Draco - Tumblr Posts - Page 2

𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕨𝕒𝕧𝕖//𝕕.𝕞

Draco Malfoy

Soulmate one-shot where everyone gets their soulmate's first words to them branded on their skin on their fifteenth birthday.

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: angst, fluff at the end

MASTERLIST

-Ⰶ

What the bloody fuck is wrong with your face?

That was what was written on your blemish-free forearm, available for the whole world to see.

You groaned for the tenth time that day, face flushing pink. No matter how many times you had tried to scribble over the newly formed words with a Spell-O-Pen, the black ink always seemed to vanish when you weren’t looking, seemingly absorbed into the flawless calligraphy taunting you.

What a brilliant start to your 15th birthday.

Your best friend, Ron Weasley, shared your birthday and received his soulmate mark. He started cackling when he saw yours, the wording sending him into stitches. Unimpressed, you pointed out that his tattoo wasn’t located anywhere to the common eye, like the usual forearm marks.

And naturally, Ron panicked, claiming that he would be alone forever. Until you spotted words, scrawled in neat print on his armpit, spelling, And, you are?

That was how you and Ron found yourselves in thick jumpers in the middle of summer, managing to almost pass out during Snape’s lecture because of the heat.

As Snape’s monotone droned on, you began to not only feel unaccomplished but also bored out of your mind, and it was difficult to feel anything other than the scorching heat of your Gryffindor jumper. A slow migraine was starting to develop, and Ron didn’t seem to be having any better luck, with a sopping wet brow line and his pale skin matching his flaming ginger hair.

Yeah, it probably wasn’t the greatest idea in the world.

As you sat there, counting the agonizingly slow minutes until release, an impatient finger tapped your shoulder. You knew it was Ron, but the unbearable amount of stress and heat on your shoulders caused you to ignore your best friend’s hand. You tried to focus on any little thing, the way Hermione’s curls bounced when she scratched on parchment with her quill, or how Harry’s eyebrow twitched when he sneezed as he carelessly sniffed the lacewing powder.

The finger was still discreetly tapping your knee at an incessant pace, and you began to get quite irritated. Couldn’t he get the hint? How was he so unfazed about it?

“[y/n]. I need to itch my belly button.” Oh for goodness sake!

“Hush up, Ronald! Just focus on your work or something.”

A pause. The constant tapping resumed, as if Ron didn’t realize he was doing it and was on autopilot, moving his smaller appendage like the beating of his heart. “I knew we shouldn’t have done something like this. This is all your fault, [y/n]!”

You look up at his strained face incredulously, forgetting about Snape’s lecture. Ron was tapping at your leg forcefully now, and you had quite enough. Pushing him away by his face, you sneered, “This was your idea, Ronald, and a bloody terrible one at that!” you were enraged, how could he blame you on something that was his fault? “Because of you, we are sitting here burning-” your voice was rising incrementally higher, anger at everything; your situation, your bloody soulmate mark, Ron’s impudence, was fueling your words.

Ron’s face was slack, and slowly morphed into a panicked expression. His impossibly red face turned redder still, until he looked like a ripe cherry from a muggle farmer’s market. The bucket load of sweat slipped onto his face from stress wasn’t helping his situation either, and he constantly reached up to swipe the runny liquid from his face with his damned jumper.

You weren’t finished, fists clenched and shaking at your sides. Your anger was completely unreasonable, but the embarrassment of receiving a soulmate mark such as that, of your soulmate berating your face, made you livid. “And I am so sick of-”

“[l/n]!”

Snape towered over the both of you, his beady black eyes searing into your skull. His disapproving frown was etched onto his face, and you gulped, previous anger forgotten. Ron released a barely perceptible sigh of relief that you didn’t hear. You must have not realized Snape was even there, your rage-filled rant attracting the unwanted attention of the other students in the class as they watched you in confusion.

A pregnant pause ensued. You held your breath, hoping the punishment wouldn’t be too painful.

“Fifty points from Gryffindor.” A collective sigh of annoyance arose from the scarlet-clad members of the potions class, as Snape snapped his hands across Ron’s head. If you weren’t put in such a position, you would have laughed. Now you just felt like crumbling to the floor in a heap and bawling your eyes out.

He looked at you again, in confusion this time. “And remove your jumpers, both of you. I don’t want your performance in this class hindered by distracting clothing.”

Your eyes widened. No. No you wouldn’t.

If you removed your accursed crimson jumper, everyone would see your mark. You clenched your fists. This was unreasonable in more ways than one. You’d be known, not as [y/n], the best Gryffindor keeper of your age, but [y/n] the girl unworthy of her own soulmate. A few tears sprang up from your eyes.

