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@dracomalfoy7
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STARTED: 09/14/2022
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Looks Better On You 1.3k
Beneath the Mark* 1.4k
Her. 1.2k
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The Other Half VI
PART V
Draco Malfoy x Slytherin!Reader Fling!Marco Flint x Slytherin!Reader Harry Potter x Sister!Reader
Summary: Harry Potter's twin sister y/n Potter transfers to Hogwarts during the third year. With Harry being a Gryffindor being sorted into Slytherin was hard enough. Now having to battle the shadow that comes with being the twin of the chosen one. On top of being the only girl on the Slytherin quidditch team. In the notorious cold-blooded house, y/n leans on the Bronze 5. Eventually falling for the pureblood prince, himself Draco Malfoy.
Word Count: 1.3k+
Warnings: Retired Voldy AU, Angst, Fluff, Cursing
A/N: Don't really know what picture to put so...😓 Also been working on pieces for other fandoms! PS. Not my gif
The following day dawned cool and crisp, the early autumn breeze rustling through the trees as the sunlight filtered through the high windows of the Slytherin common room. You stretched and yawned, still groggy from the previous night’s celebration. Despite the late hour at which you’d gone to bed, your mind was buzzing with energy. There was something different in the air today, and it wasn’t just the excitement from making the Quidditch team. It was as if the school itself had shifted, subtly but unmistakably, following your accomplishment.
Pulling yourself out of bed, you dressed quickly in your school uniform and made your way to the Great Hall for breakfast. The corridors were already filled with students, chatting about the upcoming weekend and classes, though you noticed a few lingering glances thrown your way. Most were friendly or curious, but some were tinged with a touch of surprise. Slytherin’s newest Quidditch player had caught the attention of the entire school. You had expected it, but seeing it firsthand was another thing altogether.
As you walked through the double doors of the Great Hall, the usual noise of students talking over breakfast filled the space, but your eyes were drawn to the Slytherin table. Pansy, Blaise, Draco, and Enzo were already seated, and they waved you over with a grin.
“There she is! The newest star of Slytherin Quidditch,” Enzo called out as you approached.
Pansy smirked, flicking a piece of toast in your direction. “I’m surprised you’re awake after last night. Thought you’d sleep in after all the celebrating.”
You rolled your eyes, taking a seat beside Blaise. “I’m not that weak, Pansy.”
Blaise chuckled, pushing a plate of food toward you. “You were the life of the party last night, Potter. I didn’t think Gryffindors could handle a Slytherin party, but your brother and his friends seemed to fit in well enough.”
“You’ve got to admit,” Pansy added with a teasing smile, “it was kind of hilarious seeing Harry Potter in our common room, acting like he belonged there.”
You laughed, thinking back to the previous night. It was true—Harry and the others had blended into the party surprisingly well. The initial awkwardness of Gryffindors mingling with Slytherins had dissolved quickly, replaced with a sense of camaraderie that felt... natural, in a way.
“Yeah, it was a good night,” you agreed, taking a bite of toast. “But I’m not letting that distract me. We’ve got a lot of practice ahead before our first match.”
“Speaking of,” Blaise said, leaning in slightly, “Flint was talking about setting up a team meeting later today. Wants to go over some strategies.”
You nodded, not surprised. Marcus Flint was known for being intense, and you had a feeling the next few weeks were going to be grueling with practices and strategy sessions. Still, you were up for the challenge. You wanted to prove yourself—not just to Marcus or your teammates, but to the entire school. Slytherin needed to win the Quidditch Cup this year, and you were determined to help make that happen.
As you continued eating, Draco remained unusually quiet beside you. He hadn’t said much since you arrived, and the memory of last night’s conversation nagged at the back of your mind. There had been something in his tone when he warned you about Flint, something that didn’t quite fit the usual banter. But before you could dwell on it too much, a voice interrupted your thoughts.
“Mind if I join you?”
You looked up to see Harry standing beside the Slytherin table, his expression casual but curious. A few heads turned in the Great Hall—Harry Potter at the Slytherin table wasn’t exactly a common sight—but no one said anything. The rivalry between houses was less important these days, and besides, everyone knew Harry had come to celebrate with you last night.
“Of course,” you said, scooting over to make room for him. “What brings you here?”
Harry grinned as he sat down, grabbing a piece of toast from the table. “Just wanted to check in on my little sis. Figured I’d see how the first day as a Slytherin Quidditch player is treating you.”
Pansy snickered from across the table, her eyes gleaming. “We’re not going to steal her away from Gryffindor, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Harry raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. “I don’t know... I think she might prefer our common room after last night.”
You rolled your eyes, giving Harry a playful shove. “I’m fine, thanks. Just getting ready for practice later.”
“Well, we’ll have to see how Gryffindor holds up against you,” Harry said, though his tone was lighthearted. “I’ll be watching.”
The conversation flowed easily after that, with Harry sticking around to chat with you and your friends. It felt natural—like the lines between houses didn’t matter anymore, not when you had friends like this. The animosity that had once existed between Gryffindor and Slytherin seemed to fade into the background, replaced by something much more valuable: friendship.
As breakfast wound down, you and Harry stood up to leave at the same time. “I’ll see you later,” Harry said with a smile. “Don’t let Flint work you too hard.”
“Too late,” you called over your shoulder as you left the Great Hall, making your way to the Quidditch pitch.
Later that afternoon, the Slytherin Quidditch team gathered on the pitch. Marcus Flint was already there, pacing back and forth as he barked orders to the team. You joined the rest of the players, feeling the familiar adrenaline rush as you stepped onto the field. This was where you belonged—on a broom, with the wind in your hair, flying toward victory.
Flint wasted no time getting the team into gear. He paired you up with the other Chasers for drills, pushing you harder than you had expected, but you rose to the challenge. You weren’t about to let anyone think you didn’t deserve your spot on this team.
As you flew back and forth across the pitch, executing pass after pass with precision, you noticed Draco watching you from a distance. He was practicing with the other Seeker, but his attention kept drifting toward you. It was subtle, but you could feel his gaze on you, as if he were keeping an eye on you. Or maybe on Flint.
After practice, as the team started to disperse, you lingered on the pitch, catching your breath. Draco approached you, his broom slung over his shoulder.
“You did well today,” he said, his tone neutral but his eyes intense.
“Thanks,” you replied, wiping the sweat from your brow. “It’s hard work, but I’m getting used to it.”
Draco nodded, his expression unreadable. “Just make sure Flint doesn’t push you too hard.”
There it was again—that strange warning about Flint. You frowned slightly, confused by Draco’s sudden concern. “I can handle Flint,” you said, your tone a little sharper than you intended. “Why are you so worried about him?”
Draco hesitated, his jaw tightening. “It’s just... Flint can be difficult. He expects a lot from his players, especially the new ones.”
“I know that,” you said, still not understanding why Draco seemed so tense about it. “But I’m up for the challenge. I can take care of myself, Draco.”
He looked at you for a long moment, as if weighing something in his mind. Finally, he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Just... be careful, alright? Flint’s not always the easiest person to work with.”
You nodded, though you still didn’t quite understand why Draco was so fixated on this. “I will. Thanks for looking out for me.”
Draco gave you a small, almost imperceptible nod before turning and walking away, leaving you standing on the pitch with a million questions swirling in your mind.
As you watched him go, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was brewing beneath the surface—something that went beyond Quidditch and house rivalries. Whatever it was, you had a feeling it wasn’t going to stay hidden for long.
PART VII...
tags: @venomsvl @kaverichauhan @marplest@ghayosdrafts@babydaddy69
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Her.
Draco Malfoy x Slytherin!Reader
Summary: One shot inspired by the Percy Jackson scene where Percy sees Annabeth for the first time.
Word Count: 1.2k+
Warnings: None
A/N: I saw a TikTok of this scene and really wanted to write about it!! Lowkey though about turning this into a series?
Draco’s third year at Hogwarts, he was almost sure that he’d either end up marrying Pansy Parkinson or, worst-case scenario, the god-awful Astoria Greengrass. It was as if his life had been plotted out like some cursed prophecy, but that all changed during the second week of school.
Draco and Theodore Nott sat in Potions, their heads resting heavily in their hands as Professor Snape droned on about the intricacies of the Draught of Living Death. Another day, another boring lecture—Potions had lost its luster after two years of Snape's monotone voice.
