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drawlfoy · 2 years

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pink in the night P.1

masterlist series masterlist request guidelines

pairing: hufflepuffmuggleborn!reader x draco

summary: when y/n y/l/n starts having weird, recurring dreams about her long time unrequited crush in her 6th year, she begins to wonder where fantasies end and reality begins.

(based on a request from anon asking for a fic about a hufflepuff reader, who had been average in hogwarts before she had a big glow up. i took many, many creative liberties with the plot, as you can clearly see in the summary).

warnings: canon-typical violence, mature language, nsfw content. read at your own risk!

a/n: so change of plans! i’m cutting part 1 in like..thirds. because it’s getting too fucking long. here’s part 1! apologies for how drawn out and slow part 1 is

tags

@writeandtranslate @sycathorn-slush @gruffle1 @missmultifandommess @cleopatera @hahaboop @accio-rogers @geeksareunique @eltanin-malfoy @war-sword @cams-lynn @itsivyberry @ayo-cowbelly @nerd-domland @yesnerdsblog @shizarianathania @evanstanfanatic @strawberriesonsummer @hariosborn @night-ving @straightzoinked @imintoodeeptostop @naiomimoonshard @jejegu @ophelia-enthusiast @alwaysbeanunknownfan @nearly-memories @litty-dumb @callieclearwater @malfoy-wife15 @charlenasaxen @belladaises @fiantomartell @yiamalfoy @crystalox @dracoismybabey @dreamcxtcherr @decaffeinated-turtle @marrymetheonott @felicityofbakerstreet @daedreamss @sycathorn-slush @writeandtranslate @erisdogwood @loveissupernatural @sycathorn-slush @big-galaxy-chaos @lilyrachelcassidy

wc: 11.5k

here’s a playlist i made for this lol

enjoy x

They never told her about the muggleborn summers.

Y/N had friends. It wasn’t like she didn’t have friends–at Hogwarts, at least. Terry Boot, Susan Bones, and Hannah Abbott consumed most of her waking hours back at school. She would hide out in the library with Terry when she felt an inclination to study, or frequent Honeydukes with Susan and Hannah when she was sick of hearing her token Ravenclaw friend prattle on about the chemical components of Firewhiskey or the cellular decomposition process of fermenting flubberworms.

In short, she was happy at school, even if she knew that she was technically the lowest rung on the totem pole of Hogwarts popularity and importance. As a Hufflepuff, she was largely excluded in the fierce house rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin. As someone who never had a class with the famous Harry Potter and his crew, she completely missed out on the DA debacle in 5th year and only heard about the wild adventures of his group through the grapevine (and, occasionally, when things got buckwild: through the Daily Prophet). And, of course, as a muggleborn, she was hardly considered worth attention to anyone pureblood who knew about her blood status.

Essentially, Y/N was more than aware of how little she participated in the Hogwarts student body. But she liked her world, small and quaint, just the way it was. She was not going to complain about the lack of excitement in her world.

But where her life at Hogwarts was cozy and contained, her life at home felt suffocating and constricting. It was tolerable over the winter holidays, as she managed to catch up with her extended family and exchange gifts with her loved ones, but the summer months were slow-moving and torturous. When she was younger, she was able to send out letters to her old friends by using a service called “Post-an-Owl”, utilizing her owl to drop her letter off at the muggle postal boxes to avoid any unnecessary confusion that would be sparked by her muggle friends seeing a giant bird delivering their mail. But now that technology was developing, her friends all communicated through ICQ, a new instant messaging service. Without any access to the World Wide Web, Y/N was, for lack of a better term, fucked. She had no idea how her friends were doing over the school year.

Her friends had split apart, too, heading off to different 6th forms and preparing for university. Y/N was having trouble explaining her “international” boarding school fumbling for post-secondary education plans, listing a few random made-up schools in the States to satisfy the prying questions she received from them last summer. As she rode back home on the Hogwarts Express, all she could think about was how lonely she’d be until September 1st.

The days were blurring together, just like they always did when she was home. Lucille, Iris, and Dasha had spent the first few weeks unavailable as they winded down from GCSEs and generally planning, so Y/N had been left to her own devices. She drank tea, read her bookshelf, spent time with her parents, and tried hard to not think about her wand that was tucked away in her bottom dresser drawer.

No one ever told her about how difficult it was to live without magic after you had spent the last 9 months basically surrounded by charms, hexes, and curses that permeated the very walls of her school. At home, the air was flat and quiet. There was nothing to spark her magic, nothing to give her an outlet for the storm brewing inside of her.

At night, she fidgeted, looking down at her hands and wondering if it was only a matter of time until she had an accidental outburst like she so often did as a child. She imagined what it would be this time—maybe setting her precious bookcase on fire, or perhaps transfiguring the fly humming about her lamp into an eagle.

Thankfully, nothing happened. Nothing ever did. Y/N was controlled, patient, and reserved. She had never benefited from losing control, taking risks, or acting on a whim like Harry Potter and the rest of his friends so often did. So, whenever she felt waves of energy rise up in her core, she’d take a breath, remember that she was effectively a muggle for the next few months, and relax.

Lucille came to see her in the depths of July.

“You grew your hair out,” her oldest friend observed. They were sitting on her bed, waiting for their toenails to dry as they watched the clouds move by the window.

“Do you think it suits me?” asked Y/N. “I just never got around to cutting it over the school year.”

Lucille hummed, reaching out to tug at her locks. A quick few pulls and twists later, and Lucille frowned, deep in thought. “It looks good, of course. But I think if you cut it right here…”

Still holding her hair up, Lucille carefully maneuvered herself so she was no longer blocking the eyeline between her and the mirror hanging up on the wall. Her hands precariously held the long locks of Y/N’s hair so they barely kissed her collarbone. A few strands escaped, spilling over her shoulder and sullying the image, but Y/N could see what she meant. “If you cut it this short, it would look really cool. In my opinion. You could maybe even add a little face framing in there.”

“Wow,” exclaimed Y/N. “You’re right. How did you know?”

“I just have an eye for that sort of thing.” Lucille let her hair fall back to its usual place, and Y/N found herself missing the lengthening effect that the shorter cut gave her neck. “My mum’s a hairdresser, you know. She would be happy to give your hair a little trim.”

“That’s very kind of her,” said Y/N, knowing that she would never take her up on the offer. Lucille’s mother worked at a fancy spa in London, one that her family wouldn’t dream of going to. She remembered seeing the prices once while she was waiting with her mother to pick up Lucille for a movie. Some services were hundreds of pounds. Hundreds to just cut the hair on her head? She shuddered to think about asking her family to shell out that much for, in Lucille’s words, “just a trim”.

“Really,” pressed Lucille, threading her fingers through Y/N’s hair yet again. “You’re a friend of mine. She’s just bought new hair shears and is raring to try them out.”

“I would love to, but I can’t ask my parents to pay her! And I’m saving up for the school year.”

Lucille shook her head, smiling. “No, silly. For free! I’ll give your landline a call after I talk to her and let you know what works for her.”

“I couldn’t possibly—”

“Yes you can!” Her friend was grinning now. “I hardly ever get to see you. And, to be entirely honest, you could use a little makeover montage.”

She bristled.

“I’m not saying you look bad,” clarified Lucille. “But you’re so pretty! You’ve grown up quite a bit and I think it’s time for you to unlock the REAL young adult Y/N. That is, if you feel like you haven’t ready. Do you have any interest in make-up or hair styling or anything?”