Before you knew what you were doing, you sprang up from your desk and stormed out the door, not wanting to spend another moment in the classroom. You ignored Hermione and Ron’s calls, charging into the nearest girls’ lavatories.

You finally let your tears flow, hiding from nobody in the corner of the damp room. You covered your face with your fully clothed arm, not daring to remove the offending cloth to relieve your own body temperature. You would do anything to not see your mark of shame gazing up at you, and you had the uncontrollably odd urge to rip your own skin off.

What kind of person were you, that your own soulmate hated you? You felt pathetic beyond belief, and the thought alone caused you to sob harder. You felt your sweat roll down your chest, a tiny feeling of relief. At least you were out of the sweltering room.

A new anger settled itself in your heart. Something full of self loathing, self hate. Grappling with your tie, you managed to yank it off from underneath your jumper. Throwing it to the ground, you sat dejectedly on the linoleum tiles and cupped your face in your hands.

You were angry at yourself. How could you be so… so ugly that the person you were meant to spend your life with hated your fucking face? The urge grew stronger, and you had the morbid curiosity to claw your face off. At least your soulmate would have a reason to question your appearance then.

Peering up, you looked into the mirror. Mascara tracks slithered down your face like an eroded waterfall, and your hair stuck together, sweat clumping it up. Rubbing your face tiredly, you managed to smudge your eyeliner and strawberry lip gloss. You looked deranged, like you had broken out of an asylum you were imprisoned in for two decades.

The flash or rage came again as you let out a roar of frustration, hands slamming into the sink. The force of your upper body cracked the ceramic, slightly but still noticeable. The sink was crumbling, its old age not doing anything to help its mortality. Splinters of the white material were stuck in your hand, but you didn’t notice. All you saw was your face, and how the reflection of yourself glared into the mirror, as if you could wipe the pain and imperfections from your face.

And it wasn’t even your time of the month.

A squeak of a door from behind you shocked you out of your stupor. Whirling around, you saw a boy with straight platinum blond hair and startling blue-gray eyes. He was about a foot taller than you, and he looked annoyed, eyebrows furrowed as he gazed at your small profile shaking beside the sink.

It was Draco Malfoy.

The boy who had tormented your other three friends, who warned you to stay away from him. He was exactly as they described him, pale, aristocratic, his dark robes contrasting perfectly with his complexion. The green Slytherin emblem was stitched on his robes, and you felt confused by the mere sight of him.

He started forward, pushing past the door. There seemed to be nobody from behind him. He completely disregarded the girl’s bathroom sign and strode towards you, causing you to stumble back in fright.

“What the bloody fuck is wrong with your face?”

Pure white-hot anger shot into your system, making you forget your situation. Rude. “I could say the same about you, you albino mongoose!” You shrieked, moving to shove him away.

As you lunged forward, Malfoy caught your wrists. You gave a startled gasp, the momentum of your shove having thrown you into him. As he steadied you, you looked at your hands.

They were bloody, the pieces of ceramic from the sink having been lodged painfully in your joints. You winced as he scooped up your hands again with a tenderness that you hadn’t felt in a while, not even from Ron.

His long, pale fingers were almost translucent, and you found yourself frowning at them in curiosity. They seemed to be ghostlike, ethereal, a glowing undertone of mother-of-pearl under the masterfully-placed veins. His grip was gentle, as he slipped his grip from your wrists to your tiny fingers.

“No, I meant,” he stroked your palms with his thumb, a strangely intimate move for someone he just met. Besides being fascinated by the boy in front of you, you were weirded out immensely. “Why are you crying?”

You stared up into his stormy eyes. They softened, and he led you towards where your tie was laying, thrown to the ground by your antics. Realizing he wasn’t going to get an answer, he picked it up with his nimble fingers before sitting you down.

Pressing a thumb to his soft lips, his pink tongue darted out to lubricate it. You watched in fascination as he near painlessly removed the shards from your mangled hands. He was skilled, you could tell, his hands dancing across yours to relieve you of your pain. You briefly wondered why a boy as rich as him learned how to heal.

Reaching out with his finger coated in saliva, you winced loudly as he smeared it over the biggest wound on your thumb web. You hissed in a breath, watching as his eyes flicked up to meet yours for a dreadfully long second. His handsome face was set, as he seemed to ask for permission from you.

You gave him a barely perceptible nod. He smiled back. A lovely, caring smile that made your heart thump painfully in your chest.

