Draco Malfoy Drabble - Tumblr Posts

47. Stupid Teenage crush - part2

when life gave harry a second chance, he took it | fluff | angst | comfort |

Requested by - @cissa-bee @textrovert-01 and @littlebodybigheartttt and @thebusyfangirl, here's the comfort you seeked

Until the very morning of 4th October, an year and four months later when draco came like howling wind, knocking his door on the grimauld place, 12, everything changed, again, for the second time.

" draco ?" Harry frowned as he opened the door to allow draco into his little paradise.

How could he had expected such a thing, draco revealed he had been away for college, until he quit very recently precisely Because he was done people's puppet. He missed being around people who loved him, people who understood him but mostly in his time away from harry, he realised he missed him the most.

He was happy in his life , harry was. He had a boyfriend, nice friends, a place he called his own yet the scar draco left, stung, once again after harry had bandaged it nicely and covered it up. Days away, it should have Healed, he should've been used to draco's absence but seeing him only awoke feeling of warmth and home that harry himself hadn't known he missed. The scar resurfaced and shone in gold, and harry only wished that this time the wound won't need rendering.

However it was quick when Harry's friend's became his own and Friday nights became a thing. They spend hours chattering away, making fun and jokes, playing truth and dare without such a little care in the world. Harry and draco would even on some nights just live the night away, sneak out, running on grounds for far too late, skating on the ice, scaring people from under the invisibility cloak until a very night,he saw it. Draco watched as harry kissed his boyfriend, with his arm hanging around his neck from up where he sat on arm rest next to his boyfriend. Harry liked his boyfriend way more than draco had even thought about and somewhere in the corner of his little wretched traitorous heart, he felt lonely and jealous, guilty for being jealous. And to him, an old friend visted and draco consumed more alcohol in the bar than his body could suffice.

Days turned to weeks, into months, draco took his place back again in Harry's life only this time he reminded himself that he was with someone who made him happy but the thoughts of draco haunted him late at night, somedays it made him smile, somedays it left him confused, and somedays Just thinking. Draco started working in the pet shop just opposite of Harry's coffee shop, like harry had suggested, even lived with harry until Draco found his own place and all left harry giggling with draco as they walked back home together. He was still the same draco he had once known, he was still the draco who got giddy about eating chocolate cake ,who ate with elegance, who still loved to dress in Black but secretly loved white, still the one who loved to read in his free time when people thought of hanging out but this time harry didn't fall, he didn't, did he ?

" why him ? Why not me ?" Draco had said as soon as he had rung the bell of the place he too lived in when harry opened the door.

" what ?" Harry frowned as he tried pulling draco inside

" why him ? I thought you liked me ?" Draco seemed as though he might cry, or had been.

" what are you on about draco ?" Harry asked as he tried to pull draco inside again, only for his hands to be jerked away..

" you know it. You liked me first harry, so why him and not me ? " Draco stammered as he stepped nearer to Harry, grabbing him by his collar " you walk home with me, you talk to me, you live with me, you read with me, and you eat with me. You do everything with me and yet you're with him and not me harry..why are hurting me? Why ?"

" I like you harry..fuck i do and I know you're with that little of idiot with military cut but I can't change the way I feel. I'm sorry harry but I like you. And I think you should be with me but you're with him " before Harry had even anticipated anything, Draco had collapsed in a hug with harry, whispering in his neck that he liked him until Harry felt draco relax under his hold and fallen asleep.

Sighing harry picked draco up In his arm and helped him over to his bedroom and laying him over the bed, covering him up with sheets. Harry stared at Draco with his eyes shut, draco looked more relaxed than ever, the babyish like softness spread across draco's face, his lips poked out lightly. Harry smiled to himself, almost wanting to touch those lips, that face that shone brightly under the moon light but harry didn't. He didn't want to wake up draco just because he seemed at peace and harry was afraid he'll ruin it.

" because, I too once felt all that and I saw you choose someone else over me. I wish you'd came earlier " harry whispered in a reply as he kissed the top of draco's head with a smile.

" stay" draco grumbled as he held harry's hand and tucked into a little grasp avoiding harry from leaving. Like Someone who'd been in love, he stayed by waiting for draco to leave his arm until harry asleep by the bed, In draco's hold.

And Harry didn't think much upon anything or he lied to himself until the very next morning, draco entered the kitchen while harry was preparing breakfast. They sat down and ate in silence, silence that was quiet yet so loud.

" why are you here and not over at Andrew's ?" That was the first thing he asked harry when he abruptly stopped eating.

" because this is my place ?" Harry frowned

" no I mean why are you here making breakfast for me when you should be Making it for Andrew " draco sharply said.

" one, I don't have to make food for him just because he's my boyfriend-"

" will you stop pretending last night didn't happen ?" Draco sneered. And with that harry finally stopped eating and looked up at Draco.

" and do what with it ? You said something's and so what ? You were drunk out of your mind draco"

" so you're just going to pretend I didn't absolutely poured my heart out to you and you don't care because they were drunken words " Draco snapped

" okay, I don't know what's wrong with or you're Just grumpy-"

" stop pretending -"

" and do what draco ? Tell you that I can't believe you just said that ? Tell you that you had no right to say that ? Tell you that I like you too or something ? Stop pretending that it didn't happen and do exactly what draco" harry Snapped

" stop pretending that you are happy with Andrew " draco snapped

Harry clenched his jaw In anger as his fists clenched too by his side, slamming it over the table " you don't say about my relationship draco. He's Someone who actually likes me back and I'm happy with him " he snapped and stormed right out of the house, leaving the breakfast stranded.

Draco sighed heavily when he heard the door slam shut. He regretted even talking about it but what more could an injured heart do, still minimally drunk..

But Draco regretted it more when the House felt more empty and haunting when some portraits In the attic screeched Because of the thunder breaking out in the clouds. The drizzle only picked up by hours, sky darkening the clouds and the patio draco sat on waiting for harry blinked between dark and light as the light fused blinked in the quivering weather. In the hours harry was gone, draco had worriedly sat outside, made some tea, tried reading but nothing worked. Draco had ruined many things in life, a lot of them, even the relationship with theo when he learnt through theo harry liked him but if there was one thing he always wanted to protect was harry and he couldn't bear the thought of having almost ruined Everything as he stood under the rain, looking up at the sky for some sort of sign that would return.

And just as if someone had heard his prayer, the clouds grumbled loudly as a streak of lightening went off In the sky, draco heard the patio door open and there stood harry, all wet..

"harry-"

" no.. you- you just stay quiet and I'll talk"

" but Harry-"

" I said stay quiet "

And draco remained silent, waiting for his heart to be peirced open and cut into shreds.

" I knew it the day you came back, something had changed. I knew it and I hate you for coming back in my life. You had absolutely no right to do that after what you'd put me through. I was doing absolutely fine, had a boyfriend who liked me, a nice job, nice friends, family but you- you moronic fuck, ruined my relationship, ruined my peace, ruined everything, even me. You had no right to tell me you liked me, I waited endless months to hear that from you but not at this price, this ship had sailed draco and I don't want you" harry huffed as he saw even In the rain, draco's eyes glistening with tears

" but fuck I need you. It's not as if I can't live without you, without looking at your face, looking at your stupid face when you read something that confuses you, without seeing you smile, without seeing your eyes or just entirely your anatomical constitution of matter, I just don't want to. I want to look at you everyday, every single day of my life even if you're a complete arsehole and doesn't deserve this but I came back because I wanted to. Because I'm an idiot who still likes you after everything and all who can think of is kissing you just like I've Always wanted to " harry bit his lip as he finished his monologue, waiting for some sort of reaction but it was as if time had slowed down or that Maybe draco had expected something else that when he finally realised, he collapsed into happy sobs.

