#and blaise and cormac were the only thing I were bothered about

[malfoys-demigod]

"I guess this is a lesson in not trusting people”

Draco Malfoy x Reader

Requested by @potatothingsz​

-> Hiii! I am a big fan of you honestlyyy eee i have read almost every blog of yours (mainly dracos-) anyway! I was wondering if you are open for requests rn? If not totally understand! But if you are tho i hope i can request one? Its a draco x reader one the story goes that draco is fighting with (whatever guy in hp) the reason is that the random guy basically have a crush on you (y/n is dating draco) then draco gets arrogant about it then y/n hears it then they fight cuz of things draco said!Gb!

Word Count: 3.6k 

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this! 

tag list @the--queen-of-hell​ @bbeauttyybbx​

“And that’s how my parents met the headmaster of Ilvermorny School, all the way in America!” Pansy excitingly shared the news with you and Daphne by the Great Hall. 

“How excellent, Pansy,” you said, interested in the conversation, “You should definitely tell your parents to bring you next time.”

“Oh my gosh,” Daphne said, sounding so surprised, “It’s only a week before holiday starts! Why don’t you ask them to spend the holidays with you over there? Wouldn’t an American holiday sound fantastic to you?”

“I second that,” you agreed, “Pansy, you would have the most exciting trip ever!”

Pansy liked the idea of spending the holidays in America, so she smiled, grinning as if it was a mischievous plan. “That is such a smart idea, who knows, I could return from the holiday’s with an American boyfriend!” 

“You wish,” you teased, lightly nudging her shoulder. 

Before Pansy could come back with a funny remark, Blaise bursted into the Great Hall, causing many eyes to look at him as he was running towards the three of you. He seemed terrified out of his life, as there was fear in his eyes, which was something you’ve barely seen from him. He was such a relaxed and reserved person most of the time, so acting like this without caring if people now paid attention to him was a first. 

He placed his hands on your shoulders, huffing and puffing breath. 

“What’s troubling you, Blaise?” you placed a hand on his hand, sounding deeply concerned. 

He was still huffing and puffing when he said, “Malfoy. Fight. Outside. Now.” 

It was like this new, uplifting energy came out of nowhere when you immediately stood up from the table and started dashing out of the Great Hall, along with your friends who followed behind. 

There were so many thoughts madly entering your mind, swimming around and suggesting the most horrid reasons as to why Draco was involved in a fight. You were very much aware that he liked making dramatic debates and conversations with practically much everyone at school. But to make a huge scene that caused Blaise to briefly trouble you to stop what you were doing was something petrifying to experience. 

Mindlessly, you made several turns around the castle, following Blaise, who had quickly followed your pace, guiding you to the crowd by the outskirts of the castle. It was by the balcony which gave a side perspective of the vast body of water which Viktor Krum and his school used to travel by ship. 

It was about time when you were faced with your boyfriend, Draco Malfoy, involving himself in a serious and intense magic and physical battle with Cormac McLaggen, a Gryffindor who was in the year above you. 

They have seemed to be quite in focus with the fight, ignoring the crowd’s chants and cheers. Honestly, one thing to be quite disappointed in at some point were the people’s reactions and follow-ups when it came to witnessing fights. There were crowds that would stop and call for help, and there were crowds that would watch the fight as if it was pure entertainment. 

You were given the crowd that would watch the fight as if it was pure entertainment, saldy. 

Since there was so much going through your mind, without thinking, you jumped into the middle of the fight, hoping you wouldn’t be hit with a spell or a fist fight. 

“Enough!” you yelled, raising both your hands to the side, for both opponents to see. They terrifyingly lowered their wands, looking around the crowd, agitated with the eyes around them. 

Once they had your attention, you angrily heaved a breath out of your system, which resulted from the start of a massive headache. You heatedly walked to the side your boyfriend was standing by and threw out your hands hysterically. 

“What the bloody hell is going on, Draco!” 

He did not reply, as he remained silent. He began looking down at the ground with disappointment and struggle in his face, realizing the damage he had placed himself. He was breathing in and out, holding his wand tightly with such distress in his grip. 

You absolutely did not have the luxury to receive more silent treatment from him, for you were enraged and impatient with the silence. You rolled your eyes with such fury, “Explain, dammit!” 

From the other side of the paused, rather ended battle, Cormac showed a condoling facial expression, which made him slowly walk to the other side, where you and Draco were standing by. He placed a hand on your shoulder, which caused you to briskly turn around. 

He then placed a hand on his chest and said, “I believe I am at fault, Y/N.” he suggested, “He must have overheard me telling my friends how I fancied you and got distressed about it. I should have tried to reason with him more because if I did, we wouldn’t have had this fight. I’m sorry.”

You felt pity for Cormac, which caused you to shake your head in disagreement. ‘No,’ you mouthed to him. Disappointed in Draco, you sighed with such upset in your voice that when you turned to him with such a let down on your face, you said, “Bloody hell, Draco, he was the slightest threat you have encountered in your life. You are a foolish person for wanting to start a fight which is considered by everyone with the right mind to be useless. Damn you, Draco.”

Draco stressly placed the palms of his hands on his temples, placing pressure on it, “Y/N, I saw him as a potential threat to our relationship. I thought showing him that you were mine would be able to keep him from destroying our relationship, what we have together!”

You disgracefully shook your head upon hearing the madness he called for an excuse. “Unbelievable, Draco.” You looked back to Cormac with a sympathetic look on your face, “First of all Cormac, you are not at fault here,” which he gave a small, hesitant nod as response. 

Then you pathetically turned back to Draco, “As for you, Draco Malfoy, you are in every way in the wrong. You’re the one who destroyed our relationship. That was certainly not the way to show him that I was yours. This made me rethink if the need to do that was even necessary! How could you possibly see him as a threat when you know I’m in love with you? I guess this is a lesson in not trusting your significant other, right? Because it seems like I guess I’ve never been a trustworthy person, especially concerning what we have together.”

Draco rolled his head in frustration and annoyance. He scoffed, “Please, don’t say that Y/N, you’re making me seem like the bad person here.”

You scoffed back, but with much anger, “But you are,” you coldy replied. Without thinking, you announced, “Consider us on a break, Draco Malfoy. Don’t bother owling me during the holidays. It’ll be nothing but a waste of parchments on your end.” 

Finished with the debate you had with Draco, you gracefully turned around and placed a hand on Cormac’s shoulder, “Very sorry, Cormac. I still hope you have a lovely holiday despite this.” With a small nod from the older boy, it was your cue. 

You turned around, walking away from the scene without thinking of the glares and whispers surrounding you. They were nothing but an audience with no respect whatsoever. Gossip all they want, they’ve got the scoop anyways. 

—

You walked among the glaring eyes around you, trying to find a suitable cart to occupy. Surely in most situations, you would be happy to sit anywhere. But many would be really uncomfortable to be sitting around the talk of the town, which meant that they couldn’t use you as a conversation starter while they commuted back to the platform. 

Thank goodness for Pansy and Daphne, who you found, securing you an empty cart amidst many occupied and packed carts between yours. 

“Hey, Y/N,” Pansy warmly greeted you, helping you place your bags up on the rack. 

“I got it thanks,” you told her, pushing your bags with strength. 

You plopped down, sitting between the two girls, who looked like they weren’t sure of what to talk about since the travel back to the platform would take awhile. Daphne was playing with her fingers, while Pansy was trying to get Daphne to look up and mouth a conversation.

These girls were the absolute worst in trying to make things discreet but they happened to be attempting to converse with you in the most normal way, without thinking of bringing up anything Draco related. 

“Anytime this week would be lovely, girls.” 

“Wh-what?” Pansy let out an exposed laugh, “What do you possibly mean, Y/N?”

“Come on,” you rolled your head, “Can’t think of making things normal without happening to mention or bring up Draco and my whole outburst in school?”

You checked the two girls, who were cheekily smiling with such guilt on their faces. You chuckled, standing up to move to the other side of the cart, to sit, facing in front of them. 

“You two are the silliest,” you crossed your arms with a comfortable look on your face, “I’m not made out of glass, fools. Come on, the worst things could happen to me.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Daphne cooled down, sighing a relief, “We were just being extra concerned that’s all.”

“And of course…” Pansy seemed to have a hard time continuing the sentence for a second as she tilted her head, mumbling the name ‘Draco’, as she continued, “Most likely isn’t taking it well. We haven’t seen or checked up on him, just to let you know!” she promised, waving her arms out, hoping you wouldn’t bust. 

Daphne nudged Pansy’s shoulder, looking at her with an angry look, “You said you wouldn’t mention him! The hell is wrong with you?”

“Me? She said it was alright!” Pansy revolted in annoyance. 

“Take it easy, you two,” you warned them. “You two are making things even more weird, and I’m just sitting here telling you not to look at me as fragile!”

“Right, sorry,” they both said embarrassingly. 

“I just want to let you two know that this whole holiday of mine will be definitely a time for me to invigorate and rejuvenate on my everyday perspectives. I do not know what my parents have in store for this holiday but either way, I am going to throw this whole year away and focus on building for next year, especially when we come back from holiday.”

“That’s brilliant, Y/N! How magnificent, we will definitely be there to support you through owling you every day.” 

You sorrily tilted your head with an open mouth, “Well I’m going to have to ask you the same I warned Draco about.”

“You’re saving us from wasting parchment.”

“I’m sorry, I just think, in order to focus on fixing myself, I-”

“Hey,” Pansy said, as both her and Daphne switched to the other side to sit beside you, “We get it, Y/N and we cannot wait to see you once the break ends.”

“One last group hug before we go our separate ways for a little while?”

--

In the cart that Draco occupied, it was a whole different energy. 

During the first part of the ride back to the platform, Draco did not care about searching for an empty cart, or relying on friends. All he did was present a short, cold glare in front of first years, who willingly stood up and rushed out, forgetting that they were about to give away their seats to a couple of older Slytherins. 

“Slow gits,” Draco muttered, swimming in his way into the cart as he threw his bag up into the rack without care and depressingly jumped on the seat by the view, which he used to ponder and stare with such a sigh coming from his mouth. 

“Chill down mate,” Blaise had the guts, kindly warning his friend, who he sat beside. 

Blaise was surprised when Draco calmly replied with, “Whatever, Zabini. I’m calm.”

Given this, he decided to take the advantage and reason out with him. He moved around his seat, trying to shift somewhat nearer to him. “You clearly aren’t. I reckon it’s going to rain over your whole holiday at home.”

“It won’t.” Draco gritted his teeth. 

Blaise clasped his hands, shaking his head once, “How do you personally feel about the whole situation, mate?”

Draco looked at him with sore eyes and quickly jumped and leaned exaggeratingly, “Me? Personally? I-” then he turned his body around, facing the entire wall with the window, “Forget it. I don’t have time for this girl-talk.”

--

There was a small suggestion of fear in your mind because there was always a possibility of bumping into Draco thanks to the many gatherings your parents were invited to. It would have been extremely discomposing to see the boy you had called ‘breaks’ on before the holiday started. It would make things more complicated to remember that there were more adults than children in these parties, making it more difficult to find people to converse with. 

Luckily, your parents surprisingly cancelled their parties, wanting to spend time with you more. They weren’t cruel or always self-centered, but they were very social when it came to gatherings and mingling with other wizards. So, hearing about this really felt like Merlin was on your side this year. 

With the opportunity to tune out from the outside world, staying at home really made things easier to recollect yourself in these struggling times. 

There was absolutely no distraction from anyone, giving you time to think about Draco. 

It may have been advantageous to give yourself a break from the relationship. Draco, as you obviously know, can be very outspoken. He is the kind of person who wouldn’t be scared to speak up and share his thoughts in any way possible. 

He was a head-strong person, the kind of guy that would really go out of his way to execute whatever he felt like doing. 

What he did for you was… out of hand yes, but when you think about it, he was thinking about you. As a person who isn’t afraid of fighting for honor and the truth, he just couldn’t help himself and protect your relationship. 

Maybe he could have thought things through and settled his issue with Cormac in a more lighter attempt, but if you step into his shoes, you were being Draco Malfoy. He did not want to use the luxury of time and think things through. He was the person who would do it before thinking. 

Plus, he may or may not have anger issues, especially when it came to other boys concerning you. A simple talk about you behind his back would really be an issue for him. The least mess he can do is brag about you if they decided to talk about you when he’s nearby. 