“Some,” said Y/N, though she wasn’t entirely sure what to say. In the Wizarding World, women and girls rarely wore any makeup. Instead, they used Glamours to charm their skin clear, their hair silky, and their legs hairless. She’d tried out a few, letting Susan go wild on her for the Yule Ball, but all the Glamours were so obvious, leaving a slight pearly sheen on her hair or her skin that she strongly associated with Pansy Parkinson, whose skin regularly resembled a muggle glow stick after her no doubt extensive morning routine. And the vibrant colors that she saw so often in magical beauty didn’t quite suit her. “I just don’t really know where to start, to be honest.” The idea of discovering her real, grown-up self was tempting but daunting.

“Natural look, I’m assuming?”

“Yes,” said Y/N quickly.

Lucille nodded, surveying her face with a surgical precision that made Y/N squirm. “Perfect. I’ll give you a call.”

A week and a few enthusiastic scissor chops later, Y/N was sitting on the floor of Lucille’s room as Lucille applied her makeup while Dasha and Iris gave a couple “ooh”s and “aah”s as needed.

“You have really nice bone structure,” said Iris from her position on Lucille’s bed. “You’ve really grown up since we all hung out last.”

“You all have too,” replied Y/N, trying not to flinch as a brush rubbed against her under eyes. “Tell me what’s been going on with you all! I’m so sorry I’m not able to message on ICQ.”

“It’s so fucking weird that your school doesn’t allow you to use the internet,” said Dasha. “Do you even know what’s happened between Iris and Justin?”

“What?!” Y/N stiffened. “Iris!”

The girl in question flopped onto the bedspread and moaned. “Shut up! I can’t keep talking about this anymore! It’s harrowing.”

“He cheated on her with Anne from Chemistry,” Dasha stage-whispered. “It was a whole ordeal.”

“Oh, god—”

“All done,” interrupted Lucille. “Did you see how I did your eyeliner?”

Y/N bobbed her head once, allowing herself to be turned towards the mirror to see her makeup.

“What do you think?” Lucille asked.

She was stunned. It was like someone completely different was looking back at her, with wide, shimmering eyes and full lashes. Her skin was even and glowing, her lips slightly darkened. And, best of all, it didn’t look unnatural or forced.

“It looks like me, but better,” admitted Y/N. The gentle hand used in applying the eyeliner made her eyes appear bigger in a way that her Glamours could never achieve. Her hair, shorter and shiny against her healthy looking skin, completed it.

“I know, right!” Lucille exclaimed. “Do you want to go shopping? I used mostly drugstore stuff on you, so it’ll be cheap to do it yourself.”

By the time Y/N was packing up for Hogwarts, she was no longer feeling hopeless and lost. Yes, she was nearly vibrating from the excitement of using magic again, but she was centered this time. Along with taking her shopping to buy her makeup, Y/N had gone on a few shopping trips with the rest of her friends to get new clothes. Before Lucille had helped her with her hair and her makeup, she only paid attention to the robes she wore, slipping on anything she had on hand to wear underneath her yellow trimmed Hufflepuff school robes. On weekends, it was denim and a faded T-shirt or an old sweater if things were chilly. But Dasha and Iris were so excited to talk about the new muggle fashions, she couldn’t possibly deny a trip to the mall.

Now, as she packed up her trunk, she found herself marvelling over the additions to her wardrobe. The new pieces she had found fit the new image of Y/N perfectly—the grown-up Y/N who was no longer an awkward 13 year old.

Though the summer before her 6th year had occasionally been lonely and isolating, Y/N had discovered herself.

“You look different,” aptly observed Terry as she joined him in their train compartment.

“It’s the hair,” said Susan, nodding towards Y/N.

“It’s the clothes,” added Hannah. She reached out and tugged at the cuffed sleeve of Y/N’s button-up.

“Maybe it’s Maybelline,” said Justin, the only other muggleborn Hufflepuff she knew, rolling his eyes. “Do we have nothing better to talk about?”

Eager to move on from the different way her male peers were looking at her, Y/N nodded. “Please. I can’t have everyone knowing my secrets.”

“I know what we can talk about,” said Susan, leaning forward so she could lower her voice. “Have you all heard about Malfoy?”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. “Who? Draco?” she said, oh so nonchalantly.

“You don’t get the Prophet, do you?” asked Terry.

“No, I don’t.”

“Daddy Malfoy just got thrown into Azkaban,” said Justin, though he hardly seemed interested. “His trial was all anyone talked about over the summer. The Wizengamot came to a decision in the second week of August.”

Y/N tried not to feel too offended by the way he implied that she was stupid and informed. It was Justin, after all. He was always a bit of a pretentious tosser. “Oh! God, that’s awful.”

“Is it?” asked Terry, raising a brow.

“I mean,” she fumbled, “Awful for Drac—Malfoy. That must suck to have his father thrown into prison. Azkaban, no less.” She was pretty sure her cheeks were tomato red at this point.

Terry shrugged. “Y/N, I don’t know. Luna told me that his father nearly killed her.”

“Merlin.” Y/N gulped. “Do any of you…have any extra copies of the Prophet? I can’t believe I haven’t read about this.”

Justin dug around in his satchel, finally producing a crumpled up ball. “This is the paper from the day he was sentenced.”

Y/N took it from him, gently pulling apart the pages until a wrinkled version of the Prophet lay in front of her. She took out her want and cast a quick flattening spell, watching a current iron out any remaining folds.

Draco Malfoy’s face stared right back at her. He was on the front page, pictured with his mother. His mouth was fixed into a scowl and his eyes were blank as he stared into the camera, his face lighting up with flashes as other cameras scrambled to get a picture of the Malfoy heir and his mother. Behind him, Narcissa stood with her hand poised on Draco’s shoulder, one deep line appearing in her forehead.

Draco blinked once, a breeze briefly rising to tussle his hair. Then the photo repeated.

“What do you think?” Hannah asked, leaning over to read the article along with Y/N.

“Oh, very, er, wild,” said Y/N, hoping it wasn’t obvious that she’d just spent the past minute staring at the picture of Draco Malfoy loop over and over again. “I just can’t believe this is the world now.”

Hannah nodded solemnly. “I know!”

She put the newspaper in her bag. Thankfully, Justin didn’t ask for it back. She was planning on digesting it later, in the privacy of her dorm room where she could stare at Draco without the prying eyes of her friends and the judgemental sniffs of Justin. “Thanks for the paper, Justin.”

He grunted in response.

Someone rapped on the compartment glass.

“Ugh, Theo,” groaned Susan, though she plastered a smile on her face as the figure outside pushed open the door.

“Hey,” he said, propping his arm on the doorframe and grinning at her. His dark green tie flapped in the brief puff of air that accompanied the sliding of the door.

“Hey.” Susan swallowed.

Y/N felt like she was missing something. Had something happened between her and Nott? Is that why she was calling the Slytherin Theo now?

“I like your sweater,” Nott offered, his eyes flicking down to her chest in a way that was not very PG-13 rated.

Susan blushed madly. “Er—thanks. I like yours.”

He wasn’t wearing a sweater, but he was wearing a shit-eating grin, and that was only growing. “Come sit with us?”

“In the Slytherin section?”

