched his head against her chest, both breathing deeply.

“I fucking hate that…ferret.”

y/n released his head, laughing as she leaned back. She ran her hand through her hair, pushing it back off her forehead. “Yeah? And what in Godric’s name are you going to do about it, ferret?”

Draco placed his hand between y/n legs, feather light against her clit, still sensitive. She hissed for a moment before relaxing her hips.

“I suppose I’ll need to fuck you stupid, until the only words that come out of your insolent little mouth are draco malfoy, ” he drawled, fingers circling on her clit now, y/n breath catching.

“A-are you going to keep barking, or actually do something, f-ferret?” y/n bit her lip, keeping a moan at bay and Draco almost laughed at her bravado.

“You’ve asked for it, love.”

And, cock hard once more, he thrust up into That perfect cunt.

[incorrectquotesharrypotterv]

Y/n, whispering: you know I love you, right?

Draco: why are we whispering?

Y/n: so Harry thinks we're conspiring against him

Draco: oooh

Harry: what are they talking about?

Snape, having heard everything: murder

[goldenbuckyyy]

LOVER

Summary: An inside look into the happily ever after between you and Draco that is well deserved.

Pairings: Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader

Word count: 2.3kish

Warnings: SMUT (!!), raw sex, synchronized orgasms, slight dirty talk, cream pie, making out, established relationship.. anything else?! Let me know!!

A/N: I had always been wanting to write this little epilogue for my favorite little story, Heather. Please read my previous post which is just an explanation into why I hadn’t posted in a while! I hope you enjoy this. Title inspo: “Lover” by Taylor Swift.

All mistakes are my own. Please do not repost or translate my fics on any other side nor this one. 

I appreciate any likes, reblogs, messages, and interactions. Please message me your thoughts! Love reading them. 🫶🏻

Story Masterlist | Main Masterlist

“Shhhh, baby. You gotta be quiet,” your husband rasps into your neck, his deep voice sending goosebumps loose all over your skin, as he licks a small strip up to your chin as he proceeds to nibble on your bottom lip. His warm, soft hands touching your skin which makes you feel like you're burning underneath him. 

You clench your eyes together to try and make sense of all of the different sensations you’re currently feeling. 

A strangled moan chokes its way out of the back of your throat as he angles his hips upwards to go in deeper as you instinctively wrap one of your legs around his waist to give him better access. Your hands touch his soft skin around his waist as you hold onto him, gripping tightly into his flesh. 

Your bodies synching together like they always have. Even after all these years. No amount of time would ever come close to being enough. You’re always going to want more. 

More. More. More. 

Your husband steals your moans as he covers your mouth with his own, his lips moving against yours softly, and your arms wrap around his neck to pull him into you. One of your hands moves into his hair, tugging at the roots gently as his own hands move to grip onto your hips, and you both start moving together. Speeding up when you start feeling the familiar ache in your lower belly. 

You both pull away from each other's necks, smiling when you both notice the same reflexes, and you reach up to kiss your husband's sweet mouth once more. His thrusting only grows rougher and deeper, but still moves with caution and it makes your entire body erupt in chills as you both moan into each other's mouth when you climax together. 

Always together. 

Your toes curl into the bed as your husband continues to thrust into you, spilling himself completely into your warmth, and you peck his lips a couple times as he leans his forehead against yours. Both letting out loud pants and small giggles. A cheeky grin overtakes his face as his eyelashes flutter against his creamy skin. 

His beautiful silver eyes meet yours as he kisses the tip of your nose and then he slowly pulls out of you which makes you whine at the loss of contact and he flips down next to you. He chuckles deeply as he rubs his chest, which is moving rapidly as he comes down from his orgasm, and his fingers brush against your breast. 

His fingers caress your naked skin around your chest, “God, I love you. I love how we’re still in sync even after all this time.” 

“So do I,” you whisper back sweetly to him as you reach over to him to kiss his cheek, which makes him flush like he always does, and you slowly start getting off the bed. You use the bedside table to steady yourself as you stand up. 

“It’s starting already?” He yells after you as you speed walk into the master bathroom that you are so incredible thankful for at this second because you feel like your bladder is about to burst. 

“Shush,” you exclaim back with a giggle as you proceed to finally sit down on the toilet and have yourself a wee. Your entire body relaxes at the feeling and you look down at your protruding belly. 

Three months to go. 

You reach over to grab your belly oil and rub it all over your stomach as you relax for a second. You almost jump off the seat when you hear your husband's voice from the door. 

“You’re a sight, my love.” 

“Draco!” You exclaim with an eye roll as you watch him watching you. He stands against the bathroom door, leaning against it, still naked, and you let yourself take in his body in its full glory. 

You take a minute to admire his muscular posture with his lean frame. You admire his creamy, milky skin which is covered in bruises. Which were caused by your mouth. Always leaving them everywhere because you absolutely loved to mark him up. You always made sure they were in places that could be hidden underneath his Auror robes. 

He still brought up the one time you accidentally marked him above the collar mark and everybody teased him for weeks until it faded away. Especially since Draco never used glamour charms on his skin. 

You admire his long legs with his equally long torso and you loved how tall he was. He always made you feel safe and secure in his arms. You lick your own lips as your eyes land on his valuable member. 

Your stomach tingles as he slowly strokes himself, still a bit hard for your morning activities, and you let out a laugh. 

“Stop it,” you demand as you clean yourself up and proceed to wash your hands. You stare at him from the mirror with a small smile. 

“Stop what?” He questions with a smirk as he goes to the toilet to do his own business. 

“I’m already pregnant with your sixth offspring because of that thing!” Your eyes looking wide at his cock in his hands. 

Draco lets out a loud, belly laugh that makes the corner of his eyes crinkle as he cleans himself up. “Technically it’s only your fifth pregnancy!”

“Don’t act like you don’t absolutely love it,” he whispers as he places a big kiss into your warm cheek causing you to giggle again. 

You leave him be as you walk into your shared walk in closet. You pull over a matching pair of baby blue knickers and a soft bralette. You wiggle your way into your comfiest pair of black leggings and soft knit white jumper. You slip your feet into your fuzzy gray slippers and start making your way down the hallway. Your ears are perking up trying to hear any signs that your kids are up.  

You start making breakfast the muggle way, thanks to Hermoine for teaching you, and you’re humming along to a song when the first sign of life invades your senses. 

You feel small hands sneak up on your belly as you smile brightly, pausing as you mix the eggs, and look down at bright gray eyes looking up at you. 

“Good morning, mummy!” Your little five year old daughter, Aries, whispers as she shows off her bright toothy smile. 

You bend to kiss her forehead as she giggles, “Good morning, my little angel. Where’s your brother?” 

She rubs your belly lightly as she then skips to her usual chair around the family table, “Brushing his teeth, mummy.” 

“Did you brush yours already?” You ask with a raised eyebrow and she giggles even louder. 

“Duh, mummy!!” 

Right on time, Aries' twin brother Phoenix, comes running down the hallway.. excessively loud and giggling as your oldest ten year old son, Scorpius is chasing after him. Your seven year old, Leo, is walking behind them slowly. Yawning and rubbing his eyes lazily as he trails into his seat at the table as he moans out a good morning to you and blows you an air kiss. 

“Be careful!!” You yell after them as Aries only watches them with a smile on her face as you continue cooking breakfast. You hear louder footsteps as Draco comes into the kitchen, ready for the day in his Head Auror robes, and holding your three year old daughter in his arms. 

He reaches you, pecking your lips sweetly as if you didn’t just spend the morning wrapped around him, and lets you kiss Lyra’s soft cheek as she smiles at you. Her tiny hand touches your hair slightly. 

Her eyes that match yours watch you as Draco walks away from you and tries to wrangle up all the kids for breakfast before he has to leave for work. 

The kids are all yelling, moving, and proceeding to sit in their favorite seats. You and Draco proceed to move in sync together as you both gather plates for the kids. Moving to fill each with cut up pancakes, scrambled eggs, cut up strawberries, and each kid getting their favorite drinks. You quickly make Lyra a yogurt bowl with extremely small slices of strawberries on the side and a cup of her favorite milk. 

Bumping hips and sneakily smiling at each other. 

Draco starts handing each one of your shared kids their own special plate and drink as you make your own plate along with your husbands. 

You set the plates down as you hand Draco’s hot coffee that’s under a stasis charm as he hands you a thankful smile and passes you your own cinnamon tea in your mug. 

The room is soon filled with loud children talking.  Scorpius and Leo arguing about what to do today after daddy gets home. Debating on if they should play quidditch or have a family movie night since it’s Friday. Which means daddy gets the weekend off. Aries and Phoenix are munching on their breakfast loudly and making silly faces at each other which causes them to giggle excessively at each other. Lyra sits in her high chair as she observes her siblings with a silly little smile on her face and trying her best to eat her yoghurt with her tiny pink spoon. 

Draco feeds her small bites of his own pancakes as Lyra happily accepts them. 

“What are your plans today, baby?” 

You hum as you finish your bite of food, “Hermoine and Pansy are coming over today. They say they want help with the wedding planning, but I think they’re having godchildren withdrawal.” 

Draco snickers at that with a slight eye roll, “Of course they are. Our children are the best.” 

You smile at him, “So, Pansy told Theo and now he’s coming over with the kids as well.” 

Draco nodded his head, “I’m sure Potter is happy about that.” 

“Anything to get Theo away from his nesting habits and begging Harry for another baby,” you say with a soft smile as you think of your best friends. 

Draco scoffs and rolls his eyes playfully, “I’m sure his baby fever will end once he sees your pregnant belly and our adorable Lyra. Didn’t they just adopt baby Sirius?” 

“Baby Sirius is going to be four already! Then Lily and James are already Scorpius age. Theo is just scared of empty nesting, but Harry says he wants to wait until this big case he’s dealing with passes.” 

Draco hums in agreement, “I wish we were like that.” And he proceeds to give you a soft teasing smile.  

You poke him with your fork and shake your head, “We have kids basically every two years, these twin girls are the last ones!” You eye him with an authoritative look. 

“Anything you say, my love.” 

“Do you think Hermoine and Pansy will ever adopt or have kids of their own?” You ask as you watch Lyra to make sure she’s eating. Draco doesn’t miss the tone of your voice at your question. 

“You’ve noticed the way Hermoine looks at your belly, huh?” 

“I have,” you reply softly. “It’s just.. Pansy always says she’s okay with just being a godmother, but ‘Min…” you trail off with a sad smile. 

Draco reaches over to your hand and squeezes, “I understand, trust me. Maybe get a second with Granger and just talk to her about what we’ve noticed.” 

“Maybe. I don’t want to overstep,” you say as you sip your drink. Scorpius is the first one that finishes eating and he quickly thanks you for breakfast with a kiss on your cheek as he moves to start washing the dishes. You admire your first born for a second and can’t help but love how much he looks like his father and how big he’s gotten. 

The same milky white skin with bright pale hair and even with the same matching gray eyes. His exact copy. Oh, you can’t help but tear up at how much you love your first baby boy. The first baby that made you a mother and taught you about a mothers love. 

The one who made you want a million more babies. 

Leo and Phoenix soon start helping clean up the plates as Draco helps Lyra get cleaned up. Aries helps him as you use your magic to clean up the table and Lyra’s high chair. 

You hum in contentment as you proceed to kiss the cheeks of all your kids. Scorpius blushes, Leo kisses you back, Phoenix and Aries giggle, and Lyra pulls you in to attack you with kisses and hugs. Draco soon jumps into all the loving before he has to floo to work. 

Draco piles all the kids into his arms as he squeezes them into his arms and then tells them to go play before their cousins come over. 

He gently pulls you into his arms as one of his hands slips underneath your jumper to rub your belly as he kisses your lips sweetly. The feeling of his lips on your sends sparks all over your body like it always does and you savor his taste. 

“I love you,” you whisper into him as he smiles against your lips. 

“I love you more,” he whispers back with a couple more pecks against your smiling mouth. 

“Be careful and I’ll see you soon,” you kiss your lips one more time as he steps into the fireplace. 

“Always am, my love. And I’ll be counting down the minutes,” he says with a wink as he grabs a handful of floo powder and calls out his location. He bursts into green flames and your hearing soon fills with the sounds of your children’s giggles and loud voices playing together.  

You take a moment to take it all in. 

Loving the same boy… now man for as long as you can remember. The amazing life you both have built. It was never easy and there have been many hardships, but it was incredibly worth it. 

What a beautiful life you both had built slips into your mind as you smile to yourself in pure bliss. 

[winterssecrett]

MORNINGS BY HIS SIDE | DRACO LUCIUS MALFOY

ღ Draco Malfoy was a dream, and being able to sleep with him was a dream come true.

Or at least that's how Y/n saw it.

The curtains of the boy's room were open and a few rays of sun started to kiss the pale and soft skin of the Slytherin prince. In Y/n’s mind, he looked gorgeous, with his hair made a mess on top of the pillow, and his lips slightly open showing his calm breathing. God, she couldn't ask for anything else in life.

Sometimes she wondered how she had gotten so lucky.

Moving her eyes from her boyfriend's frame she turned around to look at the clock, it was 06:50 in the morning and they had classes at 08:00, the boy's alarms were gonna start sounding in a few minutes and she knew she was gonna get teased for being once again in Draco's bed.

But how could she not be there? If the boy begged her to stay every night cause he was used to not sleep alone.

Blaise's alarm started to sound annoying everyone in the room, Draco mumbled something in his sleep before hiding his face in his girlfriend's neck, he didn't feel like waking up, and no one was gonna change his mind.

“turn that shit off Blaise or I swear to god I will shove the clock in your mouth and make sure it comes out of your ass”

Mattheo wasn't the nicest person in the mornings, or ever, but they were all used to it by now. Theo moved his head to the other side of the room and let out a huff.

“non riesci nemmeno a dormire, lo so, per l'amor del cielo” (you can't even sleep now for fucks sake)

The noise stopped and Blaise locked himself in the bathroom, Draco started moving again, and Y/n left soft caresses on his back.

“Always bothering us” He murmured sleepily making her laugh

“We have class in an hour” she reminded him softly “We have to get ready”

The blonde shook his head in -no- “I have DADA on my first period, Snape can go suck my father's dick”

“Draco!” Y/n scolded, hearing Mattheo cracking up from his bed

“Sorry love” he quickly said, leaving a kiss on her lips “Why don't we stay here, just you and me, we can sleep a little bit longer and then have Dobby bring us breakfast to bed”

His proposal, his voice, his caresses on her waist, everything was making her say yes. How could she not? It was Draco Malfoy.

“Okay, fine,” Y/n told him watching a smile a pear on his face “But this is the last time”

The blonde nodded rolling his eyes, he started leaving kisses on her cheeks and then along her jaw and exposed neck.

“Fuck, I could never get tired of this”

She let out a laugh “I know, Dray, I know”

Blaise finally came out of the bathroom and Theo was quick to get up with his towel in hand ready to have a shower. Mattheo on the other hand walked to the window and pulled out a cigarette.

“Want some, Y/l/n?”

Draco didn't even let her answer.

“It's not even eight in the morning, Riddle, leave my girl alone”

She just smiled “Go back to sleep, babe, it's still way too early for you”

[dracowars]

H!i i love your writing and i wanted to make a request can you do a draco x reader where they have a fight and then they sleep in diffrent rooms and the reader has a nightmare so she goes to dracos room and then just fluff <3

fighter | draco malfoy

pairing: draco x reader

word count: 1,2k

summary: where y/n and draco sleep in separate rooms due to an argument

a/n: i wrote this in one flow in the notes of my phone (i usually write on my laptop that's also why the " are different) and i don't know what happend, but i've never written something so fast. i hope it stays that way lmao enjoy <3 don't forget to reblog, it's so important!

warnings: angst, mentions of death

universe: harry potter

"I can't believe you are being serious right now!", you scream at Draco, physically retreating from him as you take a few steps back in your anger, anger about what he just told you. The atmosphere in his big dark bedroom in Malfoy Manor doesn't help the cold that is now surrounding you, neither does your light sleeping gown that you put on mere minutes ago to finally get some well deserved sleep. That is until you got into this stupid argument.

Your whole body trembles and you desperartely run your fingers through your hair, waiting for him to tell you that it was just a joke, that none of it is real.

"I knew you wouldn't understand", is the only thing that leaves Draco's mouth and if you had been a few more meters away, you would have probably missed his murmur. But you caught every word he said and it makes you even more furious.

"Oh, so you didn't even think about telling me that you want to take your father's place among the Dark Lord's entourage? The one of your father who is currently, if I may remind you, trapped in Azkaban?!", you say while fully realizing the impact of these words. Draco really wants to become a Death Eater and follow Voldemort as his faithful footman until he decides one day that he does not need him anymore either and puts him into the same prison his father is currently residing.

"See? That's why I preferred not to tell you because I knew you would react like this", Draco only sighs at your emotional outburst, rubbing his palms against each other as he looks at the dark wooden floor beneath your feet.

"So you now support the Dark Lord? Is that it?", you ask, now directly looking at him in utter disbelieve, ignoring his previous words. In your opinion, this is the only reasonable reaction when you are told your loved one wants to basically throw his life, and everything he has accomplished, away. And you are a huge part of that life which he would discard. Just like that.

"Y/N, you are missing my point!", Draco raises his voice now too, no longer being able to withstand the hurtful words you are throwing his way. "I need to do this, alright? It is none of your business anyway."

"N-None of my business?!", you stumble over your words, not believing your ears but one look at his face tells you that he is being deadly serious. For a moment, you hold in your breath and stare at him, looking into his eyes that seem to have darkened now.

"You know what? Alright, if it is your business and you want to follow in your father's steps, then I'm not needed here anymore", you say with a fake smile on your lips, passing him without looking at him again and leaving the room with fast steps. You do not listen when he calls after you, because if he really wanted to solve this, he would follow you. The fact that he does not, sends another dagger through your already suffering heart.

Standing in one of the cold hallways of Malfoy Manor, watched by the few family pictures that hang along the walls, you make your way to the next guest room where you plan on spending the night before being able to leave first thing in the morning.

You open the creaking door and enter the room, taking a look at the large bed with dark green bedding. Sighing, you let yourself fall onto the soft blanket in defeat and look at the panaled high ceiling.