That was until the classroom door creaked open.
At first, Draco didn’t bother turning his head, thinking it was just another late student. Snape had a way of terrifying most people into punctuality, but even he couldn't prevent the occasional tardy Slytherin or Gryffindor from sneaking in.
But then, an arm invaded Draco’s field of view, jabbing lightly at his shoulder.
“Draco. Dracooo. Hellooo, Earth to Dracoo,” Theo muttered beside him, his voice laced with curiosity.
Draco groaned. “What. do. you. want,” he responded irritably.
“Look at that girl,” Theo urged, his eyes gleaming with something Draco hadn't seen in him before—genuine fascination.
Rolling his eyes, Draco lifted his gaze from the pages of his Potions textbook, following Theo’s line of sight.
“Hello, Professor... Snape, is it?” The girl's voice was soft yet assertive, a sharp contrast to the silken drawl of Pansy or the shrillness of Daphne Greengrass.
Snape turned around slowly, his dark eyes narrowing, clearly not accustomed to being questioned.
“Yes?” he responded, a hint of annoyance evident.
“I believe this is my class,” the girl said, unbothered by Snape’s intimidating stare.
“Yes?” Snape responded again, clearly uncertain where this was going.
“Well, where do I sit then?”
There was a brief pause, and then Snape, with a flick of his wrist, gestured towards the only available seat near Pansy.
“How about next to Miss Parkinson?”
“Thank you, Professor.”
It wasn’t until the girl turned to walk toward her seat that Draco truly noticed her. She wore the standard Slytherin robes, the green and silver crest shimmering slightly in the dim light of the dungeon, but there was something about the way she carried herself that made her stand out from every other student. Her dark hair flowed down her back, and her eyes—Merlin, her eyes—seemed to pierce through the dimness of the room as if they could see right through you.
Draco felt his heart skip, and beside him, he could sense Theo had gone equally quiet, entranced by the same sight. His gaze followed her as she walked toward the empty seat near Pansy, each step deliberate, almost regal.
Blaise Zabini, sitting next to them, noticed the sudden change in both of their expressions and snickered. He snapped his fingers in front of their faces, breaking the trance.
“What are you two looking at?” Blaise asked with a knowing smirk.
Draco blinked, shaking himself out of his daze. “What’s her name?” he asked, his voice unusually eager, the words spilling out before he could stop them.
Blaise laughed, leaning back in his seat. “Ha! She’ll squash you like a bug, Malfoy. Don’t even think about it.”
“Her name,” Draco demanded, his impatience growing. He didn’t like not knowing, especially when it came to someone who had captured his attention so completely.
Blaise rolled his eyes. “Y/N Gaunt. Heir of the great Salazar Slytherin himself.”
Draco and Theo exchanged wide-eyed looks, both equally startled and intrigued. The Gaunt family had long been considered Slytherin royalty—practically legends in their own right. To have an heir of Salazar Slytherin himself sitting in Potions with them?
Draco couldn't help but stare, his eyes still following Y/N as she slid gracefully into the chair next to Pansy. Pansy, who was often insufferably possessive of Draco’s attention, seemed unusually quiet, clearly feeling the weight of Y/N’s presence as much as he did.
The moment Y/N settled in her seat, as if sensing the heavy gaze on her, she turned her head ever so slightly, meeting Draco’s stare head-on.
For a moment, the world outside that dungeon classroom seemed to disappear. There was no Professor Snape, no chatter of students, no bubbling cauldrons—just those piercing eyes staring straight into Draco’s own dark grey ones.
He quickly realized he had no idea what to do. Draco Malfoy, heir to one of the most powerful wizarding families, had never been at a loss for words when it came to anyone—yet here he was, speechless under the gaze of Y/N Gaunt.
Her lips quirked into the faintest hint of a smile—amused, perhaps, by his blatant staring—and then she turned back to face the front of the class, leaving Draco in a strange, fluttering mix of awe and frustration.
Theo leaned over, whispering excitedly. “Mate, did you see that? She's—she's unreal. I mean, Salazar Slytherin’s heir? What does that even mean for someone like her?”
Draco didn’t respond immediately. His mind was still spinning, trying to process how he had gone from nearly falling asleep in Potions to being completely captivated by a single person.
“Come on, Malfoy, stop staring. You’re gonna look like an idiot,” Blaise muttered under his breath, shaking his head.
But Draco couldn’t help it. There was something about her—something that made him feel like his entire world had shifted in that brief moment.
Class went on, but Draco barely registered a word Snape said. His attention drifted back to Y/N again and again, watching the way she flicked her wand with effortless precision during the practical portion of the lesson, the way her lips moved as she quietly muttered incantations under her breath, the way her fingers delicately handled the ingredients, almost as if she were weaving a spell with her hands alone.
He had never seen anyone like her before, and it unnerved him. He was Draco Malfoy. He was supposed to be the one people stared at, the one people were intrigued by, the one who commanded the room. But now... he felt like he had been thrown off-balance, no longer in control.
As the class came to an end and students began packing up their bags, Draco stood slowly, his gaze still fixed on Y/N. He was vaguely aware of Theo and Blaise talking beside him, but their words were drowned out by the rush of thoughts running through his head.
Y/N stood, too, gathering her things with the same quiet confidence that had enraptured him. She glanced in his direction one last time before sweeping out of the room, her robes billowing slightly behind her as she disappeared into the corridor.
Draco stared after her, the same thought echoing in his mind.
He needed to know more about Y/N Gaunt.
“Draco,” Theo nudged him, breaking him out of his reverie. “You alright, mate?”
“Yeah,” Draco muttered, though he knew full well he wasn’t. Something had changed—he didn’t know what exactly, but he knew that Y/N Gaunt was at the center of it.
As they walked out of the classroom together, Draco found himself glancing down the hallway where Y/N had disappeared. He didn’t know how, but he was determined to find out more about her. There was something about her—something that tugged at his very core—and he couldn’t shake the feeling that his life had just taken a turn he hadn’t anticipated.
For the first time in a long time, Draco Malfoy didn’t feel certain about his future.
And that both terrified and thrilled him.
Request are open!
Thank you to everyone who got me to 1000 likes!
Hello! I have a request if you're taking. Draco Malfoy w Slytherin reader. The reader's family are also death eaters. The reader receives the Dark Mark at the behest of her family, much earlier than Draco. Then Draco becomes a death eater. They must support each other as they carry this terrible burden and find comfort in each other during these difficult times. Despite their previous separations, they cannot break away from each other, and the reader teaches him to be braver, whatever happens.
Beneath the Mark
Draco Malfoy x Slytherin!Reader
Word Count: 1.4k+
Warnings: Angst, Depression, Anxiety, Overall dark themes.
A/N: I hope you like it!
The damp chill of Malfoy Manor was stifling, suffocating as it clung to her skin, seeping into her bones. She stood before the window in her bedroom, gazing at the dark horizon. Her eyes, empty and cold, bore the weight of secrets far too heavy for her age. The rolling clouds beyond seemed to mirror the storm that was ever-present in her mind. She shifted slightly, tugging down the sleeve of her robe to reveal the mark branded on her forearm: the Dark Mark.
She was too young when she received it, even younger than Draco, but it wasn’t her decision to make. Her family, long devoted to the Dark Lord, had ensured their loyalty was passed down through generations, and she was no exception. When the day came, they stood by with a mixture of pride and fear as she took the mark, her future forever entwined with the darkest forces in the wizarding world. She hadn’t known how heavy it would feel. Not the mark itself—she had grown accustomed to its sting—but the weight of expectation, of cruelty, of having no choice but to follow orders that clawed at her conscience.
The door creaked behind her, pulling her from her thoughts.
"Y/N."
She didn’t need to turn to know who it was. Draco's voice had become a familiar anchor, low and raspy from the sleepless nights he had begun to accumulate. They had known each other all their lives, both products of the same twisted ideals and upbringing. But lately, it was different. Lately, they were the only two who could truly understand the burdens they carried.
Turning slowly, she found Draco standing in the doorway, his pale face almost ghostly in the dim light. His features were sharp, his eyes hollow. He looked like he hadn’t eaten or slept properly in days. He had changed so much since the start of all this, since receiving his own mark.
