Draco Malfoy X Reader

Draco Malfoy x Reader

❝She snatched the snitch and stole his heart, the once bruising palpitations kicking his chest now nothing more than a tender, bated breath.❞

hey there! I absolutely adore your writing, you’re so amazing! You use so many descriptive words in your writing, and I was wondering if u had any suggestions to how I could get better with crafting metaphors and expanding my own vocabulary? Thank you 💛

oh, my! you are so sweet. it means a lot to me that you enjoy my writing so much you would send in this ask. 

the biggest thing that has helped me grow as a writer is reading. classic literature and poetry especially. my favorite authors are f. scott fitzgerald and jane austen. fitzgerald, in particular, uses the loveliest of words and metaphors in his stories. he paints the most vivid images in the reader’s mind. one cannot help but get lost within the pages of his words. i felt so mystified by the glitz and glamour of the great gatsby that i immediately purchased the rest of his works after reading it.

 i try not to read other writer’s works (here on tumblr) because it makes me question my own work. i then find myself comparing my writings to theirs, which is not healthy at all. as a writer, it can be difficult to not be critical of your own words, stories, and ideas. that’s one of the reasons i’ve gone so long without posting anything (that and several other personal reasons:)

i also recommend using a thesaurus. they come in handy when you simply cannot find the right words. i use mine, as well as thesaurus.com, on a daily basis. whenever i stumble upon a word i’ve never heard before, or am unsure of its meaning, i write it down and look it up.

i hope i was able to help you in some way. writing is an art and it takes time to find your voice. i look back on past stories i have written and am happy to see the progress i have made. however, there are parts i read that make me cringe, haha! i wish you the best of luck as you delve into the world of writing and sharing the stories that dwell inside your head. 

Hii, I wanted to let you know that I binge read nearly all of your master list and oh my God let me tell you... I freaking fell in love with your writing style 😍 I fish I could write like that too, the words are just so.. Perfectly chosen and it's all becoming one so smoothly there's not an element that isn't fitting there. It kinda reminds me of reading a poems and I love those so lemme tell ya - you have a one big talent and I'm thankful you decided to share it with us ❤

oh, wow! darling, you made my entire day! seriously, thank you so, so much for this. it means the world to me to hear you enjoy something i love to do. you really are too kind ❤

domino effect.

draco malfoy x slytherin!reader

*requested

x

Draco’s blood is not pure, has been contaminated with bittersweet toxins that feather his veins and stain his wrists a terribly virulent shade of black. He can feel the Yew digging white-hot into his flesh, has to bite his lip and choke on the bile ascending his esophagus to defuse the pain.

Accepting the mark was his first mistake, an inevitable fate, a terribly hideous disillusionment he cannot erase.

He sees that now.

x

Draco doesn’t exactly forget the summer of his sixteenth year, no.

Not quite.

Because there’s a succession of nightmares spinning round and round his peripheral. A woman, and a teacher, and an innocent fragment of collateral damage levitating ten feet from the dining room table, flames licking her face, eyes glossy and lifeless and perpetually fearful.

The memory is the first of many.

Fragmented and enigmatic and easily misunderstood. They begin as ink-stained silhouettes that eat up the walls in the dead of night. They’re fuliginous and obscure and only reside within the back of his head, or so he says. 

Because now he’s doubled over in a wicked, wretched pain, has a prayer like a kiss falling from his lips and blood dribbling down his hands like an omen.

He pinches his skin.

Feels the pain.

x

Draco’s sixth year at Hogwarts is unlike the other five, is more like handcuffs and confines and secrets that morph into pretty white lies. He has splinters in his palms and ink between his fingers, vitriol in his veins and words stuck between his teeth.

Amortentia never did smell so sweet.

He inhales the saccharine aroma of honeysuckle blossoms, heady wood polish, and the summer nostalgia of his fifteenth year spent languidly sprawled across the serrated shingles lining the roof of Malfoy Manor. Summer had felt infinite then, with the days melting down the hills and the jut of her chin, suffusing the lilac currents of her wrists and spewing out the ends of her fingertips. He remembers feeling the desire to kiss her - hard, soft, asphyxiating, inebriating. He did, and it was exhilarating.

But summer is gone, has faded with the dusk, has been replaced by perpetual nightfall and a bitter, biting chill that slips through his spine and the teeth of his ribs.

“I smell,” she begins, tucks a strand of hair behind her ear so he can see the potion catch in her eyes like dewdrops on spider’s silk. “Eucalyptus and sandalwood and something,” she stops, closes her eyes, inhales, “Something sweet. Like freshly fallen rain.”

It rained earlier that morning.

x

The cabinet is broken, is nothing more than dust mottled crevices and musty drawers that don’t even open.

