#people stupidly hate draco malfoy

[zriasstuff]

Mercy-Draco Malfoy x reader smut

Warnings: 18+ mature oneshot (1.7k words), barely any plot; just porn, sub!draco

To the person that requested a Draco Malfoy fanfic like 10 days ago: here it finally is

Draco inhales sharply through his teeth as you go over his bleeding wound with a cotton ball. You had told him a thousand times already to not get into a fight again, yet he just wouldn’t listen and did so nonetheless.

“C'mon they deserved it, you understand right?”, he tried to justify his actions, to which you shook your head in disapproval.

“You can’t just go around acting like a dick and then expect people to clean up after you all the time”, you lecture him, hoping he’ll see his wrongdoings.

“Well for now I got you, don’t I?”, he smugly retorts, hissing along the way as the cotton ball touches his wound again. What a prick he could be sometimes.

“For now”, you warn him sternly. Draco was well aware he’d have to play nice with you, his close friend who genuinely helped him when he needed it.

You, of course, didn't want to enable Draco, but he did show his gratitude in pleasant ways. Ways such as treating you to stuff in Hogsmeade, helping you with homework, sweet talking you to professors, and so on.

Today's wound landed on his lower torso, something he’d gotten from a guy on the Gryffindor quidditch team, whom he insulted as mudblood. Being a pure blood yourself, you were aware of your guys' hate towards muggles, but you didn’t condone it.

Seeing his pained facial expression, pulling all types of grimaces, you say “I know it hurts, but that will only help you to learn your lesson.”

“And what lesson is that? That I have to show less mercy next time?”, Draco stupidly grins when failing to acknowledge his fault.

“Sure, tough guy”, you roll your eyes at him.

Now, he was almost all fixed up and you just had to put a large, squared band aid over his cleaned wound.

As you lean in towards his lower torso, you hear a huffed grunt coming from Draco, who is looking a bit thrown.

“What is it, did I hurt you?”, you ask him.

Draco wasn’t hurt. More so, he was rather feeling something completely opposite.

Innerly, he started replaying the moment in his head of when your tits made the lightest contact with his dick. They had brushed over his groin, when you were leaning in to put the band aid on the wound.

Of course you hadn’t noticed, but he certainly couldn’t forget. His mind was going through all sorts of dirty, nasty, mental images. That one little touch caused all restraint to fly out the window, and all he could think of was how you would look naked, tits uncovered, bouncing in front of him.

How would fuck your tits and afterwards paint them with his cum. The position you were in also allowed you to give him a perfect blowjob. Draco was sitting on a chair and you knelt in front of him because it was the easiest way for you to treat him.

Surely, you wouldn’t have imagined that this position would cause his poor mind to fantasize to such naughty extent.

It became all too much in his head, such a reaction from so little touch. Was he really that horny and desperate? Draco tried to block it out, to not make this weird.

But seeing you like this, having felt you in such a way, simply made you too irresistible.

Draco didn’t even know what got into him, but he bent down promptly, grabbed your ponytail and told you exactly what he wanted- no craved right now.

“Please suck me off right now”, he suddenly muttered in your ear, giving you the most troubled look you’ve ever seen.

“What the fu- what the hell is wrong with you?!”, you exclaim at his words. You couldn’t fully believe what you just heard.

Draco pulls back again, letting go of your ponytail in the process. He seemed slightly ashamed, but you could tell he wouldn’t let go of this easily. Hell, if he played his cards right…

He himself couldn’t even fully grasp why he wanted this so badly all of a sudden. His mind was definitely fucking with him. But with all the stress he was under- being involved with the Death Eaters, and having no way of venting- all he needed was you right now.

“Please, just do it?”, he appeared defeated. You’d never seen him so frantic before.

“Look, I really need this, I need you. You’ll help me with anything, right?”

Needing to come up with a response, you go over all the possibilities in your head. You arrive at a well thought out conclusion seconds later.

“You’ll explain yourself later”, you firstly demand from him. You saw that Draco was completely out of his element, but that’s not why you agreed. Doing this for him would have him at your mercy, maybe you would enjoy holding this over his head later on. Win win, right?

“Ready?”, you coo at him before your hand makes contact with the growing bulge in his pants. Draco winces a little, letting out a relieved moan.

From all the pent up frustration, he desperately needed this. While you stroke around his bulge, he already starts jerking his growing length against your palm. That’s when you give his cock a warning squeeze.

“This isn’t up to you”, you talk down to him. Innerly you loved every second of this. Draco going from harsh and brassy to obedient.

Abruptly, he stops moving, so you carry on with palming his cock until it’s visibly hard through his pants. Here and there a little wince escapes his mouth, wanting immediate pleasure instead of tedious teasing.

After enough playing around, you start to unzip his pants with your mouth. You make sure to glance at him while doing it, just to see how crazy it drives him. His stunned reaction was so worth it.

Every second he relished and wished you would just take him in already. When you remove the last layer of clothing, you’re shocked to see how much bigger he is than you’d ever encountered. From your eyes widening and your mouth gaping slightly, he could tell his size turned you on.

His cock was incredibly hard and leaking drops of precum already from all the teasing, practically aching to be sucked and toyed with.

Your tongue licks a long stripe along his shaft first, which evokes a small whimper from Draco. Instantly he shuts himself up, wanting to control himself, but you want to hear more of those delicious sounds.

So, you keep peppering his cock with kitten licks, especially at his leaking tip. No longer able to hold himself back, Draco fully lets himself go and lets out a breathy whimper.

“Please stop with the teasing already”, he whines after having already endured that much.

Luckily you are feeling generous, so you slide him into your mouth, his big cock disappearing inch by inch. When it glided fully in, it hit the back of your throat, making you gag.

Draco had to forcefully keep his hands on his thighs, otherwise he’d destroy your throat right now. His cock felt so good in your warm, wet mouth. He was amused, seeing you gag from his length.

Not wanting to back out, you ignore your gag reflex. You keep your tongue flat, and start bobbing your head up and down on his cock. Instantly, you feel the saliva running down from the corners of your mouth.

It was messy and sloppy, and the whimpers coming from Draco were heavenly. While trying your hardest to not gag, you continued sucking and twirling your tongue around him like a lollipop. Of course you made sure that his balls didn’t feel left out either. With one free hand you gently massaged them, rolling them in your hand.

Soon enough the stimulation had gotten to Draco. The way you glanced up at him, doe eyed, salivating on cock, awakened some strange feelings in him.

A few more seconds of pure ecstasy, and he started violently bucking his hips, signaling his oncoming orgasm.

More uncontrollable whimpers and curses left his mouth. Finally, you tipped him over the edge when you let his cock hit the back of your throat repeatedly.

His ropes of cum quickly dripped down your throat- shame that you could barely taste it as he was in so deep.

“That was fucking amazing”, he sighs at you, completely out of breath.

With his cock still hanging out, even though it’s soft, you have a fun idea. You spit in your mouth, and as Draco watches, he has no idea what you’re up to.

His eyes widen, when he sees your hand move towards his cock again.

He curses loudly, when you start to pump his shaft. It was absolutely too much for him, especially after he just came.

“Tell me, did you come?”, you ask Draco in a teasing tone. He didn’t answer as he was too focused on the mix of pleasure and pain that was being inflicted on his poor, overused cock.

Completely ignoring the question, you ask it again, yet when there was no answer this time you start pumping him even faster than before. “FUCK”, Draco yelps out, as he clings onto his chair with both hands.

“Earlier when you came in my mouth, did you ask for permission?”. Of course he didn’t, that’s why you asked.

“No”, he whines, looking dazzled. “Stop fucking with me”, he groans, but secretly he enjoyed being messed around with. Maybe that’s what he needed, someone assertive, yet caring.

The agonizing pain was becoming too overpowering second by second.

“Ok, please let me off, I’ll be good next time”, he continues whining in his needy tone.

“Who said there’ll be a next time”, you coo, “and don’t lie, you’re enjoying this”. You continue torturing his cock until he finally can’t take it anymore, twitching uncontrollably in your hand.

As you keep roughly squeezing and pumping his cock, Draco painfully comes a second time. He throws his head back before looking at you again, meanwhile you seductively licked his cum on your hand. In the end, Draco managed to huff out a hoarse “thank you”.

After this blissful experience, Draco would be making sure, that there would in fact be a next time.

[theonceandfuturequeenoftarts]

Harry wants it known that he’s at the ministry’s Yule gala under duress. It was all he could do to force himself into his dress robes and make himself presentable; he can’t fathom where he’ll find the energy he needs to get through the rest of the evening.

People he barely knows keep coming up to him – as they always do – to shake his hand, chat with him about this and that, thank him for his role in defeating the dark lord. (Still. He really wishes they’d stop doing that. It’s been more than six years now.)

And then there are pockets of people, staring at him and whispering behind their hands. Another constant in his public appearances, though he imagines the content of their conversations is at least a little different from usual, if not the tone. 

He’s just escaped another fan and is looking to make a beeline for the bar when it happens. Harry sees his doom approaching from several metres away but, since they saw him first and he (stupidly) refuses to run away, he stands there like an idiot, wishing he were anywhere else.

“Hi Harry,” Ginny says. It looks like she wants to hug him or get close, and his shoulders stiffen involuntarily. Thankfully, she stays where she is.

“Hullo Ginny,” he replies and, without looking at the man, utters a terse, “Malfoy.”

The smug arse smirks at him. “Potter.”

“How’ve you been?” Ginny asks, which. Rude. If she actually cared about that, she wouldn’t have cheated on him with the git on her arm, but whatever. 

“Oh, fine. Y’know, keeping busy.” God, he hates small talk.

Before he can respond with the requisite, ‘And you?’, Malfoy jumps in. “Yes, I suppose you have been, from what I’ve heard.”

Ugh. Fucking Malfoy. Harry wishes he had a drink or seven. He can’t believe he’d rather be caught in another conversation with that weirdo from earlier about his wand-care habits, of all things.

Ginny gently elbows Malfoy in the side with a chiding, “Draco.”

He’s considering the merits of letting himself be ripped apart by the anti-apparition wards to get away from this conversation – splinching himself can’t be much more painful than this – when a hand bearing a very welcome drink appears in front of him. That’ll do for now, though splinching is still on the table. Especially when he follows the hand to the arm up to the face and of course it’s Ri– Tom.

Harry gives him the side-eye, but accepts the drink. “Thanks.”

Tom leans in slightly, just enough so the two in front of them can’t read his lips. “You looked like you might be in need of a rescue.”

And as he pulls back out of Harry’s personal space, he rests a hand low on Harry’s back. Harry tenses for a moment before just accepting that tonight is all about him being as uncomfortable as possible. He takes a gulp of his drink – something dark and spicy. It burns pleasantly.

When he starts paying attention again, he finds Ginny looking at Tom with surprise; Malfoy is looking at the other man with – is that a hint of fear? And Tom is staring them both down, but somehow managing to do it with a veneer of politeness. 

“Good evening, Draco,” he says pleasantly. “Ginevra.”

“Riddle.” Malfoy’s greeting is stiff, as is the awkward, aborted bow he gives. Hmm.

“And Harry,” Tom says, turning to look at him fondly. “So good to see you again.”

Hoo boy.

“You,” Harry murmurs from behind the rim of his drink. “Are not subtle.”

Tom takes the opportunity to slide his hand further around Harry’s back, lightly gripping his hip and pulling him closer up against Tom’s side. He returns Harry’s withering look with an undaunted smile. “I wasn’t trying to be.”

“Yeah, I’m getting that.”

“When did you two get so cosy?” Ginny cuts in. Her tone is playful, but there’s more than offhand curiosity lurking beneath.

“Uh.” Shite, he doesn’t ever want Ginny to find out how this started, but especially not in public. Who knows who’s listening in or watching. “We ran into each other by chance a month and a half ago” –actually, he’s how I found out you were fucking Malfoy behind my back– “and we’ve met up a few times since then. It’s nice to have someone… uninvolved to talk to.”

Tom looks amused at that. He’s definitely involved in the demise of Harry’s relationship, and if there’s one thing they haven’t been doing (but probably should), it’s talking.

“I’ve been helping him expand his horizons,” Tom says without apparent innuendo, yet somehow the layered meaning is still obvious. Prat. “Getting him to try new things, keeping him busy.”

“You and half the town,” Malfoy mutters under his breath.

“I see…” Ginny says over him. “Funny how that escaped the rumour mill.” 

Harry laughs awkwardly, wishing for a stray lightning bolt to strike and put him out of his misery. “Must not’ve been exciting enough.”

The conversation dies for long enough to become uncomfortable - well, even more so. Malfoy touches Ginny’s elbow and leans down to speak into her ear. Harry seizes their distraction to turn on Tom.

“Are you sure you don’t want to piss on me to mark your territory while you’re at it?” he asks dryly.

Tom wrinkles his nose delicately in disgust. “No need to be crude. Though…” He gives Harry a considering once-over. “I’m not at all opposed to the idea of you carrying my mark. How do you feel about tattoos?”

Harry snorts. “Not a chance.”

The other man tucks his face in close to Harry’s, breath hot against the skin beneath his ear. “What about bruises?”

As though he doesn’t regularly leave an abundance of those on Harry anyway, what with his penchant for treating Harry like a chew toy. Harry shivers all the same, just a little bit. He can feel the barest brush of Tom’s grin against his neck.

Ginny clears her throat pointedly.

“Good to know,” Tom breathes as he pulls back.

Ginny continues trying to talk to him while Malfoy makes the odd snide comment, Tom attempts to meld into Harry’s side while replying for him and being subtly insulting, and Harry tries to become one with the floor. He realises he’s missed a question when he breaks out of his daze to find both Tom and Ginny are watching him expectantly.

“Huh?”

Ginny starts to say something when Tom cuts her off. "Care to dance?"

If looks could kill, Tom would be in a bad way with how Ginny’s glaring at him. "Harry doesn't dance," she says tetchily. Tom doesn't bother with her, waiting for Harry's wary nod.

He looks back at Ginny smugly. "Perhaps yet another new thing to which I can introduce him.”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Harry says, grabbing Tom’s wrist and dragging him towards the dance floor. Best to get this over with, and all the better if it means he doesn’t have to speak with anyone else in the meantime.

"She's not wrong," he mutters once they don't have to fear being overheard. "I don't dance.”

"Just follow my lead," Tom replies easily. “Would it be correct to say you don’t particularly care about stepping on my toes?”

Harry stares at him blankly for a moment before he feels a reluctant smile appear on his face. “It might be the one redeeming part of this.”

“The only one?” Tom says archly, pulling him into the correct hold. And, without giving Harry a chance to breathe or think, they’re off in what Harry thinks might be a waltz. 

"That was quite the risk you took," Harry says, trying not to stare at his feet and hoping for the best as Tom spins him around the room. He is, oddly enough, a much better dancer when he’s not constantly concerned about crushing someone's foot.

"Was it?"

"Yes. What made you think I wouldn't refuse and let you look foolish?"

He catches sight of a pleased grin on Tom's face from the corner of his eye. "The same thing that made me ask you to dance when I've seen your previous forays. You rise to the occasion when I push you.” He looks at Harry, for a moment, proudly. “I also knew you’d be more than amenable to anything that got you away from those two.”

Harry can’t deny that.

“Now look sharp, and do try to keep up,” Tom says, the hand at Harry’s lower back gripping him a little tighter.

“Wha–?” 