Huh, you actually chuckled at that last thought. Whether what Draco did was right or wrong, he did love you and what he did was for you. Maybe you were a bit harsh on him, but that’s the thing, all of these trace back to love. 

Maybe you thought that he didn’t trust you enough, maybe you were just blinded by so many things. 

It was probably right to give Draco another chance when the holiday ended.

When it did, you had a clear conscience as you were making your way back into one of your favorite places: The Slytherin Common Room. Nothing felt like home than going back to the best common room ever. The weather was still cool, so being around the fireplace was a great idea to warm up. 

Someone had already beaten you to it, though. Walking past with your luggage, your eyes darted towards a platinum blonde hair, resting by the cushions of the sofa by the fireplace. Being curious, you slowly brought your luggage with you, calmly walking towards the sofa. You peeked in, seeing a sleeping Draco Malfoy. 

He seemed to look extremely comfortable with himself. He was wearing a green jumper with a cup of hot chocolate by the coffee table. Had he stayed here all along throughout the holiday? 

To answer your question, Draco’s eyes suddenly fluttered open. His grey eyes were looking at the ceiling for a minute. Still standing there, his eyes now moved towards you. You could see the extreme tiredness in his eyes. A lot could be said by his eyes, aside from tiredness. 

There were dark circles surrounding his eyes. They could be as dark as half-wahed eyeliner kind of dark. It was awful, he must have shed bitter tears that went on for hours. You could see a hint of pink in his eyes, meaning he did recently cry. 

The two of you had a staring contest, as Draco continued looking at you, but as if you were just a dream. You could tell by the way his eyes were narrow, looking half-asleep. You decided that it was time to break the staring contest and be the first to take action. 

To test if he was half-asleep, you dropped your luggage, creating a big ‘thug’ sound, and moved around the sofa, to which he responded by having his eyes follow you. You made your final stop when you stood in front of the ends of the sofa, where his feet were dangling off. 

To your surprise, he lifted his feet, wanting you to sit on the sofa. You didn’t want to keep him waiting, so you quickly sat yourself on the sofa, having his feet, covered in green and red socks rest on your lap. Your eyes moved from the color of his socks to his grey eyes, as he was still looking at you. 

“I’m sorry,” you said, placing a hand on his ankle. You held on his ankle, tightening your grip as you looked at him with sympathy. You looked down immediately, feeling embarrassed and uneasy.

Draco sat up rapidly, removing his feet from your lap as he decided to place himself sitting beside you. His lower body was facing the fireplace, but his upper body was twisted, looking at you with full attention. 

He placed his finger on your chin, causing you to look at his worn-out, grey eyes. “No,” he shook his head, “Merlin knows that it should be me saying that. You know that.” 

His soft, post-crying voice wanted to melt or shatter your heart, making you frown in front of him. “What I do know is that I went too far in scolding you. It was wrong of me.” 

“The amount of scolding was enough for me to realize the immature actions and misfortunes that I have caused. Without you, I wouldn’t be able to realize how much of a childish git I am.” He took your hands slowly, bringing them to him with such a feeling in his heart. “I can’t ask you to forgive me because I’m embarrassed of myself. You deserve so much more than what I offer as a partner. Please do whatever you think is right for yourself before hearts shatter even more.”

Your heart felt like dropping from the sky, collapsing in a pool full of sorrow after hearing those words come out of Draco’s mouth. Was he allowing you to break up with him? What could he possibly mean? There was absolutely no way he could let you do that. He was being out of his mind. 

You let go of him holding your hands, to which his eyes widened to, only for you to wrap yourself around him, tightly and strongly embracing him with such love in your body. “Are you out of your mind? We can get through this, Draco. Leaving you after this would show that our love for each other would never be strong as I hoped to imagine. I’m staying with you because we have so much in store for each other. This is merely a minor bump in this journey you and I walk on.”

You could feel Draco let out a small sob from his eyes as he hugged you back, trying to squeeze and restrain himself from continuing to cry even more. “I love you.” was what he tried muttering without sounding like he was going to break down. 

You nodded, wanting to join his crying session should he stop holding himself from. “I love you more than you know it.” 

He slowly pulled himself from you, looking away from you. He stood up, causing you to raise an eyebrow. 

“What’s the matter?”

“I know you said I’d be wasting parchments,” he replied, removing something from his sling bag, which was by the other end of the sofa, “But I wrote you letters that I ended up keeping during the holiday.” 

He brought back with him a thick load of envelopes, ribboned with a green ribbon. He looked at you with a warm smile and handed it to you, “I give you the honor of burning it.” 

You scoffed, “Burn it? I’d love to see what you were yearning for while you wrote this.” you teased him. 

Draco felt a hint of embarrassment in his eyes as he tried grabbing it back from you. You sneakily pulled it away from him, “Uh, uh, uh” you waved your finger. 

Draco smirked, jumping on you as he continued to attempt getting the letters from you. This caused the both of you to fall from the sofa and the day continued as the two of you fought on the ground, trying to play like childish children, ignoring the other students arriving in the common room. 

Looks like news would spread that love is in the air again as the power couple is back on track with their relationship. 

#Draco Malfoy #Draco Malfoy x Reader #Draco Malfoy Imagine #Draco Malfoy Imagines #Draco Malfoy x Y/n #Draco Malfoy x you #Draco Malfoy fanfic #Draco Malfoy fanfiction #Draco Lucius Malfoy #Slytherin #Hogwarts #Hogwarts x Reader #Hogwarts Imagines #Hogwarts imagine #Hogwarts oneshots #Draco Malfoy oneshots #Harry Potter #Harry Potter x Reader #Harry Potter Imagines #Harry Potter Imagine #Slytherin oneshots #Tom Felton #Tom Felton x Reader #Tom Felton Imagines #Tom Felton Imagine #Tom Felton Oneshots #Tom Felton x you #Tom Felton x y/n #Tom Felton fanfic #Tom Felton Fanfiction

[fromdecemberwithlove]

She closed the door to her flat and leant against the wood, dropping her bag onto the floor.

Exhausted.

She was exhausted.

Her day had been a disaster and she felt miserable and cold. Between spilling her coffee on her blouse that morning (when that prat Cormac had bumped into her on purpose), being forced to work through lunch to prepare for her appearance in front of the Wizengamot (last minute changes in their seemingly endless list of stipulations) and having the horrible surprise to argue against that vindictive old bat Griselda Marshbanks instead of the lazy, half wit Ernest Hawkworth… the day couldn’t end fast enough.

It hadn’t been grueling enough, apparently, and as she reached the Apparition point, the sky had finally opened after days of looking angry and sullen and sinister, drenching her.  

She didn’t bother with a drying spell and headed straight for her bathroom to treat herself to a well-deserved bath. As she waited for the water to fill the tub, she summed a bottle of red wine and a glass from the kitchen, undressed and dried her hair with wave of her wand before pinning it at the top of her head and settling beneath the soft bubbles.

Hermione heaved a deep sigh and took a sip of wine. Her body relaxed with the help of the salts and the deliciously warm temperature of the water, but she still felt heavy; still felt dejected. She didn’t know which way the Wizengamot was going to vote and they wouldn’t give her an answer until Monday. She’d have to spend the entire weekend worrying and fretting about it, no doubt driving herself crazy in the process.

She closed her eyes and savored another mouthful of her drink, letting her head fall back against the white porcelain.

She missed Draco.

He always knew the perfect way to distract her from the vicious mind games that the Authorities That Be liked to play with her. If he were here, he’d probably take her out, take her some place she would be able to relax and forget, take her to dinner, take her dancing… take her to bed.

Yes, if he were here…

But Draco was in Austria, until the end of the month, and it was on days like these that the weight of his absence pressed down on her chest harder: closing her throat, bringing tears to her eyes. She didn’t want to cry—it was absurd, really, and entirely pointless. She knew it was the accumulation of days working long hours for what she believed was right catching up with her.

She could owl him.

She considered that for a brief second before dismissing it. She knew he would find a way to come back early, and she didn’t want to take him away from his responsibilities.

Despite her protests, she loved that he put her first. Always. His quiet devotion, more so than his seemingly insatiable desire, left her breathless sometimes.

She sighed again. Half her glass was gone and she twirled the carmine liquid inside, lost in thoughts.

It was excellent wine.

She snorted, rolling her eyes at the ceiling. Of course it would be. After all, it came from the illustrious cellars of Malfoy Manor, made in the equally illustrious Malfoy Vineyard in France. She smiled, remembering his face when Ron and Harry had shown up for her 27th birthday celebration with boxed wine.

He’d looked horrified, features frozen in shock and tense with outrage. But as she’d watched him accept the offering, his eyes glaring at the box with barely contained disdain, and shake hands with each of her best friends without a single snide remark, Hermione’s heart had swelled with love and joy. After the guests had left, he’d practically run back to the kitchen to set the offending object on fire in the sink. She had laughed hysterically as he went on a tirade about unsophisticated people and ridiculous bad taste and where the fuck did they even find that? Surely they didn’t pay for it? Don’t tell me they made it themselves! 

She’d calmed down enough to explain that it was a Muggle product and that she and the boys had this little tradition about drinking it on each other’s birthday. He’d stared at her in stunned silence for a full minute, before promptly declaring, as he washed away the ashes down the drain with a flick of his wand, that they needed a new adult tradition and that it was high time for all three of them to learn about the finer things in life.

Hermione set the now empty glass on the floor. Thinking about him always gave her a measure of peace and serenity but it also made his absence infinitely more acute and almost palpable. The only remedy to her current languor was a good book. 

She wrapped herself in his Slytherin bathrobe, ignoring her Gryffindor one on the hook behind the bathroom door (a gift from Blaise because, as he’d declared, “why not?”) and left behind the wine and her clothes on the white tiled floor, electing to deal with the mess in the morning.

She pushed her bedroom door open and her heart stopped. Her breath caught somewhere in her throat and a strangled gasp fell from her lips.

Draco.

For a moment, she thought she was hallucinating. Her wide eyes took in the blond man in his rumbled suit sleeping on his side in the middle of her unmade bed, with an orange fur ball curled up against his stomach, and she felt certain it was all some sort of mirage; that she’d blink and he would vanish.

Crookshanks opened his eyes, raised his head to look at her and yawned.

She blinked.

The man was still there.

Draco was still there.

Her cat stood, stretched and jumped down, grazing her bare legs as he sauntered past, leaving them alone. As if he’d stood guard there, simply waiting for her to come home and take her rightful place next to the sleeping man.

She didn’t realize she had moved until her shins hit the edge of the mattress and she was standing over him. It still felt like a dream. To make sure, to reassure her that this was not some trick of her mind - because she missed him so much, the pain felt like a physical wound -, her hand reached down and brushed his hair off his face.

Real.

His eyelids fluttered and sleepy grey eyes stared at her.

“Hey you,” his voice was hoarse with sleep. 

“Hey,” she whispered, her fingers trailing down his cheek. He gave her a lazy smile, grabbing her wrist and placing a gentle kiss in the palm of her hand.

She opened her mouth to say something else—to ask him what he was doing here, how come he didn’t tell her he’d be coming back earlier than expected? but the only thing that came out of her mouth was a broken sob.

Startled, she watched him look up at her and frown. Then his hand came up to her face and he wiped her cheek.

She was crying.

“What’s wrong?”

She tried to speak, tried to tell him it was nothing—she was just tired, had a bad day- wanted to assure him that she was fine.

But she couldn’t.

She sank onto her knees on the bedside rug, collapsing under the crushing weight of her breakdown. The silent tears gave way to loud weeping—sharp hiccups tore from her lungs and violent sobs shook her entire body. He immediately sat up and gathered her in his arms, dragging her onto the bed.

“What happened?” he tried again, but all she could do was shake her head as the tension of the past week washed out off of her in waves. She clung to him and he held her and let her cry against him, her face buried in his chest, no doubt ruining his expensive suit further.

When the hysteria abided, Hermione sniffed and slowly pulled away from his embrace. She wiped her face with the sleeves of the bathrobe and took a deep, cleansing breath. She felt considerably better, lighter but also utterly mortified.

“Are you okay?” his worried eyes scanned her face, hands running down her arms.

She nodded, a blush creeping up her cheeks, burning her face with embarrassment.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me,” she said, looking down at her comforter, hating the way her voice sounded so vulnerable.

He placed his hands on either side of her face and tilted his head to look at her.