And time is not on Draco’s side, no, for he can feel the hands of his grandfather's wristwatch slipping down his wrist and into his veins. Can feel the burn, burn, fucking burn searing his flesh and boiling his blood. 

It’s poison, and he’s drowning. 

He can still taste the toxicant bite of the witch’s apple fresh on his tongue as a heavy curse hangs from his fingertips and comes undone at his lips. He peels back the starch of his sleeve, digs his nails into his flesh, prays, hopes, wishes that maybe, just maybe he can turn back the hands of time and change his mind.

x

She’s a daydream caught between a labyrinth of ancient incantations and finger-smudged ink.

He thinks he may as well be dreaming.

Because the last light of day is catching fire on the ends of her hair as kaleidoscopic shadows race down the notches of her spine. Her wooly skirt brushes up against the sides of her thighs as an emerald green mosaic paints a landscape of shadows across her face.

Draco feels his equilibrium slipping off its axis.

Because he’s chasing her like he once chased those sultry summer sunsets from the roof of Malfoy Manor, can feel her melt like wax between his fingers, and her lips pressed to his. Can taste her lipgloss dribbling down his chin like sticky sugar liquor and gossamer candyfloss.

He’s running out of time.

Can feel the sand slipping through his grasp and filling up his shoes. Can feel the water crashing against his lungs and crushing his ribs and oh, God, oh, God, this is what it feels like to die, isn’t it? 

He’s certain this is a dream. A bitter, bittersweet reverie.

He closes his eyes.

Sees the world in colors he’s never seen before.

x

Draco watches as the sun slips between the fingers of the pines lining the horizon, watches as the syrup-thick rays catch in the murky window panes of the fourth-floor corridor and spill across the timeworn stone, across the patent leather of his Brogues.

Within minutes, the stars coagulate in an array of constellations as the night saturates the sky in caliginous shades of violet. The time has come to do what must be done.

“Draco, there you are. I’ve been looking all over for you.”

The moon drags its teeth across her face, stars bleeding out, dying, in her eyes. “Where have you been?” she asks, again, differently this time.

"There's something I need to tell you." He says, twists his fingers behind his back, and slides his teeth across his tongue, and feels the earth tremble beneath his feet.

She takes a tentative step forward and angles her head. Draco can see her wide eyes gleam beneath the midnight sheen of the balmy June night, can see the silver dollar smile of the moon reflect off her emerald green tie.

“What’s wrong?” she no more than whispers. 

It sounds like a scream.

And he can hardly fucking breathe as he drags his arms from behind his back, wholly bare and visibly bruised, laid out explicitly for her to see.

She's quiet for a moment, a minute, a heartbeat, a lifetime, and he's desperate for her to speak, to say something, anything, everything, or maybe nothing at all.

She reaches out, brushes her fingers across the roadmap of his veins, drags her nails across the ink, across the teeth of the stain that mars the flesh of his left arm. He feels the sting, then the bite, then the forest fire burn of her touch.

She’s intrigued, he thinks.

“When?” she whispers, not quite letting go of his arm, holding on just a little bit tighter. “When did this happen? When did he do this to you?”

“Last summer. Right after I turned sixteen.”

She nods and he swallows, suddenly feeling as though he’s choking, or suffocating, or drowning, maybe. He takes a step back, states his desperate need to leave and turns around before she can blink and he can cave.

“Wait, no, I’m not letting you leave like this,” she says, snatching his wrist and pulling him back into a tender, bittersweet kiss.

All Draco can taste is a tangible, decadent doom. A premonition of the end. Her lips are soft and their kiss is sacred and this moment is fleeting, fleeting, gone.

He pinches his skin.

Numbness.

Draco dating a Hufflepuff in the same year as him

❝Loving her is like Russian Roulette. 

❝A game, a chance, a dangerous thing.❞

First of all, you have my heart. Your writing is divine. I could probably read your grocery shopping list, and still feel like I’m in this ethereal dimension. You are extremely talented. Second, have you ever read The Age of Innocence? (stupid question, you probably have) If so, would you ever write something inspired by it? I personally just reread the book, and I have found myself overcome with emotions. It would be splendid to see your take on it, if you’d like of course. Third, IJUSTLOVEU💕

wow, i am overwhelmed in the best possible way by this ask. i don’t think i’ve ever actually had someone’s heart before, so i am flattered you placed yours in my hands.

i know this may come as a shock, but i actually have not read the age of innocence. however, the other day while i was at the bookstore i picked it up and plan on reading it after i finish the novel i am currently reading. once i read the age of innocence i will try my best to fulfill your ask.

thank you again for your sweet words and patience. if there is anything specific you would like to see in this fic, feel free to send me another ask or message me personally :)