"You're not supposed to be here," she whispered, though her words held no real objection.
"I know," Draco replied, stepping further into the room and closing the door behind him. "But I had to see you. I—" He faltered, his voice cracking slightly. "I don’t know how much longer I can do this."
Y/N studied him, her gaze softening. Draco Malfoy, the boy who had once been so arrogant, so sure of himself, was now nothing more than a shadow of the person he used to be. She crossed the room, her hand instinctively finding his. It was cold, trembling slightly, as if the weight of his burden had drained the warmth from his body.
"You have to keep going," she said quietly, though she wasn’t sure if she was reassuring him or herself.
"I’m not like you, Y/N," Draco said, shaking his head. His silver eyes found hers, filled with something that resembled both fear and regret. "You… you’ve always been so strong, so… unbreakable. I’m falling apart, and I can’t do anything to stop it."
Y/N felt a pang of guilt at his words. She wasn’t as strong as he thought she was. She had learned how to hide her fear, her doubts, but they lingered inside her like a festering wound. "You’re not falling apart," she whispered. "You’re just… overwhelmed. We all are."
He stared down at their joined hands, then slowly rolled up his sleeve. The Dark Mark on his forearm was still raw, the lines etched into his skin like a brand of ownership. He clenched his jaw as if to suppress the emotions it stirred within him.
"I thought it would get easier," he admitted. "That once I had it, once I was… part of all this, it would make sense. But nothing makes sense. I feel like I’m losing myself, like I’m just a puppet, waiting for someone else to pull the strings."
Y/N swallowed, the bitterness of his words striking deep. She understood all too well. The Dark Mark wasn’t just a symbol of loyalty to Voldemort; it was a symbol of losing your identity, your autonomy. Once you bore that mark, nothing else mattered. You belonged to him.
"You’re not alone in this, Draco," she said firmly, her voice steady despite the storm raging inside her. "You have me."
His eyes met hers, a flicker of hope—small, fragile—sparking within them. "Do I? Because lately, it feels like I don’t even have myself anymore."
She stepped closer, her other hand reaching up to cup his cheek. "We’ll figure it out. Whatever happens, whatever he asks of us… we’ll get through it together."
Draco closed his eyes, leaning into her touch. For a moment, the fear and exhaustion melted away, replaced by something softer, something warmer. He hadn’t realized how much he needed this—needed her—until now. They had grown up side by side, but it wasn’t until they both bore the same cursed mark that they truly became each other’s refuge.
"How do you do it?" he asked after a long silence, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Do what?"
"Keep going. Stay strong. I feel like I’m suffocating, like I’m drowning, and you… you just keep going like nothing can touch you."
Y/N let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. "It’s not about being strong, Draco. It’s about surviving. There’s a difference."
He frowned, his eyes searching her face for answers. "Surviving?"
"Yeah." She looked down at the mark on his arm, then at her own. "We didn’t choose this. Our families did. We were born into this world, into these expectations, but that doesn’t mean we have to lose ourselves completely. Surviving… surviving means finding those small moments where we can still be ourselves, even when everything else is falling apart."
Draco’s hand tightened around hers. "And what if there are no moments left?"
"There will be," Y/N said firmly. "As long as we don’t give up on each other."
Draco stared at her, the weight of her words settling over him like a blanket. He didn’t know how she managed to stay so grounded, so sure of herself, but he clung to that hope—her hope—like a lifeline.
"I don’t know what I’d do without you," he admitted quietly, his voice trembling with the vulnerability he rarely allowed himself to show.
"You won’t have to find out," she replied softly, brushing a strand of his pale hair away from his face. "You’re not alone in this. We’re in this together."
They stood in silence for a moment, the gravity of their situation pressing down on them. But there was something else now too, something that hadn’t been there before: the understanding that no matter how dark things got, they had each other.
Draco pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he allowed himself to feel something other than fear. He allowed himself to feel comfort, to feel warmth. To feel her.
They stood like that for a long time, neither of them speaking, neither of them needing to. The weight of the Dark Mark was still there, ever-present, but for now, in this moment, it was bearable.
As the night wore on, Y/N pulled back slightly, her eyes meeting Draco’s once more. "You don’t have to do this alone," she reminded him softly. "I’ll be here. Whatever happens, I’ll be right beside you."
Draco nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. "I don’t deserve you," he murmured.
Y/N shook her head. "That’s not for you to decide."
He managed a small, broken smile, the first she had seen in days. "I’ll try," he said quietly. "I’ll try to be brave. For you."
"You already are," she replied, her voice soft but sure. "You’re stronger than you think."
And for the first time since receiving his mark, Draco felt a flicker of something other than despair. It was small, fragile, but it was there. It was hope.
As they stood together in the darkness, their hands intertwined, Y/N knew that no matter what happened next, no matter what the Dark Lord demanded of them, they would face it together. And in that, there was strength. In that, there was bravery.
Because sometimes, being brave wasn’t about standing up to the world—it was about standing up for each other. And in that moment, as they clung to each other in the face of everything that sought to tear them apart, they were braver than they had ever been.
Looks Better On You
Draco Malfoy x Slytherin!Reader
Summary: Iconic POV: when Y/N spots Draco and admires his rings
Word Count: 1.3k+
Warnings: Fluff, Teasing?
A/N: I know we've read this a thousand times but one more time won't hurt. PS. Picture from Pinterest!
Draco Malfoy sat languidly in his usual spot at the back of Potions, where he could watch and observe, always maintaining an air of superiority. His fingers absently tapped against the wooden desk, each of his rings glinting under the dim light of the dungeon classroom. Rings had always been a part of his look, subtle symbols of his status, wealth, and heritage—silver bands that wrapped around his fingers like they belonged there, catching the eye of anyone who cared to notice.
And you noticed.
Draco’s gaze drifted across the room, settling on you, Y/N. He often saw you at the front, close to Professor Snape’s desk, a place where most people who were interested in learning—really learning—tended to sit. Normally, he wouldn’t have paid much attention. You were clever, but not attention-seeking like Granger, and certainly not as loud as Pansy. You were one of those students who preferred to fade into the background.
Except today. Today, he noticed something different about the way your eyes occasionally darted back to where he sat. Not toward his face, but his hand.
He smirked to himself, leaning back in his chair with that trademark Malfoy arrogance. So, you were admiring his rings. Draco couldn't deny the satisfaction that came with it. There was something thrilling about catching someone in an unguarded moment, about knowing that beneath your composed exterior, you were drawn to something about him—something material, yes, but still him.
As Snape droned on about the properties of Belladonna, Draco’s gaze never left you. You must have sensed it at some point, your back straightening as if you were caught doing something you shouldn’t. He watched as you shifted in your seat, trying to focus on the lecture, but your eyes still flicked, ever so briefly, to the silver glint of his rings when he moved his hand.
“Malfoy.” Blaise’s voice cut through Draco’s thoughts. “What’s so fascinating over there?”
“Nothing,” Draco drawled, his smirk widening as his fingers curled into a loose fist. Blaise followed his gaze toward you, his eyebrows raising slightly.
“Ah,” Blaise said, understanding dawning in his expression. “Y/N, huh?”
“Keep your voice down,” Draco muttered, not that Blaise ever listened to anyone but himself. His friend merely chuckled, leaning back in his own chair, clearly amused by Draco’s newfound interest.
Draco’s eyes shifted back to you. This time, you caught him looking directly at you, and for a brief moment, your eyes locked. You blushed, immediately glancing away, but not before Draco caught the flicker of embarrassment mixed with curiosity in your expression.
Interesting.
The rest of the class passed in a haze. Draco wasn’t paying attention to Snape’s lecture or to Blaise’s occasional remarks. His mind was focused on a single question: How should he play this?
By the time the class ended, Draco had already made up his mind. He gathered his things leisurely, waiting for the perfect moment as everyone began to file out of the classroom. You were one of the last to leave, carefully tucking your notebook into your bag, still trying to appear as though you hadn’t noticed Draco’s stare burning into your back.
But you had.
Draco stood, adjusting the cuff of his sleeve in a casual, almost lazy motion as he approached you. He made sure to walk with his usual swagger, the heels of his expensive shoes tapping lightly against the cold stone floor. You hadn’t seen him coming, so when he stopped directly beside you, your eyes widened slightly in surprise.