He then pulled out his wand, a beautifully polished hawthorn one with two rings encircling the bottom. Running it over the wounds, he whispered, “Episkey.” You watched, mesmerized, as the skin seemed to see itself up painlessly, stitching itself together until the aching in your hand disappeared. You were stunned.

“How...” You mumbled, your eyes cautiously scanning your hands for other spots. Malfoy’s spit had vanished too, numbing your thumb web.

“I’m training to be a healer at St. Mungo’s.” You looked up to see Malfoy watching you carefully, kneading out your expression with a soft gaze. Why was everything pertaining to you soft?

“I...see. Thank you.” You seemed to have gained control of your voice. Malfoy smiled.

Then leaned closer.

And closer.

And closer.

Your breathing seemed to have halted in your chest. His breaths were shallow, smelling of apples and mint, a strangely pleasing combination. Instead of the expected pungency of cologne, you were struck with the soft smell of teakwood and pine, an earthy aroma that made you backtrack a bit.

He seemed to hesitate. Then reaching down, he tugged at the end of your jumper, pulling it up.

Oh. Oh no.

“No!” You exclaimed, snapping your newly healed hands to his, halting his movements. You involuntarily ran her fingers over his veins, and shivered. You were reminded of the entire situation in the first place, how you ran out of Snape’s class, had a bawling fest, and…

Met him. You met him.

Of all the days in your life, you had never met someone who struck a chord in you so profoundly after minutes of meeting them. Your body had seemed to memorize him, a strange connection like moths to flames ignited within you.

You looked back up at him shamefully, and found him smiling in amusement. His fingers slipped from yours and pressed against your hot forehead, startling you. Everything he did startled you. His touch was like static on metal to you, his presence was like hot chocolate and warm blankets on a winter day.

And you had just met him. This boy was affecting you like nobody had ever affected you before. Your emotions ran high, and you started trembling when his hands held either side of your face. As if both of you had done this before. Thousand times before. Like it was rehearsed.

He tilted your head, so your eyes met his. A blizzard, a tundra, swirled through his greys. While most saw bleak blue, you saw a paradise in his eyes. The color of steel, reminding you of so much stability. His euphoric eyes gazed at you with something you could only describe as adoration.

“I’m not ashamed, so don’t be.” His words were soft, gentle, like the breeze on a pleasantly chilly day. It took a moment for you to realize he said something, so you tilted your head.

“What?”

“Don’t be ashamed.”

Tilting his head to the left, your breath caught when messy handwriting- your handwriting- was scrawled onto his pale neck. Lifting a shaky hand, you placed it on his sculpted cheek. He released a soft sigh of relaxation, turning his neck further for you to see the tattoo.

I could say the same about you, you albino mongoose!

Wait.

Without wasting another minute, you seized the ends of your jumper and pulled it over your head. The fresh air welcomed you, as you sighed in bliss, throwing your jumper to the side to join your tie. Holding your tattooed arm out for your soulmate- it was so strange to say, soulmate- and watched as his eyes widened impossibly, pure happiness filling his oceans.

He cupped your face, hurriedly pressing his lips to your forehead, cheeks, and nose, peppering sweet packages of love to you, his quest to find his other half complete. His lips felt so right, as if you two had done this a million times. Both your laughters filled the small lavatory, your small arms wrapping around his waist as he nuzzled his face into your soft locks.

“[y/n]...” he whispered, your foreheads pressed together, and your heart almost burst, because nobody in the whole wide world could say your name as beautifully as him, and he was sure he felt the same when you replied, “Draco.” A confirmation. And you could stay with your Draco forever, you knew that, you wouldn’t leave for anything, because you love him, you love him, you love hi-

“[y/n]! My belly button still needs itching!”

You groaned. It would be a long day.

Piscis Austrinus and Draco

Bowen from Dragonheart ❤️

Draco Malfoy | Harry Potter Series | Not my gif

Requests are OPEN

Imagine Draco Malfoy Finding Out You Like Him

Draco: You? A Filthy half blood, like me? 

Y/N: Sighing “I’m a pureblood Draco you know this... And honestly I also don't know what I see in you.”

Draco: Hurriedly “No you can’t take it back now.” 

Draco turns around and starts shouting: “Y/N fancies me. She's asking me to go with her to Hogsmeade.”

Y/N: Facepalms “You know if you wanted to return my feelings and let other people know I'm taken, you can just say you like me too.”

Draco: But I have a reputation to uphold...

Imagine Showing up in Third year of the Golden Trio Era (set up for later imagines)

Y/N: I guess now they’re old enough for me to blend in yes?

Dumbledore: I suppose so. But remember, time is a finnicky thing, lest you alter the-

Y/N: *glares pointedly* Do not talk to me of time, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. I have been through fire and darkness, age beyond age, sent by who knows what for who knows why. You are not the first wizard I have met. Nor the wisest. 