For the longest time, he didn’t say anything and simply stared at her like he could read her—like she was his favourite book and he recognized this particular chapter.

“Bad day,” he finally said.

It wasn’t a question.

He knew.

He understood.

Just like that.

She nodded again.

“Wizengamot tug of war?” he handed her the box of tissues from her nightstand. Despite his half-smile, there was still some lingering concern in his eyes.

She barked a short laugh, wiping at her nose.

“Yeah, had to deal with that awful Marshbanks woman because Hawkworth is out with dragon pox”

“Isn’t he like a thousand years old, how hasn’t he contracted it before?”

She shrugged.

“What else?”

Before she could stop herself, she blurred out:

“Cormac bumped into me, made me spill coffee on my shirt,” it was childish, she knew, like tattling on a naughty classmate to her favourite teacher, but she was feeling raw and exposed and it didn’t feel right to start hiding things seconds after cleansing herself from everything.

“That fucking useless wanker!” the surge of anger made the grey of his irises look like the stormy sky outside.

“It’s okay,” she said but his eyes narrowed, “well not okay but whatever, it doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it bloody well matters! You should report his incompetent arse!”

“For what? Being a prick?”

Cormac was many things, but incompetent wasn’t one of them (unfortunately).

“Absolutely,” he nodded vehemently, “I’ll report him myself!”

She stared at him in silence… and burst out laughing. Full blown, belly clenching, can’t-breathe laughter. She fell onto her side, the crystalline sound filling the room, tears of mirth tracing the same path as her earlier ones as he looked at her with a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips, fighting the urge to join her while trying to hold on to his self-righteous anger. She flipped on her back and tried to catch her breath.

“Oh Merlin, thank you for being so awesomely ridiculous,” she said, calming down.

He sneered but his eyes were soft now.

“I meant it,”

“Oh I know you did, that’s why it was so hilarious.”

“Maybe I’ll ask Potter to do something about it,” he mused.

“No,” she sat up, shaking her head, “it doesn’t matter, just drop it.”

“—or perhaps Weasley, he can’t stand him either,” he carrying on, as if she hadn’t spoken.

“Draco!” she grabbed his upper arms as if to shake him from his nefarious plotting.

He gave her a playful smile, “all right, all right.”

She watched him, knowing full well that he was going to do whatever he wanted in the end but dropped it because she didn’t want to dwell on stupid Cormac any longer.

She intertwined their fingers, her thumb tracing the inside of her palm absentmindedly.

“When did you get back?”

“Lunch time, I think. I was going to owl you, but… I fell asleep,” he said, avoiding her eyes.

His cheeks tinted with a light pink hue.

He was embarrassed.

It was adorable.

“I thought you needed to stay until the end of the month?”

He shrugged, “I wanted to see you.”

If she hadn’t just cried herself raw, she knew her eyes would have smarted.

She couldn’t help her reply though, “but what about work?”

“I’m the boss, work can wait,” he waved a dismissive hand.

She rolled her eyes, “Honestly!”

“Don’t give me that look, Granger, I know you’re ecstatic I’m here,” his lips stretched in that familiar arrogant smirk.

She chuckled, “I wouldn’t say ecstatic…”

“Oh, really?” he quirked that damned perfect eyebrow, “what would you say then?” he was leaning towards her, a predatory gleam in his eyes. It sent a thrill up her spine.

Oh-oh.

She tried to bolt out of bed but he caught her waist and began tickling her mercilessly.

“Stop, sto-stop, Draco!”

“Say you’re ecstatic to see me,”

“I’m, ah, stop!”

“Say it,”

“I’m ecstatic to see you,” she practically yelled, sucking in a breath when he let up.

He gave her a peck on the lips and pulled back.

“Say Mclaggen is a tosser and should rot in hell,”

She began to roll her eyes but he started tickling her again and she tried to grab his wrists and push him with her knees. But he had her completely pinned down.

“Mclaggen is a to-tosser and, stop! He, he should rot in-in hell,” she huffed.

“Say I’m the best you’ve ever had,”

“Now you’re just being ridiculous,”

He was also absolutely right.

Draco grinned down at her and his fingers dug into her sides again, making her yelp and squirm.

“Say it, witch,”

“You’re-you’re the best I’ve ever had!”

“Say you’ve missed me,” he stopped, his hands still on her sides, his body hovering over her, his eyes boring into hers.

“I did, so much,” she said. She felt the ache again, pressing down on her chest, pressing, pressing, pressing.

He kissed her deeply and took it all away.

“Say you love me,” a plea against her lips.

“I love you,” her fingers in his hair, her mouth on his.

He swallowed her confession and she moaned, melting under him.

“By the way, you look amazing in this,” his eyes roamed over her exposed shoulder and collarbone, the sides of the bathrobe having slipped open during her struggle. He pulled the cotton fabric apart further, dropping his head to kiss and nibble at her skin.

“You want to switch?” she quipped, “use mine from now on?”

He laughed against her throat, “hell no.”

“You’re a man child,” 

“Whatever you say,” he mumbled, his mouth trailing down between her breasts, his hand pushing her legs open.

She closed her eyes, and let him make her forget, the way he did best: With his hands and his lips and his teeth and his tongue. She lost herself in the sound of his groans and the feel of his skin and the taste of him and inhaled his scent like he was the only air she ever needed.

They remained tangled in the aftermath, his fingertips running leisurely over her back, her head on his chest as she listened to his heart slowly returning to a steady rhythm as they watched the rain outside beat against the window in the same cadence.

______________

Written for Prompt Thursday  @dramionefanfictionwriters Prompt : Red Wine (in the rain)

I actually wrote this the day the prompt was issued but decided to not post it and take my time editing it. 

Thank you for reading

#dramione #prompted #FF writing

[obsidianarchives]

Beneath the Surface - Part 1

The Woes of Imperfection

Hermione Granger walked through the Hogwarts castle with Ginny Weasley, trying to keep her nerves in check. She couldn’t keep her hands still, running them through her thick hair, stuffing them in her pockets, adjusting the collar of her robes as they made their way up to Professor Slughorn’s office.

“It’ll be fine,” Ginny sighed, tucking a lock of her red hair behind her ear. “All Slughorn wants is to fawn over you now so he can say he knew you when later.”

Hermione had heard about the Slug Club from Ginny, Harry, and Neville. From what they’d said, it sounded like a group of kids their new Potions professor Horace Slughorn had chosen as his personal favorites. While she disapproved of the practice, she knew how many connections the man had throughout the wizarding world, and it wasn’t lost on her how important this could be for her future.

“I just can’t believe he invited me.”

Ginny scoffed, “You must be joking.”

Hermione pursed her lips but didn’t respond. The words she knew Ginny was thinking echoed through her brain. She’s the brightest witch in our year. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe it, but the statement felt more like an expectation than a compliment, a threat thinly veiled beneath it. What would happen if she was no longer the brightest? If someone else suddenly studied harder, retained more? What if they realized it was all a lie, just hard work and an unhealthy obsession with getting things right?

She didn’t speak her worries out loud to Ginny — they had plagued her for years even before she’d found out she was a witch, and she knew her best friend’s sister wouldn’t truly understand, even if she tried.

They were the last two to arrive in Slughorn’s office. It was bigger than most of the professors’ offices that Hermione had been to. On the far wall sat a fireplace, a plush emerald couch facing it. Chests and shelves lined the walls, pictures of blinking and smiling people looking out from the tops of almost every surface. A liquor cabinet stood sturdy next to another doorway, which Hermione assumed led to Slughorn’s desk because she couldn’t see it from the entrance. A round mahogany table commanded attention in the center of the main room, surrounded by eight chairs and laden with food Hermione was sure had been brought up by house-elves.

Slughorn’s other guests were awkwardly mingling, a few glancing at them as they entered the room. Of the five other students there, Hermione recognized Ravenclaw fifth year Melinda Bobbin and Slytherin Blaise Zabini. Hermione flushed as she made eye contact with Cormac McLaggen. His eyes were still slightly unfocused from Gryffindor Quidditch tryouts earlier that day, but he smiled at her in what she supposed he thought was alluring. She looked away quickly, to Professor Slughorn, who was dressed in decadent robes of periwinkle.

“Ah, Miss Granger and Miss Weasley! Excellent,” he said, “Let’s all take a seat, shall we?”

They all made their way towards the table, Hermione keeping close to Ginny so that they could sit together. She slid into her seat, her nerves spiking as McLaggen sat heavily in the chair next to her.

“Help yourselves, help yourselves,” Slughorn insisted, reaching for the bowl of buttered peas.

The room was quiet for a moment but for the clinking of dishes. Next to Hermione, McLaggen’s fingers fumbled around the bowl of chicken legs, and it tipped over, the bowl falling with a clatter onto his ornate ivory plate. Ginny snickered and Hermione had to bite her lip to keep from smiling.

“So, Cormac,” Slughorn started as McLaggen rushed to pick up the food, “Have you heard from your uncle recently?”

“I just got a letter from him the other day, as it happens,” McLaggen said with a grating smile, “He’s had quite a lot of work to do at the Ministry, as you can imagine.”

“Of course,” said Slughorn, “There’s quite enough to be going on, what with these perilous times. Still, it doesn’t hurt to plan for the future. Do you think you’ll go into the Ministry like Tiberius?”

The conversation went from there. Slughorn’s small eyes fixed on each of them in turn, interrogating them with updates on their famous or well-connected family members and inquiring about their future goals.

After asking Ginny thoroughly about her hexes and name-dropping the noted author of Harmful Hexes: A Guide to Reactionary Spells Darold Vengecraft, Slughorn turned to Blaise Zabini.

Zabini had been quiet during most of the other conversations, his dark eyes unreadable. Now, he answered Slughorn’s questions graciously, from what new wizard his mother had recently been seen with to what his future aspirations were.

“I’d like to go into the Department of International Magical Cooperation,” he answered, “My mother has taken me on a few of her international trips, so I’m interested in relations between Britain and other countries.”

“An exciting career path!” Slughorn exclaimed, “And one I’m sure you would excel in. I’ll have to connect you with Sandrine Walton, she’s been the head of the department since Barty Crouch’s unfortunate demise. In fact, maybe I should introduce her to Miss Granger as well! The three of you have quite similar backgrounds.”

Hermione was startled at being included, even though she was the only one left to interrogate. She cut her eyes at Zabini briefly, tilting her head in confusion. Though they had had classes together for the past five years, she didn’t know much about the Slytherin other than that he had scoffed at the idea of Harry being the Chosen One on the train to Hogwarts and that she generally saw him alone in the library outside of classes. Was that what Slughorn meant?

Zabini had made a face too, the frown contorting his deep brown face. Suddenly, Hermione realized that they were the only two Black students in the room. Now, she understood.

“Well…” Hermione said, trying to sound diplomatic, “I don’t know if that’s true, exactly. I’m Muggle-born, sir.” That wasn’t to say that being Black didn’t matter in the wizarding world, at least not in Hermione’s estimation. Still, Zabini was the pure-blood son of a famous witch — their backgrounds couldn’t be more different.

“Yes, yes, and I must say again how impressed I am with you,” Slughorn said, transitioning his attention smoothly from Zabini to her, “Mr. Potter spoke so highly of you when first we met, and still you wowed me in our first Potions lesson. With brains like yours, there’ll be many doors open to you once you leave Hogwarts.”

Hermione blushed, feeling pleasure mingled with discomfort. While she had no doubt of the value she could bring to wherever she decided to go, she wondered if what Slughorn said would be true, given the anti-Muggle-born sentiments that had been bubbling under the surface of the wizarding world, now swiftly rising with Voldemort out in the open.

Across the table, an annoyed look flashed across Zabini’s face as he lifted his goblet to his mouth, barely concealing his snort.

Before Hermione could say anything, Ginny spoke up, “Have something to say, do you Zabini?”

He rolled his eyes as he set the cup back down on the table, long fingers wrapped loosely around it. “Only that I don’t know that someone with brains would have been in the middle of that mess at the Ministry.”

Hermione felt a surge of annoyance at the haughtiness on his face. “Perhaps not,” she said, sensing that Ginny was just barely holding back the urge to curse him. She lay a hand on her arm under the table. “But someone with brains would know not to speak about things they know nothing about.”

“Oho!” Slughorn exclaimed, eyes brightening, “How could I forget you were one of the few in the Department of Mysteries in June? Dumbledore is still quite caged about it, but I don’t suppose you could tell us what happened?”