And it’s all he can do not to trip over his feet and take them both down in a painful sprawl, but the rush, the heady triumph of making it through the successive, intricate turns, goes straight to his head. Before he can stop himself, Harry lets out a loud peal of laughter, further disrupting the couples around them and drawing sneers and disapproving glances. And he just doesn’t care. Not that he thinks he normally would’ve, but it feels like it’s been ages since he’s felt so light and happy. So, he doesn’t think about the people around him. He doesn’t think about how it’s Tom who’s making him feel this way. He just basks in the sun-warm feeling of contentment – of being okay for the first time in a while.

(One night)

[redvelvet103]

Draco Malfoy Headcanons

(Because it's time for the revival of my Harry Potter phase)

𓆙 *•°~

Hey so,, Hi. This blog has been sat postless for too long so to hell with waiting to think of aesthetic things to post. Have some Draco headcanons because I've been having crazy brainrot recently. Hope you enjoy~

(this is assuming he isn't an absolute prick like he was intended to be in the books.)

𓆙 *•°~

- Dimples. He has the cutest damn dimples anyone has ever seen. People don't often see them because he doesn't smile quite bright enough, but they're there and it's vv cute.

- Silver jewelry. Mostly rings. There's a couple that he never takes off but then he has afew that he switches out depending on what he's wearing.

- Speaking of clothes,, bro has a stupidly good sense of fashion. If you want an honest opinion on an outfit, go to this man. As for himself, he takes forever in the morning to choose the perfect outfit, and he always looks good.

- Has a thing for glasses, inexplicably so. He just finds them generally adorable. For some reason though, he does find thick-rimmed glasses much cuter.

^^ To follow up on that, he also does random things for his partner if they have glasses like pushing them up or randomly taking the glasses and cleaning them.

- With his partner, his arm always manages to find its way around their waist. He finds it very comforting to keep them so close, plus it's a sort of instinct. It's very cute if he's just with his partner in the library looking for books and his arm snakes its way around them.

- If, miraculously, he knows any Muggle music, it's definitely stuff from the 60s and 70s. Probably jazz in particular. He just gives those vibes.

^^ Favourites are probably Frank Sinatra and maybe Elvis??

- Building upon him knowing about Muggle stuff, I feel like he'd really enjoy slushies?? Maybe it's in a streak of rebellion against his father's perfect vision for Draco, but he loves a slushie. His favourite is probably blue raspberry, though he hates that it makes his tongue bright blue.

- Since Narcissa is probably quite busy alot (rich people things idk-), so when he was younger Draco learnt how to style hair. He does his mother's hair pretty often and he's actually very good at doing it. His speciality is probably braids; quite easy to learn at a young age and you can do lots with them.

^^ Because of this, if you have long hair and you're a close friend of his, you best believe he'll style your hair for you if you ask. He even carries around a couple of hair bands in case.

If his partner has long hair, he loves to just play with it and run his hands through their hair to relax. He also randomly does little braids in their hair, and finds it quite theraputic.

- Poor thing probably has some kind of anxiety. I think it gets worsened by the pressure his dad most definitely puts on him. Draco always seems abit fidgety when it gets close to the Christmas and Summer holidays because he has to go back to such high expectations n such. (Poor boy :((( )

𓆙 *•°~

And that is all! Probably could think of loads more but I need time for my brain juices to start working more. Anyways, hope you enjoyed! :))

Edit: forgot to tag @sugarschnaps since they came up with some of these headcanons, so... Ty bestie love u mwah

[aletterinthenameofsanity]

hoping to do some good in the world (Muslim Hermione- fight me, jkr)

When a little muggleborn girl walks up to the Sorting Hat, a number of purebloods (and a number of muggleborns, to be honest) wonder why they can't see her hair- why her head and neck are covered by a dark blue headscarf.

In the ensuing months, they will learn the word hijab.

---

Hermione Granger is faithful and studious. She hates breaking the rules and is a perfectionist.

(She is also stupidly, irrevocably, wonderfully noble.)

In this universe, as in most others, Hermione Granger carries these traits close to her heart, in her spine and in her head. She holds faith in things that do not have a ready explanation, believes in heroes despite all evidence otherwise.

---

Hermione Granger finds a Summoning charm in her textbooks and figures it out how to perfect it before she even steps foot on the Hogwarts Express. If she is to complete her five daily prayers, then she will need a way to grab her prayer rug easily without having to carry it around all day (the Hogwarts blueprints show a school almost too large to be real- she’ll have to investigate that).

She leaves her first class and her lunch block for five minutes everyday. She heads out into the hallways, summons Abba’s prayer rug, recites a compass spell to orient herself toward Mecca, and recites her prayers.

---

This is not a story about heroes and villains. It is not a story about war and destruction, about magical spells and epic climaxes.

This is a story about the strength of a single girl’s faith.

---

Hermione knows fear. She knows the way that people look at her hijab with suspicion, look at her father like he’ll hurt them and her mother like she’s stupid (despite the fact that they’re both dentists, with their doctoral degrees and a wish to help others). She knows hatred, the way people sneer when they look at her and the way boys at her primary school would tug at her hijab, jeering names at her face.

She knows that Harry and Dean and Lavender and Anthony and Neville and the Patil twins all suffer from the same prejudice as she does, if for different reasons.

When Draco Malfoy spits mudblood in her face, when he curses her origins, she calls upon the spells that she can run past her lips. She summons up a righteous anger borne of years of absorbing others’ hatred, remembers pages and pages of spells. She whips hexes at prejudiced lips, smiles at the crunch of her fist against his face.

---

Hermione Janan Granger does not pray to flawed mentors and old men- she prays to Allah, and to herself. She is more than just a pawn, a fount of unfocused knowledge.

She wants to do good in the world, just like her parents, but she guards her trust close. She bestows it on those who have earned it- Harry, Ron, Ginny, Millicent, Anthony, Neville, Luna- but not on men who people seem to put blind faith in without proof.

Her faith is strong, but it is not without base.

---

She makes friends with Anthony Goldstein, who celebrates Yom Kippur and Hanukkah and the Shabbat prayers with the same devoutness with which she practices her own faith. In a rather secular, magical world, being able to find someone else who puts such effort into their faith is relieving to her.

---

During Ramadan, her mind grows sharp and her spells powerful even as her stomach growls. Her focus increases as her hunger grows, as her faith finds its way past the limits of her stomach and into her bones.

Her dedication to her faith becomes known, and respected. During this month of the year, she is unbeatable even as her skin grows a bit sallow and her stomach grumbles during classes.

(She heads down to the kitchens after sunset and is greeted by a feast. She understands that, magically speaking, it fulfills house elves to provide food for her, but her faith does not abide by slavery of any sort. It is hard for her to process their smiles whenever she asks for food.

So, instead, she thanks each and every house elf, mentions them all by name in her prayers. Perhaps this will help them.)

---

When Hermione tells Harry, the orphan boy, the forced hero of the story, that they are all heroes, she doesn’t mean that they are all saviors of worlds, leaders and princes. She doesn’t mean that they have to save the day, have to be courageous and beautiful and in love.

She means that they are survivors, and that this, in itself, is a heroic act.

---

Her caftan for the Yule Ball her fifth year is modest and beautiful. A long dark blue caftan, trimmed with dark blue lace and embroidered in gold, it is just perfect. Her hijab is dark blue to match.

Viktor Krum looks at her and smiles. “You look beautiful, скъп."

She smiles. “Thank you, Viktor."

Viktor Krum is nothing like the perfect Muslim boy she dreamed of as a little girl, but he is smart, and wonderful, and perfectly kind.

He respects her faith and her boundaries, calls her beautiful. He holds her hands, but does not kiss her. He is the perfect first boyfriend.

---

When she emerges from the lake, her hijab is sodden with water but thankfully still covers her hair and her neck.

---

Viktor leaves at the end of the Triwizard Tournament. Cedric won, Fleur placed second, and Viktor placed third. Despite his loss, he smiles and says, "It vas vorth it, Hermione, because I got to meet you."

Hermione returns his smile. "It was nice to meet you as well, Viktor. We'll continue to write, right?"

He nods. "Of course."

---

Hermione Granger is not meek. She is devout, and focused on her studies, but not meek.

She is full of faith for many things: Allah, education, and herself. She channels this faith into progress, into change.

---

Harry comes to her at the end of fifth year, stomach in his throat. “Hermione,” he says, eyes downcast, “I have something to tell you.”

“Yeah?” she asks, raising her eyes from her book.

“I...I think I like boys and girls.”

She looks at him. She’s suspected for a year or so, ever since his minor obsession with Cedric Diggory last year and the way he stares at Neville’s arse sometimes.

“Okay,” she says, and flips the page. “Tell me when you finally ask Longbottom out.”

Harry sputters, and she smiles.

---

Hermione’s sixth year, she breaks up with Viktor. It is an amicable split, no hard feelings between them. He wishes her luck with school and asks if she’ll mind if he comes to celebrate her graduation next year.

She smiles and says of course not.

---

She walks into the Room of Requirement (a fascinating discovery when searching for an answer to Harry’s Second Task two years ago) and finds Harry and Neville snogging in the middle of the Historic Legends section of the Great Hidden Library.

She clears her throat and they spring apart, looking like they’ve been caught doing something unspeakable. “Mind handing me the copy of the Upanishads, won’t you?” She gestures to Neville, who grabs a copy of the book that she’s seen him reading on the Express and hands it to her. “Thanks,” she says, and heads over to the Muggle Sports section (the far end of the library) so she can read in peace.

---

Hermione graduates top of her class, Susan Bones, Draco Malfoy, and Terry Boot right behind her.

The world is at her fingertips, and all of knowledge is within her grasp. She can change everything wrong with the world.

---

When Hermione Granger is eleven, she climbs a stool and puts a hat on her head. She is told that she will do well in either Ravenclaw or Slytherin, and she smiles.

I want to learn everything, she thinks, and the Sorting Hat shouts her House to the world.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/13706415

[riverwriter]

20 Questions Game

Thanks for the tag @suzyq31

How many works do you have on AO3? 

27

2. What's your total A03 words count? 

1,044,549

3. What fandoms do you write for? 

Only Harry Potter, though I’ve written for others that were never published. 

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

A Second Look: Her best friend's life was a mess and she would have done anything to make things better for him and his sons. So, when she found her former enemy in a similar situation her heart went out to him as well... and the beautiful blond baby in his arms didn't hurt his case. It was certainly enough for her to give him a second look.

An Unexpected Malfoy: Once upon a time Hermione Granger literally ran into Draco Malfoy in a bookshop. His mother sees a connection between her son and the muggleborn that she can't ignore and determines to get to know the girl. An imagining of how things could have gone if Hermione had been taken under the wing of the Malfoy family.

A Few New Looks: Glimpses into Draco, Hermione, and Scorpius' life as a family. A sequel to my story, "A Second Look."

The Beginning of Everything: Draco extracted a box from his pocket and flipped it open to reveal the most exquisite ring Hermione had ever seen. She gasped. "No Granger, I meant I literally have a proposal for you," he held her gaze as he spoke. "What do you say? Marry me and help me put one over on the Ministry. I know you're dying to stick it to them." This is a fic which is ostensibly about a marriage law.

Calla: She had been missing for more than ten years. But then she had dark magic cast on her in the Department of Mysteries, and that insidious curse did more than just injure her physically. It revealed a secret, a truth. Hermione Granger could finally be recognized as the girl she’d been at birth: Calliope Nott.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try, but not always. 

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I don’t think anything I’ve written would qualify. I”m all about the HEA.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Haha, see above. 

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Yep, it seems to be, unfortunately, part and parcel to posting things on the internet. 

9. Do you write smut? If so what kind?

Yes. I was very shy about it at first. I think I’ve relaxed but it’s still not a major aspect of my fics. (Just not my style.) 

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written? 

I don’t. I’ll never say never but the closest I’ve ever come is “The Other Side” which is heavily influenced by the TV show “Fringe.” 

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I’ve had fics posted on other sites without my permission, but as far as I’m aware, nobody has ever taken credit for my work. 

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? 

People have started but never finished. It’s one reason I have stopped granting permission for translations. 

13. Have you ever cowritten a fic before? 

Haha yes, unfortunately my cowriter and I live too far away from each other that we couldn’t make it work. It’s been years but we still talk about trying to figure out how to finish it. (fingers crossed)

14. What's your all-time favourite ship? 

I spend most of my free time writing Dramione so I suppose that’s the answer. But I love so many ships, even outside of the HP fandom. 

15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

Yeah, I refuse to admit that will happen. Unless you count “Various and Sundry” because-by its nature- it has no beginning and no end. 

I16. What are your writing strengths?

When I get going I am very plugged in. I occasionally wake up and scribble a thought down so I don’t lose it. 

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Action scenes. And I stupidly wrote a huge fic that concludes in a…battle. If any of you wonder what I’ve been doing for years, it’s been figuring out my own brain. 

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I’m not a fan. Also not a fan of writing out an accent. 

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Bones. But I was never brave enough to post any of those fics. 

20. Favourite fic you've ever written?

“An Unexpected Malfoy” It’s my baby and probably always will be.

This part gives me anxiety, because I never know who to tag, so anybody who wants to participate, please do! (And if you want to tag me, do that as well, because I’d love to read your responses) 

[tangentialives408]

The Marked One, Part 5/?

Read Part One | Read Part Two | Read Part Three | Read Part Four 

Determination was fine and good, he thought a few months later as he skulked through the castle once more in an attempt to hide from his fans, but it did nothing to quell the doubt in his heart. Could he have been mistaken? 

She appeared determined to avoid him at all costs, and when he did try to approach her (always in the library, where he was half-convinced she lived), she greeted him with a tight smile and a few terse words. Nothing more, nothing less. No sign remained of the girl at the Cup who had looked at him as if, for one moment, he were the best and most wonderful thing that she had ever seen.

And yet his heart persisted where his mind quailed, making him doggedly try to talk to her again and again, no matter how bruised he felt after each time.

So. The library once more.

She was at her favourite table by the Advanced Charms section — an area he had a lot of reasons to be in, given the fact he was about to face a literal, fire-breathing dragon that had the ability to crisp him alive — and he picked his way over in a long, circuitous route that aimed to avoid notice. It wasn’t until his arrival at Hogwarts that he truly resented his celebrity status. His admirers followed him everywhere.

“‘Mione,” he overheard Potter say from one aisle over, his tone a bit uncertain, “are you sure you’ve been okay? You’ve been acting a bit strange.”

“Don’t be silly, Harry.” Viktor sighed as he heard her tone. Brisk and matter-of-fact, just like she’d spoken to him at the Cup. So she wasn’t a timid mouse all the time. Just around him, it seemed. “Things are perfectly alright.”

“Don’t think Draco hasn’t noticed Viktor skulking around you,” Potter said knowingly. “I might have the observational skills of a brick, but he sees everything.”

“Harry,” Hermione hissed, “don’t say that so loud. People might hear!”

“And if they do?” Potter retorted. “What of it?”

“They might—they might get ideas.” The last was said quietly. “You and Draco might be a matched pair, your scars all lined up and all, but I’m not convinced it works out like that for all of us.”

“Scars?” Potter repeated, delight threading through the word. “Who said anything about scars? Hermione, are you—you and Krum?”

Despondent. “I think so.”

“You sound like Crookshanks just died. Why aren’t you happy about it?”

Yes, Hermione, Viktor thought darkly, answer the question. Why did she sound so upset?

Parchment rustled and clothes whispered as Hermione shifted in her seat. “I just don’t know about this entire thing. I mean—soulmates? Scars? It doesn’t make sense to me. How can we know and all accept that we belong with one person because we have matching marks on our bodies? It defies belief.”

Potter sighed. “Look, I know what you mean. The idea that Malfoy of all people is my match is completely mental. For a while, I really hated him even though we had matching scars and he had known he was my match for literally his whole life. I mean, the forehead scar really gave it away. But you and I weren’t raised that way. Muggles don’t have matches, so it seems crazy for us to accept something like this.”