Dumbledore: *hesitates* I apologise, your situation is still strange and I forget you are beyond the age of which you look.

Y/N: *mutters* Raising a boy for slaughter, you imbecile. If Molly Weasley knew.. Seven hells would be upon you.

Dumbledore: I am aware.

Y/N: I will see you at the beginning of year feast Albus.

Y/N walks out of his office

Y/N: *mutters* This time everyone lives. I swear upon it.

It’s a match!

a/n: can you tell i’ve never used tinder and had to google things like “what number is a lot of tinder matches” 💀💀

summary: you and your roommate draco decide to start a fun romance competition but unbeknownst to Draco, you fell in love with him when you were 12...

warnings: none?

word count: 1914.

Saturday morning - 9:32 am:

“Wanna play a game?” your roommate asks.

“Sure,” you reply. Although this was only the second week of holidays, you two were already bored out of your minds. “We could play Uno again, but that’s getting boring. Or maybe Scrabble, Pictionary, Cluedo...” you glance at your board game cupboard, listing them all before looking back to Draco, who’s shaking his head.

“No, it’s this game I saw my friends play, on your phone.” 

“Other friends? I thought I was your one and only,” you shake your head disapprovingly. 

“Very funny, y/n. No, it’s Tinder.” he answers, grabbing his phone and moving closer to you on the couch.

“Tinder? There’s games on there now?” you ask, confused.

“No, the game is Tinder. You set a time limit, say, three days, and the person with the most matches by the end gets to dare the other people to do something,” he explains. 

“Oh. I always like a good competition,” you say. “’Get the most matches on Tinder in three days to dare the loser’ isn’t the most catchy name, but I trust you to buy a good trophy for me, since you’ve have so much practice.” you gave him a saccharine smile. 

You and Draco had a little trophy cabinet where the loser would buy the victor a trophy with whatever the competition’s name was engraved on the outside. It had become a game between you two, the winner at the end of the year would... It was undecided, but you were going to make sure Draco’s punishment was bad, or at least, totally hilarious. So far the tally was 5 to you, and 4 to Draco. 

“It’s only a one trophy difference! Anyway, make a new Tinder account, fake information but choose any pictures of real you.” he says. 

You quickly sign up, and pick 5 of your best photos. 

“’If you like water, you’ll already love 70% of me ;).’’ you laugh and look away from his phone. “Really, Draco. Pickup lines?” you snorted. “That’ll never work in this day and age.” 

He smirks. “We’ll see, y/n. I’ve heard I can be pretty charming.” 

You roll your eyes at the reference to what 13-year-old you had said when he talked you guys out of detention.

At 10am, you guys were ready to begin.

|| You: 0 matches || Draco: 0 matches ||

Sunday evening - 8:24pm:

The whole day, you were furiously on your phone, swiping right, right and right. You tried to keep an open mind and had inputted no preferences to try give yourself an advantage, but 24-year-old Dudley Dursley was still living in his mother’s basement with his girlfriend. Yeah, girlfriend. The guy put it in his bio. Even though this was a game, Fake Y/n was not about to be a homewrecker. 

“You alright there, love?” asks Draco. “Your thumb might need a break.” he laughs at you. You noticed he had been staring for a while now, watching your thumb as it furiously swiped right, with the occasional exception of people like Dudley Dursley. 

“No, I’m fine, thanks. I see you haven’t been swiping too much. Why?” you demand, not looking up from the screen.

You see him arch an eyebrow and he whistles. “Your concentration right now is intense. I think I’ve done enough, today. My matches have been rolling in.”

This makes you look up. “Rolling in?” How many have “rolled in”, Draco?”

He smirks, “Maybe 17?” 

“You’re joking!” you say, mouth open in shock. Your eyes lift up from the phone and just briefly you catch him looking at your mouth. 

“I’d never lie to my one and only friend.” he picks up his phone and walks out of the kitchen. 

|| You: 5 matches || Draco: ??? matches ||

Monday morning - 5:11am:

The next morning you woke up early, despite being up late googling the best way to get matches. To your delight, you found that overnight you’d matched with 9 more people.

“Draco?” you walk into his surprisingly clean room and dramatically throw open the curtains. “Wakey wakey!” He had work at 8, but you were looking forward to bothering him enough to at least get him to spill some of his secrets. 

He groans, and his muscular arm flexes as he grabs his blanket and covers his eyes. “What is this,” he mumbles with one eye open. “sick joke?”