" I-"

" just fucking kiss me already " harry smiled in his own tears as he walked to draco and finally waited for draco to kiss him and he did . Draco pulled harry closer by the corner of his white sweater, all wet from the rain, softly putting his hands into harry neck, a little of Tickling into his hair as he kissed harry, blushing. Harry chuckled as he pulled draco closer, wrapping his arms around his waist, loving the feeling of draco's lips over his own.

And for once harry now knew, he wouldn't stay awake thinking what would had happened if he had ever kissed draco because he had and his life changed for the third time and this time, for forever.

Only if life gave me a second chance.

Thank you for making me write a part 2. Just want to let you know that if you've requested something, I have it under progress and I promise I'm trying to keep up with it.

Requests still open

Day 46- old habits | Day 48- because, it's you and me

47. Stupid Teenage crush

Prompt used- Touching their elbow to get their attention | ANGST | HURT COMFORT | IRL- based

To be 17 and to be in love, harry was no exception.

Harry saw it in his eyes, he really did.. but was he wrong. Was he so absolutely wrong...

They met in July again after years, last year. It wasn't such a special meet or something he could tell his kids about, it was just a simple meet with only a question being asked while they were doing potions homework. Harry was sat in the library doing his homework when he got stuck and desperately needed help and there he was, sitting in his black suit on the end of the table, scratching down his own work. Harry had asked for help in his notes, and without hesitation draco gave him his notebook and asked harry to return it to him whenever he wanted, as Long as it was before potions class. Harry had never thought of Draco differently until that moment he decided to help. Like a gentlemen, harry hurried the work and decided to hand draco his notebook before next potions lesson and so he did, that's when they hit it off when Draco tried to make a small conversation and it resulted into a long conversation on parchment in the classroom barely paying attention to the class.

From little conversations they went to long conversations to dropping draco off at the end of the day to his dorms and only then harry would walk away, smiling to himself. He didn't admit it to himself that he was slowly falling for draco until that very night harry was sitting on the floor talking with Ron and Hermione. It was like a random switch when Ron and Hermione shared a sweet simple kiss that it occurred to harry, he'd like to do it too, only the one he wanted to do it with was draco. It was journey from then, harry would wait to meet draco before class, would desperately make arrangements so he sat next to draco without dropping hints, walk back with him showing affection in his ways is teasing only because they were alone, hit him playfully, go to hogsmeade with him, eat with him, talk with him for Long hours after quidditch practices . Everything was brilliantly perfect for harry.

Draco looked at him the way only someone who liked you did, he locked eyes with across the room like no one else did, made him walk entire grounds off just so he didn't had to walk off to the dorms early and to spend more time with harry, draco never talked with anyone the way he did with harry, never was playful but with harry, he gave harry the smile only preserved for him. Everything between them was simply their own little secret and Harry felt wrecked. He felt warmth spread inside him everytime he saw draco. He felt, loved, happy when he was with him, something he thought he'd lost feeling of after the war but draco became something to quickly to Harry that he couldn't help anything but admire draco, even if he tried so hard not to. Harry spent his days daydreaming about being with draco, somewhere knowing that maybe draco too liked him.

He was relentlessly falling without caution until it was too late and harry experienced his first little heartbreak when he noticed the slight ways draco would flirt with Astoria. It only happened every once in a while, so harry didn't expect a lot but when one day because of being sick harry took a day off, he was next day met with draco's stories of walking back with Astoria, going to hogsmeade and eating with her. It bubbled little jealousy inside of him but harry had no right to be jealous, why did he ? He didn't love draco, did he? It was stupid crush, right ? A crush everyone have when they're 17, that'll die out soon ?

Harry should have been happy for him when he first heard draco admit he liked Astoria, he should've been happy for him and all he did gave him smile but he didn't walk back with him. He couldn't, he was too busy pushing his heart into the cage of no feelings for him but heart had to be one bratty little thing to fight back equally hard and harry remained all but cautiously falling, again I'm failed attempts to not fall.

Then the news came, Astoria dating Blaise, who had left school by now to associate his mother in business. Harry became relieved, only he was little more cautious to not let his heart be played but a man is only but a fool with none soldier to protect his heart when the blow hits. When they expanded their little circle, theo coming into their little circle, harry loved him too. He never had a friend like theo who hated the same things as his own, loved the same things as his own. It was easy to just blend into with theo but harry should've known better about the little hidden plans, the classes they took together that harry didn't with them. But theo knew, theo saw right through harry and remained committed to not only have harry have the opportunity when it came but also talk with harry about his little day dreams. But theo came with Astoria and when Astoria happened, harry said only but " I'm over draco, I don't like him" and that must've been his biggest mistake, Lying to himself and theo.

Days turned to weeks, into a month of final examinations, graduation coming nearer. Harry hadn't met draco or theo apart from little crossings in the library. But heart broken once should have known,

" hey, harry, can I ask you something ?" Theo asked as he pulled towards the corner one day In the library

" sure, go ahead " harry grinned as he shrugged

" I was hoping you won't get mad or anything because I know it would be wrong on my part, but just so you know, I am still your friend and if it makes you uncomfortable we won't do anything" theo babbled

" what's the matter theo ?" Harry frowned, worried for theo.

" d- harry- draco asked me out on a date after exams " theo swallowed.

Harry's face relaxed as he felt himself falling backward, only he wasn't. His heart sinked, his stomach felt funny and his toes curled. Harry gulped as he realised theo was waiting for some response.

" and I'm fine with it theo. It's really considerate of you to ask me but I've told you before theo, I'm over draco. He's a gone crush. I never even liked him that much you know. I stopped liking him after Astoria. I mean, really " harry chuckled softly as he smoothly lied .

Theo sighed in relief " thank god because I like him too but I just didn't want to hurt you because you know, you liked him. You're sure though, right ?"

" of course theo, of course " harry patted his shoulder " listen I gotta go, Hermione would kill me if I didn't study. See you around and definitely tell me about that date later, yeah " and harry rapidly walked off waving a goodbye with a smile until he turned around and his heart fell out of his chest. Harry thought and thought, thought hard as why couldn't he just simply get over draco. He hadn't seen him a month, Barely talked with him, he should not have felt saddened by the little revelation, he should've been happy for draco, he should have been. But he wasn't, he couldn't even after he so desperately tried.

It wasn't until the graduation day that harry saw draco finally. He was dressed in his characteristic dark green robes with a Slytherin bachelor hat, his degrees in his hands. Smiling he approached draco, almost touching his elbow to get his attention when he finally saw who was coming towards him and harry all but felt sickened again.

In his moments of weakness, harry never even realised when had he actually grabbed draco's elbow until Draco turned around with a sharp distracted smile

" harry " draco exclaimed happily

" h- hi , happy graduation " harry swallowed, fighting his breaking heart into pulling a smile.

" happy graduation to you too. You did great by the way. I'm so proud of you " draco grinned as he patted Harry's shoulder. Harry looked at his hand over his shoulder, wanting to touch it just so he could hold his hand but he didn't..

He wasn't Harry's.

Proudly harry pulled a better smile and savagely replied " bet you thought you'd be better than me "

Draco chuckled " never harry, you're Always the best "

And yet you're with him, not me.

Harry crackled a smile as theo too joined in and best pretended not to be completely heart broken by seeing the two being together.