Nott shrugged, and the way she saw his muscles tense underneath his button-up made Y/N understand where Susan was coming from a bit more. “If you’d like.” He shifted his gaze, catching Y/N’s eyes. “Are you new?”

Terry snorted.

“No,” said Y/N, her mouth twisting into a frown.

“Forgive me,” said Nott in response, holding his hands up in a surrender. “I’m proper shit at remembering faces.”

“I’ll go sit with you,” interrupted Susan, sitting upwards and gathering her things in a haphazard fashion that seemed rather uncharacteristic. Nott smirked and held the door open for her, whispering something into her ear as she brushed past him.

“Did something happen between them?” asked Y/N once the door had shut and the pair was on their way to the Slytherin car.

Her friends shifted uncomfortably. Terry seemed like he was avoiding eye contact while Hannah picked at her cuticles. Justin was reading a book that he’d brought, clearly not participating.

“Well…” Terry rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah.”

“Oh!” Y/N felt her heartbeat quicken once again. “Why didn’t she tell me?”

“She really wanted to,” explained Hannah, and her expression was open and genuine. “But when she owled me and Terry about Theo, she said that she wasn’t sure how to tell you. Since you’re muggleborn and he’s…well, he’s in that crowd. She was worried you’d be hurt.”

Y/N felt the briefest flicker of betrayal, but she supposed she understood where Susan was coming from. “Is he good to her?”

Terry shrugged. “I think so? They’re not official or anything. They just met at a pureblood function over the summer and apparently hit it off. He seems alright, actually.”

“That’s great!” said Y/N, though her mind was reeling. On one hand, she was slightly stung by the fact that her friend didn’t bother to tell her. She also felt keenly aware of the fact that his reputation of bigoted behavior towards people like her was not enough for her to turn him down. But on the other…She gulped. There was something thrilling about having a mutual connection with Draco. It was stupid, really. Nothing would ever come of it. But after 6 years, there was finally some weak merit behind her daydreams of meeting Draco and having an enlightening conversation at some party or gathering.

But that was completely nuts. It’s not like he’d go to a Hufflepuff party. It’s not like she’d go to a Slytherin party either, no matter how desperately she wanted to satisfy that particular curiosity of hers.

“If you see her before me, please tell her that I don’t mind,” added Y/N. The relief was visible on the faces of her friends. “I’m just sad she felt like she couldn’t tell me sooner. I’d understand, you know.”

Terry and Hannah sent her grateful smiles.

After another hour or so of chatter and banter, they finally arrived. Y/N had long since donned her robes, pulling the black fabric with golden trim and tightening her Hufflepuff tie until she was satisfied with her appearance. There was something so satisfying about the way that her hair brushed her collar, its length lending it bounce and volume that had otherwise been absent.

“Not to sound weird or anything,” said Hannah to her as they filed into the Great Hall, “But I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone look better at a Sorting Ceremony. Merlin, Y/N, you’re just glowing.”

She grinned back. She felt like she was glowing.

But as they continued down the aisle, making their way towards the Hufflepuff table, Y/N began to feel a bit uncomfortable with how many people were looking at her. When she’d walk by a section of students, some would do double takes, gaping at her as she walked past.

It made her nervous.

“Is there something in my hair? Or on my face?” she whispered to Hannah.

Hannah smiled. “I don’t know what happened to you over the summer, but you just look different now. More yourself, or something. They’re probably just wondering who you are.”

“Only took them 6 years.”

They slid onto the benches, readying themselves for the upcoming feast. As her friends began to joke and giggle around her, Y/N was sure of one thing: even if the rest of the student body was acting weird, at least she had them.

“...and after Potions I have Divination, Runes, Transfiguration, and Defense Against the Dark Arts.” Y/N caught her breath after reciting her schedule, pacing the room she shared with Susan.

“All N.E.W.T level?” asked the roommate in question.

“Yeah,” said Y/N. “I didn’t manage to get an O in Herbology, and Sprout told me that it’d be better for me to focus on my strengths.”

“Brutal,” replied Susan. “So we only have Potions together?”

“I think so.” Y/N held up the parchment containing her schedule so it was lined up with Susan’s, confirming that their timetables were different. “Why are you taking N.E.W.T level Arithmancy? Do you hate yourself?”

Susan snorted. “I could say the same for you and Divination.”

“At least Divination is just ‘tell me what these tea leaves resemble’ and ‘explain how you can use palm lines to determine how likely it is that my cousin’s stubbed toe will heal in time for the next backyard Quidditch match.’ I don’t have to calculate the magnitude of the magical core of Saturn or whatever.”

“It’s really not that bad.”

“Whatever you say.” Y/N tossed her schedule on her new desk, shoving her trunk under her bed and surveying the room. “I guess that’s all I have to do tonight. I actually quite like our dorm this year. It’s more spacious than the last one.”

Susan hummed, but her eyes seemed far away.

“Is everything okay?” Y/N asked.

“Are you mad at me about Theo?” she finally asked.

Y/N blinked. “No. Not really. A little hurt that you didn’t tell me, but I guess I understand why.”

“I wanted to tell you so badly,” gushed Susan, seemingly checking back into the present. “I’m so sorry. I know I should have now, but I wanted to do it in person, and I know that your parents are weird about you going into the magical world over summer.”

“It’s alright,” said Y/N, and though there was a twinge of pain, she mostly meant it. “Is he nice? I never imagined that a Slytherin from that group would be.”

Susan nodded. “You’d be surprised. He’s actually really sweet.”

She went on about Nott and the precise details of their meeting and the conception of their situationship, and Y/N couldn’t help but wonder if this meant she could finally tell her best friend the secret that had been weighing on her since 4th year.

“Susan?” she asked, after her roommate had tired herself out having gone over the exact softness of Nott’s hair thrice.

“Yeah?” Susan sat up, cocking her head.

“I…” Y/N swallowed. She could feel her throat bob. “Well…”

“What’s up? Is something wrong?”

“No,” said Y/N quickly. “I just…If I tell you something, will you promise not to tell anyone? Like, when I say anyone, I mean even Terry and Hannah. No one can know.”

“You’re scaring me, Y/N,” said Susan. “But of course. It’ll be just between the two of us.”

“Pinky promise?”

“Pinky promise.” Susan offered her an outstretched pinky finger and wiggled her eyebrows. “Now spit it out.”

“IhaveacrushonDracoMalfoy,” she mumbled.

Susan stilled. Her eyes widened a fraction.

“And it’s really not that big of a deal,” Y/N added on, scrambling. “Like, it’s not like I have a lot of feelings for him or anything. I don’t even like him that much. It’s not even a crush, really. I just find him really, er, interesting. And I know it’s literally a pipe dream because he’s Draco Malfoy and I’m a muggleborn Hufflepuff but I’ve just been sitting on this for a long time now and I had to tell someone. So I can get over it, of course. Because he’s totally awful and not an option at all.”

The corner of Susan’s lip quirked. Y/N felt her heart lurch, sure that her friend was about to ridicule her for being so delusional that she managed to develop feelings for Malfoy.

“Like I said,” she said, desperate to salvage the conversation, “It’s nothing important. Barely there, even, I’d wager. I don’t even know him. It’s silly, really. I don’t know why I told you this.”

“That does make sense,” mused Susan.

“What?”