“Is it working? Mind if I... take a quick peek at your match number?” you give Draco your sweetest smile and he smiles too. God, he had a great smile, even first thing in the morning. 

“Whatever, love, just let me sleep before I have to work.” he yawns and snuggles back down into his bed. Like the very best friend you are, you use his phone to take a picture, send it to yourself, and then set it as his lock screen. Snickering, you sneak out of his room, his phone in your hand. 

“Wrong password?!” you whisper to yourself. Draco changed it?! It used to be his birthday, what was it now? You tried 0000, 1111, 2222 and all the other basic combinations. His mum’s birthday, even his dad’s - even though their relationship wasn’t the best - but lastly, yours. To your surprise, it unlocked. 

My birthday? You think. Why would it be my birthday? 

Oh well. You resist looking through his photos and move right on to the good stuff. His matches. 

He lied. 17 matches? More like 6.

You smile happily, very content with your findings. Unable to resist, you take a quick peek at his messages, searching your name. 

Why, why, why was your best friend the last person he’d used your name in conversation with? The preview of the text merely said: “Y/n will love it, Draco, good luck!”

What is this thing Pansy was so sure you’d love? You’d have to confront him about that later. 

Monday afternoon - 4:30pm:

"I’m back,” Draco calls, voice echoing through the hallway. 

“Hey Dray, café busy today?” you ask while flipping through a book. 

“Actually not really, but you know what was busy? My phone. All those Tinder notifications were blowing it up.” 

“What? How?” you bunch your eyebrows and stare. “You were literally working.”

“Every girl I served, I showed her my Tinder, and I think she made sure we matched.” He snickered. 

You laugh but roll your eyes. “That’s cocky. How many matches are you on now?”

“Cocky? I prefer charming, but I have...” he looks at his screen. “15 matches now.”

You take in this information, trying not to smile. Four more people added you throughout the day, so you were only barely in the lead. Time to start furiously swiping again. 

|| You: 19 matches || Draco: 15 matches ||

Tuesday morning - 9:54am:

“Malfoy,” you nod your head. Across the room, Draco smiles.

“Last names now? Someone’s in game mode.”

“I was in game mode long before this, just thought I would go easy on you before, make sure you remember me being nice before I totally obliterate you in this competition.” 

“You’re intense,” he teases, moving to lean against the kitchen cabinet across from you.

“I checked your phone this morning. 19 matches? Cute. I’ve got 22.” You’re feeling pretty good about yourself right now, intimidating him and all. 

He claps slowly. “That’s great, love, but there’s still 6 more minutes.” 

“That’s... fine. These next,” you glance at the clock to make sure. “5 minutes I will be swiping so intensely, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

He walks towards you. “Really, y/n/n? Nothing?” You turn around and face the kitchen island, hiding, his eye contact making you go red. Suddenly, you feel something behind you. It’s Draco. Of course. 

You turn around, mouth open, about to belittle him for thinking flirting will make you go easier when you see his eyes flicker to your lips and your breath catches in your throat. He meets your eyes, in silent question. You nod.

“No, love, I need you to say it,” he brushes your hair behind your ear, the contact making you squirm. 

“Draco, kiss me.”

And then he does. One hand wraps around your waist, his other tangles in your hair. He kisses you like you’ve never been kissed before. He kisses you like he wants you. Needs you, needs this moment more than anything. You know you do.

He kisses you and you feel time stop and slow down and get quicker all at once. Or maybe it just stops.

He kisses you like he’s been waiting for this moment his entire life. 

He kisses you... and everything’s perfect, exactly where it should be. 

You pull away, breathing heavily. He rests his forehead against yours, and he smiles. You bite your lip, nervous. You two had never crossed that line before. All those times you thought he felt something too, but you had been too scared to act. You start to smile, the stereotypical line of, “If I knew you also felt that way, we could have been together for years now!” in your head.

“If I knew you also wanted that, y/n, I would have obliged you long before now.” Draco admits, voice rough. 

Oh my god.

“If I knew you also wanted that, Draco, I would not have stopped you if you did kiss me long before now.” 

For a moment, it’s all smiles and laughter, before a shrill, piercing noises hits the air.

Draco starts to laugh even harder. “Sweetheart don’t tell me that’s an alarm. You really did get competitive.”

You look down, embarrassed it ruined your perfect moment. “N...No? Pssh, what alarm?”

“I know what you’re thinking. It’s not like our moment was ruined,” he says, eyes staring deep into yours. “I have a feeling every moment with you from now on will be perfect.”

“Watch less romance, Draco,” you deadpan. 

“What can I say, I’ve been told I’m charming.” he shrugs, and you grin. 