That day harry understood if he ever understood anything, all wounds may heal but some wounds leaves scar and if too, somedays they may even sting but you gotta live through pain, because perhaps that was love.

I really want to write a part 2 to this. This one really had me thinking until the right inspiration hit, and here's something based of real life. Happy reading..

Requests open

Day 46- old habits | Day 48- dancing with each other

Someone to call home

so a couple of weeks ago i received a request by an anon for a fluffy fic about about harry owning a coffee shop and draco being an auror. they meet after the war, become friends, then best friends and then husbands. tho because of whatever stupid reason, the answer request is suddenly lost, tho here is your (anon) fic .

Fluff | physical touch |

For some people, love only happens once, but for some people, it happens everyday, and this is theirs, A romance of, Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy. 

Where did it begin? A coffee shop. How ? nobody knows. Maybe it was in those sweet little conversations when they first met after the war when they had forgiven each other and Harry gave Draco a free coffee or maybe it was in the soft physical touches or maybe it was in their eyes. It all began somewhere and it never ended. Maybe it was also in the rain from when they first met and Draco had returned from his auror training in need of a shelter and had accidentally ran into harry. From little sneers, to quips, to smiling at each other in forgiveness, they matured and they grew. It was something to see when everyone used to mistake them for being a couple, oh their traitor heart would flutter but would they politely deny. But how should they must’ve not known that they could never be not be more than friends, it was there, lingering in the air, like a promise, like maybe a destiny they couldn’t avoid when during a simple jokes of laughing next to each other, they had shared their first kiss and simply smiled afterwards as though they had been doing this for their whole lives. 

Maybe it was in those little smiles draco gave him, or maybe it was in those hand shakes, or maybe it was in those sparkling eyes, or maybe it when they used to walk home together laughing, or maybe it was during when draco took care of him, or maybe it was in that secret smiles, or maybe it was in those little gifts he made harry, or maybe it was in his visiting the graves with harry, or maybe it was in bringing flowers, or maybe it was in those little arguments about why harry deserved better, or maybe it was in those times when draco would look at harry in a room full when he played the piano at a gig, or maybe it was when he would dedicate a song to harry, or maybe it was when draco tried to learn to whip coffees like harry, or maybe it was in those fun duels they had, or maybe it was in walks in the park, or maybe it was draco buying harry a dog as a gift, or maybe it was in those soft forehead kisses, or maybe it was in those soft touches when draco would run small circles over harrys hands when he’s feel bad, or maybe it was the night of the concert when all harry could look at was draco singing at the top of his lungs covered in glitters, or maybe it was when draco would read to him, or maybe it was in seeing their silly photographs together and giggling about, or maybe it was when the first time they kissed, harry fell somewhere along the way for his best friend. 

For draco it might’ve been in forgiveness, or maybe it was in the first brewed coffee, or maybe it was during harry’s surprise small visits at his work, or maybe it was in those meals harry would cook for him, or maybe in those little singing jams when they’d sing their hearts out on a random friday at draco’s house, maybe it was in harry braiding his hair, or maybe it was in harry buying him expensive gifts, or maybe it was in listening to draco when nobody else did, or maybe it was in those little letters harry would write about how he looked good today or what he’d cook for them, or maybe it was in that little silly kitchen fight when they threw the flour at each other, or maybe it was in those deep late night conversations they would have, or maybe it was during the times when draco would come late from work and harry would be up waiting for him, or maybe it was during the time harry took him to Rome just to make him  eat his favourite pizza, or maybe it was after draco’s first birthday with harry when they were sitting on the rooftop laughing hysterically and glancing at each other dissolving into sober smiles, maybe it was in harry smiling and singing along and bobbing his head side to side whenever draco would play the piano, or maybe it was in painting draco’s nails late at night for fun, or maybe it was in that heart throbbing smile harry would give him, or maybe it was in tendering his wounds and kissing his forehead telling him that everything will be alright, or maybe it was during any of their conversations or maybe it was in harry gazing at him like a kid when he’d read to him, or maybe it was in kissing him for the first time, he fell somewhere for his best friend and he loved it. 

But when they stood on the altar speaking their vows, they knew there was nobody they would want to share the morning kisses with, or the sweet passion in love making, or sharing kissing on others neck, or kissing their lips, or someone to abide the vows to, or making everyday special, or making dinner for other, or someone to share a child with, or waking up with someone for the rest of their lives, or someone they’d watch each and every show with, or someone to take for walks, or someone to sing to, or someone to share dinner with, or someone to decide the colour of the wall with, or someone to rant to, or someone to bath with after a long day, or someone to attend rest of the weddings with, or someone to shop for toothpaste with, or someone to fight over with for which couch to purchase, or someone to yell at, or someone to fly away with, or someone to fight every battle with, or someone to write songs for, or someone to grow old with,or someone to find their heaven with,or someone to love each day and never get bored of it, there was nobody else for them, but them. 

So they lived in tales like the forever couple bought by differences together, making the impossible possible, giving hope that even the worst could work out if you love. 

But when did they fell in love? Nobody knew, maybe it was in the sweet smiles in the coffee shop or maybe it was in the first kiss or maybe it was every time, they loved each other and when they fell in love it never mattered.They found their little teardrops of heaven with, a person to call home, someone to rest their face on shoulder to, someone to promise forever and always to and that’s what mattered.  

I'm beyond devasted to bring this out immensely late but I'm emptying out the inbox now. Sorry for anyone who requests and gets on hold. I'll try my best to respond soon..

Draco Malfoy

❝He is charred cigarette ashes scraping against tired lungs, the crimson caking encasing your knuckles and the midsummer storm skiming over your collarbones.❞

Draco Malfoy × Reader

❝He doesn’t know what to make of this - of her. All he knows, and is able to decode is this: for the first time in a long time, he’s finally going home.❞

saccharine sunshine.

draco malfoy × reader

words: 2k

Draco Malfoy is eleven years old when he first catches sight of a blur of sunshine one bleak and blustery afternoon. It clouds the vision in his left eye, snatches his attention for more than fifteen seconds, forces him to whip his head - his entire body - around, all just to catch a glimpse, a teeny, minuscule glimpse, of a girl - the girl - bundled beneath the flash of vibrance.

And Draco, well, Draco has to remind himself just how putrid the color truly is. How revolting the House it belongs to is. How even more offensive the girl who resides in the House with the dreadful color is.

Because she is absolutely, positively, completely and down right, utterly horrible. A disgrace to her already disgraceful House.  

And Draco has no desire to discredit his high and mighty family title for someone of such a lowly caste.

×

Draco Malfoy is twelve years old and believes himself even more superior in contrast to the population that makes up Hogwarts. Spitting the word “Mudblood” like venom to its prey nearly every other day, lets it drip from his lips like a faulty faucet in the dead of winter.

And this - this bothers her, gets underneath the thin layer of her flesh, and gnaws away at her every last nerve, bores itself into the endless void of her brain, and pesters her and pounds its menacing name against the drums of her ears, sends her into a frenzied dance of furry in the middle of the night between the cotton quilts dressing her feather, soft mattress, and makes her clamp down on her rose dusted lips till they transfer to a gleaming crimson.  

But she doesn’t dare speak, doesn’t dare say a single word, or crack a simple syllable.

And this - this bothers Draco, infuriates him to no end, seeps underneath the translucent skin of his peeked cheeks sending them into a flurry of untameable flames.   

But he doesn’t dare stop, doesn’t dare let the chance of her speaking to him flutter away like the tattered leaf tumbling down, down, down to the ruby littered ground right before his very eyes in this very moment in time.  