The next moment, all the emotions come crushing down on you and you let your tears run free, crying into the soft bedsheets, grapping a fistful of it in your hand. You don't know how long you just lie there and cry bitterly, but when you suddenly jolt out of your sleep, drenched in sweat, it takes you a few seconds to realize where you are. The realization hits you painfully as you lean against the headboard, knees pulled towards your chest beneath the thick blanket and your hands trembling, pulling the safety of the fabric more towards you.

You thought you had already cried out all of your tears, but this terrible nightmare paralyzed your entire body and the tears streaming down your already puffed cheeks do not seem to stop. Trembling, you lower your forehead onto your knees, closing your eyes to dispose of those bad images, but they keep appearing in front of you. Crying into the blanket even harder, your mind comes up with the only plausible solution and before you know it, you find yourself standing in front of Draco's bedroom again, slowly opening the door.

With only your head poking in at first, you squint into the darkness, searching for any indications if Draco is asleep or not. When you only hear his soft breathing, you sneak towards your side of the bed and climb beneath the cold blanket as quiet as possible, trying to sniffle your tears.

Draco, however, senses that something is wrong and shifts in his sleep, turning onto his back. His hand slightly grazes yours and your breath gets stuck in your throat at the sensation. It only takes two more seconds until Draco opens his eyes, suddenly aware of the warm trembling body next to him.

Pushing onto his arms, he looks at you, confused, but once he hears your sobs, he takes you into his arms without any words, enveloping you in his warmth. Burrying your face in the crook of his neck, your crying grows even worse and you claw his shirt as if he could disappear any second.

"I-I was so scared, D-Draco", you stutter once you have caught your breath a bit more, holding your hands in front of your mouth to stop yourself from breaking down again. "Y-You were a Death Eater and they- they took you from me. H-He killed you, Draco."

Draco, who was busy wiping away your tears while listening, stops in his movement, his lips slightly parted in shock. In this moment, he hated himself for making you cry like this, for causing you such a horrible nightmare that you ended up thinking that you had lost him.

"He won't, Y/N. I promise", Draco whispers finally, not at all sure what he is supposed to say right now. On the one hand, he wants to make everything right again, but on the other hand he knows that he has responsibilites that he can't run away from.

"You can't promise me that", you sob, wiping away your tears by yourself now, your hands still a shaking mess.

"I'm so sorry, darling, but I have to follow him", he answers, his voice shaking as he softly takes your hands in his. "Otherwise he is going to kill me. But what is worse is that he is going to kill my family. He is going to kill you if I don't obey."

As he says these words and lets down his walls, you see a single tear running down his cheek, finding its way onto your intertwined hands below.

"We- We will find a way, baby", you try to assure him, squeezing his hand lightly. "You don't have to do this. We just need to fight. For us. For your family. For you."

"I will."

[destourtereaux]

you have a beautiful smile - draco malfoy x fem!reader

summary: Y/N is sunlight in human form, an absolute angel to be around. she’s always available to help out and treats everyone with kindness. draco malfoy should hate her, but he finds himself feeling quite the opposite.

taglist - add yourself here | warnings: none | wc: 1.5k

a/n: haven't written in a while, and this is my first draco fic, so please bear w me! lemme know what you think :) also my motivation to write draco is all bc of ms melli (@mellifluousart) who writes him wonderfully :)

Draco was eleven when he first saw Y/N. He had been so stupidly excited for Hogwarts that he had crashed his cart into hers on the platform. He immediately started to apologize, but Y/N beat him to it. And when he glanced up and met her eyes for the first time, he realized he wouldn’t have been able to say anything at that moment anyway.

Five years had passed since that first meeting, and Draco was preparing for his sixth year at school. He’d never forgotten you, but there hadn’t been many opportunities to even approach you. He’d heard of you around the school, of course. How could he not have? You were beloved, by teachers and students alike. Y/N L/N, prefect, outstanding student, and an avid volunteer around the school. Little did he know, you knew him too.

Draco had built quite the reputation for himself. He was the Slytherin prince, calculating, cold, and altogether untouchable. If you asked anyone, they would tell you that the two of you were on complete opposite ends of the spectrum.

Of course, none of this mattered to Professor Slughorn. In the first potions class of the year, a mixed group of Hufflepuffs and Slytherins, he managed to seat you right next to Draco. He would be your partner for projects until the end of the year.

“So, do you speak now?” you poke with a laugh, referring to your first meeting as you sit down next to him.

“Yeah,” he responds briefly, before returning to his notes. To be honest, he didn’t trust his own voice well enough to say anything more - you still had the same effect on him more than half a decade later.

—

Draco did not believe in perfection. He kept trying to catch you being fake, as if your kindness and constant positivity was a facade that he might one day spot slipping. But as you continued to work hard with him on projects, joking to lighten the mood, and displaying the same amount of compassion despite his cold responses, he just couldn’t spot a single flaw. And one day, you caught him off guard.

“Godric, Professor Slughorn’s hair looks like his namesake today…” you mutter, as you copy furiously from the blackboard. You hadn’t meant for anyone to hear it, but then you caught the boy next to you let out a snort. Your eyes widened; there was no way Draco Malfoy had just laughed?

You whip your head around, and Draco averts his eyes.

“You just laughed,” you state, a smile forming on your lips. “You just laughed at my joke.”

“Did not,” the boy denies, “I was just shocked that sunshine in human form could say something like that,” then he turns away so you can’t catch the smile that threatens to appear.

Your cheeks redden, and you scoff. “It wasn’t even mean!” you protest, “I find it rather fits him.”

From that day on, the two of you developed a more natural dynamic. Your conversations were no longer one-sided, and you found yourself growing to enjoy Draco’s sarcastic sense of humour and wit. You even got to know Blaise and Pansy, who were very eager to share some of Draco’s most embarrassing moments with you. Little did you know, these two had an ulterior motive.

–

“So, Y/N, huh?” Pansy prompts, glancing up at Draco with an act of nonchalance.

Blaise smirks, catching the tinge of pink that appeared on his friend’s cheeks. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Pans, and she doesn’t either. You and Blaise need to shut it and stop poking your ugly heads into this.”

“Alright, alright. But just so you know, she likes you too,” Blaise replies, before striding to the staircase and heading up to his room.

Pansy nods, “She does, but I have no idea why… You’re utterly unlikeable!” she finishes with a cackle, and practically sprints to the girls dormitories, where she knows the blond boy can’t touch her.

And so, Draco was left all alone with his thoughts and a pounding heart, at 10pm in the Slytherin common room.

—

The upcoming week was Hogsmeade week. Draco and you had made plans to get some extra quills and ingredients you were missing for the latest potions assignment.

“So, how many first years did you scare today?” you greet him with a giggle, “Do I have any 11 year olds I need to comfort?”

Draco scowled, but his eyes crinkled, belying his happiness at seeing you. “Yeah right, it’s their own fault for standing in huge groups in the middle of the corridors. You think it’d kill them to walk on their own.”

You laugh openly, loud enough for a few scattered students to turn and look. And Draco can’t blame them, because he knows just as well how easily you catch the eye. 

After making all the necessary stops, you spot an adorable new pop-up near Madam Puddifoot’s.

“Oh my GOD. A Build-A-Bear Workshop!” you squealed, and Draco makes a show of cringing and plugging in his ears.

You roll your eyes, smiling. “I haven’t made one of these in years. We absolutely HAVE to try it.”

Draco stops plugging his ears and his expression develops into one of horror. “No. No way in hell am I doing that. I have a reputation, Y/N. You are out of your min–”

You yank on his sleeve, pulling him along, not paying attention to a word of his rant.

“OW! How are you this strong, midget?! Fine!” the boy finally complies begrudgingly.

An hour later, the two of you exit the shop, you having made a bear with platinum blond fur and a slytherin uniform. Whenever you pressed its stomach, the bear would squeal out “do you know who I am?!” sending you into bouts of laughter at its resemblance to your friend.

Draco did not find this nearly as amusing as you did, but he was quite proud of his own bear. A brown one modelled after his favourite quidditch player. 

“Admit it! You had lots of fun in there,” you confront, as you spot him fixing the collar of his bear’s robes.

The boy shakes his head, and immediately gives his stuffie to you, “yeah, if I were three years old… now you carry it. I can’t be seen carrying a stuffed bear.”

You roll your eyes, but gladly take the plush. It smells just like Draco.

—

Before you know it, February sneaks up on the Hogwarts students. You start spotting floating hearts and angels everywhere, courtesy of the professors.

However, you had yet to receive a single Valentine, which you found quite bizarre. Not that you were overly confident, but you had always received at least a few in past years. You decided not to dwell on it, however, not when the NEWTs were approaching.

Little did you know, several Valentines had been trying to make their way to you, but each had been stopped on their journey by a certain Slytherin boy. Whenever he spotted one with your name on it zipping along in the halls, he simply hexed it, and it would disintegrate. He also glared at anyone who looked at you, lower years and upper years alike. Eventually, people gave up; there was no use trying to compete with Draco Malfoy.

—

Then on the very last day of the week, February 14th itself, you were working on a potions project, when your partner suddenly walked in.

Draco looked nervous, almost. At least as close to nervous as you’d ever seen the Slytherin prince get… but then he pulled out a little velvet box with a satin ribbon on it, motioning for you to open it.

“Now, don’t make this weird, okay? I just saw this in the store and thought you’d like it,” he mumbles, lowering his head. 

Carefully, you undid the ribbon and opened the box. Inside, there was an absolutely adorable necklace with a tiny silver bear. Your face lit up, and you hugged the tall boy. “It’s perfect,” you exclaimed.

Draco was absolutely flabbergasted, but he awkwardly returned the hug, patting your hair. “Want me to put it on?” 

After he clasped the necklace, he held your shoulders and turned you around to face him. Almost unconsciously, Draco began to smile. A genuine smile that made him look like a 17-year-old boy instead of his ice-cold persona.

You marvelled at how happiness transformed your boy’s face, and you stared up at him for a long time, long enough for Draco to tilt his head in curiosity.

“Is there something on my face?” he inquires.

You shake your head. “No. No, I just… you have a beautiful smile. I think you should do that more. Smile, I mean,” you stumble over your words.

Draco chuckles, as a blush spreads over his face, painting his pale complexion. He leans in again, but instead of a hug this time, he quickly pecks your forehead. “Maybe. No promises though,” he whispers.

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[cassiopeiasdaughter]

To not leave Draco Malfoy out of this celebration, maybe an angsty fic with the prompt “Don’t leave me”?

Draco Malfoy x fem!reader

A/N:I've always wanted to write something in this format, thank you for the inspiration and the request 🤍 Draco Malfoy masterlist & celebrate my academic hardships

Warning: mentions of war and everything related to it

The five times Draco Malfoy needed you away from him and the one he was desperate to keep you close.

First Year; you found him with Hermione, you were both looking for Nevilles toad, asking around the students if they’d seen one.

He gave you a snobby look ,as you entered the room he was in, taking in your form. After introducing himself to you two and learning you were both Muggleborn he said “Leave us, we haven’t seen a toad.”, snickering with his friends- and driving you mad with the need to hex his pointy face out of the window.

Third Year; your interactions as the years went on, had gone from a quick sneer at the hallways, to insults and yelling after quidditch practice- and especially games- specifically the ones where he lost.

That wouldn’t happen that day, though, because Draco was determined to win. He had been practicing for this game for weeks, exhausting himself in the quidditch field.

The image of him rubbing it in your annoying face that he had won and you had lost, was the only motivation he needed.

He was confident, so confident that before the game he walked up to you, way too cocky and said “Good day to lose, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know Malfoy, you tell me.”,you replied smirking 

This was usual for you, teasing and taunting before matches. That, turned into a silent challenge between you two.

Who could fly the fastest? Who could impress the crowd more? You fueled eachother; your relationship was an endless competition. 

And secretly you both loved it.

In the midst of the game, he found you alone looking over the field, deeply focused on the game.

He doesn’t understand what frivolous thought resulted in him flying up to you; just for a few seconds, he said to himself.

“Go away, Malfoy, I am trying to focus.”

“Save yourself some trouble, maybe relax your forehead before you get wrinkles, and accept your defeat.”, he said with a smug face

“Stop buzzing around me like a fly, go spin around some more over there, will you?”, you said clearly annoyed and he laughed at that.

Before he could get the chance to reply, he noticed a strange movement behind you. He wrinked his eyes, trying to get a better look and realized it was a bludger coming straight to you- and you the complete idiot you were, were staring at the opposite direction.

He supposes there are many other things he could have done that day. He could just warn you, scream at you even. He could fly away and mind his business- focus on winning the game.

But if the bludger hit you, who would he make fun of, then? 

That, and only that, is why, he flew infront of you, with the bludger hitting him in the ribs- causing him to fall several feet to the ground.

As he laid in complete darkness, with a piercing pain in his chest, he thought he heard screaming and then your voice; you were okay, he could rest now.

He woke up to the sound of whispers, and pages turning. The room smelled of clean sheets and he felt cold. He shivered and opened his eyes groaning.

“Sleeping beauty is awake.”, he heard Blaise and before he could open his mouth, he felt Pansy rush to his side, grabbing his hand.

“Are you completely mad?”, she asked furious “What were you thinking, you-”

“Let him be, Pans, you can scold him once he is out of here.”, Theo interrupted her “How are you feeling mate?”

“M’fine, I feel stiff- and thirsty.”, Draco replied slowly, batting his eyes- preventing them from closing again.

His three friends looked at eachother, as if speaking silently, plotting together-specifically something only he wasn’t supposed to know.. 

“What?” He asked annoyed “We lost. Is the team mad? Just say it.”, he said between groans- moving his body to stand a little straighter- look stronger.

“Uhhh-”, muttered Theo

“We’ll get you some water.”, interrupted Blaise

“The three of you? Where are you getting it from exactly, the Lake?”, he replied annoyed at his friends- and himself for getting himself into this mess.

Pansy groaned impatiently and rolled her eyes at him “You have a visitor, see you later.”

With that, she walked out of the room- followed by Blaise and Theo, both smiling at him, the first mischievously and the latter sympathetically- holding his book in his arms.

He groaned then and threw his head back- staring into the empty ceiling, that looked as depressing, as his actions. Honestly, what was he thinking? He blew everything up, wasted so many hours of work and practice; in just one single second-

“Hi.”, he heard your voice, soft and gentle. He couldn’t recall, the last time you looked at him, without a sneer or a scowl. With your mouth relaxed and your eyes gentle.

“No need to gloat, I am not in the mood, right now.” You scoff at that, “I came here to thank you, you impossible twat.”

He smirks, at your words, and how natural it feels to hear them from your mouth. He gives you a knowing look; slightly amused.

“Sorry.”, you mumble 

“Thank you for what you did there.”, you said and sat at the bed, next to his body, your hands almost touching.

“Uh- it’s not like I could have gone anywhere else.”

“You could have stayed still, it would have hit me, not you.”

“And you’d have fallen on me, we’d both end up here. Honestly, I did it to save myself from your voice, annoying me even here. It’s more peaceful this way.”

“Oh, Malfoy, shut up.”, you said trying not to look amused “We both know Pomfrey can’t stand your whining, I heard she’s considering resigning.”, you continued, fake whispering with a face that makes him laugh even now, remembering it.

He sees his friends enter, and quickly snaps back to reality. You are his competitor, the person he wants to show off to- they are his friends, the ones who want to see him do well, they care about him- not you.

And he cares about them, certainly not about you.

“You’re giving me a headache, go away, please.”, he said and noticed how your eyes saddened slowly.

Your face returned to its usual look, eyebrows raised, mouth slightly turned and hands crossed in front of you. 

“Ah- right, bye.”

And with that you left, leaving him with his best friends, who loved him and protected him from everything harmful.

But then again, why couldn’t he stop the throbbing in his head, every time he thought, of you leaving?

Fourth Year; he was perfect. His robes looked great on him, he knew the dances well- after all the training he had had through the years- and he’d gone with Pansy, who he trusted.

Then, why couldn’t he have fun? 

It was your presence surely- it drove him mad. You were dancing around with your friends- missing steps and then laughing at yourself. You were clumsy and graceless and laughed with your mouth open.

All the manners he had learnt to obey, were nowhere to be found when it came to you.

But then, why couldn’t he take his eyes off of you? 

“Excuse me for a moment, Pans.”, his mouth muttered despite his protests not to

His feet carried him to you, he begged them to stop- turn around and insult Potter or the Weasel, don’t go to her, not her. But they had a mind of their own and he cursed as he bumped into you.

You turned around and stared at him with a surprised look on your face “Malfoy.” ,you said confused and scanned his body with your eyes, your gaze lingering at his face before lightly shaking your head “Something wrong with your eyes?”

He didn’t answer though, not as he was taking in your form; your dress and how its color complimented you perfectly. Your hair loose, with strands falling across your face like a waterfall.

Your skin glowing as the colored light fell on it; making you look like you didn’t belong in this world, but in the fairytales he would read as a child.

He couldn’t breathe, maybe you’d thrown something in his drink- you’d love to ridicule him at the Ball, the whole school would talk about it- then again, maybe these thoughts had always been there, found shelter in a dark place in his mind he didn’t want to acknowledge. 

“Draco, are you alright?”, your voice worried then and his name falling from your lips felt like a spell shot directly at his chest.

“Ah-”, the sound of music cut him off and the image of his classmates pairing up and dancing, drove him to eventually ask “Dance with me?” 

And the moment you said yes and held his hands; a fire inside him started. It warmed parts of his soul that had never seen the sun, they were cold and dying, but your light healed them. 

Your moves were seamless and your hold was gentle. You let him guide you, with trust he secretly wished could last.

You could not help but giggle as he swirled you two around and the sound of your voice was contagious, the smile on your lips something he wanted to memorize.  

As the dance progressed you two moved closer; his hand was holding you tighter and your eyes were curious, as if you yearned for more.

And as your face tipped forward and your lips parted slowly- he felt a strange and unwanted force dragging him back to reality.

To his reality, the one filled with your differences and his friends and family. The reality that wasn’t the fairytale you two belonged in.

He pulled back, causing you to lose your balance slightly and almost fall on him. You looked betrayed and embarrassed, like a wounded animal showing trust, begging for help only to receive the opposite.