“Y/N,” he drawled, his voice carrying that familiar, aristocratic lilt.
You looked up at him, startled, but quickly composed yourself. “Malfoy,” you replied, your tone polite but guarded.
His eyes flickered toward your hand, and he noted how your fingers briefly twitched, as if you were resisting the urge to adjust something that didn’t need adjusting. His smirk deepened. “I couldn’t help but notice you admiring something of mine,” he said, voice soft yet sharp. “Care to tell me what caught your attention?”
Your blush deepened, and you opened your mouth to deny it, but nothing came out. Draco raised an eyebrow, enjoying the moment far too much. He slowly raised his right hand, the one you had been admiring in class, displaying the rings on his slender fingers.
“They’re just rings,” you said finally, averting your eyes.
“Just rings?” Draco echoed, feigning hurt. “You seemed quite fascinated by them. I think you were paying more attention to these than to Snape’s riveting lesson on Belladonna.”
You gave a small, almost imperceptible roll of your eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself, Malfoy.”
“Oh, I don’t need to,” he said, stepping just a bit closer, invading your personal space in that way only he could—deliberate, confident, and with an edge of challenge. “But if you like them so much, perhaps I should give you one.”
You blinked, clearly caught off guard. “What?”
Draco reached for the smallest of the rings, a sleek silver band etched with an intricate snake design, and slid it off his finger with ease. He held it out to you, dangling it between his thumb and forefinger like it was the most natural thing in the world to gift someone something so personal.
“Take it,” he offered smoothly, his tone low and teasing. “A little keepsake.”
You stared at the ring, as if unsure whether to accept it or laugh in disbelief. “Why would you give me one of your rings?”
Draco’s smile widened, sharp and knowing. “Because I can.”
You hesitated for a moment longer, but then your hand reached out, fingers brushing his as you carefully took the ring from him. The brief contact was enough to send a shiver down Draco’s spine, though he masked it well. He watched as you studied the ring in your palm, your expression caught somewhere between surprise and suspicion.
“Do you just hand out your things to anyone?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Only to those who deserve it,” he said, his voice dropping just a fraction, his eyes locked on yours. There was a weight to his words that hadn’t been there before, a subtle shift from teasing to something else—something more serious.
You met his gaze, the playful banter from before fading slightly as the two of you stood in a silence that felt charged with unspoken meaning. For a moment, the bustling noise of students in the corridor outside the classroom faded away, and it was just the two of you.
The ring rested in your hand, small and cold against your skin, but somehow it felt heavier than it should have. You weren’t sure if it was the ring itself or the weight of the gesture behind it—Draco Malfoy, heir to the Malfoy fortune, offering you something of his own.
Finally, you slid the ring onto your finger. It was a little loose, but it fit well enough.
Draco’s eyes flicked to your hand, satisfaction curling through him as he saw his ring on your finger. “Looks good on you,” he murmured, the smirk returning to his lips.
You looked down at the ring, then back up at him, your expression unreadable. “Don’t expect me to wear this forever,” you said, though there was no real bite in your words.
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said smoothly. “But who knows? You might get used to it.”
You rolled your eyes again, but there was a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips this time. “You’re insufferable, Malfoy.”
“So I’ve been told,” he replied, the smirk never leaving his face. He took a step back, giving you space once more, though his gaze lingered on you a moment longer. “See you around, Y/N.”
With that, Draco turned and walked away, leaving you standing there with his ring still on your finger, his presence lingering like a shadow long after he was gone.
As he strolled down the corridor, Blaise caught up with him, raising an eyebrow as he noticed the absence of one of Draco’s signature rings. “Gave her one of your rings?” Blaise asked, sounding impressed. “That’s a bold move, even for you.”
Draco shrugged, a smug smile playing on his lips. “I like to leave an impression.”
And he was certain he had.
My request are open!
HOGWARTS MASTERLIST
* = Requested
Draco Malfoy
One Shot
Series
The Other Half (ongoing...)
One Shot
Looks Better On You 1.3k
Her. 1.2k
Beneath The Mark* 1.4k
Headcanons
Tom Riddle...
One Shot
Mark Me (coming soon...)
Headcanons
Matteo Riddle...
One Shot
Hunters Son (coming soon...)
Headcanons
Theodore Nott...
One Shot
Headcanons
Fred Weasley
One Shot
New Heights 2.2k
Sore Loser 1.4k
Headcanons
Maggie Smith 1934-2024 Rest in Peace🕊️🩶
Sore Loser
Fred Weasley x Slytherin!Reader
Summary: Y/N comes back to the dorm to see Fred who just lost a quidditch team to her house.
Word Count: 1.4k+
Warnings: Swearing, Angst, Kissing, Sexual Activity Implied (18+) sorta?
A/N: You guys if I could I'd write the smut you deserve. P.S Request are open!
The dorm was eerily quiet as you made your way through the dimly lit halls of the castle. It was late, and most of the students were either still celebrating in the Slytherin common room or had turned in for the night. You could hear the muffled sounds of cheers and laughter echoing through the walls from the victory party still raging below, but it didn’t interest you. You had your own reason to celebrate, and it wasn’t in the common room.
Fred.
The image of him, his face tight with frustration, flashed through your mind. He had taken the loss hard—harder than you expected. Quidditch matches were always intense between Gryffindor and Slytherin, but this time, the stakes had been higher. Both houses had been tied for the House Cup, and now, thanks to Slytherin’s victory, the Cup was yours.
Fred was proud, competitive, and a Gryffindor through and through. He hated losing—especially to Slytherin, especially to you. The two of you had always had a tense rivalry on the field, but that rivalry spilled into something else off the pitch—something fiery and uncontrollable.
As you pushed open the door to his dorm, you found him exactly as you expected—sitting on the edge of his bed, shoulders tense, his head in his hands.
“You’re here,” he muttered without looking up, his voice low and edged with frustration.
“I am,” you replied, closing the door softly behind you. You took a tentative step closer, trying to gauge his mood.
Fred finally looked up, his eyes dark and filled with a mixture of anger and something else—something deeper. “Came to rub it in, did you?” His words were sharp, but there was a flicker of vulnerability in them, the kind that only you ever saw.
“I didn’t—”
“Because if you did, you can leave,” he interrupted, standing abruptly. His height and presence loomed over you, but you didn’t flinch. You had faced him on the Quidditch pitch before, and you weren’t going to back down now. Not from this.
“I’m not here to rub it in,” you said firmly, meeting his gaze. “I’m here because I wanted to see you.”
Fred scoffed, running a hand through his messy hair. “Why? To tell me how brilliant your Seeker was? Or how my Keeper was shite today?”
You stepped closer, placing a hand on his chest, feeling the tension radiate from him. His heart was pounding beneath your palm. “No, Fred. I’m here because I knew you’d be upset. I just wanted to be here with you.”
He looked down at your hand on his chest, his jaw clenched. “I hate losing to you,” he muttered, his voice quieter now, but still filled with that same frustration.
You smirked despite the heaviness in the air. “I know. But you’ll get over it.”
Fred’s eyes snapped back to yours, the tension between you crackling like electricity. “You think it’s that easy?”
“No,” you whispered, your fingers trailing down his chest slowly, teasing. “I think it’ll take more than a few minutes.”
Before you could say anything else, Fred’s hands were on you—rough, desperate, pulling you closer. His lips crashed against yours in a heated, bruising kiss, all of his anger and frustration spilling out. You kissed him back with equal force, your fingers tangling in his hair as you let him take control.
Fred’s hands roamed your body, gripping your waist tightly, like he was afraid to let go. The kiss deepened, becoming more frantic, more needy. It was the kind of kiss that came after a fight—the kind that was filled with anger, desire, and a need to feel something other than the pain of losing.
He pushed you back against the bed, his body pressing against yours, and you could feel the heat between you growing. You didn’t care about the match anymore, about the rivalry between your houses. All that mattered was this moment—him, you, and the way he made you feel.
Fred pulled back just enough to look at you, his breath heavy. “I should hate you right now.”
He looked at her for a long moment, his eyes searching hers as if trying to find some hidden truth there. And then, without warning, he kissed her again.