“I said, that makes sense,” repeated Susan, and Y/N was relieved to see that she didn’t appear angry. “Considering how you talk about him. How long?”

“Um…”

“How long?!”

“Since…well, since 4th year,” said Y/N, wishing their window was large enough for her to open it and pitch herself off the side of the castle.

Susan’s eyebrows shot up. “Y/N! And you never told me?”

“I’m embarrassed by it,” Y/N admitted. “It’s a little masochistic, don’t you think? Local loser falls for the school bully?”

“Has he ever bullied you?”

“We’ve never even spoken,” said Y/N, quietly.

“Oh.” Susan chewed on her bottom lip. “That does complicate things. Have you ever had a class together or something?”

“Not since 4th year,” she said. “I guess our schedules just didn’t line up.”

“So why do you like him?”

And Y/N told her.

December 25th, 1994

Y/N teetered on her heels as Terry spun her yet again, sweeping her off her feet and making her erupt into a fit of laughter.

“You don’t need to do that,” she whispered into his ear between giggles. Terry really didn’t—the Bulgarian waltz only required the leading partner to turn with their partner, not pick them up off the ground and swing them about.

Terry just grinned loosely down at her, his hand casually rested on her waist. His face was pinker than usual, probably because of the copious amount of Firewhiskey he’d managed to nab off of the upperclassmen.

The two separated, in accordance with the waltz steps, turning around to face the dancer behind them.Y/N readied herself to do a simple waltz sequence around the room, but her confidence immediately wavered when she saw who was standing in front of her.

Draco Malfoy’s blond head dipped as he bowed, extending a hand. She curtsied, but her heart was thudding so hard that she was surprised that she didn’t trip and fall. It was probably from the exercise. Yes, she had just been sweating all over Terry as he picked her up and threw her about in the air. It had nothing to do with the pair of silver eyes trained on her.

He didn’t recognize her. He couldn’t have, not when he placed his hand on her waist and allowed her to take his hand without a single flinch. Malfoys were notorious for their blood prejudices. He probably thought that she was a half-blood Hufflepuff, like the near entirety of the Hogwarts student population. Muggleborns were rare, rarer than members of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. Unless he had known of her before, he had no reason to assume she was one.

As they waltzed across the dance floor, Y/N allowed herself to appreciate the way that they moved together. Where Terry was occasionally klutzy and uncoordinated, Malfoy floated, guiding them across the floor with a practiced ease that was undoubtedly the result of years of a proper Pureblood upbringing. He was warm and solid against her, and she could feel the chill of his signet ring permeating the thin fabric of her gown.

She let herself look at his face when they returned to their original places. His gaze was fixed on something over her shoulder, but the effect was all the same.

Fuck thought Y/N as she stared at him. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

She knew this feeling.

They separated, and Y/N yanked her eyes from his, finding Terry’s arms and attempting to forget all about what she’d just felt. But it became hard for her to deny when she noticed how often her eyes left her own date to look for that telling blonde head of hair. She drank in every sight of him like a woman parched, hoping to memorize the way that his lithe form looked in his formal black dressing robes, the way that his starchy white collar accentuated his sharp jawline.

He was perfect. And she was fucked.

September 1st, 1996

“You danced with him once and decided you were going to have his babies?” said Susan, one eyebrow arched.

“Ew.” Y/N smacked her roommate with her pillow. “Gross. And it was a really good dance! We were a good partnership.”

“And you know this because you took one trip across the ballroom, doing one of the easiest dance steps known to man? With a pureblood who could probably waltz his shoes tied together?”

Y/N turned even redder. “Hey! I can’t help it. He’s just…You know?”

“Unfortunately, I do know,” Susan conceded. “Theo makes me feel that way too.”

“Speaking of Nott—I mean, Theo—” Y/N paused, wondering if it was too early and weird for her to ask.

“Yeah?”

“Do you spend any time with Draco when you’re with the Slytherins? What’s he like?”

Thankfully, Susan didn’t seem like she was going to tease her for her hopeless antics. She frowned, tilting her head. “He’s…quiet. Very quiet. Maybe it’s just because I’m there. He probably has some bloodline curse prohibiting him from chatting up a Hufflepuff or something—no offense.”

“None taken,” said Y/N. “I meant it when I said that I knew this was all a pipe dream. Do you think…I dunno, this is stupid.”

“In dark times like these, we should all treasure the questions from hopeless crushes a little more. If we can’t allow ourselves this, then what else do we have?”

Y/N smiled gratefully. “I know you say he’s quiet. But from what you’ve seen, do you think we’d get along?”

Susan opened her mouth before closing it.

“I mean, apart from the fact that I’m a muggleborn and a Hufflepuff,” Y/N hastily added. “Just, like, our personalities.”

“Oh,” said Susan, appearing relieved. “Like I said, I don’t know all that much about him or his personality. When I see the Slytherins, he normally just adds a few sarcastic comments here and there.”

“Hm.” Y/N tried not to think too hard about whether or not they were compatible based off of the one singular detail Susan had gleaned from her interactions with him.

“I can ask Theo, you know,” said Susan. “I can be really sly about it. He wouldn’t know it was you. I’ll just ask him what Draco’s type is or something.”

“I don’t think Theo even knows who I am,” said Y/N. “I don’t think any of them know who I am, either.”

“That’s probably for the better,” said Susan. “Theo has been good about it, but I think that you’re better off without them knowing about another muggleborn at Hogwarts. You see how they treat Granger.”

Y/N hummed in agreement.

“I’ll ask,” Susan said, her tone final. “And I’ll be so sneaky about it. It’ll never get back to you. But…”

“But?”

Susan shifted. “You’ve seen him with Parkinson, right?”

“Yes.” Y/N didn’t mean to sound so sharp.

“I’m just saying this because I love you, Y/N,” said Susan. “I want you to be prepared in case Theo tells me that they’re together. For all we know, they could have an engagement arranged after they graduate.”

Y/N felt positively ill. “I know. I’m okay with it. I’ve come to terms with the fact that it’s never going to happen. I just kind of want to know. If you come back and tell me that you think he’s completely incompatible with me then I’ll feel better about forgetting all about it.”

“That’s smart,” responded Susan, looking thoughtful. “But I’m sorry if it doesn’t work out. You deserve the best, you know.”

She let her roommate pull her into a hug. She could tell that another apology was on the tip of her friend’s tongue: perhaps a more eloquently worded, “I’m sorry you were born a muggleborn.” Y/N didn’t mind being muggleborn, but in that moment, she would’ve given anything in the world to have magical lineage.

Y/N’s nails bit into the flesh of her palms as she wound about the dungeon corridors. She had spent every year prior heading to Snape’s room for Potions and gotten so accustomed to walking to the same classroom that she never bothered to explore more of the dungeons. She hated the way that everything was so dank, dripping, and dark.

She also hated the way that she was going to be late to her first Potions class. Because she couldn’t find the classroom, like a bloody first-year.

THIS is not a good look for me she thought as she finally caught sight of a door propped open with students inside. I’m letting down all the muggleborns.

Her shoes clicked on the stone floor as she entered, prompting Slughorn to pause his lecturing to turn and regard her.

“Miss…” He frowned, plucking a small piece of parchment from the table.

“Y/L/N, sir,” she answered. Her cheeks grew hot as she felt the weight of the entire class’s eyes on her.