He didn’t say anything to you, as he exited the big room, and he didn’t acknowledge his friends who looked at him with a puzzled face. The only thing on his mind was how much he needed to get away from you.

Sixth year; the room was spinning. There were bandages all over his body and a sharp pain on his limbs. It was incredible how he had managed to end up in the infirmary again.

He remembered Potters face, filled with hatred and betrayal as he cast the unforgivable, directly at him. It brought him shame, how not even Potter could believe he would join the Death Eaters, it was low even for him.

He felt shame and fear, It’s not my fault he wanted to scream, I didn’t choose this, he needed to let everyone know- but he was too scared of everything that would follow.

Myrtles screams and cries were ringing in his ears “Please stop”, he whispered with his eyes closed- tears falling down his cheeks.

“Stop what?”, he heard your voice ask, hoarse as if you were crying and he cursed himself then.

His mind played cruel tricks on him. Not only did he see you in his dreams every night but now he could also hear you in his wake. He couldn’t protect you in his dreams; the Dark Lord used you against him- made him do things that he wouldn’t even imagine prior to this summer.

And after doing everything the Dark Lord asked of him, he would see you die in front of him.

His cries grew stronger, but a hand strongly closing on his stopped him. He tried to open his eyes and turn his head, “Does it hurt? Do you want me to call Pomfrey?”, you asked scared with swollen eyes and dark circles under them.

“No.” He whispered quietly and felt your grip on his hand and your thumb tracing the skin there.

Your eyes landed on the inside of his sleeve, where the Dark Mark still lies and you looked at him with sorrow in your eyes. “I am sorry.”, you said and let tears fall.

He wishes he could have been strong and push them away, but more than that he wishes he would had prevented them in the first place.

However, you were neither his lover or his friend, so he had no place wishing any of the two. 

“What are you doing here?”, he turned his head- staring at the cold empty ceiling, once again.

“I heard what happened, Draco-”, you stopped, didn’t know how to continued- what to say.

“Why are you here?” , his voice was angry now “I don’t need your pity, after all those years, how can you still not understand that? You are supposed to hate me.”

“Well I don’t. I-”, care about you, you almost confessed- but he couldn’t let you.

“Leave! Leave me alone.”, he said closing his eyes and forcefully removing his hand from your grasp.

And, sadly you did. But not for long.

You returned that same night, with books and notes in your arms and a look of determination on your face.

You placed everything on his nightstand and sat at the same place as earlier. 

“You have missed too many classes, you need to catch up. Come on.”

He stared at you confused and tired, so so tired of handling everything by himself, of protecting his family and everyone he loved. And he was so tired from convincing himself that lowering his walls and letting you in would result in his distraction. 

Because at that moment, the only thing that had managed to offer him relief from the ache in his chest was you.

“I am sorry.”, he said ashamed.

“It is fine.” You replied sincerely and then shook your head lightly “Charms, page 431, chapter 18.”

It shouldn’t have been this easy for him to fall in love with you. You helped him with schoolwork and then with adjusting to normality again. You teased him, like before, but the look on your face now and the gleam of your eyes were completely different. 

You would talk outside of class and quidditch practice. He would often meet you, to study together and talk about your days.

And the most important, at night, after proving his loyalty to the darkness he was forced into, he’d run to you. You would remain silent, on top of the astronomy tower, thinking about the future and the past; of all the actions and choices that led him up there, with you. 

“I am sorry.”, he said one night, turning his head to look at you

“What for?” ,you asked back     

“I don’t know, for being a jerk? For treating you terribly?”, he let out a deep sigh before continuing “For everything I guess.”

“We both treated echother shitty. We are fine now, aren’t we?”

“Yeah, I suppose we are.”

“Just.” You started “Be careful, with them, I know you say you have everything under control, but be careful.”

“Why- why do you care? You shouldn’t care.”, he said amused and annoyed by how you would open your heart for anyone to find shelter in, even him.

“Because I want to, that’s is why.”, you held his hand and turned your head to look at the stars in contrast to the night sky- lighting up the darkness.

June 30th 1997;he wished he hadn’t grown closer to you, that day. Dumbledore was dead, and the Death Eaters were coming, the castle was in danger and there was nothing he could do about it.

As he ran down the halls, begging his mind to focus and not panic at the madness around him, he kept wishing you were safe.

He found you, looking around scared- terrified. And as your gazes locked you ran into eachother.

“Go away! Leave!”, he said, but despite his words, his hold on you grew stronger.

“What about you, I can’t leave you.”, you shouted back

And he knew you meant that, but he couldn’t come with you, couldn’t put you in any more danger; that was his excuse for what he did next. 

His hand moved to your face and he grabbed you; smashing your lips on his. You kiss was filled with longing and years filled of your pushing and pulling. Your dance around eachother.

It was filled with his gratitude for you, for being the safety he longed for, while nothing in his life was safe or stable. He kissed you for being his friend, when he had to distance himself from his- to protect them.

But, he also kissed you, because if he were to die in the moments to follow, the selfish- twisted parts of him wanted to at least have known how you tasted, how your lips felts against his, and how your body would mould against his.

You parted, your lungs aching for oxygen and he said again, in a gentler voice “Leave.”

And you did.

May 2nd 1998; he is tired. He doesn’t know how long he has been running for, screaming; your name the only sound falling from his lips.

His vision is blurry from the dust, the building around him slowly collapsing; his home for the past seven years will soon be nothing but a ruin.

And the thought of you buried under it, stops his breathing as he picks up the pace and runs faster.

“Draco?”, he hears his name being called, the voice entirely familiar. 

He turns around and sees you, with your hands around your waist and ashes all over your face.

He doesn’t have to think twice to sprint to you, not caring who he bumps into or if a spell hits him right there in the chest- not if it means that the last thing he'll see is you, alive.

He crushes you in his arms and breathes in deep, your scent hovering over him and his hands around you, shielding you from the battle.

He wishes you two could stay like this forever, he should apparate you both somewhere far away from this hell, somewhere where he could protect you, keep you safe, and show you how much you mean to him, how much he lov-

The voice you let out, filled with pain and regret crushes all his dreams and he pulls back in an instant.

“Are you hurt? Where does it hurt?” He instructs and uncrosses your arms from your body, to reveal blood all over your clothes.

You give him a tired look and his scared eyes beg you to stay close to him, but your body is weak and you fall to the floor taking him with you.

He lifts your shirt carefully and gasps when he sees your wound, bloody and open, your body emptying, losing blood dangerously fast. 

“It’s okay.”, you whisper “It is going to be okay.” You smile weakly 

“No, no, no.”, he repeats unable to accept what’s happening.

His hands are stained with your blood, leaving your face crimson-red and sticky as he cradles it for dear life- as if his hold on you will keep you alive.

“Don’t leave me.”, he begs “Please.”,and he leans in your hand, caressing his cheek lovingly, as he cries.

Only when your touch loosens and your hand slips to the floor does he stop to let out a haunting scream.

I love you, he meant to say, “I love you.”, he says now, wishing you could hear it.

sorry for any mistakes; comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated 🩶

[lionizingheathen]

Precious- D.M

Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader

Draco finding release after a day in the office

Smut under the cut, hope you enjoy

Warnings: Smut, Pegging, Anal Fingering, Dom!Reader, Sub!Draco, Praise Kink, Petnames, Begging, Mommy Kink, Strapwarming, Spanking

The only sign you got from Draco that he was home was when he stepped out of the floo, shaking the powder off his arms with a soured expression on his face.  You didn’t pay him much mind, choosing instead to stay focused on your book.  If he was going to be as much of a bitch as his face suggested, you didn’t have the patience for it.“I need you to fuck me.”  You looked up from the book you’d been reading and set it aside, your interest piqued as you watched your boyfriend shrug off his cloak and set down his wand.  He looked stressed… maybe angry.  You could fix that. “Why?”  You asked, and he glared over at you.  Oh.  Angry, that was for sure.  You sat up the rest of the way before raising an eyebrow at him, as if asking him silently if he was sure he wanted to pull that attitude with you.  Last time he had he’d been stuck with a vibrator taped to his cock for two hours.

“Do you ever really need a reason?  It’s enough of an ego boost to you that I permit you to fuck me-.”  You stood up in a heartbeat, gripping under his chin to make him look down at you, pushing him back enough that he bumped up against the door of your flat.  He widened his eyes with surprise, gripping onto your wrist.  He knew better, you’d fucked most of the wanker right out of him when you’d started dating, but today seemed like it was a special case. “Watch your tone.  You’ll regret it if you don’t.”  You warned him, and his gaze softened as he loosened his hand after you dropped yours.  He fell into your arms, tucking his face into his neck as you walked the two of you back to sit down on the couch.  You ran your fingers through his hair, letting him breathe you in.  He lifted his head up for a moment, looking listless. “... Right.  It’s just been a rough day.”  He said, and you cupped his cheek softly, running your thumb over his cheekbone.

“Tell me.”  You said, keeping your tone gentle.  He let out a long sigh and tucked his head onto your shoulder, pulling his knees up to his chest, the same way he’d used to sit when he’d just gotten a bad grade when you two had still been in school.  It made your heart ache a bit, seeing him so distraught. “... They gave my promotion to Zabini.”  That solved that.  He’d been up for that promotion for a month, and it sounded like it was going to him the whole time, that’d be enough to upset anyone.  You sat up and pulled him into your arms, holding his face to your chest. “Oh, Dray… I’m sorry.”  You sighed, and he let out a huff against your chest, balling his hands into the fabric of your shirt. “I don’t want your pity, I want you to fuck me until I can’t walk right.”  He grumbled, and you smirked into the top of his hair.  God, he was always so hot when he got needy. “Really?” You shifted him so that he was facing you and pressed a lingering kiss to his lips, feeling him frantically reach out for your waist.  Angel.  “That’s what you want?” You asked, and he nodded eagerly, digging his fingers into your hips.

“That's all I’ve been thinking about.” He said, and you kissed him deeply, pushing him back on the couch as you tangled your fingers into his hair, tugging hard at the strands.  His moans were sweet against your lips as you felt cold fingers slide into the waistband of your sweatpants and into your panties, making rough circles on your clit.  Draco leaned his head back and groaned, sliding a finger inside you.  You couldn’t help grinding down on his hand when he hooked his finger, making you whimper.

“I can take care of you first… You’re really wet.”  He murmured, and you shook your head, gripping his wrist to pull his hand out.  This wasn’t about you, if he’d asked to fuck you, you would’ve let him, but he asked you to fuck him, and so that was what you were gonna do. “Strip down and go to the bedroom, okay? I’ll be right back.”  You insisted, pushing off of him.  You dug through a drawer in your bathroom cabinet before locating your harness.  It did take a moment, and even longer to switch out the toy on the end, and you knew Draco would be impatient by the time you were back in the room… but that was half the point.  As you were leaving the bathroom, you snagged a towel off the shelf and draped it over your arm.  Sure, you could clean up the bed with a charm, but you preferred to clean Draco off yourself.

“Are you always this slow?  Honestly, I could’ve fucked myself in the time that it took you to-.” “That mouth of yours is gonna get you in trouble, Dray.” You chuckled, tying your hair back in front of the mirror.  You watched behind you as he sighed and looked up at the ceiling, looking the farthest thing from apologetic.  That was the problem with dating a trust fund baby, they never learned how to have manners.“... Sorry.”  He said, and you chuckled.  Who would that have convinced?  He sounded less sorry than he ever had. “You’re not, but that’s okay.”  You turned to him, giving him a wicked sort of smile which he returned. “I hope you know that if we’re doing this, you’re taking the whole thing.”  This confused him as he sat up on his elbows, looking at you. “I always take the whole thing-.” You cut him off, shaking your head as you tightened the straps.  He had no idea what he was saying.

“No, babe.  I got a new one.” You said, and you saw his face drop at this, all cockiness he normally exuded gone in a heartbeat as he saw the new toy attached to your harness.  You smirked at him, walking closer… it was going to be a birthday gift, but he seemed like he could really use it right now. “... What?”  He asked quietly, and you hovered over him, kissing him deeply as you ran your hand down his abdomen and gripped his cock, feeling him moan into your mouth as he thrust into your hand… God, he was already so needy.  You pulled back and felt him kissing desperately down your chest to your tits, sucking a nipple between his teeth as he stared up at you.  You chuckled at his attempt to switch your focus and pushed him back down, sitting up. “Gonna stretch you out real nice, honey.”  You flipped him onto his stomach with ease, tapping his hip.  You watched his back flex as he tensed, anticipating.  It was beautiful to see, but not what you needed.  You needed him to work with you.  “Ass up.”  You said, and he got up onto his hands and his knees, the pace of his breathing increasing as he heard you mumble an incantation and felt the lube on his hole. “Wait, I don’t know if I can take that-.”  You cut him off by sliding two fingers into his ass, making him gasp as you scissored them inside of him, stretching him out.  You pressed your body against his back, reaching around with your free hand to grip his cock again, jerking it in time to your thrusts while you listened to him moan. “Shhh, mommy’s getting you all prepped, love.” You murmured, kissing the shell of his ear before biting down on the lobe.  You straightened back up after that, letting go of his cock in favor of increasing the pace of your fingers. “Shit…” He whined, falling from his palms to his forearms.  You looked up and smirked into the mirror at the foot of your bed, smirked at the way that this man, so powerful and prestigious to the outside world, was in your bedroom waiting to take your strap.  It was dizzying. “You’re taking my fingers so fucking well…”  You murmured, and Draco’s head fell onto his forearms, groaning as you slid another finger into his tight ass.  He always took them so well, making it look so easy to be fucked.  You smirked at this thought, smirked at what a whore Draco Lucius Malfoy really was. “More… Please…”  He whined, and you nodded.  He was ready, he could take this whole thing without a problem… and you were looking forward to hearing him scream while he did, that was always the best part.

“So polite.”  You slid your fingers out of him, making him whine with frustration before you lined up your cock with his hole, resting a hand on the small of his back as you guided the tip in, watching his head jerk up.  “You love feeling full, don’t you?”  You asked, and as he was about to answer you thrust the strap in the rest of the way, bottoming out in one movement.  You watched in the mirror as his eyes rolled back and his mouth dropped open as he shuddered against you, pressing back to see if there was anymore… Fuck, he was so good. “Yes mommy, I love your fucking cock!”  He cried, and you let out a laugh.  There was no way your neighbors hadn’t heard him screaming.  They never met your eyes when you went outside, you knew there was a reason behind it, and you were fine with their reactions. “You’re such a whore, Dray…”  Your whore. “The whole neighborhood knows it too.”  They did.  They had to.  He’d never been good at being quiet. “Good… want ‘em to.”  He whimpered, and you practically glowed at this.  God, he was always good at making you feel good… and in turn, you made him feel amazing. “That’s it, babe.”  You leaned down and bit his shoulder.  He looked delicious. “You were made to take mommy’s cock, weren’t you?”  You asked, and he groaned as you bottomed out deep inside of him again, pausing there before pulling all the way out and thrusting in again, probably wiping his mind clean.  Not an excuse to ignore a question that you had so politely asked. “Fuck…” He didn’t answer your question, so you delivered one hard slap on his ass, knocking him forward and causing him to cry out.  Don’t be such a fucking baby.  He could take so much more, he was just always a pussy. “I asked you a question.  Answer it.”  You snapped, and he was apologetic in his answer, frowning slightly as he tried to get the words out.  Cute. “Yes mommy!”

“You love being my cocksleeve, don’t you?”  You asked, and he nodded frantically, fucking his hips back into you.  God, he’s always such a fucking whore. “Yes!” “No one would believe me if I told them you begged for this… My own personal whore, hm?” You groaned, sitting up on your knees as you gripped his hips, slamming into him quicker now, making him whine.  He looked immaculate, his face buried in the blankets and his fingers scratching at any parts of the bed he could find. “Yes mommy.”  You smiled at this, scratching your nails down his back, making him groan.  You wanted to mark him in some way, but you couldn’t leave any more on his neck, his boss had sent a letter home about it… so this would have to do. “Good boy… you love this shit, don’t you?” You ripped his head up, using the back of his hair like a handle.  “I asked you a fucking question, answer me!”  He nodded frantically, biting his lip. “I love it mommy, I love it!  Harder!”  He begged, and you let out a dark laugh, but obliged.  He wasn’t going to be able to walk, but that was what he’d asked for -begged for, more accurately-. “You’re gonna be so fucking sore tomorrow, babe.” You kissed down his spine, biting at his ribs. “You’ll be thinking of me all day.”  You reminded him, and he didn’t respond for a moment, just for a moment. “Already do…” “Look in the mirror.”  You rolled your eyes at the way that he moved.  So lazy.  “I said look.”  He did then, and you saw the hint of a smile in the corners of his mouth.

“You look so pretty…”  God.  

“Mmm, you do too… So good like this, getting all fucked out.”  His whines got higher as you continued to thrust into him, increasing the force behind each one.  You picked his head up by his hair, looking at his face in the mirror.  Honestly, it was almost enough to make you cum untouched, seeing his furrowed brows, dropped open mouth, and flushed cheeks as he moaned your name.  “Close?  Yeah?” You sat up on your knees, bringing him with you as you wrapped one hand tight around his throat and brought the other down, jerking his cock as quickly as you could. You saw his thighs begin to tremble after a few moments of this brutal treatment and dropped him back on the bed, pressing his face into the mattress.  You loved using him like this, something in you sang when you reminded him of his place. “Cum for me then.”  You snapped, and it was almost like flicking a switch, you saw every muscle in his back tense as he gripped hard on the sheets. “‘M cumming mommy!  Fuck!” He cried, shaking as he ground his hips down onto the mattress, no doubt covering your blankets and his stomach with cum as he shook.  You continued to pound into him, holding his face against the mattress until his arms gave out, at which point you carefully shifted to the side and cast a cleaning charm on the bed.  You grabbed the towel from it’s place a little higher on the bed and gently cleaned up Draco’s stomach and cock before laying beside him, pressing soft kisses across the expanse of his shoulders.  Such a sweet boy. “You need to watch your fucking mouth when you do that, baby…”  You murmured into his ear, and he let out a tired chuckle, scooting closer to you.  You placed a hand on his back, wanting to ease the toy out of him before he fell asleep, but he brought a hesitant hand back to your wrist. “Can you… can you keep it in?”  He mumbled, and you raised an eyebrow, but complied, wrapping an arm around his waist before pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Of course, love.  Whatever you want.”