This time, it was softer, slower, but no less intense. His hands slid up her sides, pulling her closer until there was no space between them, until she could feel the heat of his body seeping into hers. Y/N’s fingers tangled in his hair, tugging gently as she pressed herself against him, her heart racing as their kiss deepened.
Fred groaned softly against her mouth, the sound sending a shiver down her spine. His hands moved to her lower back, pulling her tighter against him, his grip almost possessive. Y/N could feel the intensity of his need in every touch, every kiss, and it was overwhelming, intoxicating.
But she wanted more. She wanted all of him.
She broke the kiss, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she pulled back just enough to look at him. His eyes were dark, filled with a hunger that mirrored her own, and for a moment, they just stood there, staring at each other, the air between them thick with tension.
“Are you sure about this?” Fred asked, his voice rough, his hands still resting on her hips, but looser now, giving her the space to pull away if she wanted to.
Y/N nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. “I’ve never been more sure.”
His lips curved into a slow, almost predatory smile, and in that moment, all the hesitation, all the uncertainty seemed to melt away. He pulled her back into him, his lips finding hers once more, more insistent this time, more demanding.
Y/N’s body responded instantly, her hands moving to the hem of his shirt, tugging it up over his head. Fred broke the kiss just long enough to help her, his hands moving quickly to discard the fabric before pulling her back into him.
Her fingers roamed over his bare chest, feeling the heat of his skin, the rapid rise and fall of his breath. He was all hard muscle and rough edges, and the sensation of his body pressed against hers sent a surge of desire coursing through her.
Fred’s hands were everywhere—her waist, her back, her hips—pulling her closer, guiding her until her back hit the wall behind them. Y/N gasped as the cold stone pressed against her, but the sensation was quickly forgotten as Fred’s lips found her neck, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down her throat.
Her breath hitched as his hands slid beneath her shirt, his fingers brushing over her skin, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. She arched into him, her body craving more, needing more.
“Freddie,” she breathed, her hands clutching at his shoulders as he kissed his way down to her collarbone.
His only response was a low growl, his hands moving to her hips, lifting her up against the wall with ease. Y/N wrapped her legs around his waist, her fingers tangling in his hair as he pressed himself against her, his mouth returning to hers in a fierce, heated kiss.
It was all-consuming. His touch, his kiss, the feel of his body against hers. Y/N was lost in him, in the intensity of the moment, in the heat that seemed to burn between them. She could feel the weight of all the emotions they’d been holding back—the frustration, the tension, the desire—and it was like a dam had finally broken.
And then, just as suddenly as it had started, it all slowed down. Fred pulled back slightly, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he rested his forehead against hers, his hands still gripping her waist, holding her up.
“Y/N,” he whispered, his voice hoarse, his eyes dark and filled with emotion. “I don’t just want this. I want you. All of you.”
Y/N’s heart clenched at his words. There was a vulnerability in his voice, in the way he looked at her, that made her chest ache. She cupped his face in her hands, her thumbs brushing over his cheekbones as she met his gaze.
“I’m yours, Freddie,” she whispered, her voice steady despite the storm of emotions raging inside her. “I’ve always been yours.”
For a moment, neither of them moved, the weight of her words hanging in the air between them. And then, with a soft, almost reverent kiss, Fred pulled her closer, holding her as if he never wanted to let her go.
You both knew that when the sun rose, the rivalry would still be there. Gryffindor and Slytherin. Winner and loser. But tonight, none of that mattered.
The Other Half | V
PART IV
Draco Malfoy x Slytherin!Reader Fling!Marco Flint x Slytherin!Reader Harry Potter x Sister!Reader
Summary: Harry Potter's twin sister y/n Potter transfers to Hogwarts during the third year. With Harry being a Gryffindor being sorted into Slytherin was hard enough. Now having to battle the shadow that comes with being the twin of the chosen one. On top of being the only girl on the Slytherin quidditch team. In the notorious cold-blooded house, Y/N leans on the Bronze 5. Eventually falling for the pureblood prince, himself Draco Malfoy.
Word Count: 2.2k+
Warnings: Retired Voldy AU, Angst, Fluff, Cursing
A/N: Not really sure what my end goal of the series is but here you go! P.S not my gif.
Following the second day of tryouts and other players congratulating you. You walked into your dorm expecting to see Blake and Pansy who were surprisingly nowhere to be found. You contained your slight disappointment and gathered your things to take a shower and wash the day off. After your refreshing shower you step out the bathroom in your green silk pajamas and before you could say anything, the door to the dormitory swung open, and Pansy and Blake came barreling in. With all three of the boys following behind them. Blake’s eyes went wide the second she spotted you, and without any hesitation, she squealed, rushing forward and throwing her arms around you.
“You did it!” she practically yelled, shaking you by the shoulders with excitement. “Oh my god, I knew it. I knew you would. How did it go? Was Marcus horrible? Tell me everything!"
You laughed, trying to calm her down. “It went... better than I expected, honestly. Marcus wasn’t too bad, a bit of a show-off, but we had a good match.”
Pansy smirked from her place on the couch, eyeing you with that knowing gaze she always had. "And you’re officially on the team, huh? Seems like Flint has a thing for inviting certain people."
You raised an eyebrow at her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Pansy just shrugged innocently, though her eyes glinted mischievously. “Oh, nothing. Just heard he doesn’t ask everyone to play one-on-one.”
Blake gasped dramatically. “Are you saying Flint is trying to flirt with Y/N?! Oh, this is juicy. Tell me you flirted back.”
You rolled your eyes, trying to keep your composure. “I wasn’t flirting with him! I just played quidditch.”
Blake leaned back against the couch, sighing dramatically. “Oh please, everyone saw the way he was looking at you. Don’t think we didn’t notice.”
Before you could respond, Blaise cut in with a smirk. "Well, whether she flirted back or not, it’s obvious she left an impression. That’s what matters. Right, Potter?"
Draco, who had been oddly quiet, suddenly turned to look at Blaise. His eyes narrowed, but his voice was calm as he said, “Marcus probably just sees her as a good player. Nothing more.”
You caught Draco’s glance but didn’t dwell on it. It was strange, the way he was acting. He seemed... different. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it. Maybe it was just that he didn’t like Marcus Flint. After all, Marcus had a bit of a reputation around here—both as a tough quidditch captain and for his firier romantic life.
“Well, I’m not interested in all that,” you said, brushing off the lingering conversation about Marcus. “I’m just here to play quidditch and win the house cup.”
Enzo slapped you on the back, grinning widely. "That’s the spirit! I can’t wait to see you smash those other teams. We’ll be unstoppable!"
“I’ll drink to that!” Blaise chimed in, pulling out a bottle of firewhisky from his bag and holding it up like it was a trophy. “A toast to our newest team member!”
You laughed as Enzo, Blaise, and even Pansy grabbed cups. The group was in high spirits, and you couldn’t help but feel a surge of joy. These were your people—no matter how sarcastic, mischievous, or unpredictable they were, you loved them for it.
As Blaise poured the drinks, Draco remained quiet, his expression unreadable. He didn’t reach for a cup, but when he caught you looking at him, he gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. You couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something bothering him, but before you could ask, Blaise raised his cup and called for attention.
“To Y/N! The girl who managed to get Marcus Flint to eat out of the palm of her hand!”
Everyone cheered, and you rolled your eyes playfully, raising your own cup. As you took a sip, the warm firewhisky slid down your throat, sending a comfortable burn through your chest. The chatter continued, and you allowed yourself to get lost in the moment, soaking in the camaraderie of your friends.
The day after Quidditch tryouts dawned early, and despite the late night, you woke up energized, ready to face whatever the day had in store. The tryouts had gone better than expected, and by evening, the official results were in: you had secured a spot on the Slytherin Quidditch team. Word spread quickly around the school, and soon everyone, regardless of house, knew the news.
That evening, as the excitement in the Slytherin common room began to build, you received an unexpected but welcome surprise. There was still a stigma for students from different houses to crash each other’s parties these days; though rivalry between the houses wasn’t nearly as strict as it once had been. Gryffindors wouldn’t often mingle with Slytherins during these after-hours celebrations, and tonight seemed to be a huge exception.
