“Aurore Rose Malfoy. She was an almost perfect replica of Hermione, except for her astonishingly bright silver eyes and Draco’s mouth” -Manacled, Epilogue 2 by SenLinYu
i just realized i never came on here to give an update but i absolutely adored draco malfoy and the mortifying ordeal of being in love. a much needed break from my manacled breakdown
1. Being able to produce only one son in a lifetime (because of something that happened hundreds of years ago) to prevent any bastards. Draco having a kid with Hermione somehow broke that because his blood disowned him for procreating with someone of Muggle decent—this one was placed by a scorned Malfoy wife.
2. The kids having the signature Malfoy hair and eyes as to know if the wives have bedded another man—done by some Malfoy patriarch along the beginning of the branch.
No matter how many Dramione stories I read, the shift from 'Granger' to 'Hermione' and from 'Malfoy' to 'Draco' does inexplicable things to my heart. every. fucking. time.
If you take requests can you write a fic about draco wanting the reader's attention all day but someone or something something always getting in the way ? Bonus if he gets a lil moody about it too
(Feel free to ignore if a bother tho ♡) :)
bellyaching
A/N: you GUYS i cranked this out in an afternoon, do u understand im OBSESSED with moody draco
Pairings: Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader
Summary: Draco is desperate for your attention, and desperate times call for desperate Slytherins. 1.1k words
Warnings: fluff, very very minor boy angst, slytherin behavior, moody/dramatic draco, established relationship
“Babe.”
It’s hushed, Draco doesn’t want to catch Flitwick’s attention while trying to grab yours. But it’s not easy when you’re seated in the row in front of him, and he’s desperately leaning over his workspace to reach you.
“Baby,” he mumbles, and you glance over your shoulder with a start. Then, smiling, you wave, and he’s soothed for just a moment. You turn back around and he’s practically pouting. He taps your shoulder with the paper rose he had so painstakingly folded for you. He’s got the paper cuts to prove it.
Draco taps your shoulder with the stem. You turn your head and hold one finger to your lips. You shushed him. You shushed him. He settles back in his seat, arms folded over his chest, wilted paper rose forgotten on his desk.
…
After class, you’re walking beside him, arm happily tucked within his as he escorts you to your Advanced Mythology lesson. Though he’s feeling a little deflated, having you near makes him feel better. And realizing that you’ve got a few minutes to spare before next class, he pulls you to the side of the hall, abandoning his friends to walk ahead.
Tucked beneath one of the awnings, he holds your books beneath his arm and pulls you closer.
“Draco!” you yelp, resisting his onslaught of hurried kisses, “We have class, remember? It’s that thing we are required to attend five days a week? We learn a lot of subjects? Sometimes they give us lunch hour—?”
“We’ll have plenty of time to get to class,” he huffs, pecking your bottom lip and the apple of your cheek.
“Draco, you’ve been late to nearly all of your classes because of—”
“Not because of you. I am solely responsible for my tardiness—ow!” You pinch his side and giggle when he slumps into your shoulder—“‘S not fair you’re so kissable.”
You roll your eyes and press your lips to the side of his sad face, “fine. You can have one kiss. Make it quick.”
At that, Draco perks up. You playfully pucker your lips, and as he leans in—You’ve got to be kidding.
“There you are! Come on, we’ve only got five minutes to get to class, and I’d rather not be forced to polish anymore silver!” Pansy grabs you by the crook of your elbow, dragging you out into hall. You wave at Draco and quickly catch up with Pansy.
For Merlin’s sake, is he not allowed one moment alone with his beloved.
…
The rest of the day goes just as smooth. As in not smooth at all. As in Draco’s day has been a complete shit show, and you’ve been otherwise occupied for just about every second of it.
First, he face plants during a scrimmage. Then, you tell him you’re using the afternoon to study with the girls in the library. You said he’s welcome to join but he knows that means he would be the only male attending and, therefore, it would be excruciatingly awkward.
Suffice to say, he’s spent the last few hours sulking and moaning to himself. Enzo thinks it’s hilarious.
When you finally sit next to him at dinner, he’s still stewing in his anger. Yes, it’s gotten to anger.
“Good evening, dear Draco!” you coo. And he’s clearly not having it, picking away at his food and only acknowledging you with a curt huff. You look to Theodore in shock, eyes wide when he shrugs.
“He’s been like this all day,” Mattheo says, “Think you could be a dear and fix him for us?”
You look over at Draco, who’s taken to scowling at the two boys. So you brush his hair out of his face and flatten his hood against his back.
“What’s wrong? I feel like I haven’t seen you all day?” you say, tilting your head. He huffs.
“I think you mean you’ve been ignoring me all day.”
“Draco!” you say, surprised by his sudden volume and honestly amused by his apparent lack of awareness. “What’s with the attitude?” He doesn’t respond, so you cross your arms over your chest. At this point, you’ve got the entire Great Hall’s attention. And winner for most dramatic couple goes to… “Come on, Draco, don’t just sit there and sulk, talk to me!”
“Oh, now you want to talk? Are you sure? Maybe you should go and study with your friends or read a book or do anything other than ask me how my day has been,” he whines. Enzo can’t help but snicker.
Your jaw drops, and you mumble, "Lower your voice, drama queen, I’m—"
“No, I’ve been trying to spend time with you all day, and you just shrug me off and find something better to do! What if I wanted to walk you to class and study with you?”
“We can still study together this week.”
“That’s not the point, babe. I wanted to spend time with you today,” he says, defeated and back to prodding at his meal tirelessly.
You sigh.
“I’m sorry, Draco. I had no idea”—you list his hand from the edge of the table and fit your fingers gently between his own—“I didn’t mean to starve you of attention. How careless of me.”
Draco presses his thumb against your hand, and he just barely turns his head to look at you.
“You’re teasing me,” he huffs. You look down at your hands and smile.
“A little,” you say, “But I am sorry. I should have listened to you. And asked you about your day. How was it by the way?”
“Ate complete shit out on the pitch. Found out I’m too needy for my girlfriend. Other than that, just peachy.”
“Draco,” you whine, pouting and cupping his face. “I’m sorry. And you’re not too needy for me, I’m just a bit daft.”
He shrugs, trying not to smile so wide and failing. Just happy to have you near him again.
“Oh, I have something for you”—he reaches into his pocket and pulls out the floppy rose—“Made it in charms.”
You hold its fragile, wrinkled frame in your cupped hands, frowning at it then at him.
“You made this for me?”
“Yeah. And it says ‘you look pretty’ on the inside, but I think if you try to unfold it, it’ll actually disintegrate,” he says.
You lean in swiftly for a kiss, but pause on the way.
“You two? Look away,” you grumble at Theo and Mattheo, snapping a spell against both of their cheeks. They wince and apologize, and Draco snickers.
He kisses you, tugging at your open robe and smiling against your lips when you reach for his other hand.
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