[multific]

Deepest Desire

Draco Malfoy x Reader

Summary: You and Draco had an argument when he joined Umbridge. You despised the woman and you couldn't believe your boyfriend was standing right beside her. After your break up, Draco cannot help but miss you.

His deepest desire, the one he longed for the most.

You.

He saw you everywhere, in everything.

Last night, he found a mirror. The mirror showed him, you.

You stood there, smiling at him as he smiled at you. 

He remembers his mother telling him the story of a mirror which shows your deepest desire.

This was it.

The mirror and in it, you and him, happy.

He knew it was all a dream. Nothing more than a fantasy.

You didn't love him, you didn't even like him. And why would you?

When he joined Umbridge, you two got into a huge argument. Draco didn't understand what your problem was.

And you didn't tell him.

The two of you broke up and ever since, never spoke.

Truth was that every time you saw or heard the name Umbridge, a chill ran down your spine. You had a very bad feeling about the woman.

Especially after she punished you one day, you stayed up a bit longer to study for an exam in the library and she caught you.

In her eyes, you weren't studying but rather either plotting or lying so she had you write with that awful pen of hers.

You were just one amongst the many. 

And you didn't even have Draco to go to. Ever since your break up, you never spoke again, there were days when all you wanted to do was to run into his arms and tell him how you were feeling, what happened and you wanted to listen to his day. Let him tell you how he's doing. You wanted that. You needed that. 

One evening, you were roaming the hallways. You couldn't care anymore of the pain on your hand, you cared more about the one in your heart and how much you missed Draco.

You opened a door to a room, finding Draco standing in front of a mirror. One you did recognize.

You wondered what he saw in it. You silently closed the door behind yourself before moving a little closer.

Draco was with the mirror again.

This time, seeing you in a white dress, dancing with him on your wedding. His parents were there, happy for the two of you, as you just moved so freely with him. You looked eternal in his eyes.

Then he heard a noise which made him snap out of the mirror and turn to his right to see you standing there.

The real you.

"What do you see?" you asked. "I usually see my mother, but after a while, it did change. I'll tell you what I see if you tell me yours." you said.

"I don't see anything." you let out a sigh, of course, he would be difficult.

"I used to see my mother, but after we started talking and became friends during the second year, I started to see you." you didn't look away from his eyes. And in them, you saw the truth. Something you were always proud of is how easily you could read him. "I understand why you do the things you do. I understand your parents have a big part in this, Draco. I truly do. But Umbridge, I don't get. The woman tortures us."

"Not if you are on her side."

"I rather die than be on her side."

"What about my side then? What about the things you told me? That you love me and we would stick together."

"And we did. But not Umbridge. Not the woman who made me torture myself."

"She did, what? Show me your hand!" he wanted to grab your arm, but you were faster.

"It doesn't matter, Draco. What matters is that you are pushing me away, I'm not stupid. You did all this so you can revenge Potter and also to push me away. Because of your father and Voldemort! I'm not stupid." you whispered the last part and it obviously caught him off guard. "I need to know Draco, I need to know if I should hold on and hope for a future with you. What do you see in the mirror?" he was looking down at the floor. Contemplating so many things for a while.

"I see you. I see us, a wedding, a life together. But if I keep you close, he will use you against me. And I will not have my mistake be the death of you." you took a step towards him as he did towards you, and soon he held you close. Keeping you there as you slowly started to sway from side to side.

"I will keep low. I know this thing will bubble over in a couple years. But you have to tell me things. I want a future with you, Draco." as you moved you saw your reflection and this time, there was no dream behind it. It was just as you two were in that moment.

Holding each other with the promise of a future. 

You felt his hold tighten around you. And for now, that is all you needed. 

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~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

DO NOT STEAL, PLAGIARIZE, REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS  

[happyyyandcrazyyy]

liquid dreams (draco malfoy x reader)

summary: (y/n) is gone and if the only way for draco to see her is through dreams, so be it

or

“grief is the price we pay for loving.”

warnings: it’s written in non-chronological order, draco is really going through it, grieving process, mentions of blood (not detailed)

(if there’s any more warnings you think i should add let me know!)

a/n: i’m usually one to write fluff, but i wanted to write something more personal, more raw. this one was a roller coaster to write. hope you enjoy it!

i. five months and twelve days after the accident

Draco opens his eyes in panic, breathing labored and loud. He’s scared and confused, and he would be downright spiraling into an anxiety attack if this wasn’t such a common occurrence.

(The first night it’d happened he found himself unable to breath. He’d desperately stumbled out of bed, the haziness of sleep making everything distorted and disorienting. He’d hit his knee against the door, he’d bled on the white tiles of their bathroom floor. He’d spent two hours in the shower that night, fully clothed. The coldness of the water hadn’t been enough to soothe the burning heartbreak that gnaw on his soul, but it’d been enough to anchor him back.)

It takes him a moment to realize he’s frozen mid-action, one of his hands reaching forward and his fingers slightly curved, as if they’d been grasping something.

No. Not something. Someone.

Suddenly everything comes back, jumbled pieces of a half-remembered dream.

Her smile, the small crinkle by her eyes, the warmth of her skin under his fingertips.

Draco chokes out a gasp.

He can’t breathe. He can’t breathe. He can’t breathe.

In desperation he reaches for his own throat and grips it tightly, just firmly enough to feel the thumping of his blood under his palm. The unsteady pulse tethers him to reality, reminds him that he’s still alive, helps him settle enough for air to fill his lungs.

He chokes out a gasp, coughs roughly.

Instinctively, almost as an afterthought, Draco reaches for her side of the bed only to immediately reel his hand back when he’s met with cold, unused sheets. It’s been months and he still doesn’t dare to sleep on her side, still keeps everything of hers untouched— her blue toothbrush by the sink, her favorite slippers, the book she left on the coffee table. He knows preserving her things won't bring her back, he does it anyways.

Draco sighs and the sound reverberates, taunts him. It’s a reminder that he’s all alone, a reminder that a room once filled with soft snores and gentle laughter is now quiet enough for him to hear the pounding of his own heart, a reminder that over the last couple of months everything around him has been slowly filling itself with grief and sadness and pain and regret.

No wonder Draco can’t sleep, he’s suffocating.

He presses the heels of his hands to his eyes, hard enough to have dotted spots of light fill his vision, firmly enough to keep the tears at bay. If he concentrates, he can still see the outline of the face he’d been dreaming about.

(Her, her, her. Always her.)

Once his heart settles and he can breathe properly, Draco reaches for the little vial by the bed. It’s already half empty. Without a second thought Draco downs the remaining liquid before tossing the glass aside, ignoring the way it smashes against the floor. He forces himself to lay still, wills his eyes to remain shut. He lulls himself back to sleep, lets the potion bring him under.

(It does not matter that waking up will feel like his soul is being carved out and his heart ripped out of his chest, that he cannot handle coming back to a reality where she’s gone. If dreams are the only place he can be with her, he’ll dream.)

The last thing he remembers before losing consciousness is turning to his side and hugging himself close; a poor attempt at replicating the safety her arms once provided.

ii. two weeks and six days after the accident

Narcissa Malfoy arrives through Floo Network on a Saturday morning. She turns up without a warning, completely uninvited, and makes herself at home. Draco reckons it’s partially his fault, after leaving the magical world he’d been the one that had insisted they connect their home to the Floo Network, for precaution. He’d never shared their location with his parents, but he isn’t surprised his mother had been able to easily locate him. She is a Malfoy, thoroughly resourceful.

She doesn’t hug him, neither does she make any attempt to offer words of condolences. Draco wasn’t expecting them, they’re Malfoys, after all; kind touches are scarce, gentle words even more so, but it still stings, like alcohol burning over a wrongly healed scab. His mother gives him a dismissive look, one that has Draco shrinking into himself.

“This is unacceptable,” is the first thing she says, voice as firm as the last time they spoke to each other, almost eight years ago. Draco can’t help the way he flinches. He doesn’t know if she’s talking about the state he’s in— because he's in disarray, hasn’t showered in three days, hasn’t changed clothes in even longer— or the mess around the house.

She steps closer, scrunches her nose and looks him over with something akin to disgust, then clicks her tongue in distaste.

“Go shower.”

Draco finds his feet moving before he can even process the instruction.

(It’s rattling, having her here after not seeing her for years. It’s also frightening how quickly he goes back to obeying her every order.)

As he showers Draco tries to shake himself out of the whirlwind of emotions that his mother’s presence has unleashed. It’s hard to do so when his mind feels as if it’s been split in half; one part mourning the loss of his wife and the other still expecting her to come home. He’s struggling to grasp his reality, trying to ignore the ever-growing emptiness in his chest. Draco closes his eyes and sighs deeply, he lets the cold water numb his skin, lets it steel him just enough to face his mother.

He thinks he’s handling himself better when he walks into the kitchen— new clothes on his skin and hair still wet —but then he catches his mother’s house-elf reaching for (Y/N)’s dirty wine glass, the one she left half empty when she walked out that night, and Draco loses it.

It’s been years since he’s used magic, but it’s instinctive the way he reaches for his wand. (He never did get rid of the habit of carrying it with him everywhere.) He points it at the creature, hand shaking, but voice surprisingly stern, “Do not touch her things.”

His vision blackens at the corners, blood rushing through his ears. He can’t let them erase the traces of her in their home. He can’t. He can't. Not right now, not when he sees pieces of her everywhere, not when his heart has an open wound that keeps on bleeding and Draco hopes he could just wake up from this hellish nightmare and go back to a place where she's still here, where she's still alive.  

“Now, don’t be childish, Draco.” It isn’t until his mother speaks that he realizes that he’s been mumbling under his breath, loud enough for her to hear. His vision clears, the hazy feeling in his brain diminishes. He blinks back into reality, catches a glimpse of his mother’s impassive face from the corner of his eye, realizes the house-elf has backed away from the glass and is now bowing to him, limbs trembling in fear and nose almost touching the floor.

He lowers the wand slowly, almost mechanically, as he turns to his mother.

“You will not touch her things.”

She clicks her tongue. The sound makes him flinch away— because it always came before a slap in the wrist, or his ear being pulled tight — but he somehow manages to hold his ground, wand still held tightly, fingers becoming numb.

“You’re living in a dumpster, look at all the mess,” she gestures around the room with revulsion.  Draco can’t see anything but residue of love around the house. It’s everywhere, in the doodled notes left on the fridge and the bottle of wine they never got to finish. He won’t let them take that away from him, take her away from him. Not yet. Not with his heart is still bleeding and missing and yearning.

“No touching,” he repeats himself. His voice doesn’t waver in the slightest, it sounds steadier than he feels, and there must be something in his semblance because his mother relents.

It’s with distaste that she spits out, “Fine, have it your way,” and sends the house-elf back home.

She doesn’t leave, however. She takes over the kitchen, the smell of sugar and cinnamon filling the air— and that’s how Draco knows she’s truly stressed, because his mother only ever bakes when she feels as if she’s losing control of the situation at hand and money can’t fix it. Draco swallows down the pastries when they’re placed in front of him and he’s given a pointed look. (He pretends they aren’t insipid; pretends they don’t feel like ash going down his throat. He doesn’t tell his mother that his appetite is mostly gone, that eating feels like an arduous task, that these days he throws up just about anything he eats. He doesn’t have the energy to do so, he reckons she wouldn’t care, anyways.)

Draco chews and chews and chews until it becomes a mechanical habit and then he disconnects his brain. He ignores the way the buttery, sweet smell that lingers around the house reminds him of the apple pie (Y/N) used to bake, he blinks away the tears when a little voice in the back of his head reminds him that he won’t ever get to taste it again.

His mother lingers in the background— just like she’d done when he’d been a child and she’d wanted to see how much he’d progressed on his French after a two-hour tutoring session, ready to make vile comments about his accent and his grammar —and Draco can’t do anything without hearing an offhanded mumble about how pathetic he’s being. Her lingering used to petrify him, it made him want to be perfect for her, but now it just irks him. Draco wants to yell at her to leave him the fuck alone, but his anger is feeble, and grief smothers the fire before it turns into rage. The words remain stuck at the back of his throat.

Sometimes, when the sorrow eases and Draco is lucid enough to pay attention, he catches the glimpses of annoyance in his mother’s eyes. He knows that the only reason she’s here is to play damage control, to make sure he doesn’t derail too far and tarnish their last name even further. (The reputation of the Malfoy family had taken a hard hit after the Second Wizarding War when his father had been declared guilty and sent to Azkaban. It’d only worsened when Draco failed to fulfill his responsibilities of stepping up as patriarch in his father’s absence, instead deciding to elope and disappear to the muggle world.) Draco also knows that his mother wishes for simple solutions, she expects to place a bandaid over his ruptured soul and have him immediately snap back to his younger self. That won’t ever happen— Draco won’t ever go back to who he used to be before meeting his wife, before discovering love and warmth and safety —and her slowly rising frustration is a sign that she’s beginning to realize that.

In the end it’s his inability to get out of bed that gets her to snap.

“I’ve had enough.”

Draco blinks up at her.

Today is a bad day, the kind of day where breathing hurts and the feeling of his heart pumping is just a reminder that he’s alive and she’s not, the kind of day where he feels as if he’s underwater and slowly drowning.

He sees her mouth moving, hears the distorted words she’s saying, but can’t engage. It’s like he’s watching her through a screen, witnessing a scene far removed from him.

“I’m done letting you play your childish games. I’ve been lenient enough.” Her irritation is palpable, but Draco can’t process it.

He’s sinking and sinking and sinking.

“Get up.”

Why is she yelling?

“Get up, Draco.”

He can’t.

“Unbelievable.” And now she’s grabbing the end of the sheets and pulling them off the bed. Draco can’t bring himself to care. He can’t bring himself to even lift a finger. It angers her. He might be slipping away, but he sees it in the way her mouth tightens into an ugly sneer. Instinctively, he prepares himself for the harshness that always accompanies that look.

“She was just a silly little girl, Draco.”

The words cut sharply through the water and the grief and the pain. Suddenly Draco isn’t sinking anymore, suddenly it’s like he’s been zapped with an electrical wire. The numbness is pushed to the back of his mind and replaced with something darker, something ugly.

His mother doesn’t stop there.

“I thought letting you have your fun would be enough. I thought you would grow tired of her.” And now his brain is functioning properly and the words are making sense and Draco can’t help the way his brows pull up in confusion. His mother notices, of course she does, and she lets out a mocking laugh, one that has Draco’s blood turning cold.

“What? You think you ran away and got married behind our backs?” she scoffs, arms crossing over her chest. “I knew all along, child. I let you run around and play out your foolish little fantasy of love. See how that turned out.”

Draco can’t breathe. There's pressure in his chest, tightening and contracting. Anger begins to ignite; it goes from a fleck to a small flame.

“It’s over, Draco. You’re coming home.”

He shakes his head, manages to find the strength to sit up. It’s the first time he’s moved in hours and his muscles protest.

“I am home.”

That makes her snort, a mixture of disgust and insulting laughter.

“This place?” His mother looks around in disgust. “This isn’t your home.”

She clicks her tongue.

“And that dumb girl? She’s dead,” she scoffs and under her breath adds, “and thank Salazar for that, all that mudblood ever did was stain our name.”

Anger takes over, the flame becomes a blazing inferno, scorching everything around, it runs hot through his veins until all that is left is unrestrained, seething rage. It’s the first time it’s burning enough to destroy.

And Salazar does Draco want to consume everything around him.

“Never talk about my wife that way again.”

The words come out strong for a voice that hasn’t been used in hours.

He doesn’t know when he moves but now he’s towering over her and his hands are shaking by his side.

Silly little girl.

Mudblood.

To dare use those words to describe the love of his life, someone who could light up a room with a single smile and could fix all troubles with a few kind words, makes Draco enraged.

Draco looks at his mother and he just wants her to hurt.

“You don’t know the first thing about love, so who are you to come preach about it, mother.” He spits the words with disgust, uses a tone he knows will sting.

He’s never talked back to her, ever, and her shock is evident in the way she gapes at him with disbelief.

“I won’t have you speaking to me in such—”

“Get the fuck out.”

Draco has never cursed at her before. He’s never interrupted her, either. His mother looks like she’s been slapped, like she doesn’t recognize the person standing in front of her.

“Draco—”

“Out.”

She looks him over one last time, something akin to disappointment in her eyes, before jutting her chin and slamming the door on her way out.

With a sigh, Draco walks back to bed and curls into himself. It doesn’t take long for the anger to evaporate and for him to slip back into despair, to sink and sink and drown.

Numb. Numb. Numb.

Hours, or maybe just minutes, later she comes back. Her tone has been schooled back into the indifferent one Draco is more than accustomed to. She tells him that she’s leaving because of his father, that ever since being released from Azkaban he hasn’t been coping well and she must return home to ensure his health. Draco doesn’t call her out on her bullshit, doesn’t even turn around to face her, he just hums.

Numb. Numb. Numb.

His mother doesn’t come back.

iii. five days after the accident

It feels like floating through a dream, everything hazy and limbs lethargic. He goes through the motions out of pure muscle memory, mind disconnected and hidden somewhere far away. It’s like an outer body experience, as if he's watching himself move and talk without having any true control over it. He hurts so deeply, and the pain is so raw that Draco pushes it away and stores it in a dark place in the corner of his mind, a place where it can’t kill him. He takes all other emotions, too, until nothing but numbness is left behind.

Reality doesn’t seem real, because how can the world keep moving and the sun rising and the birds chirping if she’s gone. How can his heart keep beating if hers doesn’t?

The muggles at work worry about him, even with his mind clouded by grief he can tell. Mrs. Bailey, the kind older lady for who he works by serving tables and mopping floors, hugs him tightly when he walks into the cafe shop less than a week after the accident. She doesn’t say a thing about him missing work, but rather pulls him close, shushing him gently and running a hand through his hair. It's a motherly act Draco is unfamiliar with. Her eyes show so much sympathy, but Draco doesn’t let himself think too much about that because that might end up causing him to spiral, and he won't allow himself to slip (he can't let himself slip, last time he slipped he spent hours in the bathroom floor, pulling at his hair to try to ground himself back to reality, biting down on his lip and bleeding).