“I wouldn’t doubt that Dray,” you say sincerely. “But I have to ask... why did you change your password to my birthday? I’m sorry for snooping but I just have to know. Why did Pansy tell you I was going to love something?” 

His eyes widen.

“I- I didn’t expect you to see the messages. I mean, the password I knew you’d get, but...” he takes a deep breath.

“Before I walked into the kitchen and we kissed, I changed my password again. It’s the year we met. The year I fell in love.” he admits.

“You’re lucky I’m in love with you too, because that was almost too cheesy,” your smile grows. 

“Yeah?” Draco smirks and you nod.

“I had this whole date night prepared, and I showed Pansy, and she said you’d love it, but... Never mind now, right?” he smirks even more and puts his arm around you. “I want to be yours, now,” he says softly. 

“I can’t believe you had plans!” you say, caught up in the fact that the Malfoy heir planned a date night?!

“I was going to wait until after this whole game these last few days, I couldn’t keep listening to you go on about the hordes of matches you had.” He smiles sheepishly. “And I hated listening to you read messages.”

You grin. “Jealous, Draco? It’s okay,” you affirm. “I’m yours now, I promise.”

|| You: 1 match || Draco: 1 match ||

Romeo and Juliet

a/n: pls just ignore however incorrect my references and lines and actions to the play are, i found the scripts but im just kinda clueless <3

summary: you and draco are cast as romeo and juliet for drama class.

warnings: none?

word count: 468.

“God, this is stupid,” mutters Draco from across the room.

“I’m not too keen on it either, but we should just shut up and start,” you say back.

“Positions! Where’s my Romeo and Juliet?” calls Professor Trelawney.

Theatre class had seemed fun at first, and if it wasn’t, it would just be a place to slack off, but Professor Trelawney disagreed. From lesson 2, she started drilling lines and potential plays into your class. The only reason you didn’t start in your first lesson was because she misplaced her glasses. They were on top of her hair, but no one told her that.

"Come on, you two!” hollers Trelawney. “We can all turn away when you kiss,” with that, you hear the rest of your class laugh, and you feel like melting away. God, this was embarrassing.

You look up to find Draco already looking at you, and he nods towards the stage. 

Ugh. you shudder. Kissing Draco Malfoy. Maybe if you hadn’t fallen out all those years ago, you two would be laughing about it, joking how Draco, of all people, was your first kiss, but instead, there was tension, everywhere. 

No one but your best friend Daphne knew you hadn’t been kissed yet, but you knew that you would be interrogated at lunch since she was in the room watching.

“Fine. Whatever,” you whisper to yourself. “Just get on stage and kiss him. Quick. Whatever, it’s fine. Whatever!” your convincing doesn’t really work. 

You and Draco walk onto the stage, and you clear your throat.

“Saints do not move, though grant for prayers’ sake,” you move closer to Draco. You see him visibly swallow, his adam's apple bobbing. 

“Then move not,” he says. “While my prayer’s effect I take,”

Then he crashes his lips onto yours, and the feeling is indescribable. How long were you supposed to kiss for? 3 seconds? 33 seconds? Who cared. Not you.

You were so enveloped in this euphoric feeling coursing through your veins, the warmth in your body, and Draco’s arm snaking around your waist that it took several throat-clearings from your professor for you two to break apart. 

“Ahem! Well, Mr Malfoy, Ms Y/l/n, that was spectacular! Bravo, bravo!” Trelawney launches into enthusiastic clapping and the rest of the class, albeit  unenthusiastically joins in (with the exception of Daphne, who’s smiling and wiggling her eyebrows, and some of Draco’s friends. Blaze is winking at Draco and Theo Nott is giving him the most “I-told-you-so!” smirk you’ve ever seen). You see Draco roll his eyes and subtly flip them off, which makes them laugh harder. 

Oh no. You had totally forgotten. Play? First kiss? In front of your entire theatre class?

“The chemistry!” Trelawney gasps. “The chemistry was divine, darlings, well done! Should we do it again?”

Lord spare me. 

Faking it (pt 1)

summary: you and draco agree to fake date - (eventual) friends to lovers.

warnings: contains angst, pining and definitely inaccuracies mentioning potions.

word count: 1655.

“Just a bit longer, love,” Draco whispers, mouth close to your ear, making your position seem more intimate than it was. Or maybe it was just you who thought that.

You both sway to the music, Draco’s hands on the small of your back, and your hands are around his neck, your left one absent mindedly playing with the waves of hair on his nape. 