Hermione felt as if a very bright light was shining directly on her, and she suddenly felt wrong. She didn’t want to think about the catastrophe at the Department of Mysteries. She glanced fleetingly at Ginny, who grimaced. Her chest seemed to burn with the memory of the spell Dolohov had thrown at her, knocking her unconscious.

She took a deep breath to center herself. “If Professor Dumbledore won’t say anything about it, I don’t think I should.”

Slughorn frowned, “Oh poppycock. Always the secret keeper, Dumbledore is. But I suppose he’s the only one You-Know-Who ever feared for a reason.”

He moved on then, to asking about Hermione’s background. She answered his questions as truthfully as possible, trying to feel less self-conscious. Everyone listened intently, but for some reason, it wasn’t the fact that McLaggen’s elbow kept “accidentally” bumping into her that bothered her the most, but Zabini’s stare. There wasn’t anything different about his expression, on first glance it seemed to hold a detached interest. Still, Hermione could feel heat rising on her skin under his gaze, and wondered if she was imagining the strange twinkle in his eyes.

…

Overall, the Slug Club seemed fine. Hermione had survived Slughorn’s questions, McLaggen’s clumsy flirting, and Zabini’s sneering. When Ron asked her about it the next morning at breakfast, though she could hear the accusation in his tone, she answered truthfully.

“It was alright,” she shrugged as she scanned the Daily Prophet for any worthwhile news. “About what you would expect.”

Ron scowled and stabbed at a piece of melon on his plate.

He wasn’t the only one, it seemed, who was upset about not being invited to Slughorn’s dinner party.

“Slughorn must be cracking up if he’s forgetting the families who matter,” Malfoy sneered to Crabbe and Goyle as they waited outside of the Transfiguration classroom, his voice carrying across the hall to the Gryffindors. “I mean if he’s letting in filth like Granger—”

“Oh Malfoy if you’re so upset, why don’t you go cry to your father about it?” Hermione said before Harry and Ron could whip out their wands. Ron let out a bark of laughter.

Draco turned pink, “You watch your mouth, Mudblood.”

“Careful,” she said, “Your mother wouldn’t like another of her family members bested by a Muggle-born, would she?”

Draco reached for his wand as Harry drew his in preparation. At that moment, Professor McGonagall rounded the corner, hawklike eyes scanning the hall.

“Is there a problem?” she asked, eyeing the wand in Harry’s hand.

“No, Professor,” Hermione said, grabbing Harry’s arm.

McGonagall narrowed her eyes a moment and then turned, entering the classroom. As Hermione pulled Harry after her, she noticed that Zabini was watching her behind Malfoy, an amused look on his face. The minute he realized she had seen, he looked away, his face falling into its signature scowl.

Hermione turned back to follow Susan Bones through the door, feeling confused. Why would Zabini find anything she said funny — especially when disparaging his own Housemate?

“Hurry and find your seats,” Professor McGonagall called from the front of the room, “We have a lot to cover.”

Hermione made her way to her seat, still pulling Harry along although the danger of him cursing Malfoy had passed. Once she sat down, she decided to disregard Zabini’s strange behavior. Whatever he was thinking didn’t matter. She had magic to learn.

By the time she got to Potions class, she had completely forgotten that morning’s incident. Today, they were working on the Awakening Solution, a potion that increased its drinker’s energy.

Hermione spent the entire hour slaving over her cauldron, making sure she added the minced peppermint at exactly the right moment, plucking the dandelion petals meticulously, and stirring the appropriate amount of counterclockwise times before leaving it to stew for the week. She felt satisfied with the way the yellow liquid shone brightly from her cauldron, and when Professor Slughorn inspected it he exclaimed that her work was very well done.

But when he went to Harry’s cauldron, Slughorn was beside himself. He gushed over him, saying that the shade of marigold that bubbled from Harry’s cauldron could only be the work of a masterful potion maker, the subtlety in the coloring causing him to award twenty points to Gryffindor.

Hermione felt a surge of anger as Harry grinned behind Slughorn’s back at Ron. As far as she was concerned, using the Half-Blood Prince’s textbook was tantamount to cheating, and the praise Harry kept getting grated on her. As Slughorn moved on to Ernie’s neon green liquid with a strained smile, Hermione’s eyes met Zabini’s. Was it her or was the corner of his full lips pulled up? Great, now he was laughing at her, too.

The phrase echoed in her brain again. She’s the brightest witch in our year. Feeling a surge of panic, she tore her gaze away, stuffed her scales in her bag, and stalked off ahead of Harry and Ron as the bell rang.

It wasn’t that she had to be the best in every class — Harry was consistently better than her at Defense Against the Dark Arts and it never bothered her — it was the fact that Professor Slughorn absolutely fawned over Harry when he wasn’t putting in the same effort she was. And what was more, the voice of doubt seemed to be creeping up in her more than usual. If Harry could defeat her with counterfeit instructions, then clearly she wasn’t all that good at Potions to begin with.

“I hope there are mashed potatoes for lunch,” Ron exclaimed, catching up to her.

“Even if there aren’t, you’ll eat everything within a five-person radius,” Harry said with a grin. The Prince’s book was clutched tightly in his hand, his finger holding the place he had been reading before class. Hermione scowled.

She scarfed down her food quickly and hurried off to the library. There was enough time before her next class that she could maybe find something to help her understand more about the properties of the Awakening Solution. She scanned the spines of the books in the Potions section quickly, exhaling as she found A Guide to Precise Potion-Making. 

She lugged the heavy book down to the nearest table, dropping her book bag on the chair next to her. She scoured the table of contents before finding the chapter on potion ingredients for alertness. Flipping quickly to the correct page, she began to read.

Based on what was in here, she hadn’t done anything wrong. Odd numbered counterclockwise stirs were better for potions that made the drinkers groggy, but the even number would have the opposite effect. She’d stirred exactly eight times as Advance Potion-Making had told her. Fresher ingredients often yielded better results, and Hermione had only just restocked her peppermint the week before when she realized she had forgotten to get some in Diagon Alley.

“Of course you’ve got the book,” an exasperated voice said above her.

She looked up, surprised. She’d been so absorbed in her reading that she hadn’t noticed anyone else in this section.

Zabini stood at the end of the table, a scowl on his face.

She raised an eyebrow at him, “Can I help you with something?”

“Yeah, that book you’re reading,” he said with a jerk of his head.

“Oh,” she said, “I’m almost done.”

He rolled his eyes, “You don’t even need it, your potion was near-perfect.”

There he was, talking about things he didn’t understand again. She glared at him, “My study habits are none of your business.”

“You know no one’s going to look at you differently if your potion isn’t the precise shade of the summer sun or whatever,” he sounded almost bored, “Everyone knows you know everything.”

Hermione could feel pressure on her chest, heat rising on her cheeks. She slammed the book shut and stood, grabbing her bag and stalking away from him. She made sure to check out A Guide to Precise Potion-Making on her way out of the library.

…

She spent most of her time trying to quell the doubt she felt bubbling up within her every time she failed again at creating the perfect potion. Though there wasn’t much more information in A Guide to Precise Potion-Making that she didn’t already know, Hermione found herself perusing its pages in her free time, trying to forget the way Zabini’s words had needled at her, how they seemed to hit right where she was most sensitive.

A part of this was ignoring her growing irritation with Harry and the Half-Blood Prince, but that was getting more difficult as the weeks passed and autumn arrived in full swing. Apparently, there were spells written in the margins of the wretched book, and Harry had taken to casting them without knowing what it was they would do. Past her own issues, Hermione was appalled by his carelessness.

“It’s nothing, Hermione,” Ron said when she snapped at Harry over it in the common room one evening. He leaned back in his seat, glancing across the room at Lavender Brown, who was pouring over a magazine with her best friend Parvati Patil, “We’re just having a laugh.”

That was the only thing Ron seemed to be relaxed about. He kept making snide comments about the Slug Club whenever he could, suggesting that Hermione liked being “cozied up with McLaggen.” Harry had gotten out of the next two dinners by scheduling Quidditch practices at the same times. While she didn’t begrudge Harry trying to avoid Slughorn’s parties, she hated that his strategy meant that she had to go alone — as Chaser for the Gryffindor team, Ginny’s priority was Quidditch. Hermione saw the value in Slughorn’s dinner parties, and so in the interest of keeping her future options open she hadn’t tried to find a way to get out of them. Still, she was starting to feel more on her own than she had in awhile.

The Slug Club dinners weren’t all that bad though. There was always good food and Professor Slughorn introduced the group to different former students of his who were doing important and interesting work, including the Editor-in-Chief of the Daily Prophet and the drummer of the Weird Sisters. Even still, Hermione felt isolated, the pressure to be perfect constricting around her whenever Slughorn introduced her as “a rising star.”

At the same time, she found herself navigating the strange dynamics of the group. Melinda Bobbin was nice enough, but was far more focused on her own ambitions, while McLaggen was perhaps too nice — he kept hitting her on the shoulder every time he spoke to her or cracked a joke. Tracy Dearborn, a third year whose father had dealings with the American magical government, was too young to really understand the importance of being invited and seemed to only be there for the food.

She wasn’t sure how or why, but of everyone in the Slug Club she felt most aligned with Blaise Zabini. Generally, his quiet face rested on disinterest as he scanned the room. Whenever he was asked a direct question he would answer charmingly, his eyes alight and face with the appearance of being open, but once Slughorn turned from him he would settle back into himself, reserved.

Slughorn was harmless in his praise for the most part, but occasionally he would say something to give her pause, and Hermione would find herself meeting Zabini’s eyes across the room in her exasperation or surprise. Each time, it seemed that he had sought her out as well, the confusion or resignation on his face accompanied by a raised eyebrow or a brief frown.

She wasn’t sure why it kept happening — she hadn’t even addressed him since their clash at the library. Even though they didn’t speak to each other, she couldn’t help but notice him whenever he was in a room, her eyes drifting over his tall figure, his dark skin and chiseled jaw. She had caught him watching her too, and found herself puzzled by his searching gaze.

In mid-October, Slughorn hosted another dinner. This time, the special guest was Quidditch star Gwenog Jones. Hermione felt a surge of vindication when Slughorn introduced her. The irony that Harry was missing something that would actually be of interest to him in his effort to avoid Slughorn wasn’t lost on her.

The feeling was fleeting, however, as most good feelings had been since that past Saturday, when she, Harry, and Ron had witnessed Katie Bell rise up from the snow, jerking and twitching after accidentally touching a cursed necklace.

The entire castle was on edge, full of nerves and fear. Only Harry seemed to be fueled with renewed vigor, despite having his Malfoy-Did-It stance shot down by Professor McGonagall.

Even things between the Slytherins seemed tense; on her way to Charms earlier that day, she had noticed Zabini huddled with Theodore Nott and Pansy Parkinson, though they’d seemed to be arguing. At the very least, Zabini had looked uncomfortable, and now, sitting across from her at Slughorn’s dinner table, he seemed reserved, quiet even for him. Hermione looked down at her plate. Why did her thoughts keep drifting to the goings on of Blaise Zabini?

As dinner wrapped up, Slughorn made an announcement, “Each year I like to throw a little Christmas party before break,” he said, “I’ll invite some of my former students — Gwenog, you are of course invited — and you should feel free to bring a guest,” his eyes turned to Hermione, “Miss Granger, I’ll need a list of Mr. Potter’s free dates. I won’t have him missing this little soiree.”

“Oh,” Hermione said, feeling awkward. Her eyes met Zabini’s across the table, but his face was blank. She looked back to Slughorn. “I — yes, Professor.”

Harry’s reaction to that bit of information didn’t surprise her when she shared it with him in Herbology class the next day. Neither did Ron’s.

“Stupid name,” he said under his breath as Harry went to retrieve their Snargaluff pod from across the room.

“Look, I didn’t make up the name ‘Slug Club’.” While she understood his anger, she didn’t see why he had to take it out on her.

“Slug Club,” he said derisively as Harry came back, “It’s pathetic. Well, I hope you enjoy your party. Why don’t you try hooking up with McLaggen, then Slughorn can make you King and Queen Slug—”

Hermione’s irritation flared. She had already suspected that he and Harry had been laughing at her being locked up with McLaggen behind her back, but having it thrown in her face was another thing.