Her hug should provide some sort of comfort, but Draco can't feel a thing. That should make him sad, and maybe it does, but all emotions are muted, and he doesn't even try to understand them.

His coworkers are also gentle with him, so much so that if he were in his right mind Draco would find it annoying, but he allows it because he feels as if a single wrong touch might break him apart beyond repair.

They try to reach out to him, too, but Draco finds himself hiding away at home, rejecting every offer to hang out or keep him company. He wishes to be alone— even when the loneliness sometimes claws up his throat and suffocates him —so he can wallow in the waves of sorrow and let them pull him under.

Draco wants to hurt, he thinks, because at least then he’s feeling something.

He floats away in dreams of despair and struggles to find a will to live, sometimes he’s not even capable of picking himself up from bed, and the only reason he doesn’t starve is because Mrs. Bailey drops him leftovers every night.

Draco is so unbelievably grateful for her, even if he doesn’t verbalize it, even if he just nods and offers him a half smile and closes the door in her face. He hopes she knows.

iv. two months and four days after the accident

Draco wouldn’t say he has withdrawn into himself, Pansy thinks otherwise. She never says so— she wouldn’t, she’s been unbelievingly gentle with him the last couple of months, far kinder than Draco ever thought her capable of being — but Draco overheard her talking to Blaise, tone filled with worry.

And Draco, well, he’s dealing as best as he can. It’s just hard to function properly when the sadness never settles and instead becomes stronger, grips his heart and squeezes at the most unexpected moments. Some days are good, and other days he’s drowning and sinking and choking on grief, always halfway through a nervous breakdown. Those days he can’t leave his bed, he can’t even eat, breathing and moving become the most painful tasks. Draco will admit he has become more quiet, more absent, but withdrawn feels like going too far.

In the past, he would've argued with Pansy that he hasn't withdrawn into himself, that he's alright, that he's managing as much as he can. In the past, he would've petulantly argued that she just doesn’t get it, explained that everything hurts and maybe— if ever under the influence of Firewhisky —might’ve even confessed that he feels as if sadness has its clutches so deep into his heart that the wound is slowly getting infected, admitted that he’s scared it will never heal. But this isn’t the past and Draco is nothing but the broken pieces of who he used to be, so he doesn’t open his mouth. He doesn’t argue, doesn’t call her out for speaking about him behind his back, doesn't even try to contradict her.

Existing is tiring and Draco just doesn’t have the energy to spare.

Pansy watches him with something akin to pity and fear, like she can see how he's fading and is scared he'll disappear if she looks away. (Draco doesn't blame her. Some days it does feel as if he could vanish, as if his body could fade into nothingness, as if his mind could give in into despair and anger and just never return. Part of him had hoped time would soothe the emptiness in his heart, but it’d been like applying salve on an open wound. Time hadn’t done a fucking thing.)

And it’s just because he doesn’t have any fight left in him that Draco lets Pansy be— he allows her to coddle him, he eats as much as he can muster when she begs and drinks the tea she prepares before leaving at night.  It’s the only reason he’s here right now, back in wizarding London and walking at a stagnating pace through Diagon Alley, because Pansy said fresh air and a change of scenery would do him good and Draco just didn’t have it in him to argue.

He tugs at the hood of the cloak he’s wearing— it’s an old one of his, one Pansy found buried in the depths of his closet, one that fits awkwardly and smells musty but does a good enough job at concealing his distinguishing silver hair— and follows closely behind her.

It’s weird, he thinks to himself, being back in the wizarding world after many years spent in muggle London. He can’t deny that there’s a sense of familiarity at seeing and feeling the magic around, a warm tugging in his chest— probably his own dormant magic, one that hasn’t been used for far too long, responding to the energy around him —but there’s also an underlying sense of unsettledness.

He’d promised (Y/N) to return to the magic world once tension lessened and things sorted themselves out. They were meant to walk these streets together. Draco walks them all alone.

Something twists uncomfortably in his chest. He’s grown accustomed to the pain, so he pushes it down and allows Pansy to grab the hem of the cloak and pull him into a shop.

The smell hits him first, it's a mixture of wet parchment and mint with a hint of licorice. Surrounding him are what feels like a thousand objects— some small, some larger —but all unrecognizable to Draco. It's uncomfortable to see with his own eyes how the magical world has kept on evolving, even after they left. It's even more unbearable that his first reaction is to turn around to meet (Y/N)'s eyes, only to find his side empty. It leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, one that intertwines itself with melancholy and agony.

Draco distracts himself by looking around. Pansy follows him around for a while, and after realizing that he won't suddenly burst out into tears and collapse (which Draco can't blame her for believing as it has happened before) she leaves him to buy whatever she came here for.

It's as he's mindlessly looking through the stands, fingers flickering uninterested through small parchment pieces that transcribe whatever is mumbled to them, that Draco sees them; small vials, no bigger than his thumb, containing a blueish substance. There's a tag sticking to the lid. Draco moves closer, turns the paper around gently and is met with neatly written, italicized words.

He skips over the first few words, eyes drawn to the last few sentences.

"Our amazing liquid formula lets you control your dreams so you can visualize any event that has happened in the past with vivid detail. Imagine being able to wake up feeling like you just spent the night with your childhood best friend who moved away 10 years ago, or a loved one who has passed away. All it takes is a few drops before bed and voilà! You chose the memory, and we do the rest.  The opportunities are endless with our state-of-the-art formula that helps you unlock the past and immerse yourself in memories like never before. Make sure to..."

Liquid Dreams, they call it.

Draco buys a few vials before he's even done reading the tag.

v. two months and three weeks after the accident

Draco stares at the little vial, unblinking. Somewhere out in the living room there's an old clock, the type they don't really fabricate anymore, antique, made of old deep wood and with its classic curvy shape. It's quiet enough that Draco can hear it ticking all the way to the master bedroom.  

Tick. Tock.

The vial remains where it was placed by Draco when he bought it almost three weeks ago, contents untouched. It mocks him, an unwanted reminder that he could see her again if he wasn’t such a coward.

Tick. Tock.

He steps closer, reaching out for the glass, before hesitating and backing away, resuming his pacing around the room. The sole of his foot hits the wooden ground soundlessly, the lack of noise makes him feel all the more alone.

Tick. Tock.

Draco chews on his lower lip, makes it bleed. All he wants is within his reach, but he's so fucking scared. Because what happens if he sees (Y/N), or the memory of her, and it does nothing to soothe the burning in his heart. He'd be doomed then, destined to walk the rest of his life with a bleeding wound in his soul, destined to dance with grief until his feet ache and blister and his body just gives up and he dies, too. Draco’s heart wouldn’t survive that.

Tick. Tock.

But then again, a little voice chimes at the back of his head, it can’t get worse than this. It can’t get worse than days that blur into one another, than the way he loses control of his mind, fog condensing in his head, and he blinks awake only to find himself in a place he can’t remember walking to. It can’t get worse than coming back home to an empty house, a cold bed, to solitude, with his heart feeling so heavy it weights him down. It definitely cannot get worse than it is because he’s already missing her with his every breath, with every beat of his heart.

Tick. Tock.

It comes from somewhere within him, the sudden impulse, a surge of energy that has him moving forward to undo the lid. He tips the blue substance back, swallows it down in one go before he can second guess himself. No going back now. In the rush, Draco forgets to think of a specific moment.

Tick. Tock.

The taste is strange, indescribable: sweet and bitter all at once. Draco can feel the liquid burning as it goes down, it leaves an aftertaste that lingers heavily in his mouth. It tastes weirdly artificial, like someone tried hard to make it taste like fruits and flowers but failed, he can feel it at the back of his throat. The effect of the potion is almost instantaneous, the abruptness hitting Draco strongly and making him stumble into the side of his bed.

Tick.

He tries to fight the exhaustion, but it’s like his eyelids are trying to shut themselves together. Draco can do nothing but give in to sleep, let himself be swept under.

Tock.

When he opens his eyes, he isn’t lying in bed anymore. The sun shines brightly in the sky, it makes him squint and look away. He recognizes the smell immediately, salty and musky, like seaweed and sunscreen. Draco knows where he is— the beach near Sussex to which they apparated once they left the Wizarding World all those years ago —and he knows exactly who is behind him. With his heart beating so hard it’s almost painful, Draco turns around to be greeted with a smile he knows too well, one he could paint with his eyes closed.

(Y/N).

Her eyes crinkle with mirth. Something within Draco deflates. It feels as if, for the first time since the accident, he can finally breathe.

When he wakes up in the morning, Draco tells himself he'll be careful with the potion, won't abuse it. But he finds himself chugging down the blue liquid every night, buys a box of Liquid Dreams and keeps the vials hidden under his bed.

Anything to see her one more time.

vi. six months and a day after the accident

Draco could choose any memory, he knows that, and sometimes he does. He picks the first time they kissed (under the snow during a trip to Hogsmeade), he revisits their arrival to the beach near Sussex (because she’d never seen the beach before, had never felt the sand under her toes, and Draco basks on the feeling of her happiness), he relieves their short honeymoon (the dinner under the moonlight, the wandering hands, the stolen kisses, the feeling of her breath against his cheek and her skin pressed right against his). Most of the times, however, he brings himself back to that night. It isn’t intentional, it happens when he doesn’t focus hard enough on a memory, almost as if his mind wishes to torture him further. Because it is torture, going back to their last moments together— to the last time he ever saw her alive —without the blissful ignorance of what’s to come.

On nights like that he wakes with his heart ready to leap out his chest, sometimes halfway through a panic attack, tears cascading down his cheeks, and then he lays awake for the rest of the night, pulling himself together piece by piece, stitching the metaphorical laceration on his heart with deep breaths, before forcing himself to go through the motions, get through the day.

The sadness never disappears, it follows him like a shadow on the sunniest of days. Sometimes it seems to grow smaller— or maybe Draco gets used to its looming presence, it’s darkness —and it gives space to anger, which settles between his ribs and climbs all the way up to his throat and burns. Sometimes it feels as if the rage will seep out of his pores, tainting him. He’s angry at everything, at the world, at her, at himself. Waking up every morning to a reality in which she’s gone makes the anger increase by a tenfold, it’s so so fucking painful, but at night, when he sees her and feels her and holds her— even if it’s just in memories and dreams —the feeling mellows and that’s why he must return to her, must drink the cloudy blue potion every night, because if he doesn’t he knows the mixture of grief and rage and resentment will consume him.  

It isn’t a problem, it really isn’t— so what if he sometimes wakes up in the middle of the night screaming for her to stay, what if sometimes he wishes he could stay in his dreams to keep on holding her close, what if coming back to reality just makes the whole in his heart deeper, that’s no one’s business but his own. That is, until he starts seeing her outside the dreams.

It begins with shadows, the outline of her body. Draco blinks once, twice, and then it’s gone.

“Malfoy? You good?”

He meets his coworker’s eyes. Mark is young, barely twenty, started working in the restaurant only a couple of months ago. He wasn’t here when Draco lost (Y/N), didn’t get to see the way he broke down and pieced himself back together, didn’t experience the gentleness and leniency with which they all treated him, but he seems to be acutely aware that something happened because he’s soft with him too.

“What?”

Mark cocks his head to the side, eyebrows furrowing, “You look like you saw a ghost.”

Draco thinks he might’ve. He decides to blame it on the lack of proper sleep.

“I’m fine.”

But he’s not fine, because he keeps seeing her. It becomes more recurrent as time goes on, and (Y/N)’s ghost goes from being a just dark shape to taking full on corporeal form. He can even see the little freckles on her skin.

It’s concerning.

Draco knows she’s not real, not really, just the remnants of a memory, a side effect of drinking Liquid Dreams every night when the wizarding company that produces the potion suggests a maximum of two vials per week.

He should stop.

He doesn’t.

He can’t.

He keeps on tipping the vial back, drinking the liquid, making a grimace at the flavor. He keeps being a spectator from within his own body, keeps going back to that night.

It's the only way to be with her.

It always starts the same way, the smell of garlic and oregano in the air, the soft jazz tune playing in the radio. Draco finds himself moving without his own permission, the glass of wine he holds in his hand guiding itself towards his mouth. He's long learned that the experience is gentler for his mind, and overall better, if he doesn't fight it. It's useless, anyhow, he can't change what already happened, he's just reliving his memories.

"Merlin, that smells so good," his voice sound foreign to his ears. He reaches forward to hug (Y/N) from behind, swaying her to the beat of the song and humming the last notes against her skin. She smiles and tips her head back a little, enough to allow him to place a chaste kiss to her neck. Draco's heart tightens at the ease in which they move around one another, the familiarity of her body pressed to his own.

"It's your favorite," she responds gently, moving the wooden spoon with which she's mixing the sauce towards him, tipping it back so he can taste it. It's thick and buttery, rich and only slightly sweet, just like he likes it.  

Draco groans playfully, presses his forehead to the crook of her neck.

"I'm the luckiest man."

"And don't you forget it," she teases, moving aside to let him take over. She steals the glass of wine from his hand and moves away giggling when Draco makes a poor attempt at following after her. She drinks the remaining alcohol, sticking her tongue out at him.

He feels his throat close up, melancholy settling deep within his bones. He tries to memorize the curve of her smile, the sound of her laughter. Draco wishes he could change what comes next, wishes he could instead rush forward and capture her lips in a kiss, make her stay with him. He can't, because that’s not what he did that night. Instead, he rolls his eyes, soft laughter falling from his lips. It’s ironic how he’s laughing in his memory, but slowly dying inside as he forces himself to live this moment over and over again.

From the corner of his eye, Draco watches as (Y/N) refills the glass, taking a small sip. He cleans up some pieces of onion, listening as (Y/N) sings softly to herself, the cadence of her voice is smooth, it flows and mixes effortlessly with the one coming from the radio. Draco could hear her sing forever. There's a light patter of rain against the window as he preheats the oven, so he closes the window to prevent any water from slipping in.

It's a slow night, a Saturday night, the type of nights in which they'll cook together and drink a bit, and then some more, and dance drunkenly around the kitchen only to end up in their bedroom, discarding their clothes and rediscovering each other's bodies.  

It should've ended that way.

It won't.

Don't say it. Don't say it.

"Hey, love, where did you put the mozzarella? Can't find it on the fridge."

There's a small, soft, "Oh, shit," in the background. Her singing stops. The rain becomes heavier.

"Forgot to buy it," she replies, already moving for the keys to their small car.

It's alright, he wants to scream out, we don't need it. Stay. I'll cook something else. Don't leave.

What falls out of his mouth instead is, "My forgetful little one."

Please stay. Please.

She scrunches her nose up, just the way she always does when he calls her by that nickname. Draco always thought it made her look cute. Now it only makes him want to cry. She crosses the room, presses a quick kiss to his lips.

"I'll be back soon."

He's yelling inside his own head, can feel the dread settling somewhere in his stomach.

Please don't leave.

Don't go.

Stay.

Stay.

"Be safe," he calls out. He rages within himself, desperate to do something different, say something different.

I love you, and it feels like his throat is going raw with how loud he's crying out. He tries to open his mouth, to move, to do anything, but it's futile.

Because that night, (Y/N) walks out the door, and Draco doesn't tell her he loves her one last time.

vii. seven years, three months and two days before the accident

Draco falls in love quick and hard, and once he realizes it, he's in too deep. He doesn't know how it happens, he just knows that one day he looks at (Y/N)— watches the way snowflakes fall on her hair, slowly painting it white, and how she looks up the sky as if it's her first time ever seeing the snow, smile so bright it makes something in Draco's chest tighten —and he thinks to himself yeah, fuck, I would spend the rest of my life by her side.

(And Draco can't pinpoint where along the line he fell in love, but he knows precisely why. It's all in the way her laugh floats around the air and settles somewhere within his heart, the sound soft and comforting, and how her eyes become gentle when they set on him, like she can see through him and wishes to take away anything that could cause him harm. It's the soft caresses of his hair, the delicate kisses to his forehead, the way in which her hand subconsciously searches for his. It's in the way that (Y/N) sees all parts of him, including the dark and ugly, the sides of himself that he's ashamed of, and she doesn't flinch away in disgust, but rather pulls him closer. It's the way she loves, so effortlessly, and the way she teaches Draco how to be better every day, a better human, a better friend, a better lover.)

Falling in love is not something he ever planned on doing, the last thing Draco wanted was to drag someone into the mess that was his life, but by the time he has half a mind to think about stopping it, his heart has already crawled out of its place deep within his chest and has settled in (Y/N)'s hand, where it's being tenderly held and thoroughly cherished. It might just be the worse time to be thinking of love— because, despite what the Ministry of Magic insists on, the Dark Lord is back, and the unmistakable mark that contrasts his father's pale skin has never been darker, and there's people with masks coming and going around the Manor, and slowly the pressure on Draco's shoulders is piling and piling and piling and he's beginning to feel like he can't breathe— or maybe it's just the right time. After all, (Y/N) is like a breath of fresh air, like warm, soothing hands on his blemished soul. Draco feels weightless when he's around her, like all his troubles are unimportant and nothing in the world matters but the two of them. He feels at peace, like he can finally rest.

She becomes his best friend, his confidant, and so much more. Draco loves her, can't think of a life without her, wants to keep her safe, wants to be with her.

Maybe that's the reason why a couple of years later, when the Second Wizarding War comes to an end and they're holding each other close after the Battle of Hogwarts, skin torn open, wounds still oozing blood, muscles aching, but both of them undeniably still alive, that Draco cups her face between his hands and whispers against her lips, "Let's start a new life, you and I."

They do.

They leave a shattered Wizarding World behind. They escape the clutches of Draco's family. They abandon magic.

It's the beginning of the happiest eight years of Draco's life. It's also the beginning of the end.

Years down the line, a bottle of Firewhisky in hand and alcohol running through his veins, Draco will wonder if he should've kept quiet, if they should've stayed instead. They would not have been together, his family would've never allowed the union between a Malfoy and a muggleborn, but at lease she would still be alive.

viii. the accident

(Y/N) dies on a Saturday. Her favorite day of the week.