You were relaxing on one of the plush couches, all dressed up as basically the guest if honor, when the door swung open, revealing none other than Harry, Ron, and Hermione. They weren’t alone—Fred and George Weasley followed closely behind, their faces lit up with mischievous grins. They’d always had a knack for attending the most happening party, no matter whose common room it was in.
“Y/N! There you are!” Harry’s voice cut through the noise as he spotted you.
You smiled, getting up to greet them. “What are you guys doing here?”
Fred sauntered over and threw an arm around your shoulder. “Heard a certain Potter made the Slytherin Quidditch team, and we had to come see it for ourselves. Plus, a celebratory Slytherin party? That’s history-making in itself, Y/N. We wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
George nodded, grinning as he looked around at the lively common room. “You know, this lot really isn’t so bad when they’re not trying to hex your head off during a match.”
Hermione rolled her eyes, pushing his shoulder playfully. “Honestly, George. It’s just Quidditch. Y/N’s brilliant, and we should all be happy for her.”
Hermione smiled warmly at you. “Congratulations, Y/N. Making the team is no small feat.”
Ron chuckled, grabbing a drink from a nearby table. “Yeah, but joining the Slytherin team? That’s a whole different kind of bravery.”
Harry, who had been standing nearby, finally spoke up. “She’s right, Ron. Besides, Y/N’s always been the best at Quidditch. It’s about bloody damn time she got some recognition. You’ve seriously earned it.” He grinned at you, his green eyes lighting up with pride. “I’m proud of you, sis.”
“Thanks, Harry,” you said, smiling. “That means a lot.”
Before anyone could speak, Blaise, who had been hanging out with the others nearby, joined your group, offering drinks to your brother and his friends. "Well, well, the Gryffindor squad shows up to celebrate. We must be doing something wrong or maybe somthing right."
Fred grinned, taking a drink. “We’re just here to see if you Slytherins know how to party as well as you brag about.”
“Oh, we do,” Blaise replied smoothly, flashing a smile. “And tonight, we’ll show you how it’s done.”
The party was already in full swing. House banners hung from the ceiling, casting green and silver shadows across the room. The air buzzed with conversation, laughter, and music. Students from Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and, of course, Slytherin mingled with each other, proving that house rivalries were nothing but friendly competition when the school day ended.
“Honestly, you guys make it sound like Slytherins have horns and tails,” you teased, looking between your Gryffindor friends.
Fred shot you a playful wink. “Well, I have heard rumors about Malfoy…”
Draco, who had been talking to Pansy nearby, caught Fred’s eye and walked over, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “Weasley, if you’re going to talk about me, at least get your facts straight,” he drawled, his eyes gleaming with amusement.
Ron, who usually couldn’t resist taking a jab at Draco, just shook his head and took a sip from his drink. “Yeah, yeah, whatever, Malfoy. We’re not here to start anything.”
Hermione gave Draco a polite nod. “We’re just here to celebrate Y/N’s success.”
Draco’s smirk softened a bit, and he turned to you. “I suppose that’s something I can tolerate. Just don’t let your brother and his friends destroy the common room.”
“I’ll make sure they behave,” you replied with a grin, nudging Fred and George as they looked around the room, already scouting potential spots for pranks.
Fred raised his hands in mock surrender. “Us? Misbehave? Never.”
As the night went on, the party only got livelier. More students from other houses trickled in, adding to the festive atmosphere. Everyone enjoyed a good celebration. Students mingled across house lines, chatting about everything from Quidditch matches to upcoming exams.
You found yourself dancing with Hermione and Blake at one point, laughing as Fred and George attempted to show off some ridiculous moves. Even Harry and Ron were pulled into the mix, their usually serious expressions replaced with carefree smiles.
Draco and Blaise watched from the sidelines, amused but choosing to stay out of the dancing chaos for the moment. Eventually, though, even they were pulled in by Pansy and some of the other Slytherin girls, who were determined to make sure no one stayed on the sidelines.
The highlight of the evening came when Marcus Flint, the Slytherin Quidditch captain, walked in with a few other team members. He spotted you immediately and sauntered over with a grin. “There she is—the new Slytherin Quidditch star.”
You chuckled, shaking your head. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Flint. I’m just happy to be on the team.”
“You earned it,” he said, his voice carrying the tone of approval. “I’m expecting big things from you this season, Vip.”
Before you could respond, Fred chimed in, leaning in with a grin. “Big things, you say? You know, Marcus, if you ever need a few tricks to make your games more exciting, you’ve got two experts right here.”
Marcus eyed Fred and George warily but couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips. “I’ll keep that in mind, Weasley.”
As the night wore on, the party continued to swell with energy. Drinks flowed, laughter echoed off the dungeon walls, and the line between Slytherin and the other houses blurred even further.
As the night went on, you felt a deep sense of belonging. You were surrounded by friends, both old and new, and despite the house rivalries that often dominated school life, here you were, sharing laughs, stories, and celebrations with students from every corner of Hogwarts.
It hit 1am and, people began to filter out, heading back to their dorms. Eventually, it was just you, Draco, and Blaise left, sitting around the fire. Blaise had his head leaned back against the couch, eyes closed, clearly in no rush to leave. Draco, on the other hand, was sitting up straight, staring into the flickering flames.
You leaned back, enjoying the comfortable silence for a moment before deciding to address the tension you had felt earlier. "So... Draco," you began, keeping your voice light. "You’ve been quiet. Something on your mind?"
He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he took a long breath before turning his head to look at you. His grey eyes seemed darker in the firelight, more intense.
"Just... thinking," he said simply, but his voice was heavier than you expected.
You frowned slightly, confused. "Thinking about what?"
Draco hesitated, and for a brief moment, you saw something flash across his face—something like uncertainty. But then, just as quickly as it came, it was gone, replaced by his usual composed demeanor.
"Nothing important," he finally said, looking away. "Just about the team. Flint can be... a bit much. Don’t let him get in your head."
It was a strange comment, and you couldn’t quite figure out why Draco was warning you about Flint now. He had never shown this much concern before, and it wasn’t like Marcus had done anything other than talk quidditch and make a few harmless remarks.
“I can handle Flint,” you said, offering a small smile. “I’ve dealt with worse.”
Draco’s jaw tightened slightly, but he nodded. “I know. Just... keep your guard up.”
You wanted to ask more, to pry into what was really going on behind his words, but Blaise let out a loud snore, interrupting the moment. The two of you looked over at him, and you couldn’t help but chuckle.
“I guess that’s our cue to call it a night,” you said, standing up and stretching.
Draco stood as well, glancing down at Blaise with a smirk. “Yeah. He’ll be fine on his own.”
As you turned to head toward your dorm, Draco’s voice stopped you.
“Y/N.”
“Do you like him?” he asked blankly.
You stopped alittle shooked, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “I don’t see him like that.”
With that, you headed up to your dorm, your mind buzzing with thoughts of quidditch, classes, and—despite yourself—Marcus Flint. But more than anything, your mind kept circling back to Draco’s words, and the strange feeling that something had shifted between the two of you.
Tomorrow was going to be an interesting day.
PART VI...
tags: @venomsvl @kaverichauhan @marplest @ghayosdrafts @babydaddy69
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DRACO MALFOY MOODBOARD
Y/N POTTER MOOD BOARD
New Heights
Fred Weasley x Slytherin!Reader
Summary: Y/N is a year older than Fred and after not seeing him all summer Fred’s growth spurt becomes…a surprise.
Word Count: 2.2k+
Warnings: Fluff, Swearingish?
A/N: Been back on Harry Potter TikTok and there are some good POV’s so I'm writing them for you guys ;) gif isn't mine. PS. My Request are open!.
You have always been close with the Weasley family. Your mom was best friends with Molly, so your summers were practically spent at the Burrow. You loved the chaos of it all—Percy with his nose in a book, Fred and George constantly trying to out-prank each other, Ginny tagging along with the boys, and Ron being the easy target of his older brothers' tricks. But it was Percy you were closest to. Only a year younger than him, you and Percy shared a unique bond. While everyone else was wild and adventurous, the two of you spent countless hours with him reading and you flying on your broom. Of course, you both loved to scheme against Fred and George whenever the opportunity arose.