And it occurs to him, rather harshly, that the word itself doesn’t taste half as well as he’d anticipated.

×

It isn’t until Draco’s third year he musters the courage to speak two words to her.    

“Watch it!” he hisses.

And it’s the girl’s turn to whip her head - her entire body - around, all just to stare him down dead in the eye.

And, my God, if she’s not completely and down right, utterly gorgeous in the bleeding sunlight.

But instead of spitting venom right back at him, she smiles. A graceful grin, a sneaky smirk, and the corridor shimmers and glimmers under her ethereal presence.  

A remark suffused with snark is rolling around behind the walls of her loosely sealed lips, a playful glint igniting a spark in her eyes as she speaks.

“What makes you think I’m the one who needs to watch it?”

Swiftly like the autumn wind scraping against the dust filled windowpanes, she twirls around and is on her way.  

And that is that.

×

Draco Malfoy is fourteen years old and standing beneath the midnight stream of a crystallized chandelier watching ever so carefully, ever so cautiously as she glissades across the grandeur, ice floor, five fingers intertwined with those of a distinguishable boy with a diacritic scar and a detectable pair of spectacles.

And Draco, he’s seething, is hardly breathing, can hardly see clearly for the burning, gurgling concoction seeping up and up and up his esophagus.

It’s not until later when his eyes catch on the billow of her dress, and the shimmer of her skin, and the catalytic twirling of the wind between her hair and -

She feels the weeping of the wound before he even pulls the trigger, hears the breeze beneath his feet as he glides across the snippy December air from behind the spot of where she stands.

“Careful,” she spirals around slowly, gown bound lowly to the tips of her toes. “Stare any longer, and I might actually bleed out.”

“Wouldn’t want that.”

“Right. I’d hate to be the one to dirty your pretty, shiny shoes.”

He opens his mouth, closes it, opens it once more, but reverts back to the resounding silence.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“You sure about that?”

Draco’s never been sure about much of anything.

“I’ve got a question for you, Malfoy, and I want the truth.”

Draco’s only ever learned how to form petty lies around his pretty lips.

“Why is it you’ve never called me that.”

“Called you what?”

And he knows, oh, my God does Draco know.

“You’re a remarkably good liar,” she whispers, and it’s only then and there, Draco takes note of just how close they’ve become in such a short span of time. “But not that good.”

“You just never heard me.” he retaliates coolly, and rather quickly.

Much too quickly, and not quite chilly enough.

Her face grows closer until it’s mere millimeters away from his unraveling lips. Their breaths are intertwining, and body heat is interweaving, and tightened chests are quickly rising and -

“I don’t believe you.”

Draco’s not so sure he’s ever felt so cold in all his life.

×

It isn’t until fifth year Draco receives a shock most alarming.

It isn’t until fifth year he receives a dose of fiery, cold water down the shirt on his back, feels it trickle down the iron wrought staircase of his spine and slither through the notches of his ribs, down to the very marrow of his very bones.  

It isn’t until his fifth year is nearing its end he receives a tangible whack across his face more abrupt and unexpected and unwelcome than Granger’s back in third year.

It isn’t until his fifth year he receives his first kiss.

And it goes a little something like this:

A girl - the girl - comes billowing down a torch-lit, midnight swept corridor with a laugh lodged in her throat and a flush tainted to her cheeks.

And he knows she cannot, should not be here, knows he should not be considering letting her be, remaining free, and he knows, oh, my God, does Draco know he should snatch her wrists and commit his sin by turning her in and gain himself a win, but he cannot, cannot, cannot bring his rigid form to break free from this rock hard mold, cannot, cannot, cannot bring himself to do the wrong thing because this is her, and as much as he really, truly, deeply detests her, it appears he cannot unveil the strength he needs to pull through with this daunting task.

But when she spies him spying her, she stops, stumbles, stutters, all wide eyes and saturated shadows melting down her waxy features.

It’s a moment of silence - a moment of truth - as they stare the other down, waiting for a sign - a motion, a flash, a jolt - that they are, in fact, flesh and bones and not cold, hard stone.

“You shouldn’t be here.” is all he says - all he can think to say. Because every other possible letter and word and sentence is mortar on the roof of his mouth.

“You’re going to turn me in, aren’t you?” she quietly inquiries, though, it’s hardly an inquiry at all. Rather, it’s more of a confrontation, an invitation, a dare.

A sickly, sweet dare.

A sickly, sweet dare Draco swishes around his mouth, rolls across his tongue, spreads over his taste buds and shoves down his esophagus.

It’s a dare - a dare so utterly sweet, so undeniably taunting - one Draco cannot seem to say “yes” or “no” to.

A cheshire cat smile tickles her lips as her maddening stare bores bullets through his soul, his skull, his fucking sanity. She’s closing in and grinning big as she places one foot in front of the other until she’s close, closer, closest, until he can no longer breath, no longer see the precise lines of her sloping nose and razor wire jawline.

And they’re barely missing, skin almost, almost, almost kissing.

And it’s oh so tantalizing, oh so terrifying.

Their lips are brushing, heartbeats pulsing -

- And their lips are touching, pulse points rushing.

And this - this is new.  

This is different. This is enthralling. This is enticing. This is petrifying, just as it is electrifying.

And his next movement comes uninitiated, unpredicted. For his fingers weave through the waves of her hair as he kisses, kisses, kisses her back so hard and so long that his lips swell and his tongue exudes a lurid, berry syrup.  

Teeth clink and guards sink, and without a blink or a proper moment to think, he’s crashing into the cold, hard ground without anything or anyone to grasp on to.

×

Draco Malfoy is sixteen years old, and his life is spiraling out of control.

Because there’s a mark, you see, all serrated and stark against shockingly white flesh. The ink rubs against his veins the wrong way.

His tears seep through the starch of his shirt and his blood flows through the crevices of the scabrous stones of the girl’s bathroom floor.

He’s bleeding out, and there’s nothing he can do to make it stop.

This is how she finds him - lying in a flood of horrors, the basin overflowing, blood drowning her toes and filling his lungs.

She can’t quite bear the sight.

She runs to him, holds him tight, with all her might, without a fright and -

And she doesn’t let go.

Draco really doesn’t know how much longer he can keep on fighting.

He realizes he’s finally reached the end of the line.

Perhaps that was his destination this whole time.

“Please, Professor, you have to help him,” she whispers, quiet desperation slipping from her tongue, and spilling from her eyes.

Draco can’t help but wonder if this is what it feels like to die.

Because lying here it all seems much too crystal clear.

The end of the world is finally here, knocking on his door, his demise has arrived at long last.

×

Draco Malfoy is seventeen years old, and the time has come for him to go.

Because there’s a war, you see, all blood and gore amidst a world torn in two.

It’s cackling like a tortuous scorn inside the walls of his head, thrumming and humming within the flow of his bloodstream, screaming and crying and -

“I have to go.” he says, words reverberating through the ash-mottled air. 

His name has been called, and it’s time for him to move on, to choose the side he was meant to all along.

He can’t help but feel as if he were the one who had been wrong after all.

“You don’t have to,” she says, and oh, my God, Draco knows.

He knows.

"Oh, but I do, love.”

She shakes her head, digs her nails into the lapels of his jacket. There’s soot in her hair, and tears in her eyes, and blood on her lips. Draco can feel the final sigh of his once beating heart, the tumbling of the walls inside his chest.

He really did try his best.

Draco knows this is a final goodbye, and a screaming cry and a dire prayer to a God that Draco’s unsure is even there and -

“I love you,” he says.

But only inside the back of his head.