Viktor peered through a gap in the bookshelf as Potter leaned forward and rested his arms on the table, intently staring at Hermione. “But I felt it. Even without the scars, I think I would know. As much as I wanted to deny that Draco was my pair, something inside me wouldn’t let me ignore him. As soon as I met those stupidly pretty eyes of his—I mean, who has grey eyes—something clicked inside me. Did you feel that way with Viktor?”

Hermione fidgeted, her fingers tearing up a piece of parchment into small bits, before she gave an infinitesimal nod. “At the Cup.” Her voice was more than a whisper. “It felt like...it felt like he was home. Like he could be home.”

Potter sat back. “So what’s the problem?”

Biting her lip, Hermione looked up at her best friend. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m, well, me. And he’s…” she made an all encompassing gesture. “You know. Viktor Krum.”

“That’s not very fair,” Potter said pointedly. “I’m, well, you know,” he mimicked her gesture, “Harry Potter. Does that make me less worthy of having a pair?”

“No,” she hissed. “Don’t be daft. But you’re matched with Malfoy. He’s practically famous in his own right.”

“I don’t snog him because he’s famous.” Harry arched a brow in a carbon copy of Malfoy. “I snog him because I love him. Viktor is just a person, Hermione. A real, living, breathing person, just like me and you. And if you give him the chance, I think you’ll find he’s a lot more than a famous Quidditch player. Magic doesn’t just match people for no reason, you know. Now. Help me not get eaten by a dragon in the First Task.”

The conversation changed topic from there, and Viktor was left standing dazed in the Ancient Charms aisle. She was intimidated by him and unsure of herself. That was it.

A smile spread across his face. He could deal with that.

[plotandburn]

Harry Potter Gets Adopted By

Rules:

No reader-inserts, self-inserts or unhappy endings are allowed.

spanking, watersports, extremely underage ships or parent/child incest are only allowed if portrayed on a negative light.

Peter Petigrew and Dolores Umbridge must be bashed

Dumbledore must be gay and atracted to Grindewalt and Grindewalt alone.

poor grammar is not allowed (you don't need a beta but at least use grammarly some form of grammar corrector)

You are not allowed to bash Severus Snape, Sirius Black,Draco Malfoy or Remus Lupin.

In the prompts set on Timmy's Era, Timmy himself can't be praired with: Tottie, Chloe Carmichael, Geraldine Waxelplax or His Parents.

Out of Timmy Turner's Peers, Only Trixie Tang is allowed to,should the writer chose, be a wixen,everyone else has to remain a muggle...and yes that includes Timmy himself.

Timmy's Secret Wish! is garbage and therefore should be compleatly ignored in each and every single prompt on this list. Same applies to the Grow Up Timmy Turner movies

Like a good portion of the fandom, i hate Sparky the dog so the writer of these prompts must pretend that Sparky never even existed to begin with and thus any epiosdes centered on him must be disconsidered entirely.

However episodes where he is featured as a side character can be included,just replace him with Poof

While Chloe Carmichael is allowed to exist and live in dimsdale she is not allowed to have fairies. On these prompts we are going under the rule that "Fairies only grant wishes to miserable people of the dominant species of Earth whose misery was caused by circunstances outside of their control. If the godchild for whatever reason becomes cheerful or the godkid says, "I'm happy and don't need my godparents anymore," the fairies will leave them and search for another miserable kid"...meaning that : No Chloe you can't get fairy odd parents because you stupidly chose to help a monster and that caused you misery for...like a day.

Hagrid can only be paired with Madame Maxine and no one else

Mad Eye Moody and Amelia Bones can't be paired with anyone

Minerva Mcgonagal can only be paired with Poppy Pomfrey or anyone on the staff that she never taugh herself.

Crabbe and Goyle can only be paired with Astoria Greengrass, Daphne Greengrass,Milicent, Susan Bones, Hannah Abbot, eachother or an Oc.

Cosmo/Wanda must be endgame.....Anti-Cosmo/AntiWanda however must NOT.

Da Rules must be followed.

New Rules that must be added later:

Rules 1 ("When a godkid reveals whose fairies theirs secretly are, they and any other witnesses shall have their memories wiped by Jorgen and his agents (who can sometimes make the godchild horribly disfigured) and their fairies and magical items they have come in contact will be taken away by Jorgen. However, if Jorgen doesn't find out, he can't take the godkid’s fairies away or if the witnesses understand how much the fairies means to the godchild then said child can keep them under conditions that the witnesses have their memories erased.") and 27 ("When you has reached the age of no longer needing a fairy or when they are completely grown-up personality-wise, they will have their mind erased of all memories involving their fairy/fairies, the fairy/fairies will leave either in the Fairy Cab or with Jorgen Von Strangle and everything magic will disappear forever.") do not aplly to wixens as the fairy's method of memory erasure is not effective against wixens and....even if it where every single wixen can see and hear fairies even when they are disguised.

Now...onto the prompts. These will be divided into "Timmy's Era", "There's no way this is not Crack", "In Between eras" and Tammy & Tommy's Era".

so....Lets Go:

1.

so.....aparently fanon decided to name them Nataliya Turner & Daran Turner so if you ever want a name for them feel free to use those. Anyway, in this instance Harry would basically be Timmy's brother wich means that they would not only share parents but also fairy godparents and...you guessed Vicky! so while Mrs and Mr Turner would treat them with love on the few ocasions in wich they are present they would also be absent more often than not. Uh....this Harry could fit into basically any house and date anyone,much like Timmy so... the sky is the limt.

2.

.like in the first prompt Harry would have to face Vicky...only now he would face her pretty much 24/7 only being free from her in the brief moments were she leaves to babysit/tourment other kids so....Cosmo & Wanda would not be his fairies,'cause they would belong to Timmy at this point but he should probably get someone else.....or not,choice is up to you. This harry would definetly be a griffyndor 'cause he would resent his parents for being so coward. Pretty sure he wouldn't favor readheads 'cause they would remind him of Vicky.

3.

Harry would basically be Remmy's brother wich means he would share Juandissimo andn the extreme emotional neglect so...he probably be starved for affection of any kind and cling to Remy and any friends that he makes. This Harry would probably be a huflepuff and as for ship...pretty much anyone besides Percy, Severitus and Hermione is ok.

4.

This Harry would have everything he could ever ask for and a best friend for life in the form of his own sister Trixie who would use his status as a boy to make her dad buy a shit ton of boy stuff like comics wich they would then share, with Harry hiding everything in his room. Harry would be pretty happy overall but he would often wish that their dad never forced them to uphold the image of distant popular kids (and yeah...pretty sure it's their parents 'cause Trixie definetly dosen't pay the securty guard herself). He would be pretty sympathetic of Timmy and even axct friendly towards him on ocassions where they do talk. This Harry would probably be either a Gryffindor or a Sytherin and i think he would be better suited for a slytherin due to his upbringing.

5.

Harry would basically be Aj's brother, thus he would basically HAVE to be science Genious in order to fit in...or you could go a different route and have him be an art genious instead...but he'd have to be a genious of some kind. This Harry would probably fit in Ravenclaw or Slytherin. Recomended ships: Hermione, Percy, Neville or Luna

6.

This Harry is Chester's brother and would probably bond with the Weasley's more than anyone else,due to their similar upbringing. I think it would be funny if... Despite being a Mcbadbat he was actually awesome at baseball. He would probably be Slytherin or a gryffindor. As for ships, the sky is the limt.

7.

Ok so...they basically either raise Harry in the Anti-Fairy world to be their godson or turn him into an Anti-Fairy so that he can be their son by blood (choice is up to you). Regardless of your choice though, Harry would probably end up as a goth...and probably a bookworm due to Anti-Cosmo's influence. He would be much less of a goody goody, taking active joy in watching his parents (whom he would view as such regardless of your choice) cause bad luck on friday 13th.I'd imagine he would be more drawn towards Percy, Hermione, The Weasley Twins or any slytherin that is not Crabbe or Goyle and his house would be either slytherin or ravenclaw.

There's No Way that's not Crack:

1.

Harry would be the og Cleft the Boy Chin Wonder but he would be SUPER tired of constantly fighting crime, thus would basically jump for joy whenever Timmy Turner takes his place with Cosmo and Wanda turning him into Timmy and sending him into the real world to fool Timmy's parents wich would be when he would get his Hogwarts letter at 11 making the whole "turning him into Timmy to fool Timmy's parents thing more complicated. He would be unaware that he lives in a comic book untill Timmy mentions the comic's writer to his dad and one of their arch nemesis. This Harry would definetly be either a Huflepuff or a Ravenclaw and as for shipping....i think anyone who dosen't view him as an idol or a soldir.

2.

This Harry would be SO embarassed of his dad....Like....for real....You think Chester Mcbadbat is embarassed of his dad? well that is nothing compared to what Harry James West fells. He wishes he could die everytime is dad does cat stuf in plublic and it forced him to basically grow up super fast in order to be his dad's owner (in a non sexual way ofc) meaning he is the one to give him food in a bowl and clean his shit from the sandbox. He basically hates his life so when the hogwarts letter comes he jumps for joy, trilled with the chance to get away but he does spend christmas with his dad 'cause he still misses him despite everything. Still he is as trilled as his canon self when presented with the oportunity to live with Sirius....speaking of Sirius, whoever picks this prompt must be a masterat writing comedy/humor cause They MUST provide me (and the other readers) with funny interactions between Wolfstar (together or not) and Catman/Adam West where the latter is irrationally frightened of the former two for being a dog animagus(Sirius) & a werewolf(Remus). This harry would definetly be a slytherin and would not date cat owners,cat people or cat animagus because he has had enough of cats in his life.

In Between Eras:

Ok so...the reason why this is "in between Eras" is because this prompt, like the one's that follow would happen in the movies timeline meaning it would be set in the 200's rather than in the 90's like Hp actually is. Harry would be a baby during the envents of Foop, only going to Hogwarts during Tammy & Tommy's era. being the son of who he is Harry James Skylark would have an amazing singing voice & dance skills wich would probably be what atracts his romatic interest to him. He would probably be Gryffindor or a Ravenclaw and as for shipping....i think anyone who dosen't view him as an idol for the get go.

Tammy and Tommy's Era:

1.

this prompt in particular is what inspired this whole list and it was created based on the pixies last line on the following episode:

So in this pompt Harry is adopted by the pixies who raise him...pretty much the same way they raised Flappy Bob meaning Harry is...basically raised to be a brilliant executive who legit thinks desk job is fun. This Harry would probably be a Slytherin or Ravenclaw and....TBH out of everyone i think he would be most Drawn to the Weasley Twins, who would hate his parents instantly for how they raised him and show him new ways to have fun.

2.

This would be the only instance where Harry would still go by his birth name for no reason other than the fact that, while he would very much view Cosmo & Wanda as his parents and they would with time view him as a son, he would still be raised at the Dursley's. Cosmo and Wanda would be assigned to him as soon as Albus Dumbledore leaves him on their doorstep and they would be the one's who actually provide Harry with the love and care that he needs. This Harry would be no different than canon Harry so...the sky is the limit on both houses and shipping.

[chelleblack]

✖Unhealthy Hypersexualization: Draco Malfoy vs Fanfiction✖

This is an official complaint to all the random Harry Potter writers who have been savagely and ruthlessly destroying the essence of Draco Malfoy. For years, and they've been hiding behind: "He's a fictional character, he's not bad."

After reading so many fanfictions of Dramione / or Draco being the protagonist as such. And, apparently it has become a general rule when writing and bringing Draco Malfoy to life, being that it is not his canon in the first place, (although they defend themselves saying that they want to make it as real as possible, and that is why they have created and reproduced this horrifying image). Second; this is twisted and much more because we are talking about a teenager, not an adult. Without exaggeration, 80% of the fanfics that you find of Draco; he's a sex symbol, despite being a minor in most of those stories. And it's not okay that they want to cover this up just because he's a fictional character. It's still noisy, and troublesome.

The first story I found (and I won't say the name of the fic, or author) had this "trope", it surprised me because I had recently finished reading the HP saga, and the image of Draco, the real personality, was still fresh. So even though it disturbed me, I continued reading for a bit and then gave it up because I was annoyed by the hackneyed badboy cliché they imposed on it. And I thought, "Well, not everyone writes about Draco Malfoy like that, I just had a weird experience, and that didn't mean that everything I would get to see about the Slytherin boy would be like this."

So ... I venture into Fanfiction, I go to Ao3, I give Wattpad a spin, I have a look on Tumblr, I even get into a lot of potterfic forums, a lot of potterfic forums and blogs. And guess what?

It turns out that in an extremely terrifying way, the fandom has turned Draco Malfoy into fanfiction; into a sex symbol, and no one is complaining or even stopping this. What the hell?

Why are all the most famous fanfictions written have this trope? When the hell was Draco Lucius Malfoy Black in the JKR books a playboy? AT THE AGE OF 16!?

Because when it comes to developing a character as deep and complex as Draco: the most interesting and complex thing they do with him is to be a mediocre womanizer, and with a very bad sexual education, very worrying and alarming. I know that in the world of HP, there is machismo, I know that in the Slytherin house they didn't even let women play Quidditch. But still, where did this come from? And why has Draco been the worst hit victim in the fanfic genre? The boy literally never had a girlfriend in Hogwarts days, or talked dirty about women. The only girl in Hogwats who was next to him was Pansy, and although they refuse to accept it; Draco was really fond of her, and he never disrespected her, he seemed rather very reciprocal.

The only character who is constantly sexualizing and speaking macho about women is Ron. But hey, that's another topic.

The real Draco, is the complete opposite of the macho that they have established in the fanfics. Draco is a boy who comes from a strict family, with retrograde ideals, what is the most daring that we have seen of him in the Harry Potter saga? That is, with Hermione in the fourth book when the Death Eaters sabotaged Quidditch and injured several children of Muggle parents; Draco told Hermione that if they saw him they would cast a spell on her and her panties would be exposed as well, hinting at an event they were witnessing with a poor woman flying through the air.

But hey ... Because of that aforementioned scene with Hermione and the "Half-Blood Prince" wagon scene where Draco has his head resting on Pansy's lap and she's stroking his hair and he looks relaxed. They have been the reasonable enough reasons of some writers to create according to the "true personality of Draco Malfoy". I'm not exaggerating, when I discussed this on Reddit, these were the "strong justifications" they gave me.

It is completely ridiculous to claim that Draco is a misogynist because he practically warned Hermione to be careful because he could see her, and they would also blow her up in the air and show her panties, why is this alarming everyone? This is literally how the woman they bewitched looked like, Harry Potter describes her like that, Draco just made a comment on that. And about Pansy, it is already very degrading that they sexualize that scene in the wagon, very personal comments were taken very out of place from Harry. (Which should be noted that Harry always had very out of place comments about other people, but that didn't mean they were good or real)

So, back to the point of the issue of sexism and objectification.

Why didn't they act equally alarmed when Harry began to view Ginny too sexually? Or when Ron used Lavender just to calm his hormones? Where were you to point out the clear objectification of the woman's body? Where were you? They clearly existed hideously in regards to Lavender and Ginny.

However, hypocrites, is Draco alone the only moral and ethical target to escrack on?

In his life Draco Malfoy verbatim according to the books, he only dated more than two girls. His Malfoy-Black family is super traditional; They come from marriages arranged from an early age. Possibly Draco was raised in the most prim way possible. And as he got older, he had more important things to do than act like a hormonal jerk. He had manners and used all his neurons.