“Ah, I see,” said Slughorn, nodding. “Miss Bones told me you were coming. Lost your way?”

“Yes,” she replied, catching Susan’s eye. “Forgive me, Professor. I don’t spend much time down here.”

Slughorn awarded her with a smile that was clearly forced. “No matter. Take a seat. We’re reviewing the general structure of an antidote.”

Y/N scanned the room. There was one empty seat next to Susan and Nott, thank Merlin. Y/N had never felt more grateful. Then she realized who was sitting with them and her heart ceased to beat.

“Y/N,” greeted Susan as she set her things down on the ground and sat down. “Have you met Theo?”

Nott grinned wolfishly at her from across the table, dimples appearing in his golden skin. Y/N could see why Susan was drawn to him. “Hi, Y/N. I met you on the train, didn’t I?”

“Hi,” she said shyly. “I think so.” She wasn’t sure if her voice was going to work properly if she said any more.

“And have you met Malfoy?” Nott gestured towards the boy sitting next to him, levitating a quill and looking profoundly uninterested.

Y/N sent a kick to Susan’s shin under the table. “No. I, er, don’t think I have.”

Draco looked up from his quill for a second and their eyes locked. Her heart thudded like it was suddenly full of lead. He raised his hand in a half-hearted wave, fingers loose. Then he looked back down, twirling the quill around said long fingers. He obviously didn’t care. Y/N swallowed. He was wearing a Malfoy signet ring on his pointer finger, a silver metal that captured the light in the room and accentuated the elegant slope of his skin. He had hands that looked like they could belong to a Michelangelo sculpture and he didn’t care about her at all.

She felt like she was going to puke.

“Malfoy, this is Y/N,” said Nott, and she felt like she wanted to immediately melt into a puddle and die. “Y/N Y/L/N.”

Malfoy didn’t even bother introducing himself, but he looked at her again. This time, it felt like he was reevaluating her. His gaze lingered, only snapping to attention once Slughorn began to lecture once again.

And thus was Y/N’s first interaction with Malfoy in two years.

“Merlin, Susan,” grumbled Y/N as they sat together at lunch, huddled together and attempting to quell their first day blues with the soup in front of them. “That was disastrous.”

“It’s okay, Y/N,” soothed Susan. She’d been hearing Y/N moan about her interaction with Malfoy all day. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I didn’t say anything to him,” replied Y/N, grieving over her bowl. “All I did was sit there and stare at his hands. Do you think he noticed?”

“I don’t,” Susan told her. Her hand came up to touch Y/N’s back. “I don’t mean to take the wind out of your sails, but he wasn’t really paying much attention to you.”

“I know,” said Y/N, and upon hearing how loudly she’d snapped it, immediately lowered her voice. “That’s the real kicker. Now I know, I guess. He’s got no interest in me. It’s a lost cause. I’m over it, damn it all—”

“Apologies for interrupting,” said a smooth voice from behind her. Y/N froze. She knew who this was.

“Theo!” said Susan, spinning around and beaming up at her Slytherin “it’s complicated”-friend. He returned the smile with equal affection, reaching out to press a thumb into the dimple in her left cheek. “Why’re you here?”

“I have a proposition for you,” he said to Susan before turning to face Y/N. “And you, too, Y/N. If you’d like.”

Y/N had a feeling she would not like it.

“Surely you’ve heard about our fun little get togethers,” said Nott. The slant of his mouth had morphed from adoration to slyness, and it made Y/N want to squirm in her seat (though she would not give any Slytherin the satisfaction of letting him see that).

“A little,” Susan deadpanned. It was an understatement. Slytherin parties were legendary. Even more mythic were the invites—it was near impossible to get into one without being a Slytherin already.

“Well, I’d love to see you there,” said Nott. “Both of you there. Y/N, it’s been a pity that I hardly know you.”

Something inside Y/N froze. Did he know? Did any of them know that she was a muggleborn? Susan seemed to be undergoing the same thought process as emotions flickered across her face.

But despite all of her reservations, Y/N knew one thing: Susan, as a pureblood and a witch who was hopelessly infatuated with Theodore Nott, was going to be going to this party whether she was allowed or not.

“She’d love to go,” said Y/N. Nott’s eyebrows shot up while Susan kicked her under the table once.

“I’m thrilled,” he said, awarding her yet another dazzling smile. “And you, Y/N? Will I be getting to see you there as well?”

“No, I couldn’t—”

“Why? Do you have plans?”

“Well, no—”

“So come,” Nott insisted.

“I’m really not sure—”

“About what?”

If you want someone like me there she thought, but she decided not to share it. “You don’t know me like you know Susan. There’s no need to invite me.”

“Forget Susan,” said Nott, waving his hand. Susan theatrically gasped. “I’m inviting you. It’s a mere coincidence that I ran into both of you whilst distributing invitations.”

Here, Y/N was beginning to feel confused. Nott didn’t know her. There was no reason for him to offer her an invitation to one of the most exclusive parties in recent Hogwarts history.

He cocked his head as he regarded her with startling attention. “I’ll assume that I’ll see you this Friday. I’ll send you both invites. No one else knows, yeah?”

Susan nodded, but Y/N sat frozen.

“Why did he invite me?” she asked Susan once Nott had disappeared back into the ranks of the Slytherin table.

“I have no clue,” whispered Susan back. “But maybe it would be a good thing to do.”

“He’s going to be there.”

“He is.”

Y/N gulped. “Do you think this is all a cruel joke?”

Susan frowned, but shook her head. “No. Theo’s not like that. He’s a bit of a tosser sometimes, but not like that.”

The week stretched on. Slughorn gave them unofficial official assigned seats, and Y/N found herself trying her very best not to stare at the group member across from her. She and Draco had had no further interactions beyond him asking for the beetroot powder and her trying to quell her blush as she said, “uh, yeah” and handed it to him.

As Friday drew closer, anticipation for her new evening plans grew. She was worried, of course, worried about the implications of the invite—not to mention the actual events that would transpire when she attended. But a part of her wondered, just barely, if Draco had been the one to insist that Nott invite her the day he approached her at lunch. There’s no reason that Nott would talk to her otherwise. Right? It couldn’t be a coincidence that that happened on the day that she sat with him in Potions.

She was aware that she was going completely nutters, of course. It wasn’t as if she was proud of her train of thought. Deep down, Y/N knew all of her speculation was bordering on insanity. But what was a teenage girl without a little lunacy?

“Does my liner look straight?” asked Y/N, pressing her face into Susan’s and blinking dramatically.

“It looks perfect,” said Susan. “Just like the rest of you. Where did this dress come from? I’ve never seen you in it before.”

Y/N grinned. She was wearing one of her summer wardrobe splurges—a black silk slip dress that ended a bit above her knees. The enchanted tights on her legs added a witchy element, golden vines twinkling intermittently around a sheer black background. She’d let Susan talk her into wearing a delicate gold necklace with a badger pendant, short enough that it only reached her chest right under her collarbones.

When she’d caught the reflection of herself in the mirror, she was shocked by what she saw. The black in her waterline made her eyes pop. In short, she looked…pretty. Beautiful, even.

“Like I said,” Susan said from behind her, looking into the mirror with her, “Perfect. Do you think we can go now? I’m getting nervous about finding the dungeons.”

“Sure.”