When you finally got your letter to Hogwarts, you were ecstatic. Percy was already there, and you couldn’t wait to be sorted into Gryffindor and spend your school days together just like you had spent your summers. That didn’t happen, though. The Sorting Hat placed you in Slytherin. You were devastated at first, but it didn’t take long to realize that being in different houses didn’t change anything. You still spent every free moment with Percy, and more often than not, that meant time with his family as well.
That was how it had always been—until this past summer. When you were offered a spot in the exclusive quidditch camp. Though the decision wasn’t easy, Percy, being the ever-logical best friend he was, insisted you take the opportunity. "We'll always be here," he'd said. "But this is a once-in-a-lifetime chance."
And so, you went. The summer flew by in a whirlwind of practices, matches, and drills. You barely had time to write home, and when you returned to Hogwarts, it felt like you'd been gone for ages.
Percy greeted you at the train station with a tight hug, rambling on about his summer adventures. "Penelope Clearwater and I spent a lot of time together," he said with a small blush. You smiled, happy that Percy had found someone to share his time with. Then he continued, telling you all about the pranks Fred and George had pulled on Ron, and how Ginny had grown more into her own.
As the two of you walked into the Great Hall, you couldn't help but notice how different it felt coming back. Percy steered you towards the Gryffindor table where the rest of the Weasleys were sitting. Your heart lifted when you saw them—Ginny, Ron, George, Fred. They stood up to greet you, and you smiled warmly at them.
But then your gaze landed on Fred.
He turned to face you, and you froze for a moment, not believing your eyes. The Fred Weasley you had last seen before summer had changed—dramatically.
He had grown. A lot.
Fred Weasley turned toward you and stood up. The last time you'd seen him, he had been your typical gangly teenage boy, all limbs and grins. But now... well, now he was towering over your 5’3" frame. His shoulders had broadened over the summer, his face had lost its boyish roundness, and there was a new confidence about him that made your stomach flip unexpectedly.
"Y/N!" Fred grinned down at you, his voice a bit deeper than you remembered too. He enveloped you in a tight, friendly hug, the warmth of him surrounding you in a way that was strangely comforting and yet disorienting all at once.
"You’re taller," was the first thing you said when he pulled away, still looking up at him in disbelief.
Fred’s grin widened, mischief flickering in his eyes. "Noticed, did you?"
George piped up from behind him, laughing. "Fred n' I had a bit of a growth spurt, haven’t we? Over the summer, we especially him shot up like a bloody tree."
"Yeah, had a bit of a growth spurt," Fred said casually, though the amusement in his eyes suggested he was reveling in your reaction. "Quidditch does that to you."
"Quidditch?" you echoed, still staring up at him in disbelief.
"Yeah, been practicing loads this summer," Fred explained, crossing his arms over his chest. "George and I are aiming for professional teams once we’re done here."
You nodded, but your thoughts were still swirling. How had Fred changed so much in just one summer? It wasn’t just the height or the broader shoulders; there was something different about him. He seemed more... grown up.
"Y/N, you’re staring," Percy’s voice broke through your thoughts, and you turned to see him smirking at you, a knowing glint in his eyes.
Heat flooded your face. "I am not!" you protested, but Percy raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it.
Fred laughed, the sound deep and warm, and your stomach did another unexpected flip. "It’s alright, Y/N. You can stare all you want. I don't mind."
You felt a flutter of surprise, one you hadn’t expected. This wasn’t the Fred Weasley you remembered—this was someone else entirely.
Your brain tried to catch up with the change, but it was hard to shake the image of the Fred you’d known before. The one you’d spent years pranking, teasing, and playfully bickering with. You glanced back at Percy, who just gave you a knowing smirk. "It’s been quite the adjustment," Percy said, a hint of amusement in his voice.
You turned back to Fred, and he winked at you. "Still shorter than you in spirit, though."
You found yourself laughing, but there was a nervous edge to it. What was this? Why did you suddenly feel…different around him? You’d known Fred since you were kids. You’d never felt this way before, not even a little. But now, standing in front of him, it was like someone had flipped a switch inside you.
"I suppose I’ll have to get used to looking up at you now," you said, trying to shake off the odd feeling.
Fred raised an eyebrow, his grin never faltering. "You’ll manage. If not, I’m happy to carry you around." He winked again, and this time, you felt your cheeks heat up.
Merlin, this was going to be a long year.
The rest of the day passed in a blur, but Fred's new height and presence stayed in the back of your mind. You tried to act normal—laughing with the others, catching up on everything you’d missed. But every time Fred spoke or laughed, you found yourself glancing his way, your heart giving a little lurch each time.
Later that evening, as you sat in the common room with Percy, you couldn’t help but bring it up.
"Did Fred always…well, has he always been…?"
"Tall?" Percy asked, raising an eyebrow. "Not until this summer. Why?"
You shifted uncomfortably, not sure how to explain it. "It’s just…different. He seems different."
Percy smiled knowingly. "You’re not the only one who's noticed. Ginny mentioned it too. The twins have always been a bit of prats, but now they got the looks to match."
You sighed, sinking deeper into the chair. "It’s just weird, I guess. I mean, I’ve known him forever, and now suddenly—"
"You fancy him," Percy finished, a teasing grin on his face.
Your eyes widened, and you quickly shook your head. "No, I don’t! I just…it’s weird, that’s all."
Percy chuckled. "Sure, whatever you say."
But as the days passed, you couldn’t shake the feeling. Fred’s growth spurt wasn’t the only thing that had changed. Something between you had shifted too. He was still the same mischievous, fun-loving prankster, but now, there was something else—a tension that hadn’t been there before.
You found yourself seeking him out more than usual, joining in on his and George’s pranks, laughing at his jokes just a little too hard. And Fred? Well, he didn’t seem to mind the extra attention. If anything, he seemed to enjoy it.
One evening, as you sat by the fireplace in the common room, Fred flopped down next to you, his long legs stretching out in front of him. He nudged your shoulder playfully. "You’ve been quiet today. Everything alright?"
You glanced at him, your heart doing that stupid lurching thing again. "Yeah, just…tired, I guess."
Fred raised an eyebrow. "You? Tired? Never thought I’d see the day."
You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help but smile. "Even I get tired sometimes."
He leaned back, resting his arm on the back of the couch behind you. "You know, if you ever need a break from Percy’s study marathons, George and I could use some help with a new prank we’re working on."
You tilted your head, curious. "What kind of prank?"
Fred’s grin turned devilish. "Oh, you’ll see. But it involves a lot of stink pellets and a certain Slytherin prefect."
You laughed, shaking your head. "You two are going to get expelled one of these days."
"Maybe," Fred said with a shrug. "But it’d be worth it."
There was a pause, and then Fred turned to you, his expression softening just a bit. "It’s good to have you back, Y/N. Summer wasn’t the same without you."
Your heart skipped a beat, and you looked down at your hands. "Yeah, it’s good to be back."
Fred nudged you again, this time more gently. "Don’t go running off to another Quidditch camp next summer, alright? We missed you."
You looked up at him, your breath catching slightly at the sincerity in his voice. "I missed you too, Fred."
And there it was—that stupid fluttery feeling again.
This was going to be a long, complicated year.
The first few weeks back at school were a blur of classes, quidditch practice, and catching up with friends. You were eager to get back into the rhythm of things, but you couldn’t shake the odd feeling that had settled in your chest since you’d seen Fred again. He was still the same Fred, still cracking jokes and pulling pranks with George, but now you found yourself noticing little things about him that you hadn’t before. The way his smile seemed to linger on you just a little longer than necessary, the way he always found a reason to sit next to you in the common room, the way your heart skipped a beat whenever his arm brushed against yours.
It was driving you crazy.
One evening, after quidditch practice, you found yourself heading back to the common room, only to be intercepted by Fred in the corridor. He grinned, blocking your path with an outstretched arm.
"Y/N, there you are," he said, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "I was beginning to think you were avoiding me."
You crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow. "Avoiding you? Why would I do that?"
Fred shrugged, leaning casually against the wall. "Dunno. Just seems like you’ve been... distracted lately. Didn’t think my growth spurt would have that much of an effect on you."
Your cheeks flamed. "I—what? That’s ridiculous, Fred. I’m not—"
He cut you off with a laugh, stepping closer. "Relax, Y/N. I’m just messing with you."