Draco Malfoy × Reader

Soulmate AU

❝It’s a mark of charred and chiseled edges. A mark better known as an easily conspicuous scar, with the simple initials of H. P.❞

Draco Malfoy × Reader

Modern Day AU | Parisian Coffee Shop AU

❝Draco kisses her in the stark silhouette of the sleeping skyline.

❝She tastes of universes undiscovered, and Sunday evening crème brûlée.❞

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.❞

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.

Draco Malfoy x Reader

❝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. ❞

roulette.

draco malfoy x gryffindor!reader

*requested

it’s an accident, the way she falls, the way he burns.

prompt list.

x

Draco meets his match on a nippy October morn. It’s a blur of lurid, cherry lips, fleeting palpitations, splinters digging into palms, and broomsticks stitched across bleeding hearts. She‘s standing in front of the line up with a knife-sharp glare intact and a knee-jerk grin on the ready.

He thought Potter was the enemy.

He just hadn’t met her.

x

She plays rough, dirty. All crimson caked knuckles and midsummer thunderstorms bursting in color across cheekbones.

She gave him his first black eye. He almost thanked her.

“You know, Malfoy, perhaps you should consider trying. That way practice could actually be worthwhile.”

Draco grits his teeth and digs his nails into the neck of his broomstick and squeezes, squeezes, squeezes his eyes shut till his vision bleeds of titian fireworks and shooting stars.

“Well, perhaps you could try winning for once instead of talking big like you Gryffindors are known for doing.“

She smiles, molasses-slow and honey cloy.

He swallows, thick and audible.

“You haven’t won yet, Malfoy.”

It’s not a race. It’s a game.

And Draco intends to win.

Whatever it takes.

x

The opening match of the season takes place on a frostbitten morn in early November. Thick, silver tendrils weave their fingers through Draco’s hair as raindrops hang heavy on his lashes and the earth bruises his cheeks.

As if Draco believed in miracles, Potter split the bones in his wrist mere hours before. He doesn’t know how this came about. He suspects Flint is behind it.

“We need you to take Harry’s place,” Angelina says storming into the Great Hall before the game is set to begin, voice shrill and nerves visibly disheveled. “He managed to break his arm this morning, and you’re the next best on the team.”

He doesn’t expect her to be good.

He doesn’t expect to lose.

x

His heart is pounding in perfect tandem with the crowd, wrought iron veins in a twist beneath the gossamer veil of his wrist. He can feel thunder coiling beneath his feet. The applause is deafening, defeating, bruising, bleeding. Draco believes he might be drowning.

When he finally catches sight of the snitch - hair-trigger and razor-sharp and gold, gold, gold - she’s diving nose first towards the ground. The crowd comes to an asphyxiating standstill.

Draco tells himself she can’t make it, she won’t. She’s going to crash, and she’s going to burn, and she surely won’t, no, she can’t -

She does.

He watches, mesmerized, as gilded gold melts between her fingers, dribbles up her arm, and seeps into her veins. She swerves around, stares him down, smirks, winks, then turns the other way.

Draco never did believe in miracles.

No, not until today.

x

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

“You’ve been distracted, Malfoy,” Flint says one evening after practice. The sound of metal kissing metal grates against Draco’s eardrums and makes him shiver.

“Yeah? How so?” he replies, too tired to look up.

He does anyway.

Flint angles his head and squares his shoulders disproportionately. He’s smirking, the crimson crusted over his lips begins to gleam.

“It’s the girl, isn’t it.”

It’s not a question.

“I’ve hardly noticed her.”

Flint wants to laugh. Draco can see that in the superficial lilt of his lips and the dimple puncturing the center of his right cheek.

He doesn’t believe him.

Draco doesn’t care.

X

Draco tells himself it’s an accident.

Draco knows it’s not an accident.

Knows this because of the glint in Flint’s eye and the way Goyle chuckles just a little too hard after the bludger has been sent flying across the pitch, ending in a breathtaking kiss. He knows it’s not an accident, no. Because she’s fading, falling, spiraling into an abyss. Endless and black and ensnared between the tangled web of space and time.

Draco knows the feeling all too well.

X

When she wakes, the sun is seeping through the filigree and permeating the sheets. Her eyes are bleeding, and her head is spinning, and her ears are ringing, and -

“Good, you’re awake.” a woman says.

She turns her head. Her eyes have stopped bleeding, but the ringing -

God, the ringing is incessant.

“What happened?”

“You had a bad fall during Quidditch practice this morning. Just a couple of bumps and bruises. Nothing to worry yourself over.”

She sinks her teeth into her lips, tastes something bitter, but not blood, no, not exactly.

“That note there is for you, dear. A boy stopped by earlier. Suppose he wanted to check in and see if you were alright.”

“A boy? Was it Harry?” she says, eyes catching fire as the room begins to spin. The words inside her head hardly make sense.

“He was gone before I could get a good look at him, but from what I could see, it wasn’t Mr. Potter.”

She knits her brows, studies the penmanship, knows it’s not Harry’s, no.

She recognizes who it belongs to, yes. Can distinguish languid syllabus and tender vowels dipped in curlicue ink and swiped away in ebony streaks.

Harry never signs his name in cursive.

X

The words are sweaty in her palm, draped across lifelines and stamped into her bloodstream.

Meet me in the Astronomy Tower at midnight, the note reads, vivid, obsidian ink coiling in the late November breeze.

She stumbles across the cedar planks leading to the Astronomy Tower balcony. Stops, stutters, stalls when she sees a sliver of moonlight steal beneath the swell of his lips and the slope of his clavicle.

“Malfoy,” she seethes, narrows her gaze and clutches the tea-stained scrap of parchment in her hand. She can feel crimson streaks racing down her palm.

“You came,” he says, sitting on the edge of the ironclad railing. His fingertips are pressed white hot against the intricate rods.

She thinks he might jump.

“I didn’t think you’d actually come,” he continues after a beat, a spell, a moment stolen, a moment lost, he’s hardly certain.

She crosses her arms across her breast, favors her left leg, says, “There are many things you think of me, Malfoy. But you forget, I prove you wrong quite often.”

He clears his throat, runs his tongue along his lip, can taste something vile and tangible, but not blood, no, not quite.

“Then let me ask you this,” his shadow spills across the floor, heels caressing the walls and hands slipping languidly between the silken threads of his pockets.

The mere conception of it all is vexatious.

“Why are you here?”

She looks up at him with indignation shining brightly in her eyes. When he looks at her the way he’s looking at her now, she doesn’t feel quite so brave or bold or much like a Gryffindor at all.

“I’m tired of pretending,” she whispers tenderly, tiresome, lungs rubbed raw and words bled dry, “It’s hard to hate someone you don’t truly hate.”

He’s quiet for one, two, three -

“I suppose it is rather exhausting,” he replies, shifts his weight from side to side, sees the stars align and then collide, fall, burn all for her, only her, always her.

“If you didn’t think I’d show, why did you even bother asking me to meet you here?”

Draco purses his lips and bites his tongue and digs, digs, digs his nails into his palms. He can feel the lifelines snap and the sapphires shatter. 

And it’s sudden how nothing else matters when he kisses her. All blistering rubies and glistening pearls and blood on his tongue that burns, bubbles, bruises. 

He presses her spine against the woodwork, fits his fingers to her hips, and spells her name across her lips. He can feel the Earth crumble beneath the whorls of his veins like the rubble running down the streets of Pompeii. 

He doesn’t know what it means.

He will.

draco dating a hufflepuff girl in the same year as him.