“We’re allowed to bring guests,” she threw back at him, “and I was going to ask you to come, but if you think it’s that stupid then I won’t bother!” She’d thought it would be a good idea, asking Ron. That way, the three of them could go together. If Harry invited Neville or Luna, it could be a good time.

Ron opened his mouth to respond, but then shut it, looking cowed. “You were going to ask me?”

“Yes,” Hermione huffed, “But obviously if you’d rather I hook up with McLaggen…”

“No, no, I’ll go,” Ron said hastily.

He acted nicer to her for the rest of the day, and Hermione was relieved. It felt good to not have to be at odds with her friends for some petty reason or another, especially with everything happening outside of Hogwarts. Tales of disappearances and deaths peppered the Daily Prophet and more and more Hogwarts students were being affected; on most days it felt wrong to be arguing over Christmas parties and nastily annotated textbooks. 

Their truce didn’t last long, however. Hermione spent her evening in the common room near the fire, cross-checking her Ancient Rune translations with the textbook. She was just packing up when Harry and Ron entered in their Quidditch robes, Ron looking furious.

“What happened?” she asked, sliding the last of her notes into her book bag.

“You — Ginny — Dean!” Ron’s voice sounded strangled with anger.

Hermione raised an eyebrow at him, then looked to Harry, hoping he could translate. Surprisingly, even he seemed to be struggling with his own deep-seated emotion. He dropped onto the couch, allowing Crookshanks to leap into his lap.

“We ran into Ginny and Dean on the way back from the pitch,” he said, “They were, er—”

“They were snogging! In the middle of the corridor!” Ron shouted. A couple of first years across the room shot a startled glance at him.

“Okay…” Hermione said, glancing back to Harry again, “And?”

“And so I don’t want my sister out in public like some wanton woman.”

Hermione frowned, “Ron, Ginny and Dean are dating.”

“So?” Ron’s ears were dangerously red.

“So, they’re allowed to snog. You’re being ridiculous.”

“Of course you would think so, given that you’ve snogged Krum.”

Hermione felt confused. Why was her brief relationship with Viktor, from two years ago, being thrown in her face? The fact that they’d kissed wasn’t even a secret, and yet Ron sounded betrayed somehow.

“Well yes,” she said slowly, “I’m still not understanding the problem.”

“The problem is, what are people going to think about our family if Ginny’s running around the castle acting like a—”

“Ginny is her own person,” Hermione cut him off, “Her relationship with Dean has nothing to do with you.”

“Like hell it does! I’m her brother!”

Hermione rolled her eyes. They were tired from staring at her homework in the low light of the fire and frankly Ron’s attitude was starting to grate on her nerves. “Perhaps you need something to keep you occupied? So you’re not so worried about what Ginny is up to?”

Ron’s face was flaming now. He seemed at a loss for words, so instead he cursed and stalked off, stomping up the boys’ staircase to his dormitory. Hermione looked at Harry.

“Honestly, what’s been up with him lately?”

Harry shrugged, seemingly lost in thought. Hermione eyed him closely. She had started to suspect over the summer that he had feelings for Ginny, though she hadn’t brought it up with him. She wondered if his brooding attitude had to do with seeing her with Dean.

“Everything okay, Harry?” she probed.

Harry seemed to snap out of his thoughts, “What? Oh, yeah fine.” He moved Crookshanks from his lap and stood, “I’m going to bed.”

He hurried up after Ron, leaving Hermione once again on her own.

…

That Saturday brought the first Quidditch match of the season. According to Harry, Ron’s anger at Ginny and Dean had not only affected his playing but had almost dissolved the team as well.

“I keep telling you you need to talk to him. He can’t keep treating people like this,” Hermione told Harry as they went through their Transfiguration essays together. Ron had already gone up to bed after snapping at two poor fourth years for laughing too loud. He had been giving her the silent treatment for standing up for Ginny.

“I suppose you’re right,” Harry mumbled, sinking down further into his chair. The prospect didn’t seem to excite him.

Still, Hermione had been sure he would do it, especially with Quidditch on the line. She knew Harry wouldn’t be able to face it if he lost his first match as Captain, and to Slytherin at that. But if he had tried to set Ron straight, it didn’t make for a marked change in his attitude.

She came down to the Gryffindor table by herself that morning, tired of bickering with a grumpy Ron and exchanging helpless glances with Harry. She saw them sitting amidst the sea of red and gold, Harry trying to coax food into Ron, who looked slightly ill, his skin tinged green. She paused behind them as Harry poured pumpkin juice into a goblet.

“How are you both feeling?” she asked tentatively, glancing at Ron.

“Fine,” said Harry. He tipped the contents of a small vial into the cup with the juice, “There you go, Ron. Drink up.”

Ron started to take a sip when Hermione shouted, “Don’t drink that Ron!”

Both Harry and Ron looked up at her. Hermione stared at Harry in disbelief.

“You just put something in that drink.”

“Excuse me?”

“You just tipped something into Ron’s drink. You’ve got the bottle in your hand right now!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Harry said, slipping the bottle into his robes.

Hermione fought the urge to tackle him and force the bottle out of his pocket. “Ron, I’m serious, don’t drink it!”

But Ron had already picked up the glass and drained it in one. “Stop bossing me around, Hermione.”

Hermione was appalled. She bent down low to whisper to Harry, “You should be expelled for that, Harry!”

“Hark who’s talking,” he whispered back. “Confunded anyone lately?”

Hermione took a step back, feeling as though she’d been slapped. She turned away from them and stormed up the table, her anger rising.

How could Harry do such a thing? Confunding McLaggen hadn’t been about making sure Ron got on the team, it had been about defending her friends. Using Felix Felicis for an official game wasn’t only immoral, it was illegal. Hermione plopped down at the table, but now found her appetite gone.

Of course, she shouldn’t be so surprised at Harry’s willingness to disregard the rules. She’d been dealing with him in Potions class for over a month now as he took credit for someone else’s work and gained an inordinate amount of praise in the process.

She pushed herself up from the table. People were already making their way to the Quidditch pitch, but now she wasn’t sure she even wanted to go anymore. What she should do is go tell Professor McGonagall before the match started so that she could put a stop to this.

But she stopped herself, remembering the last time she had gotten between Harry and Quidditch. When she had told McGonagall about the mysterious broomstick Harry had gotten three years ago, Harry and Ron hadn’t spoken to her for weeks. Could she really go through that again?

She squared her shoulders and stepped out into the cool morning air. She would watch the game, and if things went well — as she knew they would since Harry had given Ron liquid luck — she would confront them again. They were her best friends, she had to at least give them a chance to turn themselves in before she did it herself.

She stomped across the grounds towards the pitch, where the sun shone down on the stands. It was a nice day, but she couldn’t enjoy it, not with anger and determination coursing through her veins.

She got to the stands and joined the line winding up the stairs, her stomach twisting and turning as she thought about what she would have to do. The scent of cinnamon and cloves tickled at her nose as she hurried up, barreling into the person ahead of her when the line stopped abruptly.

“Watch it!” the person said.

She looked up to see Blaise Zabini, in cuffed black jeans and a green and silver color-blocked pullover. He looked annoyed at first, but when he saw that it was her, his face changed, surprise in his eyes. “Why do you look like someone ate your homework?”

“Why do you care?” Hermione snapped.

He opened his mouth to retort, his eyes flashing, but someone else spoke up before he could.

“Oh, don’t mind her Blaise,” Pansy Parkinson said from the next stair up. She tried to look bored, but Hermione could see the wicked amusement in her eyes, “She probably just couldn’t see through all of that hair. Maybe if she did something reasonable to it she wouldn’t invade other people’s personal space.”

Hermione didn’t have the energy for this. Rather than respond, she pushed past the group of chortling Slytherins, ignoring Pansy’s sneer and Zabini’s frown. She continued up the stairs, squeezing through the group of third years who were blocking the way on the next landing.

The game went just as Hermione had predicted, punctuated by the aggravating commentary of Zacharias Smith. His mocking tone agitated Hermione further than watching Ron make his fourteenth save, or the moment she realized that Malfoy wasn’t playing, which meant that in addition to having to deal with her cheating friends she was also going to have to sit through days of conspiracy theories from Harry.

Once Harry caught the Snitch and Ginny “accidentally” plowed Smith over, the stands began to empty, students buzzing after such an exciting match. Hermione took a deep breath and hardened her resolve. She had to hold her friends accountable.

…

The next Monday, Hermione sat on one of the desks in the Transfiguration classroom alone, a group of yellow birds twittering around her head. She eyed them critically as they flew around, sure she could do better. Was it just her, or did they look slightly transparent from this angle?

She had chosen to come here during her lunch break rather than sit alone in the Great Hall. Ron was no longer talking to her, having chosen to blame Hermione for Harry’s manipulation of the both of them. His mocking tone in the changing room still grated on her.

“You added Felix Felicis to Ron’s juice this morning, that’s why he saved everything!” he’d said shrilly, his face red. “See! I can save goals without help, Hermione!”

Ignoring the fact that Harry fake-drugging Ron with lucky potion proved he couldn’t save goals on his own, Hermione wasn’t sure what else she could have done. How was she supposed to know Harry wouldn’t actually break the rules given the flippancy with which he had treated them in the past?

Ron not speaking to Hermione didn’t actually seem to be that difficult a feat for him, given that his mouth seemed to be permanently glued to Lavender’s ever since the post-match Gryffindor party. Harry seemed sympathetic to Hermione’s plight, but that hadn’t stopped him from sitting with Ron at meals or walking with him from the common room in the mornings. Hermione didn’t care that Ron and Lavender were together now past the fact that it meant she now had to find a new date to Slughorn’s Christmas party — what really bothered her was the way Ron seemed to pretend she didn’t exist, even though she hadn’t done anything to warrant such behavior.

The door to the classroom pushed open, startling her.

She looked up as Zabini stepped inside, his eyes widening in surprise at the sight of the birds flying around the room and then narrowing when he noticed her.

“What are you doing?” he asked, as one of the birds came to land on her shoulder.

“Practicing,” she said shortly.

He wound his way through the desks, coming to a stop at the one he usually sat at during class. He grabbed the forgotten book lying there, eyeing the birds warily, “Doesn’t seem like you need it.”

Hermione huffed, and pointed at the one circling the chandelier above them, “That one’s wing is faded.”

Zabini rolled his eyes, “Merlin. You try too hard, you know that?”

Hermione’s temper had been quick to rise lately, and it rose now, “Some of us don’t have the luxury of being pure-bloods,” she snapped, “We actually have to work to be recognized.”

Zabini opened his mouth to retort but then he stopped, frowning. An odd look flashed across his face.

He shook his head slightly and turned away, “Whatever, Granger.”

With that, he was gone.

Hermione sighed and slid off of the desk, vanishing the birds with a flick of her wand. Lunch was almost over and she didn’t want to be late for her next class.

She walked through the halls to the Charms corridor on her own, sliding in and out of the swelling crowd, side-stepping a suit of armor that seemed to have the sudden urge to do a jig in the middle of the hall and ducking as Peeves swooped above the chaos, cackling.

She hurried up to the seventh floor and turned, stopping herself just before she ran directly into Cormac McLaggen.

“Oh, sorry,” she said quickly, stumbling around him.

“Oh hey Granger, I wanted a word!” he said. He was smiling at her, his floppy hair falling into his eyes.

“Er, yes?” she asked, glancing in the direction of the Charms classroom and back to him. He looked relaxed as he towered over her.

“You don’t have a date for Old Sluggy’s Christmas party, do you?” Confidence seemed to exude off of Cormac in waves.

“O-oh,” she stammered, “I don’t, actually.” She cringed internally. Why hadn’t she lied? She’d been planning to ask Harry the next time he was away from Ron, but hadn’t yet gotten the chance.

“Excellent,” Cormac said, “We should go together.”

At this point, Hermione felt stuck. “I...I don’t know.”

“Come on,” he said, stepping closer to her, his face falling into a mock-pout. He seemed so big standing there in front of her. There was no telling how he would react if she said no — he’d always seemed like a wildcard to her — and she had no idea if Harry didn’t already have a date for the party.

She bit her lip before conceding. “Sure, let’s do it.”

Before Cormac could say anything else, Hermione turned and hurried to class, feeling mortified.

The school began to buzz about Slughorn’s Christmas Party as it loomed nearer, despite only a few students actually getting invites. Hermione had done her best to keep the fact that she was going with Cormac to herself, but word spread anyway.