You huffed, trying to ignore the way your heart was racing in your chest. "You’re always messing with me, Weasley."
Fred’s grin softened into something that looked almost... fond. "Yeah, well, that’s what I do best, isn’t it?"
You couldn’t argue with that. Fred had always been a tease, always finding ways to get under your skin. But now, it felt different. Now, his teasing sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach, and you weren’t sure how to handle it.
"You’re acting weird," you muttered, trying to avoid his gaze.
"Weird?" Fred repeated, feigning offense. "Me? Never."
You rolled your eyes, but before you could say anything else, Fred reached out and gently tugged on a strand of your hair. "Come on, Y/N," he said, his voice lower now, more serious. "You know I’ve always liked you, right?"
Your breath caught in your throat, and you stared up at him, wide-eyed. "Liked me?" you echoed, your voice barely above a whisper.
Fred nodded, his eyes searching yours. "Yeah. I mean, you’ve always been like... one of us. Part of the family. But this summer, I don’t know... I guess I realized I like you more than just... as part of the family."
Your heart was pounding in your ears, and you felt a warmth spread through your chest. "Fred, I—"
He held up a hand, cutting you off. "You don’t have to say anything now. I just wanted you to know. But, if you want to go flying sometime... just the two of us, you know where to find me."
With that, Fred shot you one last grin, his eyes twinkling, before turning on his heel and sauntering down the corridor, leaving you standing there, stunned.
Your head was spinning, and you felt like you couldn’t breathe. Fred Weasley—Fred Weasley—had just told you he liked you. And not in the way you’d always thought, like a brother or a friend. No, this was something different, something that made your heart race and your palms sweat.
As you stood there in the empty corridor, you realized that maybe—just maybe—Fred wasn’t the only one whose feelings had changed over the summer.
Fred’s growth spurt had certainly been a surprise, but what surprised you even more was how much your own feelings had grown right alongside him. And now, as you made your way back to the common room, one thought echoed in your mind:
Maybe it was time to take Fred up on that flying offer.
OWL FAQ
Please read before requesting:
Are requests currently open? Yes, this is my first time opening request.
Who do I write for? The Harry Potter universe - Slytherin boys, Weasley twins and Cedric. (plan on expanding to other universes soon)
Who do I not write for? Severus Snape & Peter Pettigrew
What will I write?
Drabbles (100 word fics)
Headcanons (list of things I imagine about characters in requested situations)
One shots (short stories usually 1k-3k words)
Series based on requests, if I get really inspired
I mostly write my fics x reader
You can request fluff, angst, AUs and almost anything you want
Give me as much detail as you want
Things I personally don't write:
Paedophilia, incest, rape, etc.
Crackships
LGBTQ+ (I feel it wouldn't be accurate or appropriate for me to do so)
Do I write every request I get? Unfortunately not, I need to be inspired to write
How long will it take? Anywhere from a day to 100 years. Sorry in advance😓
Where can I join the taglist? Join the Taglist here!
Where can you request? In the (OWL ME) section
Thank you for taking the time to read!
HARRY POTTER MOODBOARD
The Other Half | IV
PART III
Draco Malfoy x Slytherin!Reader Fling!Marco Flint x Slytherin!Reader Harry Potter x Sister!Reader
Summary: Harry Potter's twin sister y/n Potter transfers to Hogwarts during the third year. With Harry being a Gryffindor being sorted into Slytherin was hard enough. Now having to battle the shadow that comes with being the twin of the chosen one. On top of being the only girl on the Slytherin Quidditch team. In the notorious cold-blooded house, y/n leans on the Bronze 5. Eventually falling for the pureblood prince, himself Draco Malfoy.
Word Count: 948
Warnings: Retired Voldy AU, Angst, Fluff,
A/N: Sorry this part’s a little shorter than normal😅. I will release the next part very soon tho and I promise it's much longer!!
The next morning, the first rays of sunlight peeked through the curtains, gently waking you from your sleep. Your heart raced with excitement and a touch of nerves, knowing that today was the day you would prove yourself in the quidditch tryouts. You threw the covers off and headed straight to the bathroom to get ready, the excitement building with every step. After a quick shower, you pulled your hair back into a high pony and put on your old practice gear — black athletic pants, a well-worn practice jersey from Ilvermorny, and, of course, Nimbus 2000.
Pansy was still asleep when you left the dorm, but Blake stirred, glancing at you sleepily from her bed.
"Good luck, Y/N," she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep. "You’ll kill it."
"Thanks, Blake," you whispered back, grabbing your broom and heading out the door.
As you made your way to the pitch, the crisp morning air filled your lungs, helping calm your racing thoughts. The field looked almost magical under the early morning mist. You spotted Blaise, Enzo, and Draco at the far end, already warming up. Marcus Flint, looking smug as ever, was standing at the center of the pitch with a clipboard and captain cuff, clearly getting ready to evaluate everyone.
You walked up to your group, who were all dressed in matching green and silver. Blaise grinned when he saw you approaching.
"Look who finally decided to show up, nice jersey" he teased, nudging Draco. "Ready to prove yourself, Potter?"
"As if there was ever a doubt," you replied, flashing a confident smile.
Draco gave you a long look, his eyes unreadable, before he turned back to adjusting his gloves. Enzo, ever the enthusiastic one, clapped you on the back.
"Let’s show them how it's done, Y/N," he said, his grin wide. "You’ve got this."
Marcus gathered everyone around, barking out instructions about the tryout format. You were going to be judged on everything from speed to accuracy to teamwork, and it was clear from his demeanor that this wasn’t going to be a walk in the park. But you thrived under pressure, and these 3 days will be no different.
As you kicked off into the air, the wind whipping past your face, all your nerves melted away. The feel of the broom beneath you, the rush of adrenaline as you zoomed across the field — this was where you felt most at home. It wasn’t long before you were weaving in and out between the other players, dodging bludgers, and catching quaffles just like when you were at Ilvermorny.
After the first day, all you did was go to classes, eat, study, and go to bed. No one out of the 5 dared to distract you. Blake and Pansy didn’t even want to ask you how the first day of classes went. Every time you were in the air at tryout you could feel the entire team watching your every move.
You could feel the eyes of the entire team on you as you dodged Flint’s attempts to score. His smugness faded with every failed attempt to get past your defense. The other players, even the veterans, seemed impressed, and you could hear Enzo and Blaise cheering you on from below.
After the last solid two hours of intense drills, Marcus called the tryouts to a close. You landed softly on the grass, panting but exhilarated. Flint walked over to you, a begrudging look of approval on his face.
"I’ve gotta hand it to you, Potter," he said, crossing his arms. "You exceed my expectations every time I see you. We could definitely use someone like you on the team even if you are a girl."
"Does that mean I’m in?" you asked, unable to hide the hopeful smile creeping onto your face.
Marcus hesitated for just a second before nodding. "Yeah, you’re in. Tryouts officially end tomorrow, but there’s no point dragging it out."
You felt a wave of triumph wash over you, and before you could stop yourself, you let out a victorious laugh. The boys — Enzo and Blaise — walked over, clapping you on the back and congratulating you.
"I knew it," Enzo said, beaming. "I knew you’d get in."
"Well done, Potter," Draco said coolly, but there was a glint of respect in his eyes that hadn’t been there before.
The adrenaline still surged through your veins as you headed back to the castle with your friends, excitement bubbling inside you. Blake and Pansy were going to freak when they found out you made the team. You could already hear Blake’s squeal of excitement in your head.
As you all approached the Slytherin common room, Blaise turned to you with a sly grin.
"Guess we’ll have to throw tomorrow’s party in honor of our newest team member."
"Just as long as I’m not dead tired for our first practice," you said, laughing.
Draco looked at you, his expression unreadable once again. "You’ve earned it. Just don’t get too cocky on us, Potter."
You smirked, playfully bumping his shoulder. "Don’t worry, Malfoy. I’ll save my arrogance for our first match."
Inside the common room, your triumph was celebrated with high-fives and pats on the back. But despite the camaraderie, your mind wandered to Marcus Flint’s lingering gaze. The quidditch captain had taken an interest in you. But deep down you knew that there was something else brewing in you.
But for now, you were content. You were officially part of the Slytherin quidditch team, and no one — not even Marcus Flint — could take that away from you.
PART V
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