Y/N was sure she was physically trembling by the time that they found the entrance to the Slytherin common room. It didn’t help that the dungeons were cold and damp. The exposed skin on her neck, shoulders, and chest were desperately paying the price.

“I wish I had brought a sweater,” complained Y/N as they prepared to knock on the door.

“That would be social suicide,” said Susan flatly before rapping three times. Y/N snorted. Yeah. Merlin forbid someone in the dungeons was actually comfortable.

The door swung open to reveal Gregory Goyle, a sneer fitted onto his face as he glared down at the two Hufflepuffs. “Invites?”

Susan reached into her pockets and pulled out two rich forest green envelopes. Goyle plucked them out of her fingers with no excess civility, giving her a suspicious look as he ripped the envelopes open and examined their contents. Once he was satisfied, he gave a grunt that Y/N supposed was intended to be approval, given that he moved out of the entrance to make room for them to fit through.

The only light came from the walls, where dark green lights had been attached to the walls, omitting a sort of slimy glow to the room. Some students were dancing in the middle to whatever music was on—Y/N couldn’t recognize it, but she supposed it was wizarding party music—while others were clustered in groups around the walls, talking animatedly with their friends. A table was set up near the fireplace with a collection of bottles strewn about with cups. She recognized the Firewhiskey labels from her spot across the room, but the rest was difficult to discern.

“Y/N! Suz!” The voice came from the armchairs by the windows. Y/N whipped sound to see Theo sitting perched on a thick leather couch, waving enthusiastically in their direction.

“Let’s go!” said Y/N, tugging on Susan’s sleeve, Her friend appeared frozen in place.

“I can’t believe he likes me,” said Susan. “Look at him. He’s gorgeous.”

“And so are you!” Y/N replied, shaking her shoulders. “And he’s waiting for us!”

She pulled Susan over to the windows. Theo, Zabini, Parkinson, and Greengrass all sat, a few tumblers scattered on the table.

“Who’s this?” asked Parkinson sourly, giving Y/N and Susan a very obvious once-over,

“Susan, the prettiest girl in our year,” said Theo, and Y/N swore she saw Susan ascend.

Parkinson snorted. “Oh. Yeah. Sure. And the other one?” Y/N, too, was curious to hear his answer.

“My potions savior,” said Theo, grinning. “Y/N. She gave me sophrous powder when no one else would.”

Y/N blinked. Huh?

“I didn’t take you for a philanthropist,” said Zabini. His fingers pressed into the high arches of his cheekbones as he rested his face in his hand, regarding Y/N and Susan with a practiced disinterest.

And thus concluded their entrance into the Slytherin dorms. Theo ushered both of them onto the couches before disappearing with the promise to return with drinks, which he did, promptly. They tasted like a fireplace, Y/N thought, as she sat, nursed her drink, and wondered where Draco could possibly be. Thanks to Susan, she was given a chance to hang out with his friends. Just her luck that the one time she was invited, he wasn’t even there.

“Where’s Draco?” asked Parkinson. The momentary gratitude that arose in Y/N was immediately squelched by the sick feeling of jealousy. Why did Parkinson care? Were they together?

Theo rolled his eyes and pretended to stretch, using the opportunity to drape an arm over Susan’s shoulder in a gesture that was comically obvious. “You know how he is. I asked him if he was coming and he got all bitchy, saying something about how he’s got too much this weekend and can’t be bothered with THAT kind of stuff anymore.” Theo’s voice morphed into a caricature of Draco’s snotty drawl near the end, and it made even Y/N giggle.

“First time I’ve made you laugh, ever,” Theo pointed out. His eyes were boring into hers. “Is that what I need to do to get you to like me more? More unbearable Draco impressions?”

“Maybe,” Y/N said through laughs. She couldn’t remember why she’d hated Theodore Nott for so long. Looking back on it, she couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten on her nerves or cheered as other Slytherins insulted the muggleborns. He was just friends with the people who did, which Y/N supposed was just as bad, but it certainly didn’t always seem like it.

When Theo pulled Susan up to dance, Y/N became keenly aware of the fact that she had no one else at the party beyond the scowling Slytherins sitting around her.

“So,” said Zabini awkwardly, clearing his throat. “Y/N, did you say?”

She took another sip of her drink. She’d already taken too many sips out of nervousness, and now it was almost gone. And she didn’t know how strong it was. “Yeah. Zabini, right?”

“Yeah.”

They stared at each other for another few seconds.

“I love your mother’s work,” she offered. “8 husbands in one decade? That has to be a sort of record.”

“It is, actually,” said Zabini, sitting up straighter. “It used to be 5. She beat the last witch by quite a margin.”

“Impressive,” Y/N said, and she wasn’t lying.

“Have you always gone to Hogwarts?” asked Greengrass, a slightly dreamy look in her eyes.

“Yes,” said Y/N, “But I normally keep to myself. I’m mostly friends with Hufflepuffs, you see.”

“I’m surprised I’ve never heard of you before.” Parkinson was looking at her like a big cat about to pounce.

Y/N swallowed. It wasn’t like she had much of a relationship to salvage with any of the Slytherins in the room. She could leave, and Theo would take care of Susan. It wouldn’t hurt to come clean, right? She’d read somewhere that admitting to something before you were caught made you seem more powerful.

She decided to go for it.

“Yeah. That’s probably because I’m a muggleborn.”

The group went silent. Horror filled their faces as the realization dawned on them.

Then Parkinson laughed, a cruel, biting sort of laugh. “How’d you get an invite?”

“I didn’t, not really,” said Y/N. “It’s just because of Susan.”

“So Bones is a blood traitor?” said Greengrass, her dreamy look wiped off and replaced with a sneer. “Isn’t this rich? I swear, are there any of us left? We’re dropping like flies. Does Theo know about this?”

The thought seemed to disturb Parkinson enough to spring into action.

“Theo!” she screeched, reaching a hand up to wave wildly in the direction of the couple, The blood red nail polish on her fingers looked black under the green lights. “Come here! This instant!”

Y/N was just about to flee, when—

“Shut up, you stupid bint,” said a low, drawling voice behind her. Y/N froze. She knew that voice. Was she so drunk that she was imagining Draco Malfoy’s voice?

The weight on the couch shifted next to her as someone sat down. She wouldn’t look—couldn’t look, she was too terrified—but the way the green light reflected off the pale hair of the person beside her told her enough.

How had literally everything gone to shit in less than a minute?

“Draco!” cooed Parkinson. “I didn’t know you were coming!”

“I thought I’d drop in to say hullo,” Draco said, crossing one dragonhide clad foot over the opposite knee. HIs raised thigh nearly brushed hers, and Y/N felt her heart lurch into her throat. “What did I miss?”

Draco Malfoy was sitting next to her. Draco Malfoy was almost touching her. Draco Malfoy was talking more than he ever had in front of her. Draco Malfoy was definitely not even slightly paying attention to her.

“...and I was just telling this mudblood here to get out,” finished Parkinson. Y/N hadn’t heard the beginning, she was so lost in thought.

And apparently Draco Malfoy knew she was a muggleborn now.

“Oh,” was all he said, swirling a cup around in his hands. “So I haven’t missed much.”

It was so casual, so uninterested. Y/N was sure she was about to die of embarrassment, but she was frozen in her spot, so the act of spontaneously shuffling off the mortal coil was perhaps a tall order for her when she couldn’t even manage a blink.