The other weddinggoers move around you, some pointing. Hushed whispers erupt around the room, many probably questioning who the mysterious lady with the famous Slytherin Prince was, as except for Cedric and probably Cho, no other Hogwarts students would be here.

“Draco, are you sure this is even working? I think we’re drawing attention.”

“Obviously we are drawing attention. You’re stunning, y/n.” he grins. 

You feel your stomach twist with a new sort of feeling. Draco had been complimenting you like that all evening, to the point where you weren’t sure if it was an act or not. 

No. It was all an act. Draco reciprocating your feelings was as likely as cats gaining the ability to read.

“Well, Dray, I guess you’re fine to look at as well,” you scoff. He feigns offense and leans closer to your ear again to whisper some more.

“My mother and father are looking, so don’t turn around.”

“Should I fake laugh, or something?” you whisper back, conspiratorially.

“Fake laugh? I’m plenty hilarious, y/n. No, just... lean in more,” Draco says, grasp on your waist tightening as he dips his head to lightly brush his mouth against the corner of yours.

Wow, it was warm in here. Hot, one might even say. Flames were covering your body-

“You okay, love?” Draco breaks you from your trance, but you nod unconvincingly.

“Don’t think about him, and just remember, he’s an idiot,” Draco says.

***

The morning of the wedding was a rollercoaster of emotions. You’d just been broken up with by Cedric Diggory, mascara streaming down and eyes puffy when Draco found you. Cedric had cheated on you with Cho Chang and that morning you went to confront him after Cho had come to your dorm late last night, apologizing over and over, saying she didn’t know you two were dating again. You were always an on-and-off couple with Cedric, and her apologies rang so genuine in your ears, you couldn’t blame Cho, (plus, who were you to allow women to be pitted against other women?). So, you set your mind up to confronting Cedric that next morning after first period, but you were the one who got broken up with. 

It was outrageous, and Draco had thought so too as he comforted you, the two of you sitting on your dorm bed. You were grateful for his listening skills, and he was ever the patient friend. 

***

“You’re too good to cry over him. He’s a bloody fool to cheat on you, y/n,” Draco said, brushing away a tear. You sniff in reply.

“My parents have got this wedding they’re invited to; Sadly, I’m forced to go. I hear Amos is officiating, so I suppose his son will be there.” He dropped his voice to a whisper. "Why not give them something to talk about? Come as my date, we can act.”

“We can act.” He says.

You’d let out a sob-laugh. Your friend, the one who had stolen your heart for years, was asking you to “act” like you were in love with him.

“No way you’re serious,” you had said, turning to look at him after sob-laughing some more. “Deadly serious, y/n,” Draco’s brow furrowed as if he was confused to why you thought he was joking. “Come on, love. You need some fun so let’s make that insufferable git jealous.” Draco smirked.

Letting out a soft laugh, you also started to smile. “Okay Draco, I’ll act with you.”

***

‘Okay Draco,’ you replay that morning’s conversation as your pulse races. ‘I’ll act with you.’ 

He’s kissing the side of your cheek, just as you dance past Cedric. As you twirl away, you see Cho’s sad smile from her seat next to him and you give her your own smile back. 

Draco suddenly drops his voice and whispers, “There’s something I’ve got to tell you later,”

“Yeah?” you reply.

“Yeah. But not now, because there’s so many people looking at you like you’re theirs.” 

He says ‘theirs’ strangely, like it leaves a bad taste in his mouth. The sudden change in conversation makes you wary, cautious... with excitement and anticipation consuming you.

“I want you to myself,” he finishes.

He wants you to himself. 

Your heart flutters at the thought of what he was going to say. You weren’t stupid, anyone with half a brain could hear “I’ve got to tell you something” and “I want you to myself” together and think what you were thinking.

He likes you. 

“Draco!” calls a sudden voice as he turns you into a spin, lips brushing your shoulder. Just an act.

Oh no, the voice was Astoria’s. What was she doing here?

“Please do not tell me that’s dearest Astoria calling me,” Draco pleads through gritted teeth as he twirls you around, the happy bride and groom dancing near you. You suck in a laugh, your reaction telling him all he needed to know.

“Dracoo please come dance with me! Dracoo!” Astoria calls. 

“Good luck Draco, she’s drunk,” you say with a grimace, slightly annoyed she interrupted your intimate moment. Fake intimate moment, you mentally amended.

“Oh no y/n! She’s drunk!” Draco says at the same time.

“Come onnnn Dray! ‘Cissy would want us toooooo! and Luc-” she hiccups. “Lucie too!” you can hear her frown in her voice as she struggles to pronounce Lucius’ name. Through your peripheral vision you see her come hurtling toward you, half-full flute of some alcoholic drink in hand.