Draco is waiting for her, fingers working steadily to knead the dough for their dinner. She hasn't been gone long, maybe half an hour, but in that time, he's changed the radio station from soft jazz to something more pop. He knows she'll bicker about the music when she's back, will pout and definitely win that battle— because if there's one thing Draco is weak for, it's her —but for now Draco enjoys the bubblegum boyband music that's playing.

Outside, the rain has grown stronger, and the wind howls, creating a low whistling noise that resonates around the kitchen.

The landline phone rings, and Draco's already halfway through teasing her about forgetting her keys and the umbrella— something along the lines that the only reason she doesn't lose her head is because it's permanently attached to her body —when he picks up the phone.

"I'll come out to get you, but you'll owe me a kiss." He's already gripping the umbrella by the handle.

"Uh, I'm sorry, is this the Malfoy residency?"

The grin falls off his face immediately. The voice on the other side is deep and gruff, muffled by the static and the rain. Draco doesn't recognize it.

"Who is this?"

There is no gut feeling, no intuition to tell him there might be something wrong. It doesn't sink in that this has to be about (Y/N) until the voice starts talking again.

The man introduces himself, but Draco forgets the name by the time he's done hearing it.

"Sir, there's been an accident. Your wife..."

It's like Draco's heart falls to the bottom of his stomach.

The umbrella drops to the floor, a loud thud resonating around the room.

He can't breathe.

The man keeps going, his voice getting increasingly shaky as he keeps on explaining the situation, and Draco catches only pieces of what he's saying.

The rain.

A crash.

Dead on impact.

He really can't breathe.

For a second there's nothing but silence in his mind, stillness, and then there's everything all at once. Draco goes from being unable to hear his own breathing to being hyperaware of his surroundings. He can hear the static of the radio behind him, the light buzzing of the electricity in the bulb above his heads, the sizzling of the sauce, the pain on his feet where the umbrella landed before rolling to the floor, the ticking of the old clock (Y/N) bought. He suddenly can't control his body, can't control how he backs away slowly, tugging at the phone's cord— is he moving slowly? He thinks he is, he can't tell, everything around him is distorted— can't help it when his knees weaken beneath him and his hands tremble.

He grips the counter to steady himself.

He wheezes, tries to bring some oxygen into his lungs.

This can't be happening. This cannot be happening.

He saw her less than forty minutes ago. She was going to the store to get cheese. What do you mean dead on impact? What do you mean she's gone. She can't be. She'll be walking through the door any minute now, soaked because she forgot her umbrella. She'll pout about the pop music and Draco will begrudgingly agree to playing more jazz and they'll dance around the kitchen as they wait for dinner to be ready. She's not dead. She cannot be dead. They had survived a war, she cannot be dead.

"I'm sorry, sir." The words are garbled, but somehow, despite his distress, Draco manages to make sense of them.

"I, uh—"

"There's an officer here who wishes to speak with you, sir."

There's shuffling. Draco closes his eyes, presses his forehead against the cool counter. Merlin, this cannot be happening. This has to be a nightmare; this can't be real. It doesn't feel real.

"Am I speaking with Mr. Malfoy."

Draco hates to be called that; it reminds his too much of his father. His voice is soft, and it breaks when he responds, "Yes."

The policeman must hear it because his tone becomes slightly gentler, but no less formal. "I'm sorry to ask this of you, sir, but we need you to identify the body."

The body. Not (Y/N). The body. Draco clenches his jaw hard enough for it to hurt.

He doesn't mean to do it, but he's struggling to tether himself to reality and the officer is awaiting a response, talking to him so softly it's making him dizzy, so Draco does what he knows how to do best; he slips the Malfoy mask on, places it tight enough that it won't fall down and then tightens it further to prevent any cracks.

The mask stays on longer than he intends it to. He wears it to sleep that night, wakes up with it in the morning. It accompanies him to the morgue, loosens a little around the edges when he's forced to make the identification, but stays on otherwise. It keeps him from feeling anything, from facing reality, from breaking down in front of complete strangers who are already looking at him with so much pity. It doesn't really slip off until the funeral, when Draco watches her be lowered into the ground.

She's gone.

Something within him snaps, breaks beyond repair. The mask shatters against the ground.

He cries for the first time that day and it feels as if he never stops crying afterwards.

ix. eight months and eighteen days after the accident

He's doing groceries when it happens. From the corner of his eye, he can see the shape of (Y/N), always lingering, present ever since the day Draco saw her outside of the dreams for the first time. It's eerie. Draco hasn't grown accustomed to it— to her? He doesn't think he ever will. It's one thing to see her in his memories, within his dreams, because he knows she isn't real. It becomes more difficult to discern reality from dreaming when he constantly sees her in real life. (He tries reaching out to touch her once, recently woken up and still a little sluggish with sleepiness. His hand meets nothing but air. Draco jerks his hand back, runs to the bathroom to be sick.)

A part of him, at the beginning, thought that having her around with him every moment of the day would lessen the heavy weight around his chest, evaporate the remains of grief, but this isn't her, just a ghost of his wife.

Draco's so focused on ignoring the hallucination— its blank, emotionless face, the eyes that follow him around —and trying to manage the raging headache he's had since he woke up, that it takes him a while to notice the tapping on his shoulder. It's only when it becomes insistent that he turns around.

"I'm sorry to bother you, but you're bleeding."

For a moment the words don't make sense. Then, Draco feels the sticky substance running down his cupid's bow. His fingers come back red when he reaches to touch it.

The woman, small and old, offers him a blue handkerchief with a kind smile, "Take care, kid. It's been oddly warm these days."

Draco knows the nosebleed isn't in any way related to the heat, but he nods and thanks her anyways.

She lets him keep the handkerchief, "It was my late husband's. I have a feeling you'll be needing it more than I will", and over the next couple of days Draco uses it more often than he would like to admit.

It only gets worse from there. Nausea, vomiting, body tremors.

Draco knows it's the potion, but he can't bring himself to stop. He must see her. He keeps on tipping his head back and chugging the misty liquid.

Most days he wakes up exhausted, the bags under his eyes no longer disguisable. He's irritable, he snaps at the smallest of things. Mrs. Bailey tells him to take some days off, the concern evident in her eyes. It just angers him. He's alright. More than alright. He gets to see his dead wife every night, he keeps her alive. He's fine.

But then he isn't because his body begins to slowly shut down. He starts feeling feverish, fog condenses his head. He lays in bed and time becomes a foreign concept. He's sweating, hot and cold at the same time, it's like he's boiling from the inside and can't escape it. He sees (Y/N), standing at the corner. Is this a dream? Everything sways around him, the world tilts. He can't talk, can't move. He falls unconscious. But not before reaching for the little glass vial and its addicting blue contents.

He blinks awake to the dream.

It's always the same. Garlic. Oregano. Jazz music in the radio. A glass of almost finished wine in his hand.

"Merlin, that smells so good."

He hugs her from behind, sways her to the beat of the song. She twists around in his arms.

She twists around in his arms?

"We need to talk."

It's her voice, Draco would recognize it anywhere, soft and velvety. But she never said those words. She couldn't have said those words. Draco has relieved this memory seventy-three times, he knows.

She steps away, takes his hand, and the scenery around them swiftly changes. The background becomes distorted, it melts down and reconstructs itself. It makes Draco dizzy, the sudden change from dimmed lights and rainy weather to a bright sunny day. They're at the beach near Sussex.

This has never happened before. This shouldn't be happening. Draco opens his mouth, tries to swallow down the bright panic flaring in his chest, and finds out he can speak. This isn't a memory anymore.

"How are you—? You shouldn't be—" He stops himself, looks around. The beach is just as he remembers it, the air is hot, but the breeze is cool. It smells like seaweed and fish. In his memory (Y/N) is smiling. She isn't smiling now, just studying him carefully. "You're dead."

Draco has never said those words out loud before. The pain in his chest, the one that hasn't settled since the accident, burns and then becomes lighter.

"I am," she confirms. She doesn't sound sad, it's almost as if she's just stating facts. The sky is blue and (Y/N) is dead.

When he remains frozen, mind still going haywire, so she takes him by the hand and tugs him along. They walk closer to the ocean. Her hand is warm against his.

"How is this happening?"

She looks back at him, offers a gentle smile, and Draco knows his wife well enough that he recognizes the look in her eyes. You already know. It all clicks in his head. He focuses on the water, realizes that the waves aren't moving as they should, notices that the image is slightly deformed and misshaped. His mind is creating all of his, everything around him is becoming blurry because he never walked close to the shore. (Y/N) figure remains sharp and clear because her image is safely stored in Draco's mind.

"You're not you," he whispers to himself.

She stops dead in her track, turns around to meet his gaze. There's a smile tugging at the corner of her lips, as if she knows something he doesn't.

"Aren't I?"

"This is all happening inside my head. It's a dream."

"That does not mean it's not real."

She sits on the ground, not caring about the sand staining her clothes, and it's such a (Y/N) thing to do that Draco's heartstrings tighten and a part of his mind can't believe it isn't her. She pats the ground and he sits beside her.

They remain quiet for some time. (Y/N) plays with the sand, picking it between her fingers before allowing the breeze to take it away. She gives him time to gather his thoughts, and there's so much Draco want to say. So much. But it's like the words are stuck at the back of his throat and he can't manage to spit them out.

She speaks first, keeps on picking up sand and letting it go.

"You're killing yourself," her tone is soft, but there's a certain harshness in her words. It isn't at all what Draco was expecting to hear.

"What?"

(Y/N) turns to meet his gaze, eyes firm, "You're drinking the potion every night, are you not? You're getting headaches, nausea, nosebleeds. You're seeing me outside the memories."

Draco could lie, but she would see right through him.

"I am."

She nods absentmindedly, like he's just confirming what she already knows. Her gaze leaves his face and sets on the horizon.

"You'll die." There's a slight tremor to her voice, the kind she used to get when she was a few words away from crying.

"Is that so bad?"

She snaps her head back to him, tears on the corner of his eyes. "Don't say that," and her words are tainted with a rigidness he isn't accustomed to.

Her tone should unsettle him, but Draco pushes, "I would get to be with you, wouldn't I?"

She shakes her head. "There's so much left for you to live, Draco. So much."

Draco is the one to look away now, he tries to reign in the anger. She doesn't understand because she's the one that left, she's not the one that has to deal with the ever-growing emptiness and sadness and grief. Draco is the one that stayed. He's the one that was left all alone to cope, to try to find ways to live without her. He's the one that feels her absence, every day with every breath.

"What's the point if you're not around to live it with me."

He looks back just in time to see her eyes soften around the edges. She looks sad now, apologetic.

(Y/N) reaches for his hand and Draco lets her take it.

"Then live it for the both of us. Live it for me."

Just like that Draco deflates, he focuses on the circles her thumb rubs against the back of his palm.

"I just miss you," he confesses, "so so much. You wouldn't understand."

Her grip tightens.

"I know."

"I just want to be with you."

"I know, I know." There's a heaviness in her features, a twinge of pain in the corner of her lips and between her brows. Draco, for a moment, wonders if he's wearing a matching expression, if they both carry the hollowness in their hearts. "I'm sorry I left you." She comes closer, cradles his face the same way Draco did when he suggested they run away all those years ago. He wants to tell her she doesn't need to apologize, that it isn't her fault, but her words soothe some sort of internal ache. "I'm sorry about all the things that could've been but won't ever be." His throat constricts. He thinks about all the things they promised each other (to grow old together, to start a family), doesn't notice the tears falling down his cheeks until she wipes them away. (Y/N) presses her forehead against him, whispers the words against his lips, "I'm so sorry, my love."

Draco shatters, grips her wrists to anchor himself. The sobs that leave his mouth are muffled, quiet, but he knows (Y/N) hears them by the way her hold on his face becomes firmer. She hums, a soft jazz song, the one that was playing the night she died, and lets him cry to his heart's content.

It isn't until he quiets down, sobs becoming hiccups, that she pulls away. She lets her eyes trail over his face, brushes her thumbs against his cheeks and pulls a strand of hair out of his face. Her eyes are sad as she mumbles, "Trapping yourself in our memories and living off the past isn't going to bring me back."

Draco knows. He knows. But he can't bear the idea of never seeing her again, of never holding her, of never hearing her voice.

"I need more time with you."

She smiles softly, "We got eight years of nothing but happiness, my love. That's much more than what many lovers get."

"A lifetime by your side wouldn't have been enough."

It's true. Draco could've lived a thousand lives with her, and it would've never been enough. His soul craved her with an intensity that was almost overwhelming. No amount of time would've been enough.

"I love you." He needs to say it, needs her to hear the words coming from his own lips. "I didn't get to say it that day, when you left, but I do. I love you so much."

"I know."

Draco blinks up at (Y/N), finds her already staring back. In that moment, there's nothing but her.

"Draco, baby, you could've never uttered those words to me again, and I would've known. I felt it in every touch and every look. It was all around us. I know you love me, and you know just how much I love you too."

And Draco does know. Love is raw and primal; it leaves an indelible mark one must carry forever. Love builds and it shatters, it heals and burns. Draco presses his forehead against her collarbone and sighs, people leave, and they die, but their love stays. He loves her, will always love her, and she loves him too, even in death.

The dream begins to melt, to fold into itself. The colors blend together. (Y/N) begins to pull away and Draco panics, grips her a little tight.

"Please stay with me."

There's desperation in his tone, anguish.

(Y/N) comes back close, softly presses her lips against his. "I'm always with you," she whispers as she back away. "Here," she taps right above his heart, the place where her name is branded on his skin, "and here," she presses her finger to his temple.

Everything disintegrates.

When he comes back to himself it's due to a sound. He tries to open his eyes, but they feel too heavy, so it takes him a while to gather enough strength to do so. His tongue is heavy on his mouth, dry. The sweat is making his clothes stick to his skin. Draco feels like he could throw up at any moment.

He thinks of (Y/N).

I'm always with you.

The sound persists in the background. At first it appears to come from far away, it's muted and dull, as if he's hearing it from under water, but it becomes clearer as the haze slowly disappears from his mind. It takes Draco some time to recognize it; someone is pounding on the door.

He would move to open it if he could regain control of his limbs.

It appears like his presence isn't even needed because after a thunderous bang— which Draco somehow recognizes as his door being broken down —the pounding stops. Draco should be worried, someone is inside his house, he can hear the footsteps approaching, but he can't bring himself to care.

I'm always with you.

Blaise walks into his room, eyes frantic and unfocused.

They settle on him and there's a flash of anger before it twists into something more worried, something closer to panic. He looks like he just stumbled across a corpse.

Blaise's eyes dart around the room and Draco can tell the moment he notices the small glass vials that he never bothered to clean up because Blaise's face tightens, "You idiot."

And he's upset, Draco knows he is, can hear it in his voice, but Blaise is still walking forward and kneeling by the side of his bed. He's upset, but his eyes hold on so much concern.

"What have you done?"

The words are whispered, Blaise presses the back of his hand to Draco's forehead, ever so gentle, and Draco can't help it, he catches a peek of (Y/N)'s ghost looming over Blaise's shoulder, smiling softly at him before softly shattering and disappearing, and the tears begin to fall. He's still a little out of it, a little feverish, still thinking of his dream.

I'm always with you.

Draco clenches his fists. He doesn't feel the nails digging into his skin, deeper and deeper, until Blaise places his hands over his own and softly coaxes them open, "It's okay. You're okay."

Blood flows freely down his palm. It doesn't even sting. Nothing can ache more than his heart.

Draco shakes his head. Nothing is okay, it hasn't been okay since the day she died.

Blaise sighs softly, "I know."

Draco doesn't know if he muttered the words or if his best friend can read his mind.

"I just miss her," it comes out watery and weak, but Draco doesn't even care. He's breaking, falling, shattering.

He sees the way Blaise swallows hard, closes his eyes and looks up to the ceiling, breathing hard. "I know you do, but this..." He gestures at the tiny glass vials that lay empty by the foot of his bed, before setting his eyes back on him. "Draco..."

"Don't." He begs, because he can feel the anger beginning to simmer, buried underneath the steam of illness and confusion, but Blaise has always been one to speak his mind, ruthlessly so, and so he presses on.

"You're hurting yourself."

You're killing yourself, her voice echoes in his brain. You'll die.

"Leave it alone."

"I can't," Blaise stresses, tightening his grip on Draco's wrist. The words don't surprise Draco, Blaise has always been a fixer, unable to let go once he figures out a problem and has effectively resolved it, but they do anger him. "For Salazar's sake. Liquid Dreams, Draco? Really? Have you've got any idea how harmful the potion can be if ingested on the daily."

He does know, he does, he's seen the effects, has felt them on his body. His limbs shiver, his heart is racing, his skin shuffles between being unbearably hot to freezing cold. He might've ignored the warning tag on every vial, but Draco knows. He just didn't care.

"I just want to see her."

I just want to be with you.

A lifetime by your side wouldn't have been enough.

I'm always with you.

He presses the back of his hand against his eyes, tries to mute the resonating voices in his head.  

"No," Blaise responds, "You're trying to keep her alive." Draco's breath comes to a sudden halt, eyes opening and focusing on Blaise, fire burning beneath them. Blaise doesn't shy away, doesn't even flinch. He's always been bluntly honest. Draco has never hated that quality more than he does know. His final words come out soft, "You can't. She's gone."

You're dead.

I am.

He doesn't know if it's the fever or the potion, but his next words come out manic, rushed, erratic.

"She isn't! Not when I drink the vials. Not when I see her every night."

Blaise's gaze softens. There's pain in his eyes.

"You've got to let her go."

Trapping yourself in our memories and living off the past isn't going to bring me back.

"You don't understand, Blaise." Now he's shouting, feelings jumbling within his chest and words tumbling out his mouth. He's confused and scared and hurt and sad and angry, and it comes out in the way of a sharp tone that cuts like a knife, "You couldn't even begin to comprehend what I'm feeling, what my life has been like for the last months."

Blaise remains impassive, but his features harden. Draco catches the brief flare of annoyance in his eyes.

"My sister died in the war, Malfoy." His words come back with the same razor-sharp edge Draco used. "So did my father, in case you forgot."

Draco breathes heavily, guilt pools at the bottom of his stomach.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles, and Blaise doesn't say anything back, but Draco knows he's forgiven by the way his friend's shoulders relax. For all his tough exterior, Blaise has never been able to hold onto anger. Draco wishes he could be like that.