“Do you need help finding the door?” said Parkinson, now addressing Y/N with a saccharine sweet voice. “Or do you think you can manage?”

Y/N found herself on her feet all of a sudden, vile words on her tongue and a prominent fantasy in her mind that included decking Parkinson. The sudden movement thawed her petrification, but she was still struggling to come up with a retort.

Y/N eyes met Parkinson’s, and suddenly she heard herself talking. “You’re not very good at putting eyeliner on. Your lids are too oily for the charm.” And honest to god, Y/N was right. Parkinson had used the classic eyeliner charm that every witch knew, and it had since transferred onto the middle of her lid.

Then she chucked her Firewhiskey cup at Parkinson’s head with as much strength as she could muster and ran for her life.

It was late. Y/N didn’t know where she was, or how she had gotten so lost in the dungeons.

“Is anyone there?”

The voice echoed in the corridor behind her. It sounded like a student, most likely a male 6th year prefect. She shivered. It was past curfew—way past curfew. If a prefect caught her, she’d be fucked. She needed to run to make sure she wouldn’t be given detention, but she was so lost. And her feet felt glued to the floor in a way that didn’t seem reasonable.

The footsteps approaching her rounded the corner. It seemed peculiar to Y/N—the voice had sounded much further away. But there was no reason dwelling upon that when she could be thinking about how to talk herself out of a detention.

“Oh. It’s you.”

When she turned around to face the person speaking, she saw Draco. He was standing in the middle of the hall with his hands shoved into the pockets of his Quidditch robes. Why was he wearing Quidditch robes? It was late at—Y/N checked her catch, and was startled to see that the face was completely empty. She also didn’t know how she had gotten here. What was going on? Why was Draco Malfoy patrolling the halls in his Quidditch robes? He hadn’t played since last year.

“Why are you wearing your Quidditch robes?” asked Y/N, frowning and tilting her head. “I didn’t think you were playing this year.”

Draco gave her a weird look. “Why would I be wearing—oh.” He looked down at himself and pulled at the fabric draped over his shoulders, his scowl deepening. “I’m—not sure.”

Not that Y/N was complaining. Draco in his normal apparel was drop dead handsome, but there was something about how he looked clad in the forest green swaths of Slytherin’s uniform with his last name displayed on his back. She’d always taken extra time to admire him from the Quidditch stands during games.

“This is a dream, you know,” said Draco. And once he said that, it became clear that everything around her but him was fuzzy and distorted, with inaccurate proportions that seemed improbable.

Something was shaking at her shoulder, too.

“Y/N.”

It echoed, but it didn’t come from Draco’s mouth.

“I think someone’s calling you,” said Draco, motioning behind her with his chin. “You should go.”

“Y/N!”

Susan’s face appeared in front of her, bathed in the sunlight that was currently spilling into their dorm room through the windows. Draco slowly faded from her vision.

“Wake up!”

Y/N groaned, rolling over. She became keenly aware of the fact that she was in fact lying down, not standing in the Slytherin dungeons. As she came to, the memories floated back to her—meeting Theo’s friends, seeing Draco, throwing her drink in Pansy’s face, running back to her dorm and making it in record time—none of which involving a run in with Draco beyond the common room.

“Oh god,” murmured Y/N.

“You’re a legend, dude,” said Susan. “That drink throw was all anyone could talk about. You hit her right in the face, you know, from across the table and after drinking an entire cup of Firewhiskey.”

“She’s going to try and kill me,” moaned Y/N, rolling onto her back and hiding her face. “She’s gonna kill me dead.”

“I’m really sorry, though,” said Susan with a bit more earnestness. “I shouldn’t have left you alone with them. I got carried away. Theo invited me to go dance with him, and then we just started talking, and—”

“Please don’t apologize,” said Y/N. “I’m really happy you got to have that moment with him. I’m sorry I kind of ruined last night.”

“Eh.” Susan shrugged. “I think most people thought it was funny. Apart from Parkinson and Greengrass, of course. I think they’re a bit more peeved.”

“Well, it’s not like I see them much,” said Y/N. “They know I’m a muggleborn now, though.”

“Does Draco?”

“Yeah.”

“Aw, Y/N.” Susan reached out to brush her hair off of her forehead. “I’m sorry you didn’t get to tell them on your own terms.”

“I actually did, I think,” said Y/N, the events of the previous night slowly clarifying in front of her. “Granted, I was a bit drunk, but I decided to just get it on the table.”

“Oh. Wow. Do you…Was it…Are you happy that you did?”

“Yeah, honestly.” Y/N finally pushed her covers away and sat up. As much as she adored Susan, sometimes it was clear that her best friend didn’t understand what it was like to be anything but pureblooded. “I was sick of dancing around it. I just wanted to own it, you know? I didn’t want to constantly worry that one of them might find out. I don’t want them to think I’m ashamed of my blood status.”

“That’s…I never thought about it like that,” said Susan, thoughtfully. “Then I’m happy for you, Y/N. That’s really strong of you.”

“Thanks. Do you think Parkinson is going to target me now?”

“I’m not sure,” replied Susan. “I think she’s spending most of her energy nowadays trying to get Malfoy’s attention.”

Y/N chose to believe her friend as she got up to get ready for breakfast, letting her thoughts wander beyond Pansy Parkinson and to her dream last night instead.

When she was younger, she used to be able to lucid dream, spending every night going on adventures of her own volition and flying about the world without the aid of a plane or a broom. School stress had made it difficult to dream consciously, so that had long since fallen to the wayside.

But it was so fun to lucid dream. She’d forgotten how nice it was to have a practice world to herself all night where she could do anything she wanted without any consequences.

Now that she thought about it, she was devastated at the way she’d squandered the opportunity to snog Draco Malfoy senseless in her dream. Granted, it wouldn’t really be Draco Malfoy—it would be her mind’s version of Draco Malfoy—but it would be better than nothing. It had been too long since she’d had a good snog session. So long, in fact, that she was willing to resort to making out with her crush in her dreams if that was all the action she was going to get.

She could have kissed him, or confessed, or at the very least touched his hair or felt the firmness of his chest underneath his Quidditch robes. And his Quidditch robes, too—her subconscious was generous indeed.

At that moment, Y/N promised herself that if she ever met Draco in a dream again, she was going to jump him.

Nothing could’ve prepared her for the cheers that rang throughout the Great Hall when she entered that morning, still bleary-eyed with sleep and uncoordinated.

“Is that her?” she heard someone whisper, and suddenly the entire Gryffindor table was erupting in whoops and hollers and clapping.

“Merlin, Susan,” gasped Y/N as she watched the 6th year Gryffindors cheering and pointing at her. “What’s going on?”

“I told you,” said Susan, a gleam in her eye, “You’re an icon. It looks like word got out that you were the girl who threw the drink.”

“What’s your name?” asked a Gryffindor boy that smelled faintly of smoke as they walked past.

“Um—Y/N Y/L/N—”

“Y/N Y/L/N WAS THE WITCH WHO DECKED PARKINSON,” he bellowed. The cheering grew even louder, this time with the addition of her name being sung, and Y/N felt herself blush.

“I wouldn’t say decked—”

“Just take the praise,” said Susan, reaching for her sleeve and yanking her forward.

“Why are they so excited about this? I feel like this is hardly the first time Parkinson’s gotten into a scuffle.”