“Oh god, y/n. From previous experience I can tell you she is not going away until she gets what she wants,” Draco groans, dragging a hand down his face as he turns away from her.

Your heart deflates a tiny bit and you both loosen your grips. “Oh, okay. I guess you better go dance with her.”

Your heart throbs. Of course this would happen while you’re on the precipice of the conversation which could change your entire relationship. And of course, it’s Astoria “will-steal-your-yule-ball-date” Greengrass who ruins it.

Draco cocks his head, earnestly saying, “I’ll be back soon. I promise.” before kissing your cheek and floating away from you and into Astoria’s waiting arms, for the second time in 3 years.

***

Two hours later, you’re sitting by the chocolate fountain dipping fruit when you finally see Draco’s silhouette, but he’s stumbling towards you. 

“Draco, it’s been forever, where’ve you been?” you ask before realizing you... had no business knowing. After all, you weren’t his girlfriend. Merlin, why did you feel so bitter?

You soften your voice, “Sorry, you just promised her one dance and it’s been a while.”

You closely inspect that Draco’s dress-shirt is rumpled, his hair messy and his tie is nowhere to be seen. He sits next to you and the heavy smell of something strong envelopes you both. Something weird. It’s pungent, yet comforting, like green apples and mint. 

“Fuck, y/n,” he finally mumbles. “How long have I been gone?”

“Over two hours.”

“I just got so caught up with Astoria. I think she...” he trails off, looking dazed.

This was outrageous. Draco Malfoy had all but told you that he liked you and then goes and does merlin-knows-what with Astoria?! 

Terrible. Terrible, terrible feelings. Jealousy was seeping out your every pore, and you were getting ahead of yourself.

“I’m glad you had so much fun with her,” you say. “That you forgot about me.”

“No! I didn’t forget you, y/n, I went upstairs first, and- bloody hell, I feel so sick.”

“Went upstairs? You told me you were going to dance, Draco!”

“Yeah, maybe?” He looked queasy. “But she handed me a drink and tried to-”

“You think? Draco, you’ve been gone almost 2 and a half hours and you think you danced?” you interrupt.

“I told you, y/n. I don’t remember. That drink, I think it was-,” comes his reply.

“You know, now I think about it, you just weren’t quite hesitant enough to go with her!” you spit, voice low but rising.

“What? It was a mistake, y/n! You’re getting so riled up over what?” Draco counters, anger in his gaze.

“You’re my best friend Draco! Why I can’t be worried about you?” you shriek, attracting attention. Draco huffs and you sigh, before saying, “You just left me there for Astoria and whatever the hell you did ‘upstairs’, but oh, forbid me if I show concern or my disapproval?” you hiss.

Draco’s face changes and his brows furrow.

Not wanting to argue (more than you already had in the foyer), you drag him by his hand and pull him into the hallway, noticing his 2 usual silver rings are gone from his right hand, and his wrist has some pink stain on it, like lipstick. 

“Well, y/n,’ Draco continues in the hall, voice louder now. “You’re my best friend. Not my girlfriend. Why the hell would you care what I’m doing?” 

Skipping over his question you just say, “Oh, believe me, Draco! I know I’m not your girlfriend!’ you shout, cheeks slightly heating. For a second you regret it, hoping it didn’t give your jealous feelings away, but to your relief and also utter dread, Draco replies, “And what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

You had never been subject to his quiet rage to an extent like this, but it didn’t scare you. The faint golden light from the foyer filtering through the stained glass on the hallway door and onto him, the glow lighting his features.

You inhale. “I hope Astoria was a good fuck.” and turning on your heels, you walk away.

Rated by best:

3: Draco Malfoy

2: Loki 

1: BULLY MAGUIRE 

Oh my gooooood

There are men in all black suits outside despite the scorching sun and one thing came to minddddd.... 😏😏😏

And my over imaginative head is thinking it's the mafia or smthn or bodyguards thus pointing my mind to @lokisprettygirl The bodyguard 😂😅

Hogwarts, September 1998 : The returning 8th years are told they must prepare for a Yule Ball in December! Full fan comic by OkaySky here ❤️

A commission I never posted! So sorry!!!

From Dracozork in Twitter, thank you so much for your confiance I loved this one because of the hug and all the cute context. Hope I can do more like that later~

#Wakfu #Wakfuoc #Ankama #Dofus #Eliatrope #Dragon #digitalwork #digitaldrawing #digitalwork #Digitalcommission #commission #YingRoku #yingtheeliatrope #Eliatrope #Eliatropeoc #Blue #Pink #Draco #Hug #illustration #art #artwork