Is it very difficult to write about Draco like this? Is that the real boy, is he not a Don Juan, or did he have a long list of exes (and why does this seem strange to you? Draco just turned 18 at the end of the saga, they need to calm down wanting to see that the teens have more partners than the average adult in the first place, that's not normal). The real Draco hardly had any friends, he was an insecure and damaged boy who hid behind that rude and immature behavior that in the end paid dearly. I don't think it is very difficult to overexploit an insecure and complicated boy with too many things and responsibilities. It didn't cost JKR that much.

Or is it that writers find it difficult to write about a man who is not macho and super heteronormative? It's sad to see how they continue to reproduce this crap, and it's very hard to see that they don't hyper-sexualize with a teenager, because they've practically turned him into a bad boy sexual fetish on Fanfics.

They've done it, they've ruined Draco Malfoy. And they are demonizing it even more.

Draco, who is a completely intelligent boy, had one of the most powerful young minds of his generation, apart from Hermione Granger; since apparently they forget that he was for the second in class with her. It has a lot of potential to write a complete saga. And no, it is not necessary to hypersexualize it to develop it. It is not necessary to write about a man who has a fragile masculinity, or who is heteronormative. Although they do not believe it.

I know Draco's character has a very, very vague development in HP, he was missing his historical arc, we all know that. And everyone is free to turn it into a story, and whatever (even if it's annoying and boring to see its canonical image spoil). The problem here is that this type of "trope" is the one that abounds, and Draco is the one that is used the most, nor does he want to use other characters, they only do what they do with Draco, they just continue to idealize him in this way. And it's already reached a point where Fanfiction is making it canon in Fandom, something JKR never wrote, but you keep reaffirming. You random writers took things out of context, made guesses without concrete material. And it seems more like a wave of people hating this guy and looking for the need to make him more dirty, and they can only cope with it by sexualizing and dehumanizing him. They know he has a story with potential, but they hate him so much that they don't want to be nice or treat him like a human.

It is time to accept it.

Because you do that? Could you stop writing like this? It is practically decent. And writing about decent men, what Draco Malfoy really is like, is what it takes; because that's what it really is. Stop apologizing that he's just a character, show how much you need to stomp on him, and keep dehumanizing him.

If you hate him, you better not write about him, you are only causing that poor boy to be killed. And rather it would be very good for you a writer, because firstly, why do you write about someone you hate?

[rockingrobin69]

Learning Curve

Four out of five dentists would recommend against reading this piece (1.7k). Think of your teeth! 

“Uncle Harry, did you know Uncle Draco is a weredragon?”

“A what now?” he frowned, tucking the duvet under Teddy’s chin.

“A weredragon. Like how dad was a werewolf, but with a dragon.”

Harry huffed a small chuckle. “I’m pretty sure he isn’t, Ted.” To be fair, considering all the things he’d learned about him since Malfoy adopted Teddy, Harry wouldn’t be too surprised if he actually turned out to be a weredragon. It won’t even be the most shocking discovery.  

“No, he is. All the best people are were-something, he said. So he’s a weredragon.”

Harry resisted the temptation to ask if he was a were-something, too. “All right then, menace, go to sleep. You can tell me on Sunday if you’d seen him turn.” He shook his head through all the begging, bargaining and trickery, until Teddy finally relented and closed his eyes. Harry chewed on his grin, pressed a kiss to Teddy’s forehead, murmured in his ear and left, silently closing the door behind him.

And then heading out with his usual gracefulness – accidentally knocking into the dresser with a big yelp, stepping over every creaking floorboard, smacking against the door because he wasn’t really looking ahead, he was looking for – ah. Malfoy heard him, it would seem. Standing at the kitchen doorway, leaning against it like some sort of model in a Muggle magazine, rolling his eyes. Harry noticed he was holding his breath.

“Care to join me for a drink, Potter?”

He didn’t know why he was nervous. This happened every night.

The thing is, Harry loved Teddy so much. So, so much, he even considered adopting him himself after Andromeda and all. But Harry’s stupid job was too stupid to allow it, and Malfoy was technically ‘family’. And so Harry came by every day – well, night, stupid job and all – to see how Teddy was doing. And then, every night, he’d run into Malfoy, who had no choice but to invite him for a drink. It would be wine, sometimes, or flavored butterbeer, or – and only once – straight up Ogden’s whisky. But mostly it’d be hot chocolate, which apparently was something Malfoy enjoyed, and something Harry seemed to find quite irresistible.  

Of all the new things he’d learned about Malfoy, this was perhaps one of the most surprising. He made the best hot chocolate. It was the perfect temperature, the perfect sweetness, the perfect texture. Perfection in a cup. Harry followed him into the kitchen, sat in his favorite chair (somewhat dangerously with the way Malfoy’s books were stacked so high behind his back), and turned his gaze to the fridge. Teddy’s newest masterpiece was magicked to the door, and even squinting Harry couldn’t tell what it was meant to be.

“A wolf,” Malfoy muttered as he laid a cup of hot cocoa before Harry. “Your godson is very talented, you know.”

Harry hummed into his cup, probably smearing his nose full of whipped cream. “Bet you I could draw a better one.”

He waited. Some nights Malfoy wasn’t in the mood. He’d be tired, or closed off, and they’d just sit there in silence and stare. Some nights he was restless, far too giddy to stay still, and they’d go for a walk in the forest. But tonight –

Tonight Malfoy was game. He scoffed and summoned two quills and some parchment. “Let’s see – five minutes, best drawing wins?”

Harry grinned privately to himself. There must have been something in that hot chocolate, because he couldn’t stop thinking about how he just loved spending nights at Wiltshire.  

*

“Uncle Harry,” Teddy asked one Sunday, sliding into his wellies. “Did you know that Uncle Draco had a pet a stag?”

“What?” Harry was busy arranging a beanie on his orange hair with his tongue between his teeth. “A pet stag?”

“Yeah, when he was a kid. I asked him why he likes them so much, and he told me. His name was Arold and he was very stupid, Uncle Draco said.”

“Arold?” Harry laughed, tilting his head. “Ted, you know Uncle Draco is messing with you, yeah? He never had a pet stag. You can’t have stags as pets.” Malfoy had peacocks, which he hated, and the eagle owl, which he loved, and that was that. No stags. Harry knew that. He picked up every single piece of information about Malfoy slowly, carefully, and catalogued it all in his head. Malfoy was afraid of hippogriffs (still) and very enthusiastic about nifflers. He wanted a kneazle really badly as a kid, but his mother was allergic to the fur. Harry knew these things, now. He even had this insane idea to get a kneazle for him and Teddy, a fantasy he liked to entertain from time to time. Teddy’s words brought him back to reality with his cheeks oddly flushed and his ears ringing.

“That’s what he said.”

Harry wondered why Teddy thought Malfoy liked stags to begin with, but he’d already ran outside and jumped into the nearest puddle, so the question had to wait.

Malfoy was in the kitchen when they returned, and Harry plopped down next to a steaming mug of hot cocoa. The clutter all around practically screamed we actually live here, and Harry felt the warmth of it in his bones. His eyes kept zooming from Malfoy, to Teddy, happily blabbering about the squirrel they’d seen on their walk, and something in him thrummed. We actually live here. The flavor of want was sweet and sadly familiar.

*

“Uncle Harry,” Teddy asked one night in November, a tired little bundle of curiosity that ached in Harry’s chest with affection, “What’s emveeos?”

“Huh?” Harry stopped at the doorway, eyebrows drawn.

“Emveeos. Like if I was emveeos of someone.” Teddy gave him an exasperated little look, a come on you should know this one when Harry simply shook his head. “Uncle Draco said he’s emveeos of me.”

“What? When?” Harry’s heart did a funny little leap. He still didn’t really understand the question, but apparently the mere mention of ‘Uncle Draco’ was enough to ignite this heat inside him.

“Because you always kiss me good night.”

Harry could only shrug, but the heat intensified into something near intolerable. “I dunno, Ted. Best to ask him tomorrow, yeah? You know Uncle Draco is better at these things.” Better at most things, really. Cooking, drawing, writing, teaching. He was just good at everything. Even dancing – Harry had seen photographs of a very sulky boy beautifully performing the tango, no joke. And he could make the best hot chocolate. And –

“Okay. Good night, Uncle Harry.”

“Good night, Menace. I love you.” Harry made sure to tell him that every night, even if Teddy was already asleep. It was good for him too, he thought, to get the practice.

That night there were mini marshmallows in the mug. Harry couldn’t help it anymore; he was so enamored with the – drink – it felt a little like an explosive device in his chest. He found a way to distract Malfoy for a couple of seconds while he covertly drew a vial of the cocoa, stashing it in his pocket. There had to be something wrong with it, a potion or something. There had to, or Harry was losing his mind. He’d lost enough things for a lifetime, he thought.

*

“No, Uncle Harry! Cookies first.”

It was the week before Christmas, and Malfoy was out on a last minute gift shopping trip. Harry and Teddy were in the kitchen together, in charge of lunch, though Teddy was more interested in sampling the Christmas cookies Malfoy had made. To distract him Harry suggested they try to prepare Malfoy’s cocoa – well, also so he’d have something hot to drink when he comes back, because Malfoy always suffered from the cold.

“Oh, Uncle Draco doesn’t like hot chocolate,” Teddy shook his head.

“But,” Harry didn’t know what to do with this information, which stood in stark contrast with everything he knew in this life. “He drinks it all the time with me.”

“No, no, he says it’s too sweet. He never drinks it.”

Harry felt utterly lost. The knowledge he’d collected of Malfoy was the foundation with which he was trying to build this – it was what he stupidly thought he could use to make a home. Hell, he’s been practicing – getting ready for – and all this time, Malfoy was lying?

When Malfoy returned Harry pretty much threw himself at him, boxing Malfoy at the door with all his shopping bags.

“You don’t like hot chocolate,” he said accusingly, and Malfoy’s eyes went big.

“What?”

“You don’t. And you told Ted you had a pet stag and that you’ve embossed him or something like that. But you don’t like hot chocolate.”

“I – “ Harry’s never seen Malfoy so flushed in his life, and was furious with how adorable that was. “All right. I don’t.”

“But you make it almost every night,” Harry contested. He felt a little woozy.

“Yes.” When Harry gave an odd grunt, he closed his eyes. “You like it.”

“So?”

“So…” Malfoy’s shrug was so painfully sad. “I thought you’d… come here if you…”

Harry didn’t wait for the sentence to finally come to a stop, it was taking forever. “So you just lied?” 

“No!” two grey eyes opened, sort of panicked. “I just – I’ve been trying, all right? all this time, to learn to… to get to know you. All these things about you, and then I saw how much you liked it when I made hot cocoa for Teddy and – I just. Want you to. Have. Things that you like.”

Harry couldn’t feel his tongue. His head was spinning. He didn’t know what to do about this, didn’t know what to think, didn’t know – he just didn’t know. Sadness was familiar, and losing, and being lied to, but – but this –

“Kiss him, Uncle Harry!” a little voice carried from behind him, and startled he caught a glimpse of blue hair. Hell. A quarter of his age, and Teddy was at least twice as clever. Harry leaned forward and did the only thing that made sense, and the kiss was solid enough to build on. Malfoy’s lips were the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted. Hot chocolate, no matter how good, could never compare.

Wow, I really ran away with this one... Today was day 6 of my Seven Sins of Drarry one-shot collection, and was all about - Teddy almost had it: envy! Hope you’re ready to be good, because there’s only one sin left!

Day 1: wrath   | Day 2: lust  | Day 3: sloth  | Day 4: greed  | Day 5: gluttony | Day 7: pride

[beforeoursunsets]

Unsilenced {Draco Malfoy x Slytherin!Reader}

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3

Blurb: You and Malfoy hated one another, until one day, he discovered your hidden talent.

Inspired By: link here

Word Count: 2.22k

Blood Status: Any

House: Slytherin

Warnings: None

[Unedited]

Draco Malfoy just finished doing rounds for the night, and was on his way back to the Slytherin dorms when he heard you.

Tucked in the corner of the girl’s lavatory, you sang to Moaning Myrtle to calm her cries. This was the routine. Almost every day you went in there just to talk or sing to Myrtle; she was lonely, just as you were, and that sparked sympathy deep within your heart.

The curious boy stepped closer to the bathroom door, trying to eavesdrop the best he could. An ear pressed against the door, Draco listened to an unnamed girl singing melodically and her soothing voice echoed off of the walls inside.

Although tempted to step inside and uncover the identity of the only girl able to calm down Moaning Myrtle, he decided against it and continued his walk back to the dorms.

You left Myrtle only a few moments later, making sure the corridor was clear before stepping out. Making sure to avoid any and all prefects, in addition to nasty Filch and Mrs. Norris, you successfully snuck back into the Slytherin common room.

Getting into bed that night, Draco Malfoy could not get you out of his head, beating himself up for not taking a peek inside. 

Just above the Great Hall was Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, and there he would sit by the door, listening with his eyes closed and body relaxed. 

There was something about your voice that attracted him, and throughout the following weeks he would go back each night to catch a glimpse of it. Draco had a routine. On the days he was required to monitor the corridors, he would lazily check them all before camping out on the second floor.

“What do you think you're doing, boy! Get up!” Filch startled him.

Draco scrambled to his feet, conjuring any excuses he could. Normally, he would give the man a piece of his mind, but at the time he was far more worried about you getting caught.

Filch noticed the sound coming from the bathroom, “Someone in there?” He asked threateningly, an accusing expression plastered on his face.

In response, the blond moved next to the door, muttering a quick silencing charm over the lavatory. Your voice was silenced to the outside, and with one last glare, Filch walked away from you both.

With a relieved sigh, Draco reversed the charm and went right back to his old spot.

After that, he remembered to always keep an extra eye out for Filch. He couldn’t risk you getting in trouble, not when your voice seemed to be the only thing to give him a sense of comfort.

The next day you were halfway into the Potions classroom when that same boy, of all people, stuck his foot out and tripped you for the third time this week. “Watch where you’re going, git.” He sneered.

The insult struck you unusually deep, but nevertheless you rolled your eyes, getting off the floor and finding your seat without another word. Refusing him a reaction this time, Draco then wondered why his fellow Slytherin was acting so… oddly passive. Later assuming it was because of his reputation, he forgot about the entire encounter and went about his day.

Later on that night, you found yourself back in the girls’ lavatory. Except this time, instead of calming Moaning Myrtle’s cries you joined her. During dinner, you received a letter from your mother, threatening to pull you out of school unless you improved marks in Transfiguration class.

Your marks in Transfiguration were far above average, near perfect even, but they were still below the standards of your parents. Remembering the beating you came home to last time, your eyes spilled with tears, frightened of what punishments may come next.

This frustrated you. Nothing in your life felt permanent. Your parents made sure of this, constantly reminding you of the control they had over your life. At least twice a year, they would pull you out of school to home-study, their obsessiveness overwhelming.

“I don’t know what to do, Myrtle.” You wept, “I can’t keep doing this.”

You heard no reply from the girl, as she was crying so hysterically in sympathy for you she couldn't manage a response. It was almost pathetic, crying to a ghost. But Myrtle was the closest thing you had to a friend around here.

Deciding to leave early that night, you picked up your bag, song book, and guitar case before saying goodbye.

“I’m sorry Myrtle, but I can’t sing tonight. Not like this.” You said, your throat feeling constricted. “I’ll see you tomorrow,”

Draco had never heard you actually speak before, not inside the bathroom at least. He sensed something familiar about your voice, but wasn’t able to figure out who it belonged to until you caught him yourself.