Susan shrugged. “I think Gryffindor has some sort of special grudge against Parkinson. I think most of the people at that table would’ve killed to do what you did. But they don’t get invites to Slytherin parties where they’re close enough to hit their mark.”

“This honestly can’t be good,” said Y/N, staring at the porridge in her bowl once they were seated. “Remember how I was planning to spend my time at Hogwarts, and I quote, ‘under the radar’? This isn’t that.”

“I don’t know what radar is. I just nodded when you told me that.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “You better hope that you never have to survive in the Muggle world.”

Their conversation morphed into one of chatter and casual gossip. Thankfully, the Gryffindor table had slowly calmed down and Y/N was finally able to eat in peace. Susan had to dash in time to meet Theo at Hogsmeade, so Y/N was left alone with her thoughts as she finished up her food.

Now that she was awake and her dream was behind her, one question lingered: what did Draco think of what happened? Was he impressed that she wasn’t just the standard Hufflepuff archetype? Was he angry at her for Pansy’s sake? Did he even care?

He probably didn’t. He likely didn’t even remember her name, even if he was in the Great Hall while the Gryffindors were chanting it. Merlin knew that he had never referred to her directly. Speaking of which…She frowned, poking the last remnants of her porridge around the bowl. Was he in the Great Hall? Had he seen the Gryffindor fiasco?

Her seat at the Hufflepuff table only faced the Ravenclaw table and the wall. The Slytherin table was right behind her, so even though she hadn’t seen him coming in, it would only be just a quick turn to check…

Under the pretense of stretching, Y/N swiveled about in her seat, planning to scan up and down the aisle as briefly as possible to see if Draco was there. What she wasn’t expecting was Draco sitting right behind her, already staring.

Their eyes locked with an intensity that felt like a gong had been struck within her. Y/N shut her eyes and whipped around, shoving her things back into her satchel and rising to leave.

…imperfections in the ball, if dropped or cracked, can lead to disastrous results. Instances like these are rare, but should the crystal be damaged, the user ought to immediately consult a professional to check for lingering magical effects…

Y/N frowned. She had no idea what to say after that line. Were “lingering magical effects” all Trelawney mentioned? And what was she supposed to recommend beyond, “Find someone else who can fix it”?

She collapsed onto her essay, allowing herself a moment to grieve. She’d been rewriting the same page of her Divination essay for at least half an hour and had made what felt like no progress.

Forcing herself to sit up again, she resolved to finish it again. If she had to go back to her dorm and get her notes, then she would—

A fluttering next to her made her jump. Her notes had just appeared next to her on the library table, but when she reached out to open them, they jerked away. She tried again, and just like before, it scurried away from her grip.

“The fuck?” Y/N muttered as she stood up to get more leverage. Oh, oops. She shouldn’t be talking so loudly in the library at…She checked her watch. Once again, the face was empty.

“This is a dream,” she realized aloud.

“Yes,” said a voice next to her. She jumped, turning to see Draco sitting beside her, his own notes splayed out across the table. “This isn’t real.”

“Are you sure?” asked Y/N, praying that he wasn’t just toying with her.

“Yes,” said Draco again, though his voice was distant.

Y/N thought about that for a moment. The clocks weren’t working. She wasn’t sure how she’d ended up in the library. No matter what she wrote down on her scroll, she had to start over from the beginning. The outlines of the stacks were wavering in the background.

Yup, definitely dreaming. And lucid, and sitting next to Draco Malfoy. So she had to make good on her promise.

She casually straightened her legs, holding eye contact with Draco when he looked up as she drew close enough to sit on the armrest of his chair. As always, his features were schooled into a mask of disinterest, but she saw the slight widening of his eyes as she reached up and threaded her fingers through his hair. It was soft, softer than she had imagined.

And then she kissed him.

He was oddly stiff and surprised, like he wasn’t expecting it—which was weird, because he was from her head and he should have known, considering how often she thought about doing this to him.

Draco pulled away, giving her an odd look.

“Er…”

“This is a dream,” she repeated.

“Right,” he said, though his eyes were unfocused. “A dream.”

His pupils were blown so wide they made his eyes appear almost black. Y/N found herself wondering how he was so clear in contrast to everything else in her dream, every detail of his body accurate to how she’d remembered in real life and not the slightest bit disfigured. She was so busy puzzling over how real the dream felt that she barely noticed his own hand reaching up to touch her cheek, touching the skin and dragging the fingertip down. Once it reached her jaw, it was replaced with his full palm, warm and soft against her skin as it crept behind her neck and tugged her face down to his.

This time, it was he who kissed her. His lips were a pleasant heat against her own as he tilted his head. She let her own lips part, and he accidentally bumped her teeth.

“Merlin, sorry,” he said, breaking away and letting out a breathy laugh that vibrated in his chest.

“That’s okay,” she said, smiling but drawing closer once again. She attempted to maneuver herself off of the armrest and onto his lap but teetered on her way down; in response, his hands came up to dig into her waist and steady her.

“I think your rings are really hot,” she said once she was firmly on top of him, not even thinking to be embarrassed. This wasn’t Draco. This was Imaginary Draco. Who gave a fuck what he thought?

“Yeah?” he teased, the corner of his mouth turning slightly upwards.

She gasped as something ice cold brushed against her thigh. Suddenly she became aware of the fact that she wasn’t wearing her usual tights and skirt under her robes. She wasn’t even wearing robes; instead, she was dressed the way she was for the party on Friday.

His fingers danced across the insides of her thighs once again, the coolness of his rings a stark contrast to the steadily rising temperature of her skin.

“You’re burning,” he said as he continued to stroke the swath of skin under her dress. She shifted her weight forward to catch his mouth with hers again. This time, when his tongue brushed the seam of her lips, it felt natural to part them and kiss him deeper. It felt like he was devouring her, from the way his fingers dug into the flesh of her thigh to the way his other hand wound into her hair at the nape of her neck, holding her there.

She’d forgotten how loud it was to snog someone like your life depended on it. She’d also forgotten just how good it felt, and considering how much enthusiasm Dream Draco was bringing to the table, it appeared that her version of him had, too.

Perhaps she’d take up lucid dreaming as a hobby like muggles did. This was more than enough motivation.

Draco’s hand had migrated from her thigh to her ribcage, the fabric straining against it as he explored the newly discovered skin. He tasted like toothpaste, like he’d just brushed his teeth, and their kisses had long since turned sloppy, long finished with the pretense of uniformity and cohesion as they drank each other in

And just when he was kissing down the column of her neck, he began to seem farther away, fading in her eyesight as the beeping sound from her alarm began to slip into the dream. She didn’t even have the chance to say goodbye as she awoke.

She spent the entirety of Sunday locked away in her dorm, wondering how she was going to face him on Monday morning. Thankfully, her Divination paper kept her more than occupied. The more she wrote, the more she was convinced that all Seers were just faking it. All of this was so ludicrous.

That night, she didn’t dream of Draco, despite the amount that she’d thought of him (read: a lot). Instead, she dreamt of crystal balls and flying Firewhiskey cups.

final a/n: next part coming really soon. let me know your thoughts!

#draco x reader #draco malfoy x reader #draco imagine #draco malfoy imagine #draco x oc #draco malfoy x oc #draco x y/n #draco malfoy x y/n #draco x you #draco malfoy x you #draco #draco malfoy

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