They stay quiet for a while, time that feels like an eternity.

It's Blaise who breaks the silence. "I know it hurts, and I know you miss her, but you're keeping her hostage in your dreams and you're holding onto the pain."

Draco exhales shakily.

"That's not going to bring her back."

"I know," he whispers, tears slowly filling his eyes once more. Trapping yourself in our memories and living off the past isn't going to bring me back, he hears being mumbled by his ear. "Fuck, I know."

He looks up at Blaise and by the way his friend briefly looks away Draco knows he must look absolutely shattered.

"How do I let her go, Blaise, when it feels like my soul was ripped in half?"

Blaise swallows hard. There are tears by the corner of his eyes, too, "You let yourself hurt, you let yourself feel."

Live it for me.

I'm always with you.

"I'm sorry I left you alone, Draco. I thought you wanted to... I don't know, process privately. I'm sorry I wasn't here."

Draco shakes his head. "Don't be," he closes his eyes with a sigh, "When I felt myself slipping, I should've said something." But it's difficult to do so, to reach out, when you feel so alone and alienated, and Blaise must know, must understand, because when Draco opens his eyes, Blaise is also shaking his head.

"And I should've noticed before," he responds, and Draco knows he isn't just talking about the grief, but also about Draco's borderline addiction to the potion. "You are my best friend, after all."

They stare at each other for a split second before Blaise sighs and looks away, "We'll talk about it later. Let's just focus on getting your fever down."

Draco has known Blaise long enough to understand what goes unsaid. Don't worry, I'm here now, I've got you, you're going to be okay.

And Draco isn't okay, not even close, but this feels like a step in the right direction. He feels lighter. His heart aches, but it's manageable. For the first time in months, Draco doesn't feel the overwhelming itch to go back to his memories.

x. two years after the accident

For the longest time Draco thought he would die without her, and maybe a part of him does. But as he stands in front of her grave, a bouquet of heliotropes on his hand, he thinks that maybe that's okay. The last year has taught him how to let go of the hurt, let go of the part of him that isn't really him anymore, and instead hold onto her, onto their love.

It never stops hurting, there's always a lingering, dull pain in his heart, but Draco learns how to live with it. He thinks that's okay, too. The pain is a reminder that he loved and was loved. Love hurts because it's everlasting, because it never truly goes away. Grief is the price we pay for loving. That's okay, he reckons, it's a small price.

Draco presses his hand to the headstone, squats down to place the flowers on the floor, closes his eyes and allows himself to feel. Healing isn't linear, he's learned, and it's okay to sometimes feel a sorrow so deep it pierces and reopens the wound in his soul, as long as he can release the sadness and the pain, as long as he swims with it but doesn't allow himself to drown.

Having Blaise and Pansy around helps and Draco is more than unbelievably grateful for his support system. (For Blaise, who helps him through the days of withdrawal, who opens up his house to him, who helps him look for a grief counselor. For Pansy, who teaches him how to paint with oil, and how to pour his feelings into blank pieces of parchment instead of bottling them up.) He learns that he's not alone, never was. He learns how to lean on someone else when he needs help.

It takes time, but he slowly regains parts of him he thought had shatter beyond repair. He cooks pizza for his friends, he drives to work, he listens to slow jazz songs and thunderstorms without the urgent desire to break down. He wears his wedding band around his neck.

He heals. Slowly, but surely.

Draco learns that the memories he shared with her will always be there, for him to think back upon, but they are not meant for him to live within.

[sunnylands-world]

Deep in your skin

Pairing: Draco x fem reader

Summary: nothing but pure smut there's no plot

Word count: 215

Warnings: p in v, of course you digging your nails in Draco's back, overstimulation, dirty talk

A/n:anddddd…I wrote something for it

|18+ content ahead|

It had been going on for hours. The bed could break with how hard and deeply his hips slammed into yours. The loud wet noise from your pussy and moans filled his room, your eyes glossy with tears from overstimulation. "Oh fuck that's it right there" he mumbles as your nails find there way in his skin, a scream leaving you as he found a place you didn't know you had. He hissed as you clawed at his pale skin most likely leaving marks that would be there for days. "Draco, oh my God!" you cried, your body moving in and up and down motion with the mattress as he continued his brutal thrust Into you.

You felt like you'd explode as the rise began to take over you. "You gonna cum again for me baby" he said with his head in your neck, kissing and sucking purple marks for you to find later. "yes! Yes!" You repeated as he hit your spot. He groaned as you tightened around him; His hips moved sloppily while he nipped at your ear. "Let go for me" he whispered, his heavy breath on your skin with the sound of his voice so intimately close threw you into the clouds. The waves of pleasure rushed from your fingers to your toes.

[meadowscarlet]

watercolor eyes ━━━ draco malfoy.

pairings: draco malfoy x fem!reader.

summary: it’s not your favorite thing to be stuck in a loveless marriage. much worse, being married to draco malfoy of all people, you despised and loathed him simultaneously, yet your heart craves for him while your mind opposes him and his entire persona. hopefully, you make clever decisions, or he’ll leave you with watercolor eyes.

warnings: arranged marriage, miscommunication, reader accuses draco of cheating, cursing and alcohol consumption.

author’s note: a reposted fic. do not copy, post on another site, translate or claim any of my works as your own or you will be reported! nav.

When your future was planned and finalized, life began to lose its significance.

How could you not have anticipated something like this would happen at some point? Your parents had been preparing you for this since you were a little girl, yet the whole arrangement still felt enraging and terrible. Such a dreadful thing yet you can’t be disappointed, it was bound to happen but nevertheless, it just seemed presumptuous.

You were enamored with the concept of love as a child. You’d always admired how your father and mother act around each other—their eyes sparkling with blatant devotion, sweet honey utterances, and the naked love so evident in their faces—and you’d always wished for that.

Someone who loves you as much as you love them.

But, as they say, life may very well be cruel. When you realize that you will soon marry Draco Malfoy of all people, your little fairytale of love is shattered. You wanted to scream, complain, and say vile things that your mother would have chastised you for, but you couldn’t. This was your life, and you had to suffer and live it regardless of the injustice.

It was mangled and atrocious. An arranged marriage isn’t something you want to be a part of; two people who have no love for each other, not even a smidgeon of passion for each other, but who are forced to be together in a golden cage. Strangers in a relationship were like sand in the winter air, entirely at odds.

You needed to be away from all this for a while. When your family and the Malfoys ate lunch together, you were incredibly tired of the sparkling wine, the unrealistic politeness, and the tension of a stupid grin. It was uncomfortable for you, and even Draco appeared uneasy as he ate slowly and cautiously.

You were now in Hermione Granger's—actually, Weasley's—comfortable and pleasant home, which she shared with her husband Ron. She greeted you with a beaming smile and a compelling hug right away, and a part of you felt glad for the warmth she provided as she welcomed you into their home.

“How are you doing?” Hermione asked, taking a sip of the tea she had made for the two of you.

You hesitated, your hand clutching your skirt’s edge. “If that’s what you’re wondering about, I’m perfectly all right.”

When Hermione observed you, she knew you were lying. You and her had been best friends for your entire Hogwarts year, along with Ron and Harry, but you felt the closest to her and vice versa, so she knew you were deceiving by the look on her face, which was like a frown, and the way she squinted her eyes.

“You’re lying,” she remarked as she placed the tea on the table, her voice knowing.

“No, I’m not.”

Hermione sighed. “Y/N.”

“Fine,” you didn’t intend to be mean, but it just came out of nowhere, but thankfully Hermione didn’t seem disturbed; she’s probably accustomed to it. “I feel… conflicted.”

She frowned, her face deep in contemplation. “Does this have anything to do with your marriage to Malfoy?”

“Arranged marriage,” you corrected almost spitefully.

Hermione’s face had a pity look on it, which you didn’t like to see. She was well aware of your animosity for Draco; you’d rant about it all day in your dorms and even in the Great Hall, with Ron chiming in with a few supportive remarks. Even after the battle, you still despise the man you’re supposed to be entangled with.

It didn’t make any sense; Draco was the least suitable person for you to marry, and he wasn’t the sort of bloke you expected to be with. You were a pureblood Gryffindor, and it didn’t seem like a good match to be with someone as arrogant and conceited as Draco, who shamelessly flaunted his Slytherin pride in your years at Hogwarts, rubbing it in your face.

In comparison to Harry, Ron, and Hermione, he didn’t harass or taunt you, but there were insults and sarcastic remarks about you, though they never went deep; you were resentful and petty, so you chose to detest him. When he’s at the back of the class, he’ll mostly tug at the ends of your braids, or he’ll mess with you in your free time and take up all of your time instead of doing what you want because of his irritating presence.

“I’m not justifying him, but don’t you think your hatred for him is a little insensitive?” With a shrug, Hermione continued, “He already apologized and even helped us in the war.”

Your eye twitched, possibly in irritation. “It makes no difference. I’m not interested in marrying him.”

“Can’t you just call it off? Perhaps if you told your parents, they’d understand.” Hermione suggested, her eyes lighting up.

“This is what they want for me, Hermione,” you stated grimly, your voice devoid of any hope. “And this is what I was conditioned to believe, that it’s for purebloods to have arranged marriages, but I’m confused…why Draco of all people?”

The door to Hermione’s house opened and footsteps emerged before she could say anything. Then someone—Ron—came into the room they were in. When he saw Hermione, he grinned broadly and looked relieved. Then when he saw you, he was taken aback but enthusiastically embraced you with a short hug.

Ron questioned, his freckles prominent on his face, “What are you doing here?” with a little grin. “Are you doing the therapy thing with Mione?”

Hermione appeared aloof, but her eyes shone with mirth. “I taught you the word therapy, and you use it every time Y/N visits here.”

You chuckled for the first time in a long time. “Maybe he’s right.”

Ron sat alongside Hermione in the couch across from you and laid his arm around her with a familiar knowing expression in his eye. “Malfoy?” he said, humor crossing his face.

You gave a tired sigh. “The one and only.”

You three conversed until it was past noon. You felt out of place and envious when you and your friends were conversing. You had yearned for the kind of love Ron and Hermione had. You’d watch Ron kiss Hermione’s cheeks or Hermione gently stroke Ron’s hands with a glimmer of longing in your eyes.

While you were passively observing, possibly in resentful longing, their eyes gleamed with genuine unconditional love, but you knew you could never be like that with Draco. You felt like you were outside a transparent glass, and Hermione and Ron were inside of it; you could see but not feel it. It’s so gruesome not to be bestowed with love. But you were ecstatic for them since they were happy with one other.

But what about you?

Maybe it was the occupants’ moods, or maybe it was just you, but the Malfoy manor felt cold and miserable. It finally occurred, the worst thing that could have happened was that you were already married to Draco. You were bound to one other not by love, but by iron chains, which encompassed you and forced you to be together.

Your love for each other was brittle, and you could see Draco was doing his best; he was impersonal, to be certain, but he attempted to communicate with you, albeit his tone was contrived and stiff. After your wedding kiss, he never touched you again; you remembered how frigid but soft his lips were on yours, but you despised the sensation of something fraudulent.

Like Hermione said, he changed, but your perception of him hasn’t altered at all. Draco, on the other hand, never mentioned what occurred at Hogwarts, about the taunts and insults, and neither did you. Now you were living in the Malfoy manor, a frigid place that didn’t seem friendly to you despite Narcissa’s warm greetings, and your room’s bed was cold, dismal, and exhausting.

“I’ll sleep on the couch.” Draco had said as you stood there, in your shared room, wary of the enormous single bed, hugging yourself since the chilly air was caressing your skin since you were only wearing a flimsy nightgown.

You didn’t say a word, not even a nod. You didn’t even look at Draco since the silence was so uncomfortable, enough that you went to bed and drew the covers over your body. You heard his sigh, which was most likely frustration, but you didn’t care as you closed your eyes and focused on oblivion.

And now you were in the bedroom, there in bed, reading with a tiny amount of light, half of your body covered by the comforter, and for the first time you felt peaceful, Draco wasn’t here, and strangely you felt comforted in the cold room’s isolation.

Most likely, you were brutalizing yourself. If you’re reading a romance novel and envisioning things occurring to yourself rather than fictional characters, you may have gone mad. However, as the familiar scent of Draco’s fragrance flooded your nose as you read about romanticism, the tranquility didn’t stay long.

Though you had uttered words—short and forceful—you did mostly ignore him in the months since you last spoke. Maybe you were being abrasive, because Draco was doing everything he could to make the marriage work, most likely to please his parents, but why couldn’t he just accept that he couldn’t make something like this work?

When you felt like the manor was suffocating you, you’d go out and see Hermione and Ron, or even Harry and Ginny. You’d stay in their homes since it was warm and welcoming, and it felt more like home than your own. You had wished for a household full of love and cheerful laughter more than anything else.

The words in your book were starting to lose their interpretation, and your thudding thoughts were distracting you. It’s just that you can’t help but feel betrayed by the injustice; you may consider yourself a lovesick, but you always wanted to experience that as a child, but life could be callous, and all you wanted was to love and be loved.

Like a frothing serpent, a sudden thought hissed through your mind. The idea of learning to love Draco popped up. You didn’t like the concept but you won’t deny you feel melancholy to him, on how his eyes always follow you whenever you attend pureblood events, on how he’d mutter if you’re alright, lingering his hand on your waist when you’re talking to other people, not quite touching.

You frowned and shook your head, attempting to focus on the words in the books and ignoring the yearning for something you shouldn’t even crave for.

Draco arrived at the manor quite late. His steps were a little unsteady, and his eyes were a little unhappy. He’d been out drinking with his friends Theo, Blaise, and Pansy, and the alcohol had apparently rushed into his system, causing him to become inebriated as he stumbled into their room.

Despite being slightly intoxicated, he entered the room discreetly, his gaze softening when he saw you. You were nearly buried in the bed, looking unusually troubled yet content as you read a book. You hadn’t noticed him yet, or perhaps you were ignoring him as you always were.

It bothers him or, more likely, his ego. He was well aware of your hatred for him until now, as evidenced by your pretty face, and perhaps he couldn’t blame you. He felt a pang of cynicism, though, because despite his apology for his actions during your Hogwarts years, you still didn’t like him. It was difficult to act as if he didn’t care about you and that he despised the whole thing as much as you did.

You eventually noticed him, and your enraptured eyes widened in surprise as you closed your book and clutched the duvet against you, as if trying to hide from him. Draco’s breath got caught in his throat as he realized how beautiful you were. Your face contorted into nothingness for a brief moment, almost delicately concerned. Draco was undecided as to whether he was disappointed or amused.

“Draco,” you finally acknowledge him, still unable to get out of bed. “…Where were you?” Your tone was disinterested, but at least you were talking to him.

He swayed slightly as he approached you, and he could see the apprehension in your eyes. “Hello, my wife,” he almost slurred, watching your face change with emotion. “Did you miss me?”

As Draco’s eyesight became fuzzy, you shook your head, your face unreadable. “Are you drunk?”

He chuckled as he proceeded to loosen his tie, completely oblivious to the fact that your eyes were drawn to the movement. “You seem concerned about my wellbeing.”

You sighed and rolled your eyes. “Don’t be daft.”

Draco only chuckled as he proceeded to the couch, shaky feet almost tripping him up, as he grunted and fell on the couch, you hesitantly got out of bed and moved closer to him. Your feet were light, and your breathing was quiet, and Draco concentrated on that, his back straining from his couch position, and his eyes blinking furiously.

“You’re drunk,” you said almost monotonously as you tentatively approached him and stared down at him.

“Oh really? I didn’t notice,” Draco muttered, his eyes almost drooping as he placed his arm over his eyes as if to prevent your being in his gaze.

“Did you have fun?” you sarcastically questioned, your arms crossed across your chest, the cold nipping at your delicate skin.

Instead of responding ordinarily, Draco opened his eyes, withdrew his arm, and gave you an euphoric look as his gaze wandered about you. He asked, gesturing to your hair, “Is your hair braided?”

You scowled and consciously touched your hair, which was braided but had become practically tangled in the hair ties since you had lay on the bed.

“You didn’t answer my question,” you said as you started removing the hair ties from each side of your braid.

“No,” Draco exclaimed abruptly, leaping to his feet and snatching your wrist, halting your motions. “Don’t remove it…”

In your impeccable face, you had a surprised expression. Despite the swirl around him and his blurry vision, Draco could see the glint of affection in your eyes as you glanced at him. Draco would have cursed himself and probably regretted it, but he didn’t.

He took his hand from your wrist and gently tugged one of your braids in your hair, almost fondly, perhaps because he was intoxicated, but he couldn’t stop himself.

It frightens him.

Draco could tell your expression was impenetrable as you both stared for a while, his hand lingering over your braid. Because you were so motionless, he was certain you weren’t breathing. A flicker of something flashed over your face, then vanished as fast as it appeared. You took a hasty step back and narrowed your eyes at him.

He could only look at you, his hand hovering over the spot where you were only a moment earlier.

You sniffled. “You smell different,”

Draco was taken aback and questioned, “What?”

“You have the smell of a woman’s perfume.”

“What?” he asked again, completely baffled.

Your face was blank. “Did you really have fun?”

Your tone was accusing, your face was completely empty. But there were tears in your eyes, shimmering like lovely flecks of crystals, but they weren’t dropping, and it wasn’t the first time he’d seen you stop your crying. But it was evident in the silence that you were implying that he was cheating, and that thought was partially ridiculous.

Draco was well aware of your irrational hatred for him, but he had no idea how poorly you regarded him. Since you were ignoring him and acting as if he was invisible, he went out to spend time with his friends. He’d talk to his friends about his feelings and frustrations while drinking. Perhaps he smelt different because Pansy hugged him, platonically, and she’s dating Blaise for Merlin’s sake, maybe her aroma clung into Draco.

But the prospect of you dismissing his improvements or simply making him feel like shit made him say something, which he quickly regretted. “Do you blame me if I did?”

You froze, your eyes wide, and the misery on your face was palpable.

“You’re so fucking hard to love,” Draco continued, his mouth acting as if it had its own brain, and perhaps his inebriation was assisting him in saying things that struck you.