Cheeks still stained with tears, you opened the door, only to scream when you saw Draco Malfoy on the other side, his head still turned. Absolutely shocked by the sudden reveal, he clamped a hand over your mouth, saying,  “Shh, you’re going to get us in trouble.”

Letting you go, you took a step back while trying to catch your breath and calm down simultaneously. “Were you just spying on me?” You accused, glaring up at him.

Malfoy felt embarrassed, his face warm, but ultimately decided to shift the focus of your conversation. “Were you just crying?” He shot back.

Seeing the guitar in your left hand made his heart drop to the floor. It was you. Y/N L/N, he repeated in his head, over and over again. He couldn’t believe it.

“For your information, that was Myrtle, not me.” You replied, trying to hide the thickness in your voice. Malfoy eyed you carefully before letting you go, too wrapped up in shock to think.

As you sped down the hallway, you heard him call out, “The only reason I’m not taking points is because you’re a Slytherin, not because I pity you.” Hiding behind his aggression seemed to be the only viable option, as there was not a chance in hell that Draco would openly compliment your voice.

At least not right now.

Ignoring his arrogant tone, you kept walking without turning back, your cheeks blazing hot with embarrassment.

From then on, you were in the forefront of Draco’s mind. For weeks. He had grown so fond of your voice that when your identity was uncovered, the built up affections inevitably spilled onto you.

You wondered why the bullying stopped so suddenly. One day he was a complete arse, and the next? It’s like nothing ever happened.

The two of you still hadn’t spoken since that night, of course. You were equally embarrassed by the encounter, but that didn’t stop either of you from stealing secret glances.

One day, while leaving the Great Hall following breakfast, you felt someone knock into you aggressively. Losing your balance, you hit the ground hard, surely bruising an elbow or two. Your bookbag was now ripped, textbooks and sheet music scattering around you.

Crabbe and Goyle looked down at you, laughing, “Good one Goyle, the pathetic Slytherin Singer is finally where she belongs--”

Draco stood by them silently, his expression unreadable. You made knowing eye contact for a moment before breaking it to collect your belongings.

“--At our feet.” Goyle finished, smirking triumphantly as if their jab at you had been effective.

The truth is, it was. The Slytherin Singer? That caught you completely off guard.

Standing up, you decided you’ve had enough. With a big shove, you sent both boys stumbling backwards. “Stay away from me, you chickenshit little punks.”

Enraged, Crabbe lunged at you, but was ultimately held back by Malfoy. “That’s enough.” He said, stopping them, “Let’s just get to class.” Dragging the two imbeciles away from you, he sent you a small wink before turning his head, leaving you utterly flustered by the entire encounter.

I cannot believe I just did that, you thought.

---

The next two weeks went by in a blur. You felt like you were back into the usual routine: wake up, go to school, do homework, sing to Myrtle, and sometimes steal snacks from the Kitchen. It was all smooth sailing until, one night, idiot Malfoy decided to shamelessly waltz right into the girl’s lavatory.

Completely startled, you fought back a scream and let your guitar clatter to the floor. Seeing as you’ve been caught by your prefect you scrambled to come up with an excuse to be out past curfew.

“So you really are the Slytherin Singer” He questioned with a smirk, motioning to your guitar case and lyrics scattered around you both. Obviously, Draco had already known this fact, but wanted to maintain an ignorant impression.

“Well--” You began, “You see, I--”

“I find that quite admirable, actually,” 

You blink a few times, processing the sudden… compliment?

“You what?”

“--all these years of her crying, and you have been the only person to ever get her to shut up,” He chuckled lightheartedly.

In response you swatted his leg twice, one for being rude to Myrtle, and two for acting so shocked. “Thank you, but you do realize this is the girls bathroom, right?” You asked, trying to change the subject.

“You realize this is way past curfew?” He replied with that stupidly charming, somewhat condescending smile. “--right?”

Rolling your eyes again you began packing your things. “No, no,” He stopped you, “I’m not kicking you out. I’m thinking about camping out here, actually.” 

Before you could speak, he sat down and crossed his legs beside you, picking up a sheet of paper to his right. “Muggle music?” He asked, “Really?”

You snatched the piece of paper right out of his hands, followed by a suspicious glare. “Malfoy. What the hell.”

“What? You’re gonna sing like that everyday and expect no one to hear you? Could’ve at least used a silencing charm, rookie.” He teased.

You scoffed, suppressing a laugh. “I can’t tell if that was an insult.”

“Hm,” He paused, “I can’t either.”

This time you let out a small laugh, “No but seriously, what on earth are you doing here?” You reiterated, moving away from him slightly.

“I just wanted to hear you sing again, that’s all.” He responded simply.

Moaning Myrtle speculated silently, watching from above their awkward interaction for her own entertainment.

“I’m here to sing for Myrtle, not you.” You deadpanned, “So I’m sure she would not appreciate you breaking in.”

Cutting off Draco before he could even begin, the little girl spoke up, “I’m okay, you two keep going.” She said in a quiet voice, then moving to eavesdrop from a faraway stall.

“That sounded like approval to me.”

“Fine, but I still don’t know why you’re here. You hate me.” You replied, still watching his every move.

“Who says I hate you?” Malfoy responded, your interest peaking.

Clarifying, he added, “Okay yes I trip you now and then, but that’s just to get you to try and talk to me. You don’t talk to anyone.”

Taken aback, you scoffed, “So when you want to talk to someone, you purposely go out of your way to trip them?” 

You paused. “Is this your sick and twisted version of flirting?”

Draco laughed at your jest, “I see the flawed logic, okay?” 

As he spoke your fingers lazily strummed against the guitar strings, partly out of habit. The acoustics in the bathroom were always so lovely, the sound of your voices constantly echoing back to you. 

“Why did your friends call me the ‘Slytherin Singer’? Does everyone know I come here?” You asked, reigniting the conversation.

He felt his face grow red. “You told them, didn’t you.” You said, answering for him.

“No comment there.”

Scoffing lightheartedly, you replied, “Just don’t tell anyone else, okay? This isn’t exactly something I’m proud of.”

“Are you kidding? You have loads of talent, Y/N, I don’t know why you feel the need to hide it.” He motioned to your sheet music full of scribbles and annotations. “But if you really feel that way, your secret is safe with me.

“I hide it because not having friends is not something I boast about. Don’t get me wrong, Myrtle is great, but with her as my only outlet it starts to get a little lonely.”

Nudging your shoulder, Draco responded, “Hey, you can always come sing for me, I don’t mind.”

After thanking him, you managed to finally cut off the conversation just a few minutes later. You were ready to get up and out of there, flipping the dust off your skirt as Malfoy stood beside you. He helped carry your belongings, making it easier to sneak through the empty corridors without being held down by all the weight.

Finally safe inside the common room, you felt like you could breathe. He handed you your guitar that he’d been holding, and fixed his hair.

“Well,” He began with a deep breath, “I guess that concludes the night.” He said, looking down at you.

“I guess it does. One that will never happen again.” You emphasized, making his face brighten.

“No promises, L/N.” 

You began walking away, mind racing, when he added, “Oh and by the way--”

He turned you around.

“Next time you decide to push someone, try putting your weight into it.”

- COMMENT IF YOU WOULD LIKE A PART 2

[friendly-philosopher]

Forbidden Feelings and Hidden Corners: Draco Malfoy X Reader

Finally! I've posted this for your request! Thanks for requesting. I don't know if this was what you expected, but I hope you'd like it. Happy reading!

"I am asking you for the final time boy! If you don't accept the mark from the dark lord, I'll have to find ways to make you accept it." The Lestrange woman sneered at her nephew.

Narcissa Malfoy stood hidden in the darkest corner of the room, blending with the darkness, making Draco doubt if she was really there. He knew she wanted to help him, but the wizarding laws, the wedding laws, and the way she was brought up made her unable to speak against her sister who was obsessed with the dark lord, nor her husband who had his arms crossed, staring at his son, who had become the biggest disgrace to the Malfoy bloodline, with disgust.

"Are you taking it or not?" Bellatrix snapped once again.

Draco let out a shaky breath, closing his eyes. The moment he did, all he could remember was her – his sunshine.

He could remember all the beautiful memories with her. Her stunning smile, her radiant face, her ethereal beauty, her angelic laugh, her soft kisses, everything about her, only her!

He remembered how she would interlock her fingers with his. He remembered how she would cuddle with him. He remembered how she would run her fingers through his hair. He remembered how she would hug him from behind, announcing her presence. He remembered how she would make him lay his head on her stomach, hugging him and falling asleep on the couch. He remembered how she would hold him, when everything became too much for him to handle. He remembered how she would hint soft kisses on his head, forehead, nose and finally his lips. He remembered how they both would spend their nights in the astronomy tower, star-gazing.

Finally, he remembered the way she would mumble "I love you"s in between the kisses. Now, he wished he could have told it back to her. He had always been a very private person, building walls. She was the first one to break many of those walls. Yet, he was afraid to tell her that he loved her.

But she waited. She knew how he was when it came to feelings. She knew expressing emotions weren't his strong suit. So, she was patient enough to give him the time he needed, and he appreciated it.

But now, he regretted taking too much time to just state a fact - the fact that he loved her to the moon and back , she was his everything and he wanted a forever with her.

"No!" he heard himself whisper.

"What?" Lucius snapped.

"No! I'd never take the mark nor become a death eater." He stated firmly and felt proud of that bravery.

Lucius glared at him but Bellatrix just laughed an evil, cold laugh that could rival her master's.

"We'll see my dear!" she told him in a sickeningly sweet tone and left Draco's room, motioning his parents to join her.

***

(Y/N) (Y/L/N) missed Draco Malfoy. If someone had told her that she would miss him so badly that her heart will ache for him, four years before, she would have laughed at them. But now, after years of getting to know the true him and loving him, he had become everything to her. She had caring friends and was really grateful for them, but she missed him.

True, their relationship was a secret one, and no one knew about them. But it didn't mean she loved him any less. She loved him all the same and she knew he loved him too, even if he wasn't so vocal about it. She loved spending time with him, and wasted all her days anticipating their midnight meetings.

Her being a Gryffindor, a muggle-born and worse, a part of the golden quadruplet, and best friend to the golden trio and Draco being a pureblooded, a Slytherin and worse, a Malfoy, had them not go public in mutual understanding. But she did love the memories of the midnight, and they took care of their forbidden feelings in their in hidden corners!

But, it had been a week - a week since holidays were over, a week since school had started, a week since she had seen him, a week he didn't attend school. She decided to write him an anonymous letter to find if he was okay. If he got the letter, he would recognize her handwriting immediately. If it somehow, fall in the wrong hands, then they can't know it was from her. Boy, how wrong she was.

She sent a letter to him. It contained a simple question : "Are you okay? Missing you!"

***

It was the first Hogsmeade weekend of the Sixth year for the Golden quadruplet. They were enjoying themselves. Even (Y/N) had pushed aside her worries for a few hours and enjoyed the time with her friends. They decided to head to the 'Three Broomsticks' for a butter beer. While they started walking, suddenly everything became dark and they could feel themselves being grabbed harshly and being aparrated to somewhere.

When (Y/N) opened her eyes, she found herself in a dungeon. She could see her friends in some sort of jail.

She heard someone calling her. The voice was so familiar. Her breath hitched in her throat and her eyes widened. It couldn't be!

"Draco!" She whispered, turning around.

She saw him. It was really him. But his hands were held behind his back by his father while his aunt stood near him.

"How is our little surprise, Draco dear?"

"Let them go!"Draco snapped, pulling his hand away from his father's grasp and reaching for his wand. But before he could even point it against her, Bellatrix disarmed him and bound him with a rope. His wand fall down near his legs and he was forced to look at Bellatrix, now circling (Y/N).

"Ahh....I take it you are the pretty little mudblood that bade my nephew turn against us?" (Y/N) remained silent. "Did you seriously think we can't find you if you didn't sign the letter. Our pure blood magic is way better than that!" She spat.

"Shove your pure blood pride up in your - "

But before she could finish her statement, she fell to the floor, screaming.

"Draco, you take the mark or enjoy watching her die a slow and painful death."

Tears flowed freely from Draco's eyes as he watched the love of his life on the floor, screaming an writhing in pain.

"Please, stop it!" He screamed.

"Will you take the mark, then?"

Before he could answer (Y/N) spoke "Draco, don't. They are gonna kill me even if you take the mark. They'd never let us get together. At least, I'll die knowing I saved you from a terrible fate!"

"Shut up, mudblood! No one asked you to speak" Bellatrix sneered, throwing another "crucio" at her.

Magic is a wonderful thing. It can understand emotions more than any human being ever could. And it did. When Draco felt love for her, anger at his father and aunt for doing this to her and frustrated because he couldn't do anything to save her, his magic swooped in to save the day. His magic came out of his hand without a wand, blasting the iron bars open, freeing the Golden Trio and bursting the lights of the dungeon.

Bellatrix's wand flew away from her hand and so did Lucius's. He caught it and threw them to the trio, before picking up his own, grabbing (Y/N) and apparating to the first place he could think of – The Shrieking Shack. He saw that she was unconscious. She carried her bridal style all the way through Hogsmeade, towards Hogwarts. People stared at him throughout the way, but he didn't care. He walked as quickly as he could, because the only thing he cared about was saving her.

Draco was in a daze all the while – explaining the situation to the matron, the headmaster, Professor Mcgonagall and Professor Snape ; the golden trio rushing in, out of breath, apologizing to them for all his faults and his bullying, his hateful attitude; them forgiving him after seeing the way his own family treated him but saying that it would take them sometime to accept him for who he really was.

Finally, (Y/N) decided to open her eyes. Seeing her best friends and boyfriend having a civil conversation, she thought she was having a dream. But the memories of the past hours came back to her and she sat up suddenly, her body feeling like it was set on fire.

"But why did they take us to make you get the mark?" Harry inquired, stupidly.

"Er.." Draco uncertainly glanced at (Y/N), thinking if it would be appropriate for him to tell them without her, only to see her awake.

He immediately rushed to her, and hugged her gently, like she was a glass flower who'd break at the smallest level of pressure.

"I'm sorry" he mumbled, burying his face in the crook of her neck.

"It's okay!" She told him, cupping his face and gently peppering kisses all over his face, finally landing on his lips, locking it with her own. As they pulled away from the kiss, they could see the totally gobsmacked faces of Harry and Ron, and a slightly shocked yet satisfied look on Hermione's.

"Uh....guys.....I have something to tell you."

"I've been doubting this since the Christmas break of the last year!" Hermione whispered.

"Guys....We really love each other! You've seen him only as a pureblooded Slytherin bully but I've seen the other side of him. The one that has emotions and insecurities, fears and desires, just like a normal person. And I fell in love with that side of him. But you are important to me as well. I would be happy if you accept us!"

"How long has this been going on?"

"Um...We started being civil to each other from the time he was scratched by Buckbeak. You know I love helping around in the infirmary and I helped him. Then we met in the Astronomy tower, quite coincidentially but then started meeting each other. We got into a relationship by the beginning of the last year."

"Are we that bad friends, that you've been lying to us for years?"

"No! The problem was you guys were amazing friends and I felt guilty about loving someone who you considered your enemy! But I couldn't help it. We can't control who we fall for, can we? You guys are very important to me and I didn't want to lose you. I love you too much to lose you!" She said, and she could feel tears leaving her eyes. Draco interwined his fingers with hers and squeezed it. The trio didn't miss his movement. They sighed.

"We understand that he does care for you, or the deatheaters would have never used you to threaten him."

"But one thing Malfoy! You hurt her and we kill you!"

(Y/N) beamed and Draco smiled.

"I would never even dream of it! I love her too much to hurt her!" He said, looking into her eyes. Their gaze locked and they smiled.