*requested

Draco’s sixth year at Hogwarts comes in a succession of black and blue, the shape of a Mark, a branding, a death sentence, stitched into the capillaries of his arm.

The gossamer ribbon of his lungs slips through his rib cage and swirls around the notches of his esophagus till he’s choking on the silent screams.

Because loving her is a dangerous thing.

A tricky thing.

A deadly thing.

For she’s now a pawn in the Dark Lord’s game, all muddled blood, and impure veins.

He feels like Icarus falling for the sea, can taste the foam in his lungs, on his tongue, shards of salt lacerating the walls of his once beating heart.

And he cannot breathe, cannot swallow, cannot see, no, not as she’s standing behind him more ghost than girl, ankles buried beneath more truths than lies, tears staining the rim of her cathedral-glass eyes.

“Draco,” she whispers, and it sounds like a hymn, a chorus of angels screaming, crashing, burning, falling from heaven, falling for devils. 

He’s never heard something quite so tragic.

“I’m sorry,” he replies, almost laughs at the irony.

The Mark, the blood, the truth, the lies.

He wonders if this is what it feels like to die.

With a girl - the girl - by his side, eyes wide, lips swollen and tinged with a hint of Botticellian pink.

“I’m not leaving.”

“Please, he’ll kill you, he’ll kill us all.”

A strand of hair catches in her lashes as she shakes her head adamantly.

“Like you said, he’ll kill us all. At least I’ll be by your side when I die.”

She twines their fingers together and knots their knuckles in a manner that reminds Draco vaguely of a promise. 

He thinks he wants to hold her hand forever, wants to memorize each slope and curve and jut of her tender, porcelain bones.

Because loving her is like Russian Roulette.

A game, a chance, a dangerous thing.

She folds her arms behind his neck, brings her lips close, close, close till they’re closest.

“I’m not leaving,” she says, again.

Again, again and again.

And yellow never was so beautiful.

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.❞

Draco dating a Hufflepuff in the same year as him

❝Loving her is like Russian Roulette. 

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

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.

an arranged marriage to draco malfoy

draco malfoy x pureblood gryffindor!reader

The ring is heavier than he’d anticipated

A pocket full of posies searing through the threads of his trousers, biting and bruising and burning his flesh

He’s sixteen, and the world is just beginning to weigh heavy on his shoulders

But the ring

The ring

Nothing quite compares to the weight of the promise in his pocket, the premonition of a dreadfully bloody epilogue

Because once upon a time on a mid-June afternoon when the sun is high and the air is warm, he takes the ring from his pocket and slips it over her finger

He swipes a thumb across the back of her hand and kisses each delicate jut of her knuckles, watches her blush like a rose beneath the microscope of the sun

She smiles, and Draco wishes he could capture it and hold on to it forever

But even the light of a firefly soon dies out and summer comes to a close, thunder fading in the distance and colors falling from the trees

The world is spinning out of proportion, tilting on its axis, slipping from his grasp

And it all comes undone with a gasp from his lips, a sharp jab to his ribs, a faint shiver in his bones

He can feel his blood running cold, can feel the water rising past his knees, can feel the ribbon-thin curl of ink spilling into his bloodstream

It’s not long before he’s drowning in the nightmares

Because a war is brewing, is dancing along the horizon, an epic contrast against the charcoal smoke bleeding out across the sky

But there's a girl with a ring on her finger waiting on the other side, and Draco can't help but wonder how things would have turned out had he been on the winning side from the start

They’re married on a mid-June afternoon when the sun is high and the air is warm

He takes her hands in his, slips a ring over her finger, watches the sunlight catch and shatter and fade away

Thinks that maybe, just maybe, everything will be okay

He's sitting on the edge of the Astronomy Tower balcony and all he can think about is falling. 

Falling for a girl. 

A girl in a pleated plaid skirt with pristine blood and a family name to uphold. A girl standing in the library of his family's estate, a waterfall of curls cascading down her back and a plethora of pearls draped across her neck. 

It was the middle of June. It was hot. He was cold.

It's October now, and there’s a serpentine grin eating away at his skin. It's a branding, a message, a sentence to death. 

He can still feel the burn in his bloodstream, can still see the electric green reverberating off the walls. He traces the blue river of his veins.

"I looked everywhere for you, but then I realized where I'd find you." she says behind him.

He always did love the stars. 

She sits down beside him. She's close enough that he can smell her perfume.

She twists the button on the cuff of her sleeve. Draco catches a glimpse of a familiar black curl on her forearm.

He didn't -

He had no idea.

"Does the pain get better?" She says.

He wants to lie.

"It becomes numb, eventually."

Her skin is red, rubbed raw.

"Just," she begins, pauses. "Hold me. Please."

He nods and slips his arm around her shoulders. He waits for her to lay her head in his lap.

All he can think about is falling. 

It's a long way down.

She wears a dress for him. And lipstick. A bit of gloss too. And he doesn't even show.

The dress is pink, covered in lace. It's kinda pretty, and it's kinda short, and not the sort of thing she'd usually wear because of how fancy it is, but she wears it just for him. She'd wear anything for him.

She's standing in the middle of the room, pulling at a loose thread on her dress. She's looking for him. She spots Cormac and Hermione, Dean and Ginny, even Luna and her Jupiter-sized earrings, but no Draco.

Slughorn tells her not to look so glum, and she kinda wants to tell him to shove it because she doesn't even want to be here in the first place. She bites her lip and instantly regrets it. There's probably a pink blot on her teeth and there's no mirror around to check her reflection.

Fuck.

"Dragon ball?" Harry says.

Her heart jumps to her throat, and her stomach drops to her knees, and her hands begin to shake. She feels a bit sick.

"Oh. No, thanks."

"No bother. Gives your breath a horrid taste, anyhow." He says, shoving another dragon ball into his mouth.

She adjusts the strap of her dress even though it's perfectly fine. It gives her something to do. She shifts her weight from her toes to her heels and checks the time. Eight fifteen. He should've been here by now.

"You okay?" 

"Yes." 

He nods, not believing her.

"You haven't happened to have seen Draco anywhere, have you?"

He swallows and shakes his head.

"Oh, Malfoy? No. Not tonight."

"Right. Of course."

Harry sucks on his lower lip. He doesn't know what to say. He's always been kinda shit with words.

"I'm sure he'll show. It's still early."

"Yeah, no. Totally."

He looks over at her and notices the wetness on her cheeks. No guy should make a pretty girl in a pretty dress cry. 

"Hey. He's just a bloke, all right? You're really great. He's missing out."

He doesn't know if he should grab her hand, or put his arm around her shoulder, or offer her his hankie, or try and make her laugh, or none of the above. Probably the latter. He grabs her hand because he's an idiot.

"Thanks." She says.

He kisses her. Chaste. A little off. Not perfect, but sweet. He pulls back, eyes closed. There's a bit of gloss smudged across the bow of his lip. It's sticky and it kinda tastes like cotton candy.

"Oh, God. I'm. I'm really sorry. I shouldn't've. I just..."

She grabs hold of his lapels and brings his lips to hers.

They don't see Draco standing in the doorway.

Paradoxical

Summary: When your ex husband draco finds you at a club that same things that led you far away from him, pave the way back.

Warnings: Smut. Blowjobs, vaginal penetration, cumplay, slight spit, mirror and sir kink. Ex!husband!Draco. Possessiveness with a dash of toxicity.

a/n: ahh yes, my assignments lay incomplete but i sure can write p0rn on a school night.

NAVIGATION

—————

The flashes of neon light flickered over his features, but those cold edges of silver remained unaltered, his eyes seemed to have been painted with his possessive and obsessive behaviours.