Draco’s voice was shaky and he staggered, collapsing against the couch and quietly grunting. He couldn’t read your face, and he didn’t really want to see your reaction, but he felt satisfied when he said that. The impact of the fall jarred his back, and he could hear shuffling.

You practically hissed, “Get up.”

Draco had a baffled expression on his face and exclaimed, “What are you doing, wife?” as you grabbed his arm and practically yanked him away from the couch.

Then you let go, and Draco sank into the bed’s soft cushion. Draco was rather hefty, so you let out a sigh of relief. His eyelids were droopy, but he had a mischievous grin on his lips as he made himself comfortable in bed.

“Are we—?”

“Sleep,” you demanded as you walked over to the other side of the bed, noticing Draco peering at you stupidly out of the corner of your eye. “What?”

“You’re going to let me sleep in the bed?” he asked, still completely baffled.

You felt compelled to smack him. “Would you rather sleep drunk on the couch?”

You grabbed a pillow and placed it between you and Draco, creating an internal barrier. As you fixed your side and the pillow, you could feel his eyes on you. You didn’t look at him once.

“There. So we’re still separated,” you replied nonchalantly as you lay down on your side.

“We’re already separated enough, don’t you think?” Draco mumbled sleepily.

You didn’t respond since you could hear soft snores next to you. Draco had already fallen asleep, leaving you alone in the dark, cold night, on the opposite side of the bed, with humid and sorrowful thoughts. You thought you were stupid, and perhaps you are, because you were being harsh and a brat.

You were in the garden at the time. It was lovely but bitterly chilly outside, and while you weren’t inside where Blaise and Pansy's wedding was taking place, you couldn’t help but crave some fresh air.

Despite the fact that they are both purebloods (which was almost likely set up as an arranged marriage) you can see they are much in love with each other. The way they stared at each other, sparkling crystal eyes with particles of devotion. You let out a tired sigh, oblivious to the fact that the door to the garden’s outside was opened and a figure stepped out.

“I figured I’d find you here,”

You fixed your gaze on the person. “Draco.”

He gave you a tentative smile and sat down on the bench next you, but not too close. At the same time, you were dissatisfied and relieved.

“I didn’t think Blaise or Pansy would settle…” you began hesitantly.

The sound of Draco’s chuckle was nearly pleasant in your ears. “They’re confusing. They break up and then get back together. I’m as surprised as you are.”

You discreetly remark, “They must really love each other.”

Draco remained silent and only gazed at you. You looked stunning, with the moonlight illuminating your features. Your outfit was lovely as well, but it was short and suggestive, causing you to shiver. He didn’t spend any time shrugging his coat and slung it over your shoulder, completely disregarding your protest.

“You look beautiful,” he says mindlessly. “But you’re cold.”

“Thank you,” you muttered, nearly frowning; was there a double meaning there?

“No problem, wife.”

“Why do you keep calling me that?”

Draco smirked fiendishly, but there was distress in his eyes. “You’re my wife, aren’t you not?”

“It must be a burden.”

His smirk had vanished, as if he had been smacked. “Well, if it’s a burden, then I’m willing to bear it,” he murmured.

Something was moist in your eyes, but you blinked rapidly. You could feel Draco getting closer to you, but you didn’t say anything. You were overwhelmed, your heart ached, and you desperately wanted to pull Draco closer to you, but you were initially reluctant.

“Draco—“

Draco abruptly grasped your freezing hands in his warm ones, lifted them to his lips, and kissed your knuckles; he didn’t remove them thereafter, instead staring at you with piercing eyes. You felt torn as your breath became stuck in your throat.

“Don’t say anything unless you say you want this marriage between us as badly as I do,” he murmured, brushing your knuckles with his lips.

You were on the verge of gaping at him. “You wanted this?”

“Of course I did.”

“I assumed you didn’t like me and that all the affectionate gestures you made were all a ruse,” you added almost incoherently.

Draco pointed out, “You were the one who loathed me.”

Feeling guilty, you shut your eyes. “Shit. I wasted many months.”

“We both did,” Draco murmured, releasing your hand only to play with the ends of your hair, a smile hidden. It was a braid, to be specific.

“I’m deeply sorry, Draco.” you said. “I’ve always thought of you as a fiend and the bane of my existence, knowing that you can’t take love seriously. And I was so wrong; I was so focused on myself and my selfish desire to be loved that I was blinded to the fact that it was I who was sabotaging your efforts to give me what I wanted.”

Draco tugged on your braid with tenderness, and you smiled.

He almost begged, “Just tell me you’ll start to love me.”

You turned around to face him, then kissed him after closing the gap between you—things that had previously separated you, the barriers had finally been broken down. Before Draco could react, he stiffened and drew you closer by the waist.

You mumbled into his lips, “I already started, simply blinded that it took me so long to know.”

You were now loved—you could feel it, even taste it, and it felt good—and you knew it. Your heart would no longer ache, and you would no longer shed longing tears for someone. Tears of color, droplets on the palette, it’s no longer there. The only thing that mattered was Draco and his touch.

“Oh my Merlin,” A man’s voice groaned. “Did I miss something?”

You broke apart and began flushing. You gave a surprised squeak as you stared at the man. It was Ron, and you couldn’t tell whether he was amused or repulsed by his face.

“Perhaps an invitation,” Draco drawls as he shields your face from Ron’s gaze and cradles your head against his chest. “I didn’t know you were invited.”

You smacked his sides and muttered into his chest, “Be nice.”

“You were too focused on Y/N, it’s disgusting.”

Draco remarked almost smugly, “She’s my wife, I can stare at her for as long as I want.”

“Perhaps the therapy with Hermione was helpful,” Ron rolled his eyes as he began to walk away.

Draco was dumbfounded, but you just laughed.

[delqcate]

tonight, i'm gonna dance, for all that we've been through

(credits to gif owner!) | back to nav

summary - y/n make the mistake of accepting a daft boy's invitation to the yule ball and she has nothing to do but miss out on the fun, but draco malfoy would change that

warnings - rusty writing, modern day hogwarts (?), so many references to taylor swift that i "accidentally" snuck in, slight cormac slander, one cuss word, quite short, not proofread

paring - d.m. and y.n.

a/n - hey, it's been a while, i know i haven't been as active and people haven't really been interested in what i write anymore but i had that one part of holy ground in my head and i saw this prompt in my fic ideas so an idea sparked, i hope you guys enjoy <3

also yes we're just going to pretend that i didn't have a breakdown earlier 😋

Y/N LOOKS OVER at the entrance. the daft gryffindor whom she decided to go to the yule ball with never came. she doesn't really know how it never occurred to her that he probably just asked her out for a stupid dare, but she saw it as an opportunity to make a special someone jealous.

draco malfoy, slytherins finest.

or in her eyes, her childhood best friend.

she wanted to ask him out; or more so him to ask her out, but she never had the guts to cause of her ever growing crush for the blonde boy. it's a little cliche but during one cruel summer night y/n invited him over for a sleepover cause she had another breakdown. she said a silly, lame, little joke that she knew wasn't even funny but he laughed, and that laugh hit her right in the heart and slowly melted into a puddle.

" y/n ? you alright there, darling ? " she snaps out of her thoughts and looks up at the voice; finding out it belonged to the same boy who owns her heart. " oh- yeah i'm fine, draco. don't worry. " she puts on a reassuring smile and watches as sits beside her. " so, where's mclaggen ? if that gryffindork stood you up i will hex him " he chuckles, not expecting her to look down and clear her throat. his mood changing almost immediately.

" y/n..did he really ? " draco looks down at her with a frown, anger slowly growing in him. she sniffles and mumbles " i think it was all a silly dare from his friends..i genuinely thought he wanted to come with me. pansy even helped me pick out a nice dress even if she didn't think too kindly of cormac. " she looks at him, her eyes now all glossy. " oh- love, c'mere.. " he hugs her gently and rubs her back, playing with her hair as she rests her chin on his shoulder.

" next time i see him i will kill him.. " he mutters under his breath, smiling at y/n's soft giggle. followed by a sniffle as she mumbles " don't mess my hair up, please. " he laughs softly and nods, mumbling, " i won't. now, you stay right here love. i have something to do. " he kisses her head and stands up, walking over to the dj. y/n watches from afar as draco jogs back to her as the dj plays a new song.

y/n's eyes widen in realization as the song plays, her heart melting like crazy as she looks over at draco's silly smile. " i know you like this muggle singer. so i suppose if mglaggen won't make this night memorable for you, how about i do? " he stretches his hand out to her and she sniffles with a wide smile, taking his hand before dragging him to the dance floor. y/n's laughs and little dance moves are the only thing draco cared about at that moment.

he takes her hand and twirls her around, laughing with her as she falls onto him. his body thankfully stopping them from falling, then it's as if they were both in a movie. time had slowed down, both of them staring into each other's eyes. and just like clockwork, they slowly leaned in for a kiss. their eyes shut, enjoying every moment. after a while they both pull back and jump a little as they hear cheering.

they both look to the side and see their friends cheering. especially a very enthusiastic pansy jumping up and down on heels, screaming, " i fucking knew it ! pay up boys ! "

they both laugh and look at each other again to share another small, but tender kiss before he leans into her ear and whispers. " i've been listening to more of this muggle singers songs and checked the name of a very interesting song i was listening to that i remember you telling me it reminded you of me. london boy, was it ? " he asks teasingly before she laughs and slaps his chest before whispering back " yes, and many others from that album. "

he chuckles and pulls something out of his pocket, " is this one of them ? " he opens his palm and inside lays two paper rings, one green and one he painted silver. y/n's mouth drops and she lets out a small squeal. " draco lucius malfoy, you did not just make us paper rings ! " he chuckles and takes one of her hands, slipping it onto her ring finger. she bites her lip to contain her wide smile as she does the same to him, whispering as she does so,

" i take this magnetic force of a man to be my...lover "

[winterssecrett]

SECRET KISSES | PANSY PÁRKINSON

ღ Sighs gasps, and soft moans could be heard from one of the stalls in the girls' bathroom. Y/n had Pansy against one of the walls while she left kisses and licks on the exposed skin of her pale neck, her right hand was lost between the girl's legs, deliciously playing with her needed button.

"Fuck, Y/n," Pansy moaned, throwing her head back

Her legs were spread and her panties were pushed to one side, giving her full access to her girl. Y/n's fingers were doing wonders in her pussy, one playing with her clit while two others moved in and out of her wet hole.

Y/n smiled when she saw her so desperate. "Is this what you needed? You just had to talk love, there was no need to act like a brat all-day”

Hearing her, Pansy whined, although she had been upset all morning by the little attention she had received from the girl, she would never admit it in front of her. They were not girlfriends and no one had any idea what was happening between them, but even so, there was no lack of scenes of jealousy.

Y/n sped up her movements and Pansy let the moans fall freely from her mouth.

“That's it doll, let everyone hear you, that's what you want right? Let everyone know that you are mine”

“Fuck, yes! Don't stop, please don't stop”

Y/n brought their lips together to try and keep her quiet, while she continued fucking her with her fingers. Pansy started to move her hips trying to match her movements and create more friction for herself.

“You close, doll? You're gonna come on my fingers like a needy slut?”

The dirty talk did it for her because right after Y/n finished her sentence the black-haired girl arched her back and gripped tightly Y/n’s body against her. Her legs were shaky and her body felt limp, she was fucking fucked out.

Leaving one last kiss on her lips, Y/n pulled out her fingers from her pussy and brought them close to her mouth.

“Clean them up, love,” she said softly, watching her immediately obey

Once she was finished, Y/n fixed her panties and skirt, trying to make her look presentable before they went out of the bathroom.

“Are you coming tonight?” Pansy asked in almost a whisper

She smiled and caressed her cheek “I will, but we're just sleeping tonight, I have to get up early tomorrow”

The black-haired girl smiled mischievously “Whatever you want, sweets”

Both of them laughed, knowing how much of a lie their conversation was. They weren't gonna sleep at all.

[dracowars]

Hi hi, how are you? Could you write one where y/n is Draco's girlfriend, but she and Harry, who are best friends, end up arguing and he casts a dangerous spell on her? And when she arrives at the infirmary, still passed out, they discover she is pregnant?

best bad friend | draco malfoy

pairing: draco x reader

word count: 1,0k

summary: where y/n discovers something that will change draco’s and y/n’s life forever

a/n: i just wanted to clarify that the characters here are all in 7th year and thus of legal age

warnings: angst, violence, mentions of pregnancy

universe: harry potter

“Harry, if you would just listen to me for one second-”

Your vocal cords can’t manage more than that when in the next moment you are hit with Stupefy by your opponent, whom you also call your best friend. With force, you are thrown against the wall and fall into unconsciousness right away. Only when you are able to open your eyes again do you realize what actually happened, what Harry did.

What he did to you, his best friend.

The bright light that streams into the room through the large windows dazzles you a little, and the slight breeze that gently shakes the white curtains reaches your ears, shaking the dark chandelier on the ceiling. The beige brick walls of the hospital wing – you realized it is the hospital wing once you sat up in your hospital bed, startled – express a coldness and you quickly notice that you seem to be the only patient right now. The other beds around you are all empty.

Exhausted, you massage your temples with your fingertips, the impact seemingly hit you harder than you originally thought. As you try to stop the pounding in your head, your gaze falls on the two wooden chairs that are close to your bed, as if someone had been sitting there just mere seconds ago.

Surprised, you look around again and do not move a single muscle, but you have to accept the fact that you can’t even hear any sounds from outside. Sighing deeply, you lean back into the uncomfortable mattress and place your palm on your forehead, closing your eyes and reflecting on what happened that transported you into the hospital wing of the castle.

Maybe telling Harry about your relationship with Draco Malfoy had not been such a good idea after all. Especially not when he found it out by himself first and only then did you decide to actually tell him about your relationship status. On the other hand, he would still not know if he had not caught the both of you kissing in an empty hallway. Even though you have sworn to never hide anything from each other, you betrayed him.

Best friends should not betray each other, you think. And yet you did exactly that.

It was perfectly understandable that Harry was angry and upset about this. You would never have blamed him for that. But throwing you across the room with a dangerous curse, ending up in the freaking hospital wing, all alone? Rather despicable.

You are racking your brains about how to face Harry the next time you see him when you are released from this prison that is your hospital bed when suddenly the heavy door finally opens and none other than Harry enters. Well, at least his head is peeking around the corner, and when your eyes meet for a moment, it looks like he would like to vanish into thin air right this second.

Understandably so.

“Y/N, you are awake!”, he says happily, but can’t hide the insecurity within his voice. “I- I will be right back.”

And just like that you are as alone again as you were since waking up, causing you to roll your eyes while crossing your arms in front of your chest in despair. Harry will definitely not get away from you that easily.

Harry does not take long to return, though he does bring Madam Pomfrey with him on the way back, the nurse greeting you with a friendly smile and looking you up and down as if you have lost all your limbs. When she asks you how you are feeling, you only reply that your head is buzzing. Which is the truth, but you honestly do not feel like talking to her about your emotional state right now after you were brought here by your best friend.

Obviously, you are not feeling well.

“If you allow me, I would like to talk to you alone for a few moments, Ms. Y/L/N”, Madam Pomfrey remarks after realizing that you do not feel like talking to her, or anyone at this point, about what happened. However, no one could have prepared you for what she would share with you in private.

At first you want to laugh and deny what she claims happened. That is completely and absolutely ridiculous, you think to yourself. Then, as you look into her serious eyes, your mood immediately changed, and you suddenly feel nauseous. The ground is pulled away from under your feet all of a sudden and you start falling and keep falling and just can’t stop falling. The pounding in your head gets louder, more unbearable by the second, and is now accompanied by a loud beeping in your ears.

Without knowing it and without being able to stop it, tears flow down your cheeks as your world falls apart in the blink of an eye. First, Madam Pomfrey tries to calm you down, to encourage you, but you do not want to hear her words. They will not change anything anyway. When she notices this as well, she finally gives you your space and leaves.

The silence bother you even more, however, since you are suddenly all alone with your thoughts and feelings. The moment there is a knock on the door and Harry enters the hospital wing, you break down completely. Immediately, Harry is at your side, holding you tight in his arms, trying to soothe you with whispers and repeated apologies.

The fact that he attacked you with a spell out of anger is honestly the least of your problems right ow, which is why you let him hold you, why you allow him to support you as your best friend. Everything you can think about in this moment is filled with pure darkness, and if it were not for Draco, who storms inside after hearing about the incident, completely distressed, the darkness would have taken you in whole.

As soon as you find yourself in a loveable embrace, after Harry willingly released you, Draco encourages you and confesses his love for you over a thousand times, over and over again.

“We can get through this, darling. Together”, Draco whispers softly and places several kisses against your temple, kissing away some of your streaming tears. “If anyone can do it, it’s us.”

[minswriting]

HIll it's 🕯️anon from the last blog!!

can we have headcanons about dating draco 🥺

-🕯️anon

yes you can!!

dating draco would include many many things so here are some dating draco headcanons!

draco, due to his pureblood upbringings, would maintain respect and handle things with dignity

he would start by courting you, buying you cute gifts, giving you chocolates that his mother would bring him, etc.

he’d definitely write the occasional letter or two for you in order to show he’s serious about you

when he officially asks you out though it’s in front of his friends and definitely cockily

your first date is a walk around the black lake where you guys would laugh and talk about your lives together

i think that once the relationship gets deep enough, draco would confide in you about many things

so when sixth year rolls around, it’s surprising to you when he doesn’t talk to you at all and when you try to talk to him, he shuts you down

so you guys end up breaking up during sixth year and for most of “seventh year”

but during the battle of hogwarts, you reunite

it’s not until after the war ended and draco’s cleared from all charges that you guys end up back together officially

and from there on out, he’s nothing but loving, loyal, and 100% honest

without the influence of his father, draco becomes more kindhearted

he’s very sarcastic and witty though but his comments never hold much heat

def the type to wake you up with kisses and snuggles

draco loves being the little spoon but will never admit it

i feel like he’s very romantic

he would buy you literally anything you wanted even if you came from a rich pureblood family

i love to think of draco as a medi witch rather than someone at the ministry so i think he would get so involved in helping others and it makes you so proud

which helps if you guys ever have children because he would be trained to deliver if need be

regardless, draco would love you no matter what

gonna make a more in depth headcanons post sometime soon but here are a few!