“I can’t believe you’re going with McLaggen,” Harry said as they sat in the library the day before the party, looking up from his copy of Advanced Potion-Making.

“Well I figured you would already have a date by now,” Hermione shifted uncomfortably.

It was Harry’s turn to look uncomfortable, “Not yet. I did get some lovely chocolates from Romilda Vane though.”

“I told you,” Hermione said. Just the day before she had caught Romilda and her friends discussing how to slip Harry a love potion so that he would take one of them to the party.

“Yeah, well I’m not going to eat one so there’s no danger anymore,” Harry shrugged, “Ron’s not too chuffed about you going with McLaggen, you know.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, “And here I thought having a girlfriend would make him more prone to minding his own business.”

“He’s still a little sore about Quidditch tryouts I think,” Harry said, “You know how he gets. I think he would’ve rather you went with Malfoy.”

“You’re joking!”

“‘Course I am,” Harry grinned, “I’m just saying, he probably thinks he’s losing a friend to someone he feels insecure about.”

“He’s the one who started it.” It sounded childish but Hermione refused to feel bad, even if she wasn’t all that excited about her own choice of date.

The day of the party was tense, and Hermione wondered if she even wanted to go anymore. Since the news about her going with McLaggen had leaked, Ron seemed to go out of his way to be rude to her.

They were in Transfiguration class, practicing changing the color of their eyebrows. As Hermione focused intensely on her face in the mirror, trying her hardest to make her eyebrows a bright green, she heard a shout across the room.

She looked up to see Ron aghast, a brilliant handlebar mustache sprouting from above his upper lip. The entire class broke out into laughter, but Ron glared at Hermione, somehow singling her out in the midst of their classmates. Hermione rolled her eyes at his hostility before turning back to her work.

“Now, who would like to demonstrate their progress?” Professor McGonagall called about halfway through class.

Before Hermione could volunteer, Ron thrust his hand into the air, jumping up and down in his seat. “Ooh, ooh Professor pick me!”

Heat rose on Hermione’s cheeks as Professor McGonagall rose an unamused eyebrow at Ron and chose Slytherin Daphne Greengrass.

For the rest of the class, whenever McGonagall asked a question, Ron would mock Hermione cruelly. Tears welled up in her eyes as McGonagall finally snapped at him, threatening to take away House points, and when the bell rang, she was the first to leave the classroom.

This wasn’t fair. She knew she had done nothing to warrant Ron’s bullying. Sixth year was hard enough with her classes and the threat of Voldemort without Ron acting so harshly towards her. She was done, she decided as she wiped her tears in the bathroom, Luna Lovegood patting her back serenely. It was okay, she thought. Friends grew apart sometimes.

Harry was waiting outside of the bathroom, her book bag in his hands. “You left your stuff…”

“Oh yes,” she said. How was it that she had gotten so worked up that she’d forgotten her things? She took a deep breath, “Thank you, Harry. Well, I’d better get going…”

She hurried off before Harry could say anything further. She needed to pull herself together before having to sit alone, yet again, at dinner.

She changed into more comfortable clothes and snuggled with Crookshanks for a bit before grabbing a book and slipping out of her dormitory. The halls were almost empty, most of the student body down in the Great Hall.

The noise of the Hall swelled as she got closer, and she took a deep breath at the top of the landing, fortifying herself before descending the staircase to the entrance hall.

Zabini was exiting the Great Hall as she came to the bottom of the stairs. He noticed her and glanced behind himself, into the Hall, before walking directly up to her.

“Hey,” he said, “Everything okay?”

Hermione stared up at him, surprised. She eyed his face, his furrowed brows, warily, “I’m fine.”

“Good,” he said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his school robes. “Because Weasley was being a git.”

She felt a surge of indignation, an urge to defend Ron to Zabini, a Slytherin who often kept company with the Malfoys and Parkinsons of the school. But she stopped herself. None of those people were supposed to be her best friend. And Zabini, who was supposed to be like them, was standing in front of her, looking down at her with more concern than she’d gotten from Ron in a long time.

“Thanks,” she said awkwardly. She tilted her head at him, wondering what had made him come up to her.

He nodded once, looking satisfied, before abruptly turning away, raising one hand in a wave, “See you at the party.”

“Yeah,” she said quietly, unsure if her response had reached him as he hurried down the staircase that led to the Slytherin common room.

To Be Continued

#HogwartsBSU #Blaise Zabini #Hermione Granger

[eddieticklesrichiespickle]

And there he was, standing at Harry's door way, the one and only, most beautiful human being, Draco Lucius Malfoy.

Harry has been in love with Draco since first year, since he first saw the well-combed-white-platinum hair, he's been in love since he saw the latter boy's blueish-grey eyes.

Now, the reason Harry declined the request to be friends with Draco was because he didn't know what he was feeling and he was afraid that it might be bad to feel like this, and that he would be endlessly punished for feeling this way for a boy.

In 6th year when Harry started following Draco around Hogwarts was because he was a little bit more than obsessed with the boy and the things he was feeling were driving him mad. He worried for the boy, he hurt for the boy, he cried for the boy, he was in love with the boy.

When Harry found out what he was feeling was normal and that he was, indeed, in love, he couldn't believe himself, he wouldn't believe what he was feeling and he hated himself for it. He hadn't told anyone, hell not even Ron or Hermione. Yet, Hermione had somewhat an idea of what was happening with Harry and one day she confronted him about it.

"Harry, what's going on with you?", asked Hermione in a worried tone, the boy was driving her mad with the paranoid look on his face, (that he had every single day) he was afraid of something and Hermione needed, no, she had to know, "You've been acting extremely weird and you seem paranoid all the time, is there something bothering you? Is it Malfoy?".

Harry's leg, which was bouncing rapidly under the library table abruptly stopped and he looked at her with big, wide, green eyes. The look on his face was comical it looked like something out of a movie and Hermione couldn't help but giggle a little. Harry looked like a deer caught in the headlights. His mouth was opening and closing, like a fish's mouth would. He looked frightened, shocked, he looked vulnerable.

"I... Uh... 'Mione, what are you t-talking about?," Asked Harry, shaking his head trying to process everything and thinking 'she found out, she's gonna hate me'. Then, he started to sob and he started to say 'I'm sorry' which came out muffled because he had leaned into Hermione's shoulder as soon as he felt the tears spilling from his eyes.

"What... I don't get it Harry, what are you sorry for?" She was extremely confused and she had no idea how to help the poor boy leaning on her arm, so she wrapped an arm around him and rubbed circles onto his back with her index finger until he calmed down.

Finally, when the boy stopped crying he told her everything, he told her about his feelings for Malfoy and he told her that he hated himself, and was ashamed with himself for it.

"Why do you hate yourself Harry? There's nothing to be ashamed about, it's your decision. You love whoever you want to love, you can't control your emotions, it's okay. I accept you, and I still see you the same way I saw you before, there's nothing different about you, the only thing different about you is that you're beginning to figure out who you truly are and what you truly like, I'm sure Ron and the others will accept you as well. There's nothing to be afraid of." Then she hugged Harry and the boy just cried into her shoulder for a long period of time.

--------------------------------------------------------

In 7th year Harry came out to the whole Gryffindor house.

They were in the common room having a party after winning a Quidditch match, everyone was just beginning to drink and Gryffindors were already splattered around the room, some taking shots, some making out by the fire place and some just talking and chilling.

Harry grabbed his glass of wine and the first piece of silverware that he saw, which was a spoon, and he softly hit the glass of wine with the spoon which made a small, annoying clicking sound and everyone stopped what they were doing and looked at the place the sound was coming from.

Harry was standing on a small table, with his glass of wine in one hand and he had already thrown the spoon somewhere around the room. Now everyone was staring at Harry and he felt more frightened than anything, with every one and each eye of each member of his family staring up at him, all confused and curious.

"I have something to announce to all of you, and I'd like everyone to keep quiet", said Harry. Everyone nodded and never tore their eyes from him. " Lads, I've decided to do this today because, well, I made a bet with Hermione that if our house won I'd share this with you guys and finally be free." Harry was shaking, he was pale and he was scratching at his wrist.

"Harry, mate just get on with it, you know we accept you no matter what, and I'm sure whatever it is we already know." People giggled and chuckled as Seamus said this from the far back of the room, Dean on his lap and a bottle of red wine on his left hand.

"I... I'm.... Gay" He said barely audible.

"I FUCKING KNEW IT." Screamed Fred, the he looked at George with a shit eating smirk. George took 20 galleons from his pocket and with an annoyed sigh, he gave them to Fred.

Everyone cheered and some people whispered things like 'I knew it' or 'he was too hot to be straight'. Then they went back to doing whatever it was that they were doing. Ginny cuddling with Luna, Seamus making out with Dean and Fred and George pulling pranks on everyone else.

"Why were you so afraid Harry, and why didn't you tell me?," Asked Ron a little annoyed at his best mate "I told you I was bisexual, and Hermione came out to us as a lesbian, I mean no offense but I already kind of suspected it, mate. But you should've told me, you know I'll never look at you differently, no matter the situation." Then Ron hugged Harry and Harry just squeezed back.

--------------------------------------------------------

Then, came by 8th year and Harry had already had a few boyfriends by then, and he never felt right with any of them. He'd glance at Malfoy from across the tables when they were in the Great Hall and he could see something in his eyes, something like... Jealousy? No it couldn't be. And he would keep seeing this look, everytime he saw Draco looking at Harry with his boyfriend.

Harry was in the 8th year common room sitting with his boyfriend Cormac. Ron was across from him cuddling with Blaise and Hermione was with Pansy in their room. Draco was sitting by himself reading a book when it happened.

Harry wasn't just sitting with Cormac he was also arguing with him because he'd caught him with some Ravenclaw and after Cormac left he just broke down on the sofa.

Draco came to him and put a hand on his back, rubbing it softly, trying to calm him down, then Harry looked up into those eyes he'd dreamed about for years and that face he'd fantasize about.

They looked into each other's eyes for what seemed like an eternity and Harry didn't want it to stop, then some time in between eternity and the real world, they leaned into each other until their lips met and their eyes fluttered close.

The kiss was desperate, yet it held so much passion. It was sloppy and wet. They were both clinging into each other like there was no tomorrow, like their life depended on it. It held so much emotion, so much love. Harry didn't want it to stop, neither did Draco, but they needed to breathe. When they pulled away, time seemed to stop. They looked into each others eyes and they didn't need to speak. There were no words to describe what each felt for the other and just by looking at one another, they knew. No words needed to be said out loud.

--------------------------------------------------------

Draco was standing at his doorway with a bouquet of flowers. Harry was looking at Draco with so much adoration that he hadn't noticed when his boyfriend entered their home and put the flowers down and took something from his back pocket and got down on one knee.

When Harry snapped out of his daydream he looked down and saw that Draco was on one knee and he was holding a ring in his hand.

They looked into each other's eyes and a wave of déjà vu came over Harry and they just stared into each other's eyes, no words spoken. They knew. And Harry just nodded, hugged Draco and kissed him.

-------------------------------------------------------------

There you guys go

Idk what I think about this.

It's my first writing,,, like,,,, ever

Update: this had so many mistakes I had to read it like 5 times ///: sorry

#drarry #draco x harry #harry x draco #draco malfoy #harry potter #hogwarts

[mellowsobri]

Forgive Me [Draco x Reader, Five]

A/N: THERE WILL BE TWO SEPARATE ENDINGS!!! Yes, this is the last fic before the end! One ending will be where the reader gets back together with Draco, the other will be where they split ways. Also, heads up, this one sucks lol

also can we just appreciate this gif of Tom Felton he’s so hot i can't

Word Count: 2,036

Warnings: Cursing I think?? awkwardness!!! really poorly written draco not gonna lie on this one

Tags: @friceaurelia07 @fandomlover03 @tiny-strawberry- @i-wished-upon-a-star-one-night @1amorales1 @missidontknowwhatimdoing @weasleyswizardwheezs @canadianbirdie @all-theesee-fandoms @jellyunicornsworld

Part One/Two/Three/Four/Five(you’re here!)

Masterlist

Draco pulled away from (Name) gently, eyes half lidded and hands shaking. (Name) looked at him with dazed eyes and rosy cheeks. 

The silence was almost comfortable. It wasn't tense, nor awkward, but simply just silence. 

Draco could feel his stomach doing flips. He didn't know what to say or think, he just knew that whatever he felt couldn't be ignored. 

