Draco Malfoy Reader

Draco Malfoy × Reader

❝Draco can recall the autumnal air that had once hung from his tongue like the acerbic aftertaste of the destruction he’d been a part of. Can remember his crimson caked cuticles, grimy yet gleaming, beneath a sheet of stardust atop the Astronomy Tower balcony. Can taste - yes, can almost, almost taste - the cryptic whorls and acrid ink tracing his veins, predicting his fate.

Their fate.❞

Puffy!!!! Ily so very much!!!! I really hope to see something from you soon!!! Keep slayin❤

ahhhh, alice!!! i love you so very, very much too! i actually came across this sirius road trip fic the other day i wrote god knows how long ago, so i plan on posting that sometime this week. thanks for checking in on me, love 💓

Spilled Ink by @thepuffyeyedpuff is wonderfully written so go read it!!

haphazard.

draco malfoy x reader

*requested

in which two war-torn lovers confess their feelings as the world comes to its end.

prompt list.

x

When Draco Malfoy is seventeen years old, he twines a promise around her finger and pins a secret to his heart.

Because Voldemort has ascended and there’s blood on the Drawing Room floor - dirty blood, tainted blood, Granger’s blood - and there’s cries imbued into the whorls of Draco’s mind, crashing and burning and tangible and scarring. There's Dumbledore's pleas and Thorfinn's screams and Crabbe's ashes and a ring on her finger and a knife hanging over his head and Potter's dead, Potter's dead, gave up his life so that the world might go on and everyone, everything will be alright.

But everything is not alright, no, nothing is okay. Because Draco is running and running, and he’s searching and searching, and oh, God, oh, God he can’t find her, he can’t find her, and there’s rubble crunching beneath his feet and soot seeping into his lungs, and oh, God, oh, God he can barely breathe.

When he finds her on a fourth-floor corridor backed into a corner by Fenrir Greyback with her fingers grasping her ribs and her wand lying half a yard away, his breath catches, and his heart stutters and his mind flatlines.

A curse falls from his lips. It sounds so natural and tastes so bitter, and it makes him feel sick.

“Draco?”

“Come on. We have to hurry.”

He fits his fingers to her hips, and it feels like fourth year all over again. With frost clinging to her hair and petals falling from her lips and a kiss - sweet, sweet, sweet - pressing against the corner of his mouth because she’d missed his cheek, but he doesn’t believe that was an accident, no.

Not entirely.

“Where are we going?”

“I don’t know,” he murmurs, hopes she doesn’t hear him.

Screams are reverberating off the walls and splintering the stone and Draco is vaguely reminded of Granger's guttural cries and Thorfinn's screams and Dumbledore's final plea and Crabbe's bones lying in a pile of muddled memories beneath the cabinet in the Room of Requirement and God, oh, God, he can barely even breathe.

He stops running, swipes a thumb across the picket white fence of her knuckles and reiterates to himself that he is breathing and she is real.

He holds onto that, onto her hand, tells himself a pretty lie he refuses to swallow and choke on.

He stops running, faces her, grasps the slope of her chin in the cusp of his palms, can feel the pads of his thumbs pulsating beneath the subtle jut of her cheekbones.

“Listen to me. Listen to me, please. I love you. More than I ever truly knew. More than you’ll ever begin to know. And that - that is my downfall. That has been my mistake this entire time. My mistake was falling for you.”

She grabs the starch of his collar and digs her nails into his nape and drags her teeth along his lips and presses her ribs flush against his and he thinks - God, he knows - their hearts are pounding in perfect tandem.

When she pulls away, there’s copper rusted on her chin.

“We’ve both made mistakes,” she whispers, her breath biting his lips. He can still taste their kiss.

Sweet, sweet, sweet.

Crimson lightning strikes the morning air.

The sky falls.

❝close your eyes, and picture the sun. that’s what it felt like to love her; warmth.❞

Sirius Black x Reader

soulmate au

❝He kisses her then, grabs her tenderly by the jaw, can feel the crimson dripping down his palms.

She doesn’t suffocate.

The world is okay.❞