There was a war approaching, those were dark times, but they were there for each other. He had her and she had him. And to them, that was enough!

(A/N: Hope everyone liked it! Requests ae still open and you can request me in the comment section or PM me!

Until the next update

- Mischief Managed!)

[orbitariums]

love lessons | neville longbottom x black slytherin reader

omg this was requested sooo long ago and i’m only just completing it. reader, whoever u are, i hope you’re still out there to enjoy this in full <333

here’s a lovely playlist in honor of neville longbottom— i didn’t make it but i adore it!

love lessons | neville longbottom + black slytherin! reader

     You kicked the crunchy, orange-hued fall leaves underneath your brand new combat boots, which were laced tight all the way up to the top just like you liked them to be. You shrugged your crochet cardigan around your shoulders, the cold breeze nipping at the nape of your neck. You scrunched your shoulders up as you folded your arms, irritated by the uncooperative weather. You actually liked being outside on the empty quidditch fields, it was the one place you felt you could be alone with your thoughts. The rest of the Slytherins were always rather loud and obnoxious, constantly trying to one up the next person. You preferred staying to yourself, only proving yourself when necessary, which hardly ever was. 

     People, including the other Slytherins, tended to stay out of your way. You were quiet and smart, but it was no secret that your mouth was quick and sharp, and that if you ever were challenged, you were very no-nonsense. You ended things just with the bat of an eye, or a cool glance in someone else’s direction. No one really bothered you much for that reason— they knew what you were capable of. Still, you always felt crowded in the buzzing, magic-filled halls of the castle, so you spent as much time alone outside as possible.

    You had just settled down in the stands, quill and journal tucked safely in your lap so you could reflect through your writing, when you sensed another person in the quidditch field. Looking up, you could see clearly that it was Neville Longbottom, the Gryffindor in the same year as you. He was trudging around quite stupidly, lugging his broom at his side, and glancing up worrisomely at the sky every now and then. You scoffed as you watched him, rolling your eyes. He hadn’t noticed you yet, but every part of you had noticed him, and it felt like his presence was a complete invasion of space. All you wanted was to be alone, and here he was ruining that. 

Neville noticed you in the stands and went red in the face, apologizing,

    “Sorry, I-I didn’t realize anyone was here, I was going to practice on my broomstick, I’m quite terrible at broom riding. I’ll just be going, then, sorry to bother you—”

You rolled your eyes, shouting back to him,

    “It’s fine. Just keep to yourself, don’t make any noise and we’ll be fine.”

Neville seemed grateful, huffing out a great sigh of relief and nodding appreciatively your way,

    “Sure, sure! Thanks!”

    “Whatever,” you muttered to yourself low under your breath.

    You went back to journaling while Neville steadied himself on his broom, hoisting himself up into the air and trying to keep his balance as he trudged half-heartedly in the air. You weren’t paying much attention to the boy, so any awareness of him disappeared as you journaled. You liked to spend time writing in your journal, just getting your thoughts out and reflecting on your life. You had no one to talk to about your life, as all your Slytherin friends, if you could even call them that, were much too self absorbed and not at all understanding. You liked solitude because it was your only way to find peace, your only way to feel understood. All you had was you, and that was all that mattered. You were just getting to the next page in your journal when something interrupted you— a loud, hoarse scream that seemed to be growing louder and louder, followed by a sudden thud. 

    Confused, you looked up, and when you saw the blob writhing around in pain on the ground, you realized instantly that it was that pitiful Longbottom boy, who you’d long since forgotten about. Your first reaction was annoyance— he had been doing so well all this time making no noise and not bothering you, and now he’d ruined it. But then, your humanity settled in and you were worried, and so you rushed over to him. With a huff, you kneeled beside him, and he rolled over pathetically and looked up at you, wincing. 

    “Ohhh,” he groaned, and you sighed loudly, rolling your eyes. 

No one else was around, so now you’d have to take him to the infirmary. After all, you couldn’t just leave him there. Most Slytherins would expect you to, but you were at least a little decent. 

    “You idiot,” you spat, still unable to conceal your irritation at your alone time being so abruptly interrupted. 

    “‘M sorry, I fell off my broom,” he said hastily, and you rolled your eyes,

    “Yeah, I can see that. Come on, get up, I’ll take you to the hospital wing.” Poor Neville tried getting up, but by the way he was wincing and moaning, you could tell that that wouldn’t be possible. You sighed again, burying your head in your palm and rubbing your temples, thinking, Merlin, if I help this blithering idiot, I better get perfect marks this semester.

    “Oh, honestly,” you growled, standing up and reaching your hand out for him to grab.

He hobbled up and you pulled him up to your height. 

    “Put your arm around me,” you commanded. He looked at you as if confused. “Just do it.”

He slung his arm around you, and you suddenly felt all the weight of his body on you at once. He was limping and hobbling around, barely able to walk on his own. You sighed, heaving and hawing as you trudged through the empty quidditch field and through the halls, hissing at any one who made your journey any longer than it needed to be.

    “Out of the way!” you bit at a couple Hufflepuffs gathered in the middle of the hallway. 

They cleared the way immediately, and you made your way to the hospital wing, where you were met by a worried Madam Pomfrey, whose brows immediately knotted together when she saw you and Neville.

    “Oh, my dear! What happened to you?” she asked, sort of eyeing you in a way that told you she was suspicious you’d done something to him.

You rolled your eyes.

    “He fell off his broom. Do they just let anyone into Hogwarts these days, honestly?” you said the last part under your breath, watching as Madam Pomfrey escorted Neville away. 

You followed because you figured if you’d wasted this much time already, you might as well see this through. You at least wanted to know if the bloke would be okay. As you sat beside him, watching Madam Pomfrey observe him and declare his injury a broken leg, you could see the color drain from Neville’s face. He started to frown and whine,

    “I knew I shouldn’t have tried getting on my broom by myself, I knew something like this would happen. Idiot.”

    “Yes, well, it’s good that you wanted to improve your skills, dear, but-” Madam Pomfrey glanced down at Neville’s twisted leg. “Please do so with proper supervision next time. You’ll have to stay here and recover for the next few days, but you’ll be alright. I’ll be back.”

You glared at Neville, and he finally looked over at you apologetically, tripping over his words as per usual, 

    “Th-thank you, really, thank you, I-I wouldn’t have known what to do, I’d probably be there for hours alone. I’m really sorry, I really didn’t mean to bother you, you seemed to be-”

    “Save it, honestly,” you sighed.

Neville’s face went a few shades darker, and he nodded. 

    “Well… I-I’m Neville.”

    “Yeah, I know who you are.”

    “Y-you do?” Neville looked surprised, raising his eyebrows. 

You nodded calmly, 

    “Yeah. We’ve got potions together, don’t you pay attention? You get yelled at by Snape almost every lesson because you can’t make potions to save your life.”

Neville blushed again here, but explained himself,

    “Yeah, I-I know. I just didn’t think you would’ve noticed me, that’s all…”

    “Yeah, only reason I notice you is because you’re an idiot,” you chuckled to yourself, though you were almost meaning to make a joke between the two of you.

Neville smiled sheepishly, 

    “Well… I know you too. You’re YN. The Slytherin girl.”

    “That is correct. Save the formalities, Longbottom, you owe me.”

Neville started talking incredibly fast, 

    “Yes, yes of course, of course. I-I’ll do anything, I’ll… I could help you with Herbology, I know you hate it.”

You made a face, squinting at him.

    “How do you know I hate Herbology?” you interrogated.

Neville laughed nervously, 

    “I overheard you talking about it in Potions once. I’m actually okay at Herbology, I could help you out.”

You looked long and hard at Neville. Typically, you’d have no interest in being tutored by anyone, especially someone like him. You liked your solitude. You’d honestly rather struggle on your own. But, some part of you told you that this might be worth it. So, you’d give it a shot. 

    “Fine,” you said, after a long moment of silence. “But you better make it worth my time. Meet me in the library, Thursday evening.”

You stood up, and Neville nodded frantically, watching as you began to leave,

    “Yes- I’ll see you there.”

You were due to meet Neville in the library in a few minutes. It was after class on a Friday, so everyone was looking forward to the weekend, and hanging out in the Slytherin common room being loud and vivacious. You on the other hand, still had your school robes on and you were carrying a stack of books in your arms, trying to discreetly make your way to the library to meet Neville. You didn’t want any of the Slytherins finding out what you were doing and with whom, not because you cared, but because you knew they’d never shut up and stop being so childish. 

    “Where’re you going, YN?” shouted out Draco Malfoy from his typical corner of the room, surrounded by his idiotic goons. 

    “Library,” you replied shortly without looking at him, making your way out of the common room and down to the library.

You found Neville there sitting at a table near the Herbology section of the library. True to his nature, he had a plant in front of him whose leaves were stretching out in all different directions, moving like squiggly arms. You sat down at the table, but he was so immersed in the plant that he didn’t even acknowledge you. You waited a moment, watching him with a raised eyebrow, but he still didn’t budge. Growing annoyed, you slammed your hand on the table in front of him, making him jerk up in surprise and look at you with wide eyes.

You rolled your eyes when you made eye contact, shaking your head,

    “Still as much of an idiot as you were the last time, I see.”

    “S-sorry, I’ve just been watching this plant for a few weeks now, he’s only a baby.”

    “I’m kidding, Neville,” you said, and for the first time you cracked a smile that was more than just a slight tug of your lips.

Flustered, Neville’s cheeks grew red, and he shook his head, chuckling,

    “Right. Err, so. We could… get started, if you’d like?”

    Surprisingly, Neville Longbottom made for a great teacher. He was actually interested in the subject and while you thought he was insane for being so wrapped up in something you found mind numbingly boring, you couldn’t help but be engaged in the lesson. He made something you hated into something interesting for the hour and a half you were in the library together. You even found yourself softening up around him, laughing quietly and sharing smiles. His awkward demeanor could never really die, but his walls seemed to fall a little as he tutored you, as if he were comfortable. You found yourself admiring him even, and who were you, a Slytherin, to be admiring the silly Gryffindor boy like this? Hell, he was even a little cute. A little. 

When you’d finally finished, you had pages chock full of notes and textbooks that were annotated to the core. Neville was just asking if you wanted to meet again, and fretting over whether or not he’d done alright when you interrupted him, turning fully in your chair to face him.

    “Neville,” you said, and he cut himself off, pausing to look up at you. There was a slight pause and silence hung in the air before you continued, a bit sheepishly, which was not in your nature. But you also weren’t used to being as nice as you were about to be. “Thank you, really. Thanks loads. You’re… you’re great… at this. Really…” you awkwardly patted him on the shoulder. “Er, thanks.”

Neville’s face was burning bright red and he knew it, because he started stammering and looking anywhere but directly at you. Normally, you would’ve been irritated, but this time around, you couldn’t help but grin amusedly.

    “Er- it-it’s really nothing, ‘m not all that good, just—”

    “We should meet again, yeah?” you interrupted him again, and he looked up.

    “Huh?” he asked stupidly.

    “We should meet up again?” 

    “Oh, of course, if-if you’d like, no pressure.”

    “Of course there’s no pressure on me, Neville, I came up with the idea,” you snorted, shaking your head. It was hard not to find him adorable, honestly. 

    “Right,” Neville blushed again, scratching the nape of his neck. 

    “Maybe we could share a pumpkin juice,” you smiled, meeting his eye as he snapped his head up in shock, both your eyes meeting with a warm sparkle. 

Neville cracked a grin, goofy and wide,

    “Yes. I-I’d like that.”

You smirked, gathering your things and getting up out of your chair. Perhaps there was more to Neville Longbottom than you’d previously thought, and some part of you was desperate to figure it out. 

    “See you around,” you gave him a three-fingered wave and smiled softly at him, the softest smile that had been brought to your lips in a long time, its warmth melting some of the ice in your heart and blowing Neville away.

[desiredmalfoy]

Your Sweater

Character: Pansy Parkinson

Theme: Angst; one-sided pinning

T/W: Self-hate, body image issues please be careful when reading if this triggers you. Please let me know if there is another trigger I forgot to mention.

Note: Takes place during sixth year. No Voldemort in this universe. Just for the purpose of this story, Remus is the permeant DADA professor (no curse).

This deals with a lot of heavy stuff that has to deal with self-hate. This idea came to me randomly one morning and I just wrote and came out with this.

Song Inspiration: Heather by Conan Gray

It would be no surprise to anyone that Pansy Parkinson had a crush on Draco Malloy. Unfortunately for her, her younger self had made it painfully obvious to everyone that Draco was her crush.  But as they grew older, she toned down her public affection for the boy. Opting that it was better for her public image to not be seen as the girl obsessed with Draco Malloy. Going as far as to joke with her friends that she’s glad her silly crush on Draco was over. If only they knew that her crush for him only grown and that it took all her strength to keep it hidden.

Pansy Parkinson no longer wanted to be seen as pathetic. Pathetic for chasing a boy who was never going to love you. 

I still remember the third of December, me in your sweater.

It was freezing and Pansy had stupidly forgotten her sweater in her dorm room. She forgot to grab it as she rushed out the door. She was in a rush to get to the Care of Magical Creatures class that was held outside by Hagrid. Normally she wouldn’t care about being late to such a pathetic class but she had received an owl from her parents. They had told her that they had been informed by her constant tardiness to this particular class. Her mother made it clear that no Parkinson should ever be displaying such behavior. And now she’s stuck outside running the risk of freezing to death.

She shivered as she attempted to keep herself warm with just her robe. It wasn’t bloody helping at all. 

She hadn’t noticed that Draco was watching her as she slightly bounced in place to attempt to keep warm. 

“Here”, Draco mumbled to her as he handed her his sweater. “Your shivering is distracting.”

“Thanks, Malfoy”, Pansy said with a slight eye roll. She took the warm sweater from his hands and tried to put it on as quickly as possible. “I’m surprised you want to hear anything Hagrid has to say.”

“I don’t”, Draco stated with an eye roll. 

It didn’t matter why he had given her his sweater. All that mattered to Pansy is that now his entire scent engulfed her. She longed for the moment he felt the same way she did.

Why would you ever kiss me? I'm not even half as pretty

Pug face

Pug face 

Pug face

She hated that nickname with a burning passion. No one dared to say it directly to her face. They were scared of what the young girl would do to them if they did. But Pansy heard as students uttered that idiotic name when she passed by. The first time she ever heard someone call her that was Potter and his little followers. These words stung her a bit but she quickly morphed her face back into a stoic expression. She acted as though she hadn’t just heard a bunch of Gryffindor's insult her about looks. Ever since that first encounter with it, it became more prominent in her head that quite a few people called her that. 

That horrid name is what had her in such a bad mood currently. It wasn’t helping that Draco was now walking towards their regular spot with you. 

You. The girl that magnified Pansy’s insecurities to a maximum. The girl who made Pansy realize every imperfection she had. The girl who had basically stolen her best friend.

The girl that was now wearing his sweater instead of Pansy. 

The girl who had soft green eyes with specks of brown, contrasted Pansy’s boring brown eyes. She hated that everyone thought everything about you was better compared to her. Because if it wasn’t the truth, Draco would be by her side and not yours.

You were the girl that had long beautiful brown hair that reached your waist. Hair that shined under the light and looked so soft to the touch. Your hair flowed with each of your delicate movements. While Pansy had the same brown hair but hers was short and plain. It was nothing special. It was cruel how the universe had gifted you both with brown hair yet it had cursed Pansy with plainness. While it gifted you the beauty that anyone would envy. 

And that envy was eating her up inside.