"I... Don't really know what to say," (Name) mumbled. Her eyes were cast downwards and her hair fell in her face. Draco lifted her chin up and gazed into her eyes that held the constellations he loved. 

"You don't have to say anything." He pulled her into another kiss, in which she complied to. 

The two parted ways, promising to meet up the next day at the same place. There was definitely something that needed to be resolved. 

(Name) went to sleep that night not feeling regret, but anxiousness. Was this what she had wanted all along? Could she just forgive him like that? Was it even okay to forgive him for what he did? 

Draco went to sleep that night knowing that she was what he wanted. Nothing more, nothing less. He had learned from his mistakes, and his decision was final. 

Draco Malfoy was in love with (Name) (Last Name), and he wasn't ashamed for what he felt.

However, Draco also understood that (Name) was not naive, so he was nervous as to how should react when she came back to her senses. Would she yell at him? Be frustrated with what happened? Or would she cherish him? Tell herself that the kiss they shared was a new start?

Surprisingly, (Name) found herself awakening peacefully. No dreams were brought to her that night, but simply just sleep, which she had been yearning for ever since the stress built up. She laid in her bed for a few moments before sitting up and realizing her roommates weren't in the dorm. Immediately, panic set in. 

"Oh my gosh, I am not late right now... Not late, not late..." She repeated the two words to herself while hastily fixing her bed head and changing out of her sleep wear. 

(Name) ran out of the common room in her (House) robe, frantically trying to get all of her stuff together. She stopped midway, looking at all of the students dressed in casual wear all gawking at (Name), a complete rushed mess. 

Saturday. 

(Name) sighed, putting a hand to her forehead. A blush resided on her cheeks as she shamefully trudged back into her room. 

(Name) came back out of the room, less of a rushed mess and more of a exasperated mess. Some of her housemates were waiting for her, smiling brightly and laughing a bit. "In a rush this morning, eh, (Name)?" (Name) smiled and rolled her eyes. 

"You bet. The one night I actually get some sleep, and this happens," she sighed. She pushed her hair back and discreetly looked around for Draco. Her friends were busy chatting to notice. 

"Anyways, we were going to Hogsmeade later. You in?" (Name) looked at them with a small smile. 

"I'm sorry. I'm pretty busy today." That wasn't all a lie. Her friends shrugged and continued on. 

"Alright. If you change your mind, just let us know." For the past month, (Name) hadn't hung out with her friends as much as she used to. Being occupied with Draco and Harry, that is. She felt a bit bad, but things needed to be settled today. 

As her housemates wandered off, she smoothed out her skirt as her eyes darted around the room in search of the blonde Slytherin boy. 

She caught a glance of blonde hair just standing right by the corner. "Oh, Dr—!"

"(Name)? That you?" McLaggen. 

"Oh! Cormac! Sorry, I mistook you for someone else. Sorry again for bothering you, I'll be going—" She started to walk off before Cormac lightly grabbed her wrist. 

"I've been meaning to talk to you, (Name)? How you doing? Heard you and Potter are done for, yeah?" He flashed her a charming smirk and his eyes narrowed. (Name) laughed awkwardly and smiled at him. Being polite never hurt anyone. "Er, yeah... I didn't know people were talking about it... Anyways, I have some things to tend to so..."

"Yeah, it's all over the school! So this means you're available?" 

"Um, well..."

"I'd be willing to take you out today if you'd like. I was going to go with Reina, but if you're single then I can drop her." He winked at her and wrapped a lazy arm around her shoulders. Did he think he was being charming? (Name) shot him a disgusted look. "I'm not—"

"McLaggen!" There he was. Draco looked relatively better than he did yesterday. The bags under his eyes lessened and his hair was back to its perfect and pristine look. "What do you think you're doing?!" (Name) took this chance to scamper away as Cormac looked like he wouldn't hesitate to do something violent. 

She looked behind her, only seeing the image of Draco getting in Cormac's face with a nasty glare. 

"Watch it—!" (Name) stumbled back a bit, as did the person she knocked shoulders with. 

"Oh, sorry..." (Name) looked at them. "Blaise...?" Blaise looked at her for a moment before breaking out into a smile. The two had been close when her and Draco were still together, but ever since they had split, they never got to see each other. 

"Blaise, oh my gosh! I haven't seen you in like forever!" 

"Oh don't be melodramatic. It's been like a month," Blaise chuckled. (Name) punched him playfully on the arm. "That's a long time, you jerk!" Blaise laughed and rubbed his arm. 

"Damn (Name), you've gotten aggressive. Where's the girl with a pack of glitter up her ass I remember?" (Name) laughed and crossed her arms. 

"I see you're still a pain, then!"

"Oh, you know you love me." The two laughed and joked around with each other. (Name) smiled sweetly at Blaise, happy to reconnect with him once again. "I'm happy I got to talk to you again, Blaise. God, I miss those days..."

"Yeah. We haven't spoke since... Um..." He stopped mid sentence, smiling awkwardly. (Name) gave him a thinned lip smile and shrugged. "I know."

"So... If I can ask, how are you and Draco? He's been super off for a while now, but last night he came back to the room with this weird glow to him. Haven't seen him like that since you two were together."

(Name) smiled and looked down. "Can you keep a secret?" Blaise nodded in response. (Name) took a breath and continued. "Last night he kissed me even though we haven't even been on good terms in forever. It just came out of nowhere—Like the Draco I told myself I hated completely disappeared. He was sensitive... He was the Draco that I fell in love with a year ago," (Name) mumbled. She shrugged and crossed her arms. "Sorry, I'm rambling..."

"No, no. It's fine. So," Blaise continued to talk while the two walked over to a bench in the hallways. "Are you two back together or...?" 

"No, we aren't... To be honest, I don't really know where exactly we stand at this point. I just know that... I didn't see any of the Draco that got on my very last nerve last night... It's like he was a completely different person." Blaise laughed softly. 

"Seems like you feel strongly about this." (Name) gave him a look, as if saying 'seriously?'

"Wow, who would've guessed?" Blaise rolled his eyes but smiled nonetheless. 

"But seriously... I just don't know what to do, Blaise... One part of me wants to simply run back into his arms, but another part of me is wanting to avoid him in fear of the past repeating itself. I mean... Once a cheater always a cheater, right...? But it doesn't even seem that way with Draco..." Blaise clicked his tongue in thought. He stared at a wall for a moment, thinking. "Not that I have any experience dating Draco," (Name) laughed at that. "But you said he wasn't acting like he did before, cold and distant, right?" The girl nodded, eager for him to continue.

Blaise crossed his arms and smirked. "Knowing that idiot, he's probably thinking about you right now. Not that I would ever know why he's daydreaming about a nerd like you, though." Blaise snickered and ruffled the top of her hair. (Name) grinned widely and couldn't help but blush a bit. All she had needed was some confidence. "Thank you, Blaise!" She wrapped her arms around him tightly. If she was being honest, she missed times when she could speak to someone about her problems. She had kept a lot bottled in, even when her and Harry were on better terms.

"Blaise, may I speak to (Name)? That is, if you're done canoodling." Blaise rolled his eyes and retracted his arms. 

"Yeah, yeah. (Name), while you're talking, ask him if he's found the uptight stick up his ass, would 'ya?" And with that, he left.

The two stood in silence for a few minutes.

"... 'Canoodling'?" (Name) snickered. Draco blushed and cracked a small smile. "That wasn't the point. Besides, what did he tell you?" (Name) smiled softly and shrugged. 

"Just some advice. I mean, I haven't talked to Blaise since...!" (Name) stopped, realizing what she was about to say. She cleared her throat, uncomfortable. "I haven't talked to him in a while, I mean." 

A short wave of silence washed over the atmosphere until (Name) spoke up once again. "So... Thanks for getting McLaggen off my back... I didn't really know how to go about that." Draco scoffed. 

"Of course. McLaggen is just a disgusting swine." He rolled his eyes at this, cringing at the visual of Cormac inches apart from you. 

The two were stalling. Neither of them wanted to revert back to the seriousness that was seconds away. They both wanted it to stay just like this— Relaxed and light hearted.

(Name) took a deep breath. "Draco,"

"I know what you're going to say... We're going to have to talk about... What happened... And everything will go back to being... Well, awkward." (Name) thinned her lips, internally sighing. 

"You're not wrong... But come on, Draco! We can't just put this off! I just— This sounds so stupid and pathetic, but I'm confused, okay?" (Name) looked down and crossed her arms, shifting all of her weight onto one foot. Draco gulped, looking at the girl in front of him. She didn't look broken, but she looked, as she said, simply confused. "I-I'm not confused..." This caught her attention as she snapped her head up.

 "Huh?"

"I know this will sound like complete rubbish... But I'm in love with you, (Name)." She stood there for a second with an unreadable expression. Finally, she used two hands to shove him back.

"What the hell, Malfoy?!" He recoiled and stumbled a bit before regaining his composure. "You—You want to say that now?! I-I can't, I don't—! You can't just come in and... And just...!" She was rambling, unable to form complete sentences. Draco grabbed her wrist gently before pulling her in for a chaste kiss. (Name's) shoulders relaxed and she sighed, out of either exasperation or relief. After he pulled away, she was silent.

"... Well you could've just told me to shut up," she mumbled.

"Look, (Name), I know I'm being stupid—"

"Yeah, you are..." He held back an amused chuckle, continuing.

"But I've never been more sure of anything." Her eyebrows furrowed and she looked down again. "One more chance... That's all I'm asking for. I've learned so much over these months, and I'm just asking for one more chance."

"I-I just..." She sighed, placing a hand to her forehead. She propped her arm on the wall beside her as to give herself some balance. "Give me some time to think, okay? You never were a patient person," she laughed.

He resisted a grin. Was this a dream? Was he dreaming?

He grabbed her shoulders and pressed his lips to her again, relishing in (Name) as a whole. 

#Harry Potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter x reader #harry potter preference #Draco Malfoy #draco x reader #draco imagine #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy imagine #draco angst #draco malfoy angst #harry potter angst

[dracimalfoy1988292]

12

Allison Mayhem16

I walked down the hall by myself as I made my way to Slughorn's dinner he was hosting for only students who were at the top of his class. Harry, Hermione and I were his top three in his second hour, so I decided to meet them there, as I was caught up for another night, observing Draco fixing up the cabinet. It was definitely a long process, so a part of me was glad I didn't have to do it all on my own, but I also wanted to help more, because for some odd reason, I felt bad for him doing it by himself. But any time I'd extend my services, he's shut me down. So I just continued to do the same thing every time we met in the Room of Requirement, hw fixed the cabinet, I read some book from the library. I guess it was a win win, as he was left unbothered and I got some time to read without distractions of the other students. As I continued down one of the side corridors, I heard footsteps approaching, and quickly turned around.49

"Where are you off to?" The sweet voice rang. I smiled at her.2

"Just Slughorn's little dinner party." I shrugged. "How about you, Luna?"2

"Just trying to find one of my shoes," she continued to look around the hall, and I followed her lead. "I suspect a nargle stole it." I stopped looking and nodded, curiously.96

"Ah, well, I'll let you know if I find a shoe." I laughed a little as she smiled in return.1

"Thanks, Alli. How have you been holding up?" She tilted her head, as she proceeded to walk me to Slughorn's.1

"Eh, you know, same old." I wasn't sure what more to say. After all, she did know almost everything about my predicament, so there was nothing more needed to say.2

"I'm sorry, Allison." She smiled, apologetically. I nodded at her, with a shrug. We both knew there was nothing that could be done, so it just wasn't a relevant topic for us to speak on. We arrived shortly within minutes to the front door of the room where the dinner was being held and she gave me a quick hug and wandered off. I let myself in, seeing as there were just two empty seats left, so at least I hadn't been the last person to arrive.1

"So, tell me Granger, what do your parents do in the muggle world?" Slughorn asked Hermione after I was greeted and took my place at the table beside Blaise Zabini.113

"My parents are dentists." She said in response. Everyone looked at her in a sort of confused manner. "They tend to peoples teeth." Harry laughed a little at the fact that she had to describe what a dentist was, considering wizards, I guess, didn't really need them. Suddenly, Ginny came abruptly walking in and the tension began to rise. "Her and Dean have been fighting." Hermione whispered over to Harry, just loud enough that I could hear. And seemingly effortless, he stood straight up up. It annoyed me a bit that he felt the need to stand up and protect Ginny when the two of them hardly even talk all that much these days. He had never expressed his liking of her, but Hermione and I had guessed it.71

"Harry." I said in a whisper while smirking, since he was making it a little too obvious of his fancying of the girl.4

After dinner, Hermione and I walked back into the corridors, talking about the quidditch match tomorrow, being that it was our final one and once we arrived to our rooms, we climbed into our beds. "Goodnight, Hermione." I whispered. She didn't respond so I knew she was already out like a light.11

In the morning, we sat in the Great Hall when Ron walked in, clearly bothered by something.

