Draco Malfoy X Slytherin Reader - Tumblr Posts

boyfriend

This one shot / songfic is inspired by Ariana Grande's song boyfriend hence the title. The lyrics of the song comes out of the second verse and chorus which is going to be the argument between draco and you the reader

🎶Lyrics will be in bold🎶

Y/n- Y

Draco-DM

Blaise-BZ

Y/n POV

(I don't know why I am so jealous of Pugface- I mean Pansy. Is he trying to make me jealous on purpose or what. Why I am I jealous we are not even dating.)

Y/n-hi Blaise

Blaise-- hi y/n how are you

Y- I'm fine what about you

BZ- good, what is going on with you and Draco

Y-🎶I'm a motherfuckin' train wreck

I don't wanna be too much

But I don't wanna miss your touch

And you don't seem to give a fuck

I don't wanna keep you waiting

But I do just what I have to do

And I might not be the one for you

But you ain't about to have no boo, 'cause🎶

BZ-that bad huh

Y-yeah

(Draco overheard the conversation. And walk behind Y/n)

DM-why were you talking to Blaise

Y-because I wanted to

DM- don't talk to him

Y-why

DM- because I said so

Y-🎶You ain't my boyfriend (boyfriend)

And I ain't your girlfriend (girlfriend)

But you don't want me to see nobody else

And I don't want you to see nobody

But you ain't my boyfriend (boyfriend)

And I ain't your girlfriend (girlfriend)

But you don't want me to touch nobody else (nobody)

Baby, we ain't gotta tell nobody 🎶

DM- 🎶Even though you ain't mine

I promise the way we fight

Make me honestly feel like we just in love

'Cause, baby, when push comes to shove

Damn, baby, I'm a train wreck, too (too)

I lose my mind when it comes to you

I take time with the ones I choose

And I don't want to smile if it ain't from you, yeah

I know we be so complicated

Lovin' you sometimes drive me crazy

'Cause I can't have what I want and neither can you (oh no)🎶

Y-🎶You ain't my boyfriend (boyfriend)

And I ain't your girlfriend (girlfriend)

But you don't want me to see nobody else

And I don't want you to see nobody

But you ain't my boyfriend (boyfriend)

And I ain't your girlfriend (girlfriend)

But you don't want me to touch nobody else (nobody)

Baby, we ain't gotta tell nobody 🎶

Y+DM-🎶I wanna kiss you (yeah), don't wanna miss you (yeah)

But I can't be with you 'cause I got issues

Yeah, on the surface, seem like it's easy

Careful with words, but it's still hard to read me

Stress high when the trust low (mmh)

Bad vibes, where'd the fun go? (Ohh)

Try to open up and love more (love more)

Try to open up and love more

If you were my boyfriend

And you were my girlfriend

I probably wouldn't see nobody else

But I can't guarantee that by myself🎶

DM-do you want to be my girlfriend

Y-yes

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.