Kinda wish she were dead 

Pansy wished you had stayed in the shadows of (y/house). She had wished you had stayed a nobody to everyone. Just like you had previously before you waltzed into Draco’s life in sixth year and unfortunately Pansy’s life as well. But fate had cruelly paired Draco with you for DADA. Well... Professor Lupin had paired you with him. She loathes Lupin for deciding to ever pair you up with Draco. While she got stuck working with the git Goyle. 

She felt the anger boil within her as she saw Draco attempting to walk you through the wand movements of a simple defense spell. You were probably just pretending not to know so you could get close to him. 

Angered burned in her chest when she attempted to make fun of your pathetic excuse of magic use during DADA. Draco actually had the audacity to sneer at her for making fun of the pathetic girl. 

“Leave her alone Parkinson. She’s never done anything to you.”

Funny how the boy who never had a problem with making fun of anyone suddenly saw wrong in her actions. 

Those words burned in her brain as she saw your friendship with Draco begin to bloom. And there was nothing she could do to stop it. 

That friendship eventually blossomed into a relationship. 

She wished you would just disappear. Disappear from her life and most importantly Draco’s. 

Holding your hand. Put your arm 'round her shoulder, now I'm getting colder.

“Why are we waiting again”, Pansy asked annoyed that they hadn’t left yet for their trip to Hogsmeade.

“We’re not even late”, Draco scoffed at her. “You can all leave and I’ll wait here.”

“Wait for what”, Pansy asked him again. Annoyed at the fact that she had once again been left out of something. 

“Are you really that dense Parkinson”, Blaise rolled his eyes at her. “He’s waiting for the (y/n).”

“Yeah it’s not like he hasn’t been fawning over her for the past weeks”, Goyle laughed. 

“Well, my life doesn’t revolve around Malfoy’s love life. So how would I know?” Of course he’d be waiting for her.

“Hi sorry I’m late”, (y/n) said as she ran running down the hall toward the group of Slytherins. “ I couldn’t find my favorite sweater.”

“Hi everyone”, she said sickingly sweetly as she waved to the group. They boys returned her greeting with a small wave. Pansy simply rolled her eyes. 

“I would’ve let you borrow mine”, Draco said as he grabbed her hand. This caused a frown to form on Pansy’s lips. Could you be any more annoying? 

“Let’s go already. I’m getting cold just standing around.”

“You’re so impatient Parkinson,” Blaise said with an eye roll. “Next time bring a better coat.” 

Draco was no longer paying attention to her. His full attention was on you. 

But you like her better, wish I were HER.

Pansy sat down at the table waiting for her date to return with their drinks. She had stupidly hoped Draco would gain some sense and ask her to the End of the Year Ball. But she was extremely naïve to even expect that much. She knew he was still dating (y/n) but deep down she wished he would’ve asked her.

She didn’t understand why Draco failed to pay attention to her. She was everything his parents wanted for him. A pure-blood that came from a good family with money. She was his perfect match.

But even she knew that Draco’s parents adored (y/n). Her mother had written her letting her know that Narcissa did nothing more then brag and fawn over your relationship with Draco. Her mother had rudely written “Maybe if you tried to be better Draco would actually notice you. Maybe if you were prettier.”

She watched from the edge of the great hall to the center of the dance floor where you had your arms placed around Draco’s neck. He stared deeply into your eyes, intoxicated by you. 

She just wished that was her. She wished she was his whole world.

Important: I know I described brown eyes in a negative light (because it’s supposed to be self-hating). Just know that brown eyes are beautiful! I have brown eyes too. Please love your brown eyes and don’t look down on them. I know that generally, people tend to look down on their brown eyes so that’s why I wanted to write this little note at the end.

Note: Pansy is one of my favorite character and I absolutely adore her. 

[jadedxrealityw]

-Fairy Tale Love- Draco Malfoy x Female Reader

     Kody: Im kinda dying inside, because i can’t seem to think of any good ideas for stories, so sorry this hella sucks.

     Summary: Draco has found a new spot in the library and sees someone else has to. He strangely finds comfort in there presence.

     Warning: Super fluff, your heart will not handle it. 

     House: Slytherin

      ♡~🐍~♡

       It had been hard for Draco to ever find peace and quiet in Hogwarts. He was either surrounded by his loud ‘friends’ or Potter and his trio of Gryffindors. Sometimes he wanted to escape it all. One day while browsing the library for a potions book he spotted a small light. It looked like it had been coming from the bottom of the shelf.

       Out of curiosity, Draco had walked over to the book shelf and pressed his hand against it. A click was heard and he watched as the shelf slided into the wall. He jumped back a bit and pulled out his wand. Hogwarts wasn’t the safest place by all means and merlin knows what was behind this shelf. 

       When only came out to attack him, Draco pocketed his wand and took a small step forward. He leaned in to peek inside and saw a small room. It had to black sofas leaning against one wall, each had a table in front of them. To the left was a desk with a floating lantern above it. Next to said desk had two shelving units, one with unused parchment, quills, and ink jars. The other with novels and books.

       He turned to his right to see a H/L H/C haired girl sitting in a black loveseat. She had her legs tucked into herself as she held a book in her hands, as she flipped a page in her book her eyes strayed away from the words and to the blond slytherin. The girl squeaked as the book fell from her hands, landing with a thud “I guess you found my little getaway”

       Draco blinked a couple times, trying to process her words. “What the bloody hell is this place?” he asked, stepping into the room. The shelf closed behind him “It’s one of Hogwarts many secrets i suppose” The girl said, she stood up from the loveseat and reached down to collect the book she dropped. The blond Slytherin gave her a confused expression when she stood back up.

       “It’s just a secret room only Slytherins can access” She says in a quiet tone as she set her book down on the table, crossing her arms over her chest. “I found it a couple months ago while searching for a charms book” she explained further while Draco walked around the room, inspecting the shelves, books, sofas, etc. 

       He turns his gaze from the quill he had picked up to the girl “Who are you?” he asked “Y/n L/n” she replied rather quickly making Draco grin in slight amusement. “How come i’ve never seen you around?” he questions more, going over to take a seat on one of the sofas. “I’m usually here, i only leave when its curfew. I’m also not that noticeable” Y/n laughs lightly, pushing a strand of hair from her face.

       Draco listens, taking into account of her rather shy behaviour. It was strange, but he knew not everyone was out going and such. “Well, i see why. Its quiet and peaceful. With no one around to bother you” Y/n could tell that he needed a safe pace like this. It’s how she found it “Well, you're welcomed to stick around if you like? Not like i can control you, Malfoy” She lets out a giggle.

       “You know my name, L/n?” he asked with a small smirk, thinking she was one of his many admirers. “I heard your name from Pansy Parkinson, she talks quite loud. I also go to quidditch games, your the seeker for Slytherin and well i’m in your house” her answer made Dracos cocky smirk drop “You observe a lot, don’t you?”

       Y/n nods, swaying on the heels of her feet “Yeah i suppose, i’m not good talking to people, so i watch” shrugging her shoulders she sits on the same sofa, leaving a gap between the two. “You seem to be talking to me just fine” he comments, leaning back in the sofa. He could see the cogs turn in her mind as she wondered as well why he was so easy to talk to.

       “I don’t know, maybe it’s because you don’t talk loud. Loud people make me nervous” Y/n shrugging of her own answer. Draco hummed in response before leaning over to pick up her book “Interesting read?” he said and he saw sparks light up in her eyes.

       “Oh it’s great. It’s about this prince, he hides behind a mask because he doesn’t want to disappoint his family. Then one day he finds this girl, she’s not a princess, a village girl and kind of lock herself away from the rest of the world because she’s to scared to let anyone in. I haven’t finished it yet, but i hope they get together” Y/n gleamed with happiness, making Draco’s permanent scowl twitch int o a slight smile.

       “Why do you want them to be together, wouldn’t that go against everything his family believes in?” Draco asked, curious to hear his answer. Y/n’s brows furrow as she thinks “Well, he went looking for peace in his own chaotic world and found her. She brought him a happiness like no other that he was really to risk it all just to be with her”

             ♡~🐍~♡

       Weeks went by of Draco coming to the secret room to meet Y/n. They’d talk about anything that came to mind. The slytherin had grown to like her company. The way she spoke could calm him from any anger. The way her eyes gleamed could melt his cold heart. Her laugh, smile, hell even her weird habit of picking at her nails. It was perfect.

       Those skills would be put to the test today. It was a calm day, a perfect day when Potter and his friends had to be there. He tried to ignore them, he really did, but when Potter started to talk about how Slytherins were a terrible house, his mind went to Y/n and her beautiful smile and he broke, grabbing Harry by his collar and slamming him against the wall.

       “Draco!” his heart thumped. No. She couldn’t see him like this. Not the monster he really was. He could see you from the corner of his eyes, he didn’t dare to look further. You never raised your voice, he didn’t like it. Draco let go of Harry and watched as he scurried away with his friends. People were staring now as well. Y/n grabbed Draco’s hand and like a lost puppy, led him to your hideout.

       When the shelf closed she let go of his hand, watching as he sat on the sofa. Y/n slowly sat down next to him “Want to talk about it?” she asked in a soft whisper. He shook his head and looked at her in shame “Why are you still being so nice to me?” she looked at him confusingly and smiles “What do you mean?” 

       “Didn’t you see, i’m a monster Y/n. I hurt people that’s who i was raised to be!” He got louder by each word, causing Y/n to shift uncomfortably in her seat. He noticed and let out a stuttered sigh. “Remember that book you told me about?” he asked. Y/n nodded slowly, unsure where this was going “Of course i do, why?”

       “What happened to them?” he asked, his voice cracked slightly “Well, one day a man had called the village girl bad names and the prince challenged him to a duel, which neither won because the village girl broke it up. The prince was very upset because the village girl had seen the worst side of him.” She explained. Draco listened to every word intently. 

       “Did she forgive him?” “Well of course she did, she knew that he only meant well behind his action. Plus she was stupidly in love with him” She laughed quietly. She noticed Draco’s hands start to shake a bit and grabbed one, gently squeezing it. Without second thought, Draco tugged her hand causing her body to lean against his and slammed his mouth onto her’s. 

       It was a quick and he pulled away right after. Y/n had a frazzled look on her face and leaned back “That happened in the book as well...” she said, a smile then graced her lips “Twice actually”  before turning into a cheeky grin. draco laughs quietly “Oh really?” he asked. She nods as she leans into him 

       “So kiss me, my prince” and with that they shared a sweet kiss. all of Draco’s worries washing away at once as he found home in the arms of a girl he would have never have found if he wasn’t searching for a peaceful getaway....

      ♡~🐍~♡

       Kody: I really can’t tell if i hate this or not. It’s so cheesy lmao, but hope you enjoyed nonetheless.

[forthehpfanboys]

A Good Look On You

Pair: Draco Malfoy x Reader; he/him.

Summary: You and Pansy have been friends since- since forever! Draco was fine with it until Pansy found out his little secret and decided to flirt with her close friend, leading arguing and kissing. 

Warnings: arguing, Swearing.

Notes: Requested! Italicized text is a flash back. noting this just in case. Also, loved this idea!

~DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE~

-

Draco was one more cheeky giggle and unreserved shoulder hit from snapping his quill and throwing his thick textbook across the table. He, somehow, managed to sneer harder when his best girl buddy’s eyes glanced at him from across the table, flashing him a wink without even turning her head away from the laughing man next to her. He knew she was doing this on purpose. It was beyond clear. If the conversation the night pier hadn’t happened, he would know from the wink and it was infuriating. The night before replayed in his head again, like it had been since he sat down with his small group of friends.

“Pipe down!” Draco spat out, his hand shooting away from his side to cover Pansy’s mouth, a glare making itself known in the dim lighting of the Slytherin common room. “He might hear you! Then we’ll have a bigger problem on our hands than a small crush.” The blonde knew no matter how hard he tried, she’d never believe his fondness for you was something small. She rolled her eyes before smacking his hand away.

“Oh, please, Draco! Small crush? Really? You were actually drooling over him after he saved your arse during the quidditch game!” She yelled while jabbing a finger into his chest, effectively drawing the attention of the few people resting after the game. This caused Blaise to speak up from his spoke on the couch.

“Yeah, mate. You were sporting your own kind of wood, weren’t you?”

“I will hex you into next week, Zabini. Shut it.” Draco spat at the male, debating on whether suffocating his friend with a pillow was worth the consequences.

“Ok, Draco, listen. He’s already your friend. If you don’t move this to first, hell, even second base, I’ll do it for you.” Pansy spoke up, crossing her arms over her chest and popping a hip out like his mother. 

“Pansy, please. Just drop it.” Draco covered his eyes. The seeker was far too tired for this conversation. He just wanted to lay down in his bed, maybe shower. He was all sweaty- he hated the stupid heat. 

“Fine then. You’ve left me no choice.” With that, the young women stormed off to the girls dorms with a harsh slam of the door behind her. 

The blonde wanted to throw up. He didn’t have the stomach to see his best friend flirting oh so clearly with his puppy love crush who didn’t even seem to notice. You had an arm wrapped around the back of her chair, only leading her closer to her side. He blinked a few times when you glanced over to him, his lungs shutting down from the impact of your gaze alone. He quickly glanced back down at his book, his teeth biting down on his bottom lip in a silent prayer that you didn’t catch him glaring at Pansy. 

“Draco? Are you ok?” You asked with your stupidly precious worried grin and gleaming perfect eyes. “Was it Potter that ruined your mood? Did he do something again?” Your grin grew wider, when Pansy broke out in a soft fit of giggles. 

“I’m fine.” He grumbled out, flipping the page of a book he wasn’t even reading. Was he being dramatic? Of course he was! He’s a Malfoy- he had a reputation to uphold. He dipped his quill in the inkwell like he was seriously going to answer the homework questions laid out across his parchment, but he hasn’t written a thing in the past hour. 

“You don’t seem ok. You know you can tell me anything.” You removed your arm from the back of Pansy’s chair and leaned forward leaned forward in your seat, an unamused expression across your face. The blonde didn’t know it, but you had a rough idea of why he was acting like a big baby. It was pretty obvious. “I thought we were best friends!”

“Drop it, (L/n). I don’t want to talk about it, so leave it be.” He closed his book harder than he wanted too and dropped the quill into the inkwell. Draco never meant to take his anger out on you, but the words tumbled from his mouth before he could change his mind. “And we aren’t best friends. You’ve made that more than clear today.” Draco spat out. He stood up, ignoring the look of pain that set across your face and left the library, not looking back or taking his stuff with him. 

You watched his form weave through the students inside the library, a sigh leaving your lips when he slammed the door shut behind him. Your head fell into your hands as Pansy rubbed your back. 

“He’ll come back. Moron left his stuff behind like the brilliant wizard he is.” Pansy spoke up, her hand now drawing stars on your tense shoulders. She tried to cast you a smile when you looked up, but you just gazed at the blondes abandoned books.

“I’ll just take ‘em up to the dorms.” You stood up, sliding the books across the table. Pilling his stuff on top of yours, you carried the heavy load out of the library and carefully making your way down to the dungeons. When you walked in, your eyes immediately landed on the pacing blonde, who noticed you from the corner of his eye.

“What are you doing with my stuff?” Draco sneered, storming over and ripping the books from your grip. “Trying to steal my notes? Trying to cheat?” He took a few steps away from you before scrunching up his nose in a way that would’ve been absolutely adorable if he wasn’t being a huge jerk. “My father will hear about this.” He spoke while backing up before turning swiftly on his heels and heading up the stairs, but didn’t get far. He whipped around when you slammed your books on the common room floor. 