There was a part inside of you that wanted to do the classic throw-your-drink-at-your-ex act and this other part that was craving the antonym of that act.

Maybe you’d caught his paradoxical behaviour— the apple never falls too far from his tree.

“Babe, do you want to leave?” Hermione whispered, looking at you sympathetically.

Certainly not— he’d silently sent provocations to you a thousand times over, and there could never be a time where you would’t be prepared for a war— just like the old times.

“I think I’ll stay” Your voice had no cracks or crevices, and you kept your cool hard gaze on Draco as you answered her.

“You sure?” She questioned again, eyeing between you and Draco, and you simply gave a nod.

Draco smirked and his eyes met yours. The moment they did, his hands dusted off his coat and he soon stumbling out from the croud towards you.

His movements were more graceful than the dancers, even though he was simply fucking walking, he always found a way to make beauty.

“Hello darling” He said curt, his voice deep and smooth.

“Fuck you” You snapped back immediately, and his eyes widened at your response.

His hand fell over his chest dramatically as though your words made his heart ache, “That’s not very nice, I expected a far more sweeter response”

“Well, you’re my ex”

“Let’s be civil yeah? I still like you very much angel”

You huffed, eyes rolling and he caught that exact movement. You stared over at Hermione, who was looking as awkward as ever, shifting in her seat to somehow be a little more comfortable.

“I got it Hermione, you can leave” You leaned ahead and whispered. She gave a skeptical look and you reassured her with a smile.

From what she gathered, you two certainly wouldn’t go through the night without fighting or fucking. She didn’t feel like being a barrier tonight so then with a small peck on your cheek and with a small goodbye, she was off to finding Ron and Harry.

“Well” Draco said, looking ahead as she walked away, “Now that she’s gone, we can talk better”

“I have nothing to say to you”

He chuckled, swiping his thumb over corner of his mouth as he took a sip of his drink, his rings shining brightly and his viens prominent.

Draco had always had the most beautiful hands you’d ever seen. And a while ago, you were blessed to have that same hands pleasuring you in the most sinful of places— a privilege which you’d now lost.

“I see you still have the hand kink” His voice broke off your focus, and you were silent for several seconds shaking your head and scoffing.

“What are you doing here?” You asked defensively, pinching your eyebrows.

His teeth grazed his lip and his eyes traveled down your pretty body, noticing every perfection of that tight little black dress.

“Was it necessary to wear that” He sneered, not giving answers but rather more questions.

A giggle passed through you as his possessiveness came to surface, a reminder of why you left in the first place— well honestly you couldn’t just put blame on one thing, there were multiple reasons why you left but his jealousy was definitely one of them.

That giggle went silent the moment his warm large hand rested on your thigh, caressing and petting the soft skin, his rings leaving burns wherever they touched.

His fingers were barely ghosting over your panties, and your breath caught, your eyes quickly scanning over the room to see if anyone was paying attention to you two.

“Did want some random idiot’s dick? Is that why you’re so indecent tonight?”

“I—” Now your voice had cracks, you shuddered and throbbed as his words got more and more vulgur and much to your dismay, you got more aroused.

“There’s nothing— nothing, I hate more than the thought of my baby having to go to other people to get taken care of”

He sensed the libido, the clenching thighs and the darkened irises. His possessiveness got the best of him and he was willing to fall on his knees again, only for you.

“Don’t you want me to take care of you?”

—

His lips were soft but the way he kissed you was ravenous and rough. His tongue was moving along with yours, asserting dominance.

Your legs rested on his hips as he pressed you against the wall, kissing you deeply.

“Mine, mine, all mine” He muttered as he kissed along your throat and over your breasts. You moaned as he squeezed your arse, and grinded himself against your slit.

Suddenly, he pulled you down from him and you were left with wonderment before he pushed you down on your knees.

“You know what to do doll” He said, pulling your strands of hair back from your face.

“Yes sir” You only nodded with anticipation, hands trembling as you worked to unbuckle his belt. His breaths were ragged, and his hooded eyes fixated on your mouth.

His cock was hard as a rock, and heavy in your hand. You only needed to give him one firm stroke to have him grunting.

Your mouth wrapped around the head of him, licking up his tip and brushing and squeezing at the base of his thick lenght. Your eyes flicked up, maintaining contact as you took his entire shaft inside.

His fingers tensed, and your mouth sucked, and then bobbed back and forth, earning a throaty, ‘good girl’

The praise motivated you to make him feel ever better, your hand working at the base of him, stroking the flesh as you took the rest in your mouth.

“That’s it baby, you still take me so well” He groaned, giving an experimental thrust of his hips.

Soon, your eyes were watering and he was feeling that fimilar euphoria blooming down in his abdomen. When each one of his hands rested on the side of your face, yours rested on his thighs and you inhaled for what was to come.

His hips canted and thrusted into your mouth, your chin smeared with drool as he fucked your mouth. Your cheeks were stained with the tears that slipped down your pretty eyes.

“God, fuckin’ love this filthy little mouth” He grunted, pulling his cock out, spit connecting your lips with his head.

Your arousal smeared your thighs, it was almost painful. He was right in front and yet you hadn’t had him.

When you looked up, his expression was proud and satisfied, he gave your head a pat, muttering even more praises as he pulled you up. His thumbs cleaned up the remaining tears, kissing your nose and cheeks and healing the ache.

Draco pulled you up again, carrying you across his penthouse to his bedroom.

There were candles lit all around his room, and it gave everything a golden hue.

A whine fell from your lips as he pushed you down on the bed, “Draco please” You mewled, spreading your legs wide apart.

His pupils dialated, and he bent down to kiss along your thighs, your panties went down your legs, and he made it sure to make it absolutely excruciating.

He pulled at your knickers until they were down to your ankles and then he moaned as he stared at your possession.

“Fuck— I missed my girl so much” He spoke, kissing right abode your aching nub.

“And what about me?” You pouted, staring down at the blonde man between your thighs.

“Course I missed you too, silly” He sighed, “I just missed her more”

His finger prodded at your entrance, with a glance on your face, he pushed them inside and immediately curled them— and you cried out as his rings juxtaposed against his skin and the tips of his fingers scraped at that spot.

That feeling was lost soon, way too soon as he pulled them out. His grey eyes taking in the beautiful details of your responses. You looked at him avidly as he sucked on the arousal covered fingers.

“Still the sweetest”

“Please, please sir” You begged, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him towards you.

“Brat” Draco said, and swiftly turned you around, pulling your dress above your hips and cupping your arse.

He gave you a spank making you yelp in surprise. “That’s for earlier”

Draco spit on his shaft, jerking himself off and he still teased you and dragged out your desire. He aligned himself perfectly with you, and stayed still. He was always such a fucking tease.

With a strong thrust, he was buried deep inside. You trembled, gripping the sheets beneath you. His ripped muscular arm pulled you against his chest, keeping your skins together as he rut inside you.

“See how perfect I fit you?” His hand made you look right forward at the huge mirror in front of his bed.

And you stared at the sight of him and you. How you were filled with him so beautifully, how he was dragging your tits out from your dress, how his mouth was on your neck, and his arms around your waist.

When he gave a single hard thrust, you gave an embarrassingly loud gasp.

Then he gave a second and a third and several others and you were already shaking and struggling to keep yourself up.

You’d forgotten about the affect that he had on you. How much power he held.

His thrusts got harder and harder with a certain symphony hidden in them. “Oh fuck—” You sobbed, “I love your cock so much”

At that, he grunted loudly, and turned your head so that he could kiss you.