"How was it then?" Ron asked, staring down at his plate of toast and eggs, bot even bothering to eat. That's when I knew he must've been upset by the fact that we all had a night out, and he didn't.9

"Pretty boring." Hermione said. "Slughorn's having a Christmas party, and we're supposed to bring someone. I was thinking of bringing you." She said to him.1

"You sure you don't want to bring Cormac? Seems as though he's been eyeing you for a while now." He grumbled, looking over at her. She rolled her eyes at his ignorance. We had just a short amount of time until the last and final Quidditch game against Ravenclaw, and a part of me was just wanting it over with, since I was forced to stay benched due to the injuries I sustained a while back. So I wasn't too much excited anymore, especially considering Harry gave my spot to blood Cormac, of all people.20

We celebrated the win that night in the Gryffindor common room. Ron was seemingly full of it, when all of a sudden, Lavender Brown came rushing in, snogging him. This caused Hermione to leave. I chased after her out into the halls. As she found a stairwell, and sat on the steps crying, so I reached my arms around her and held her tightly.33

"Hermione, I need to tell you something-" I began, feeling like I needed to get some honesty to her out for once. I was just going to finally reveal my truth about being forced to marry Draco. I wasn't going to say anything of death eater sorts, just that our families were close friends and were demanding it of us. It was a stupid lie, but the only thing I could think of to at least have some honesty with her.57

"What's going on?" A voice interrupted as we both turned to see Ron staring over at Hermione as she quickly wiped her fallen tears off her cheeks.1

"Opogno." Hermione said. And the birds fluttering around us began to chase after him, so he quickly ran off. She stood up, sniffling and wiping her tears away from her face. "I'm heading to bed." She muttered.7

"Want me to come with you?" I asked, standing next to her.

"I need some time alone." She shook her head. I nodded and watched as she walked off and down the hall. A noise from the staircase to my left startled me, so I found myself walking up them and to a different tower. I noticed a figure in black standing at the edge leaning on the railing and staring outward from the window. I walked towards the being and quickly realized who it was. I stood next to him. We didn't say anything, but I knew he was upset, as I could see the tears glisten from his cheeks from the moonlight. I hesitantly slipped my hand over top of his and we gazed out into the night sky, in complete silence.

[mellowsobri]

[New Sides] Draco x Reader

A/N: My first published fic on Tumblr! It is currently 2:49 AM haha,,, I desperately wanted something to start my blog off so it’s not as good as it could've been, but still!

Word Cound: 1,742

Warnings: I think there is like one curse word? Hufflepuff Reader. Female pronouns. Has not been proof-read.

Summary: (Name) has a small clothing accident which leads to a flustered Draco and a sweet ending! (Will probably do a part two.)

Masterlist

There she was.

‘Bloody hell, how could someone be that perfect?’

 Draco studied her, taking in her features from afar.

 He had almost memorized her and the way she walked, the way she talked, the way she would get so lost in her own thoughts in class.

 She would walk to the side closest to a wall alongside Neville Longbottom and her Hufflepuff friend Lynne. She would make small conversation and express small emotions. Very rarely would she draw attention to herself, her smiles being short and sweet and her laughs as delicate as a daisy petal.

 She had a nervous twitch where she would play with her hair in some shape or form, twiddling it between her index finger and her thumb or curling it around a few times before brushing it out again.

 She didn’t like rough flirting. He had figured that out immediately when Cormac approached (Name) and shot out some weird pick up lines, did the thing where he trapped her between two of his arms and backed her against a wall, and basically told her she had to go out on a date with him.

 Her answer was obvious when all he received was a hard slap to the face and hard shove backwards.

 They were partners in Potions once and Draco found himself staring at her constantly. She was so gentle, yet she knew how to stand up for herself.

 He had learned so much about her just by studying her and seeing how she reacted to certain scenarios.

 Draco, on the other hand, didn’t even try to approach her. He knew all it would end in was a rejection, and honestly he didn’t want his reputation damaged… No matter how infatuated he was with her.

 Draco turned his attention from the Hufflepuff girl scurrying to catch up with her friends.

  “… Did you hear me?” Blaise snapped his fingers in front of him, causing him to jump slightly.

 “What?”

“I asked what you were staring at.” Blaise stated, eyes narrowed. “A chick?”

Pansy scoffed and rolled her eyes. Her facial features scrunched up, causing her face to look distorted. “As if, Zambini. Draco is too good for all of these petty witches. Isn’t that right, Draco?” Draco rolled his eyes enough to let Pansy know that she was getting on his nerves before he turned on his heel and started walking, his friends following close behind.

 “Whatever, Zambini. How about you mind your own business?” Blaise grunted and crossed his arms, eyeing a certain girl running to Neville Longbottom.

 “What about her? Now that’s what you call eye-candy,” Blaise whistled, raising his eyebrows. “Finally a real woman around here.” Pansy, upon hearing his remarked, smacked the side of his arm with a snarl.

 Draco moved his gaze over to where Blaise was staring.

 “Who is she anyways? I’ve never even seen her,” Pansy spat, shooting a nasty stare at (Name).

 “I don’t know, but would ‘ya look at that.” Blaise pointed to her skirt, lifted ever so slightly in the back. It looked wrinkled, as if she hadn’t bothered to readjust after standing up.

 Draco felt his ears and cheeks heat up and had to force himself to avert his gaze. “Disgusting, Zambini…”

 “Seriously though!” Pansy continued to smack Blaise, who in defense recoiled and jogged down the hall. Pansy followed after him, face red from anger. Behind Pansy trotted Crabbe and Goyle, claiming that she had something of theirs stored with her.

 Draco was left in the middle of the hall, shamefully trying to ignore the presence of (Name) and the view that taunted him from only a few feet away.

 He only happened to be glancing that way to see none other than Harry Potter and his crew stroll over to join in the circle of friends conversing.

 Draco couldn’t handle it anymore. He was raised a gentleman, and a gentleman wouldn’t let a lady expose herself in public with his knowing.

 At least, that’s what he told himself. In reality he just saw Harry’s face light up like a lantern when he caught a glance of (Name).

 The Slytherin strolled over, biting his lip and refusing to look down a few inches.

 He cleared his throat when he was directly behind her, signaling his appearance. (Name) turned around, a puzzled expression evident on her face.

 “Oh, Malfoy…” She seemed surprised to see him standing there, red and flustered. “Can I help you?” She seemed more welcoming than her friends as they all shot glares up and down Draco’s form.

 “Yeah, can we help you?” Ron’s mop of ginger hair moved with him whipping his head over to where Draco was standing.

 “I’m not talking to you, Weasley,” Draco huffed. “Anyways, I wanted to politely inform you… That, um…” His face reddened, unable to form anything but jumbled and indefinable words.

 “Yes? What is it?”

 “Y-Your… Uh… Your skirt.” His voice shrank with each syllable.

“What about it?” (Name) looked at him with an eyebrow cocked in confusion.

 “I-It’s… Uh… A bit short…” (Name)’s eyes widened immediately, her arms shooting to the back of her skirt to pull it down. Her face was red and she looked like she was about to cry.

 “Th-Thank you for informing me…” Her voiced cracked before she excused herself and briskly walked away from the group. Her friends were staring at Draco with a scowl. He shot them a sideways glare before discreetly following her.

 He ended up in a nearly empty corridor, (Name) seated on a bay windowsill.

 “(Name)?” The Hufflepuff girl’s head shot up.

 “If you came here to tease me about it, I suggest you leave.” Her tone was cold and wavering.

 “If I really wanted to tease you about it, why would I have confronted you alone?” (Name) took a few seconds to read over his response and nodded.

 “Sorry…”

 Draco hesitantly neared (Name) whose head was down in mortification and shame.

 “Are… Uh, you okay?” Draco didn’t exactly comfort people on a daily basis, so he was very careful of his words and actions.

 She took a while to respond, sighing. “Yeah, just embarrassed. Thank you for informing me, though… It could’ve been a lot worse.”

 “Are you crying?” Draco wanted to curse himself. Had he really just asked that? “On the verge…” (Name) replied with a halfhearted laugh.

 “I don’t know why I wanted to cry, though… I guess I got so embarrassed…” The girl sighed again and scooted over on her windowsill to let Draco sit beside her. He complied, unsure of how to answer her previous statement.

 There was a long moment of silence before (Name) spoke up, looking Draco directly in the eyes.

 “I know you stare at me.” He sputtered, eyes narrowing.

 “I don’t know what you're talking about! I am not as lowly as to-“

 “Don’t deny it, Malfoy. There’s no purpose in lying.” He grunted, not replying.

 “So why do you stare at me, then?” She spoke up, eyes sparkling with newfound interest.

 “What?” (Name) leaned back and crossed her arms, waiting for a response. Draco studied her, missing the sight of her features from a closer angle.

 “I… Am not sure, actually.” His tone was soft, but sincere. “I suppose you just stand out from other people.”

 “Oh, please. I’m a good-girl student who is too caught up in her own daydreaming that she leaves class with her skirt hiked up. I can’t be that unique. But thank you… For the compliment that is…” Draco nodded once as if saying ‘you're welcome’.

 “Yet you're delicate and kind, yet somehow you also manage to be tough. You're not a pushover, nor are you overbearing. And most of all you don’t make a fool out of yourself in front of me.” Draco laughed softly to lighten the mood.

 “Well, I wouldn’t say that. I basically gave you an entire view… I would say that’s pretty bad.” (Name) smiled in return.

 “You should see some other girls… What happened today was nothing,” he mumbled, entranced by the smile she offered him. (Name) giggled, tugging on her sleeve nervously. “So, um… Why exactly… Did you tell me about that? You could’ve easily just let me humiliate myself in front of everyone…” Draco froze. What was he supposed to say? ‘Because I’ve mildly stalked you for months now because you had me hooked ever since our one Potions assignment?’

 “I… Uh… It just happened to catch my attention… It was distracting me and…”

 “Distracting you?” (Name) repeated with a raised eyebrow.

 “W-Well, I mean…!” She looked at the Slytherin struggling to form words and placed a comforting hand atop his.

 “Don’t push yourself. You can tell me later.” Draco’s breath hitched and if his face wasn’t already a bold shade of red, then damn was it now.

 She hopped down from the windowsill, leaving a lingering feeling on the hand that she touched.

 “Well… I suppose I’ve idled here for a few moments now. Thanks, again.” She smiled and started to walk away before she was pulled back gently. Draco gently grasped her hand with an almost pleading look in his brilliant gray eyes. She was almost taken aback at his brashness.

 “Draco?” She tilted her head and looked at him.

 “(Name)… I understand this must sound sudden, but um… Would you like to accompany me this weekend to Hogsmeade? Or it doesn’t have to necessarily have to be there… Just anywhere, really…? Just the two of us?” Draco’s eyes were soft and gentle. His hand grasped hers as if she was a gem that could shatter with the smallest wrong move.

 “Oh…” His expression fell at her response. He retracted his hand, turning to leave. “Wait!” She looked at him with a confused stare. He looked back at her, mirroring her gaze. “What?”

 “That wasn’t a ‘no’, silly… I was simply just surprised! In fact, I would love nothing more than to accompany you somewhere… Just the two of us.” She smiled and nudged him playfully. He grinned back at her, showing a rare side of him she had never seen. (Name) approached him with a rosy tint dusting her cheeks and planted a dainty kiss on his cheekbone before bidding him a goodbye.

 He stood in the corridor, grazing the place she had kissed him with his fingertips, his expression dazed and dreamy.

 Meanwhile, (Name) did the same, almost thanking her bad luck for the skirt incident.

#harrypotter #harry potter #harry #potter #draco #draco malfoy #imagine #reader insert #draco imagine #draco reader insert #draco x reader #draco/reader #harry imagine #harry potter imagine #ron imagine #george weasley imagine #george imagine #fred imagine #fred weasley imagine #neville #neville longbottom imagine