“What in Merlin’s name crawled up your arse, Draco? I only came in here to drop your stupid books off, not steal them you prat!” You shook your head in disbelief. “Now I have no idea why you’ve suddenly turned cold towards me, but my Gods! Is our friendship seriously worth nothing to you? Am I worth nothing to you?” You watched him climb down the stairs and throw his books onto the couch before making his way to you. 

“I’m so glad you get the pict-”

“Finish that sentence, Draco, and I’ll hex you!” Pansy interrupted, slamming the door shut behind her. “Just tell him already!”

“There’s nothing to tell your boyfriend!” Draco turned to her, but pointed an accusing finger at you. His nose scrunched up as he slowly turned his head back to you. “You’re just as bad as Pot-”

“Draco, I am NOT dating (Y/n)! He’s been my best friend since we were both in cribs, you bloody imbecile!” Pansy spoke up, almost stepping between the two of you. “Can you seriously not tell that all of that was just to get you to tell him! You’ve been awful for the past two hours, cut it out!”

“I just said there’s nothing to say!” The blonde crossed his arms over his chest. At this point, steam was practically blowing out of his ears similar to the Hogwarts Express. “Nothing, Pansy. Not a damn thing.” he turned on his heel to, once again, storm off, but Pansy’s hand on his shoulder stopped him. He tried to shrug it off, but it stayed firm.

“Draco, I just want to see you happy.” Her voice was softer now.

“If you did, you wouldn’t have been flirting with him!” He pushed the hand away, heading toward the stairs to hide away again. At this point, everything clicked in your head. Your legs moved while your brain rushed over the facts that became clear. “Hey! Don’t touch me!” He called out when you grabbed the hood of his robe and used it as leverage to pull him back into your chest. You wrapped your arms around his waist, keeping him against you as he fought and yelled and kicked. He was about to throw a swing over his shoulder when you nuzzled your nose into the space right behind his ear and spoke the words you’d wanted to say for a few years now. 

“I fancy you too, Malfoy.” Your grip tightened as you planted a quick kiss against the back of his ear. Your eyes fell closed, expecting more screaming, maybe a few hexes thrown at you, but the Slytherin seeker in your arms didn’t move.

“I.. You do?” His voice was soft and you could feel the heat radiating off his red cheeks and ears. “But- Pan-”

“She’s just a friend,” You nodded against his hair, “Besides, I’m into blokes.” You glanced over his shoulder, straining your neck to try to see his face. He turned toward you, his piercing blue eyes staring into your (e/c) ones. You casted him a small smile, your chin resting against his shoulder. 

“You do?”

“Yes, clueless. And I happen to fancy you back. Really wish you’d said something sooner, Blondie.” You smiled wider and took the opportunity to plant a soft kiss to his nose before he turned around in your arms. He rested his hands on your own shoulders, yours stayed around his waist, while his eyes looked back into yours.

“I thought we killed that bloody awful nickname years ago.”

“Well now it’s back to stay as punishment for being an angry ferret.” You laughed, your fingers drawing small circles on his lower back. You smirked as his face turned even redder than before. 

“Stop it. This isn’t how this was supposed to go.”

“So, you’ve imagined this?” Your voice wasn’t meant to sound teasing, just curious, but it came out wrong. Your eyebrows furrowed as you nibbled on the inside of your cheek. “That came out wro-”

“No, I'd say that was perfect.” Draco grumbled, shaking his head. He hid his head beneath your chin. “But for your information, I have and this pales in comparison to my imagination.” He raised his head when you broke out in a fit of giggles. “What?”

“You would daydream about us being together? That’s so cute!” Your smile was filled with sweetness. You smiled wider when he began to stumble over protests, objecting to such a childish idea. “It’s ok! I did too.” You rolled your eyes, gently tapping his back with each finger, basically counting the list as you went. “Night time snuggles together, teasing nerdy Ravenclaws together, stealing your shirts.” The list went on and on.  

Draco stared into your shimmering eyes, his tongue swiping over his lips quickly as he processed everything. You felt the same way as him, why was he still playing the “I’m straight as a broomstick” routine? He wanted nothing more than to do everything on your daydream list and he wanted to catch up on lost time.

“Stop talking.” He whispered, his lips coming close to yours. He stopped just before they connected. “Do you really fancy me or are you playing with my feelings?” His eyes fluttered closed, showing off his lashes against his cheeks beautifully. 

“Of course I do! You know I would never do that to you!” You were actually offended he thought you would do something like that. “I can’t believe you’d actually th-”

“Can I kiss you?”

“-ink I’d so something so brash and- Wait, what?” Now, he got to see you blush. Well, he would’ve, if his eyes were open. His loss.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked again, a sly grin across his face. Ok, maybe he had seen your strawberry colored cheeks. Hearing him utter those words had your heart thumping in your chest.

“Please do.” 

When his lips crashed against yours, it didn’t feel like fireworks. No, it felt much more perfect and special than that. Like coming up for oxygen after viewing the most perfect of coral reefs. Like going to space and seeing the stars, rotating planets and twisting galaxies all for the first time. It was wordlessly perfect. When he pulled away from you, you spoke the first words that came to your head. 

“Jealousy is such a good look for you.” You said it in a way that almost sounded like your head stopped functioning, almost dumb-like if that makes sense. Draco let out a soft chuckle and pressed his forehead to yours.

“Well, since your mine now, you won’t be seeing it again.”

“I highly doubt that.” You whispered against his lips before kissing him again. You did see it again, and again, and again, but it never bothered you.

[runnfromtheak]

Darling!!!!!!!!!! I dare yo to write an alternate Deathly Hallows where Draco yeets the Elder Wand.

Challenge accepted. Here’s my first venture into HP fanfiction, I suppose. :)

“HARRY POTTER IS DEAD!”

 There’s something to be said about shock.

Something to be said about going into shock, but he can’t be bothered to care at this moment. The words slip from his grasp, falling aside as worthless details and half grasped concepts.

They aren’t real, nothing feels real, because as much as he’s hated Harry Potter, as deeply as he’s despised him, he’s never dreamt of his corpse. Not once, not even at his darkest, not even with his Aunt Bella egging him on as the muggles screamed…

 He’s never wished Potter dead, even if he hated himself for it.

 He freezes as the Weasley girl screams, as her father grabs her tight as he can to hold her back from the Death Eater’s loud cheers. Draco can see him – the object of his envy and hatred and irritation and complete and utter loathing – in the Half-breed’s arms, draped haphazardly like a delicate princess. It almost looks like he’s sleeping, like this is all some sick joke, and the stupid prat’s Chosen One powers are about to kick in at any moment.

 But then Draco looks at Granger and Weasley, looks at the shock in their eyes, the broken and haunted way the tears gather in their eyes, and he knows this is real. This isn’t school years, where his worst secret is the humiliation lingering after Potter’s rejection in first year, where his biggest concern is winning the Quidditch game just to show Potter up or the House Cup to give the finger to Dumbledore.

This is real, and it’s terrifying, terrifying in a way he’d barely tasted in sixth year, half-mad with desperation and the burden of that brand on his arm, the dark ink marking him as evil and wrong.

 (“Draco, years ago, I knew a boy who made all the wrong choices. Please, let me help you.”)

 He hadn’t let the old man help him, had watched Severus Snape kill him, and he feels a pang for the optimistic fool doomed to die. He never set out to make the wrong choices, but he did anyways. There were no choices, there had been honor, and duty, and loyalty, but never a choice.

 (What’s the right choice when every action leads to a death? When inaction leads to death? What is the right choice when your father bartered away your ability to make them for the loyalty of a madman drunk on power?)

 Malfoys don’t have choices, they have responsibilities.

 He’d been damned from the start.

 “SILENCE!”

 No one speaks, no one breathes, not even Draco. His eyes linger on Potter, blood-spattered and dirty, as if he’d tumbled through dirt before ‘Avada Kedavra’ struck. He wonders if it hurt, if Potter had been afraid.

Potter’s a Gryffindor, so he doubts it – what they lacked in subtlety and intelligence they made up for in fool-hardy bravery.

 (And isn’t that the conundrum Draco’s struggled with, surrounded by the Dark Lord’s suffocating presence, the toxic feeling lingering in Malfoy Manor – is it better to be a brilliant coward, or a brave fool? – Potter’s corpse doesn’t offer any answers)

 “Why didn’t you tell her? Bellatrix? You knew it was me. You didn’t say anything.”

 He’s never been ready for Potter’s death, even when the opportunity arose not once but twice – first at the hands of his family, second at the hands of his friends – he’d been so stupidly unprepared that he’d saved him, lied for him, even after the bathroom and all the bad blood accumulated over years of bitterness, years of envy and what he wishes he could call hatred.

 He’d never had a choice, but he let himself have one.

 His family asked him to save them, and he chose Potter, for reasons neither of them understand. ‘Understood,’ he corrects, ignoring the blathering of the Dark Lord as he glides across his field of destruction and blood, ‘Neither of us understood.’ Because it’s past tense now – hate is now hated, envy is now envied – and he still doesn’t know how to feel, even as he knows how he should feel.

Malfoys are calm, collected. Malfoys are perfect, in composure as well as pedigree. Malfoys don’t cower, nor do they fight.

As the snake strikes in the cover of tall grass, Malfoys strike in the dark, underhanded methods and crafty exchanges (money makes the bloody world spin, and the Malfoys have more money than they have emotion).

 He should be happy, should be smug, perhaps, over the death of the Boy Who Lived. The other Death Eaters are – ecstatic, actually – but he’s not the same as them, even if it would be easier for his entire family if he were. Potter is the Boy Who Lived, and he’s the fool unwilling to see him dead – the boy who had no choice – stuck on the subtle tug of his gut as Potter’s heart beats, as his green eyes glimmer.

 Draco hates himself for noticing that too, for not being what he should be for his family.

 “Draco, come.”

 His mother beckons him, lips pulled tight in a twisted mockery even he couldn’t call a grin. It’s forced, so disgustingly forced that he could scream, rage the way the Weasley girl tries to. Malfoys are calm, Malfoys are collected, and the look in his mother’s eyes – the whimper half released from his father’s throat – is anything but.

 Draco walks from the right side numbly, staring at Potter’s corpse even as the Dark Lord embraces him.

 He shivers in revulsion, sick as the man his family has served faithfully for so long embraces him as family. He’s stiff, goosebumps trailed down his pale – damn near translucent – flesh feels the Dark Lord’s words.

 Draco is released and his mother embraces him next, but his eyes still linger on the corpse that should not be, the last person he’d ever thought would die – even though Potter was the only non-muggle the Dark Lord truly wanted to die.

 No one calls him back, not that he expects them to, but he’s (mildly) disappointed all the same.

 He wonders if Potter would have attempted it, self-righteous in his own beliefs that Draco couldn’t be truly evil, truly wrong, if he’d defied the Dark Lord to let him live. He probably would have, might have called him a git or pathetic, and it’s nearly enough to make Draco laugh.

 How far he’s fallen, to crave the predictability and reliability in banter with his greatest rival. That mutual irritation… They got under each other’s skin in ways no one else could, even if Draco hadn’t killed anyone.

 “…Longbottom.”

 He ignores his surroundings, ignores his mother’s soft attempts to coax him out of his self-imposed silence, ignores his father’s whimpering and the ashen appearance that’s such a far cry from before…

 Before life became real, and actions had consequences, and his choices led to death and pain for people who didn’t deserve it.

 Somewhere between Albus Dumbledore’s death and Potter’s, he’d changed.

 Life used to be so clear…

 But his father had been abandoned to Azkaban, cast aside in his own home for the Dark Lord’s acceptance. His mother had suffered – quietly, in ways those who didn’t know her wouldn’t see – in ways she’d never suffered before. And Draco… Draco…

 “…You knew it was me. You didn’t say anything.”

 He doesn’t know himself anymore.

 “Draco,” his father murmurs, and he pulls back, tearing his gaze off Potter for the first time since Voldemort’s loud declaration set in this cold, this numbness, settling in his limbs as if it was meant to be there.

 His mother strokes his hair, nearly as tense as he is.

 His father… looks pathetic. His once luminous blonde locks are stiff and dirty, as worn down and decayed as the rest of him. He’s lost weight, enough for his cheeks to appear sullen and sunken in, enough for his perfectly tailored robes to hang off him in ways not befitting a Malfoy.

 He shoots his father a glare, furious at the tears he can feel prickling at the corners of his eyes.

 “What?” He demands, ignoring Longbottom’s nervous words, the exaggerated gestures he makes as he speaks, drawing the crowds of right and wrong’s attention.

 “We must leave, Draco,” Narcissa interjects, eyes cold and empty. There’s a kindness in her touch that her perfect face can’t convey. “Now.”

 But he shoves her away, because his eyes are back on Potter – infuriatingly, stupidly, fixated on the boy turned man he couldn’t hate no matter how desperately he wanted to. Steady breath, in and out.

 “…a boy who made all the wrong choices…”

 He feels his mother eyes linger, demanding answers he can’t give, perhaps is unwilling to give.

 Longbottom’s shouting now, speaking of sacrifice and how Harry Potter’s stupid heart had beat and bled for them all – and honestly, after all the years and pain and suffering, how could they not already know that? How could they question that, when he only hated those who aligned themselves with pain, with hatred and wrong choices.

 Unexplainably, there’s a twitch.

 Corpses don’t twitch, and it’s small enough for Draco to nearly brush off, to dismiss it as a fight of fancy for his not-hated rival, but he knows Potter. Knows Potter far more than he likes admitting, and he sees his right hand – the same hand he extends towards the snitch every match with that infuriating grin – twitch again.

Potter can’t sit still, never has been able to…

 And Draco knows the truth before Longbottom draws the sword of Godric Gryffindor from the dirtied Sorting Hat, knows it as Voldemort laughs.

 “Harry’s heart did beat for us! For all of us! And it’s not over!”

 Harry Potter grunts, louder than the rapid tempo of Draco’s heart, and he flings himself from the Half-Giant’s arms to the cold stone floor of the half-destroyed courtyard.

 The Dark Lord turns, smug grin turning as the gasps reach his ears…

 Potter’s wild-eyed, hands grasping for a wand that evidently wasn’t there, still glaring at Voldemort defiantly.

 Draco Malfoy is a boy who’s never had a choice, burdened by his family’s legacy, by the weight of expectations and tradition and self-importance piled on by his father. He’s always followed his father’s rules, his father’s ambitions…

 He’s been perfect, as close as he could get.

He’s been obedient, even as it tore his soul and mind apart.

He’s been cool, even as screams scratch at his throat, demanding to be released.

 But when the Dark Lord turns, when he frowns and his eyes narrow into dark slits, Draco makes another choice, ripping his arm from his mother’s grasp.

 “Draco—” His father tries, but he’s already gone.

 “…all the wrong choices…”

 “Potter!” He shouts, ripping the wand straight from Voldemort’s bony fingers. Potter’s emerald eyes – still glimmering, Draco can’t help but notice – snap onto him, hardened and suspicious, until they notice the wand he holds in a death grip.

 He tosses the wand, ignoring Voldemort’s angry shout for another wand, and Potter catches it, looking alive and confident…

 “CONFRINGO!”

 Nagini hisses, sent flying towards the Death Eater’s as Voldemort yells again, sending waves of flames towards Potter and – fuck – him. They both jump over rubble, ducking between pillars as they run.

 “If we die,” Draco hisses, dodging another furious attack from Voldemort, “I will kill you again, Potter.”

 Potter sends him a curious look, one that makes him catch his breath.

 “If we die,” He echoes, lips curling upwards. “Tom won’t succeed, not this time.”

 Draco blinks, nearly struck by another jet of flames he doesn’t notice.

 “Who the bloody hell is Tom?”