Your tits bounced as he got rougher, fucking you until he lost almost all control over himself.

It wasn’t until he felt you tighten unimaginably hard around him that he pulled out and you whined impatiently.

Draco manhandled you onto your back, he kissed you as he climbed on top of you, his hands sliding along your body.

He placed his palms on your thighs and pulled both of your legs up until they rested on his shoulders. He pressed a kiss on the inside of your thigh, cherishing the sculptured skin.

You whimpered as he sank inside again, drawing that coil inside you again. You were mesmerized as you stared at his sweaty broad shoulders and admired how your legs rested on them.

As he began to move inside again, you only stared at his face, and the illuminating orange colour of the lighting on him.

He was thrusting hard, trying to surpress feeling with the way his hips roughly met yours, with the way his lips moved with yours.

Your underwear dangled off your ankle as he pounded inside your pussy, leaving you shaking under him.

“I’m— I’m close”

Draco grunted, and his hand slid between both your bodies, drawing tight circles where the two of you met, “Cum for me”

And for him, you did. For him, you cried, and unraveled pleasure beneath him. Tears right at your eyes, like pearls decorating them, and your sobs and pants like melodies to his ears.

He pulled out quick, panting as he came and stained your flawless skin with his sin. His cum spilled over your belly and spread down to your pussy.

He panted near your shoulder and kissed it, feeling adoration come to surface, that one thing he’d tried to deny.

But all he could see was how the world was much more better and beautiful when you were present in his eyes, or in his arms.

And it was amidst all the lust and vexation, that you knew; knew that you were still almost as much in love as the first time the rays of the sun ever reached the earth— the first time you ever felt love for him sear through you.

His forehead rested against yours, and maybe it was the heat of the situation, but that possessiveness was appealing. You wanted it, you wanted him.

Draco kissed your cheek, “I want you back” and to that, you answered with a smile, a dimple forming right where he’d kissed away any doubts to not be called his.

—————

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Crybaby

Summary: Reader cries because of lack of attention and Draco finally gives in to comfort her.

Warnings: Smut. Draco is just big and strong lol. Innocence & hand kink. Fingering. Dom!Draco. Crybaby!Reader. This is super short and a little rushed, srry :(

a/n: hi i am back after 20 days, i got some of the inspiration to write this after listening to crybaby, so everyone go steam it. enjoy :p

NAVIGATION

————

There was that pout, and your fists— curled— and eyes teary, and your throat dry.

It had to have been an infinite amount of times you’d called for him, but he’d shake his head, swipe his eyes over you for a mere moment, and return to whatever activities he was doing.

Now there was that cry caught in your mouth— and you were pressing your lips together into that hard flat line to contain your sobs— but they fell through your efforts— and that immediately got his attention.

“Baby? What’s wrong?” He sounded worried, but it felt like a joke to you, you didn’t look back at him or answer him as he stood up from his seat and went to grab you.

You hated being a crybaby, but in all honesty, you were right to be in this position right now. He’d payed no mind to you, shoved you aside, all until you were crying, and wiping away your tears yourself, despite his being present.

“Love. Love. I’m here, can y’look at me?” His voice was gentle— apologetic— as he bent down, settled his legs on the couch, and sat you up to straddle him.

Draco’s hand rested behind your head, patting you softly and pulling you into his chest, kissing your forearms, and whispering into your skin. “Darling, m’sorry, I swear I was just joking”

Your sobs didn’t falter as you spoke softly, “Am I annoying you?” You said, still covering your face.

“No! Not at all, I was playing around, I’m so sorry for ignoring my love.”

His hand put away yours from your face, intently staring at you, and giving you a warm smile. Draco wiped away your tears using his sleeves, guilt bubbling in him as he cleaned the tears he’d formed, “I’m sorry” He repeated, resting his head against yours, “Can you please forgive me? I’ll do anything”

You giggled lightly, and nodded, “I forgive you”

“Good girl. Now, what do you want?”

You sniffled, fumbling with his tie nervously, “I jus’ needed you— to take care of me however”

From the stuttering syllables, and shy behaviours, he picked up where you exactly needed him.

He chuckled into your hair, giving both your eyelids a kiss as his big hands held your waist and he picked you up with ease.

You aligned your lips with his, and his kissed him ravenously as he stalked towards his bed and put you down on it. His lips were like clouds that felt like they’d been danced on by angels.

Draco pressed his tongue inside you, swiping it over yours, and teasing your lips with his teeth, and then as you just got indulged in it. He pulled away and left you wanting again.

At your expression, he laughed and gave you back a small peck.

His hands pulled up his your hoodie to reveal your soft tummy and your navy blue underwear.

“Pretty” he muttered, and he rested his soft lips on your neck, and ran a finger through the outline of your slit, gently tracing your folds and feeling the slight dampness of it.

“Is this what you need taken care of?” Draco said, cupping your cunt, and staring into your wide eyes.

“Y—yeah” You meekly said as he smirked and part your legs further.

His heavy hand rubbed you over your panties, putting pressure on your clit and he made circles around it. Your gasps going up as his movements got more and more intense.

You fingers went up to grab his silver strands of hair. Pulling at them as he pulled your knickers down your legs, and threw them on the floor. Staring at your pussy hungrily.

Your cheeks burned in shame. He bent down to give your core a little kiss— inhaling your scent as he did so— and then coming back up to your face.

“Draco” You softly gasped as he pulled apart your lips with his fingers, and revealed the pretty flesh.

He shut you up with his lips, kissing you hard as his hand worked over your pussy to give you the best orgasm possible.

As he were kissing you, you felt his hand slip between the two of you, and pulled away from him to look down and there you found his pulling off his silver rings— very much to your dismay.

He stared at you confusingly as you quickly reached down and removed his hands from one another.

“What—?” He asked, pinching his brows.

“I want you too keep them on. Please?”

Fuck. He’d sell his entire estate, his soul, if you ever asked him like that— or in any other way really. He was as dedicated as an angel was to be.

“Right, of course I will”

Then without any wait, or hesitancy, his fingers shoved inside, and immediately curled to find that euphoric spot.

You squealed, and creamed around his fingers as they scissored inside of you, opening you up for when he’d give you the bigger reward.

His held your hips in place as he started to thrust his digit faster. Those rings which you’d asked him too keep provided that extra pleasure which you’d expected.

They were cool around your entrance and inside of you, burning through you, as he expertly worked his hand.

As his thumb fell over your clit, your thighs jolted, and your hand went down to grab his.

Tears brimmed your eyes again, and they filled the path of the previously dried up tears.

Draco looked down at you so so lovingly, that the black avid iris of his eyes might as well have been painted with with outlines of hearts. He had literal heart eyes sparking in him for you.

“Why are you still crying baby?” He smiled, increasing the pace of his hand. “I’m giving you attention now, aren’t I?”

“Just, fe—feel— too goood” You whimpered, curling your hands around his tie, and bucking your hips into his hand.

The coil in your belly spread warmer, and your thighs shook hard around his arms, by that, he knew that you were close to your much needed orgasm.

His fingers pumped into your pussy more, and he used his other hand to rub circles on that sensitive cluster of nerves, when his lips crashed on yours— you only saw and felt cosmos.

Crying out against his mouth, you reached your climax and came on his fingers hard. Riding his palm as you reached the end. Panting and trying to catch your breath as he stared at you mesmerized.

“Atta girl” He praised, pulling his fingers out from your cunt and putting them into his mouth. Groaning at the sweet taste of you as you shyly smiled up at him.

“M’sorry— for crying”

“S’okay, I love my crybaby”

————

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