oh I TOTALLY forgot about this but it’s an old fic (like, from when I first started out), but here’s a little something to keep the edge off while I slowly but surely write something proper to post🫶
“are you just good at absolutely everything, draco?” i glared up at his stupid smirking face, hating the amused glint in his eyes.
he crossed his arms, looming over me. “perhaps.”
his cheeks were tinted pink from the cold, his hair messy for once as opposed to his usual - perfectly gelled. it was actually my awful idea to go ice skating, and it just so happened a rink had been opened outside hogsmeade; out in the open, only few people and families currently skating around and all laughing amongst themselves. the ice glittered under the moonlight, but perhaps that in itself was another enchantment.
it appeared that i was the only one who couldn’t seem to grasp the balance between the thin blades and the ice, and now here i was - on my arse, flopped over on the ice like an uncentered penguin.
he reached his hand out, “come on. i’ll help you, i guess.”
i rolled my eyes but took his hand anyway, “yeah, any chance to show off, right?”
his eyes narrowed playfully at my remark before he suddenly let go of my hand, leaving me to stumble and almost topple over again. he caught me last minute and stabled me upright to help meet him eye level, grinning stupidly at how dependant i currently was on him (against my own will to not be as embarrassingly bad as I was at this).
“if by that you mean showing off my clumsy mess of a girlfriend, sure.”
i narrowed my eyes as i tried to be subtle about balancing against the ice without leaning all my weight onto him, although my fingers remained clenched around his in poorly suppressed fear, “you’ll have a none existent girlfriend by the end of tonight if you don’t shut up.”
despite my threats, tonight would be perhaps the worst type of night to break up - especially with the way that the night was dark enough to reveal all the secrets inside, constellations dancing and watching us below. all the bright patterns of stars winked at the skaters, seemingly gleaming in humour as they watched me try and fail to glide along. a cool breeze would echo across very rarely, but still enough to leave behind rouge on everyone’s cheeks and noses.
draco looked particularly magnificent, but i’d never admit that to the prat. not since he’s been laughing continuously all night, only just now deciding to offer help, even as my backside had made contact with the ice perhaps a dozen times now.
his hands outstretched separately, taking mine in each one. his fingers were hidden by black gloves - the softest of soft material, courtesy of the malfoys’ riches. i was somewhat disappointed to not be a witness to those hands, the ones that i loved so much with the beautiful rings and each small detail etched on them, but i appreciated the warmth and comfort they offered right now.
“come on, darling. just relax,”
i listened halfheartedly, trying to follow along steadily as he glided backwards at a slow, slow pace. i was looking at the ground and our ice skates, biting a lip to concentrate harder.
after what felt like a good round of the rink, i looked up at draco to see him already smiling at me. he grinned at my eye contact with soft, caring eyes, but contradicted the gentleness in his expression by teasing, “having fun? made quite the progress, i must say.”
my mouth parted slightly as i glanced around, seeing in immense despair that we’d only come a few metres from where i fell moments ago. a small groan fell from my lips and my hands came to throw up in the air out of habit. i caught my mistake a second too late, the ground suddenly falling from underneath me and almost completely throwing me off.
a quick slip of an arm came under my waist, catching me just in time. draco’s reflexes always seemed rapid when it came to me and my clumsiness; like in class when my equipment would roll of the table and he’d grab it just before it hit the ground, or in other houses’ quidditch matches when we’d both be in the audience and a rogue quaffle would threaten to collide with my face - that day, i’d opened my tightened eyes to see him clutching it with a smug grin. ‘trust me to always protect that pretty face,’ he’d said.
his face had moved to just before mine, an expression of shock displayed from my almost fall. it seemed his reflexes were simply a habit and not a conscious motion, the near accident causing as a surprise for the both of us.
his lips stretched into a smile and he released a cool breath in a relieved, amused sigh as i giggled back, “i’m sorry…i am trying, i promise,”
he pressed a kiss to my cheek and yanked me up, holding me so firmly that there was no chance of slipping now. he then pulled me so my head was nearly on his shoulder and his lips were perfectly lined next to my ear, and only i could hear every word he said as he whispered lowly, “how can i praise you when you’re just absolutely awful, my love?”
i felt heat rush to my cheeks, hating the subtle insinuations behind his words. “i’d shove you away if i wasn’t using you as my stand.”
he chuckled and returned to our previous position, continuing to slowly skate us along and giving small tips along the way.
minutes went by, but at last -
“that’s it, you’re getting the hang of it!”
i risked a quick laugh as i could finally match his quick paces, feeling a sense of balance come to me the more we skated round and round, him now going backwards so that he could lead me from in front.
eventually, he carefully let go of one of our joined hands. my eyes warily snapped up to him to which he just smiled reassuringly, coming to skate beside me instead of in front. we were still hand in hand as we continued, now me being much less dependant on him. he squeezed my hand in reminder that he was there, so i took a deep breath, and we went skating.
truly, we were skating around.
no interruptions from my falls, my nerves and my wobbles. i was laughing lightly as we travelled against the breeze, completely carefree in that moment.
that was, until draco turned his head and spoke casually into my ear, “i love you.”
he chose this moment to be the first time to ever say that? his words hardly registered as my mouth gaped open and my legs stopped working, all my limbs uniting together to forget what their jobs were.
the ice slipped away, the sky tilted and i was soon staring at the sky, still shocked and barely acknowledging the chill of the ice on my backside. draco’s face peered over, grinning so stupidly that i felt like jumping up and slapping him even more stupid.
despite prompted murderous intent, i felt an overwhelming smile reach my face before i noticed the hidden nervousness behind his eyes.
i sighed in mock tire as i tilted my head in sweetness. “i love you too, you prat.”
“if by that you mean showing off my clumsy mess of a girlfriend, sure.” … “you’ll have a none existent girlfriend by the end of tonight if you don’t shut up.”
HELP😭😭😭😭
no cause this so SO cute hello????
their dynamic>>>>>>
“how can i praise you when you’re just absolutely awful, my love?”
DRACO loves girls. he loves their attention, loves their loyalty, and loves, more than anything, moving on to the next.
GIRLS love Draco. they love his attention, love his gentle words and soft touches, but hate, more than anything, being the ones left behind.
SHE hates them both. she’s tired of the disruptions to her studies, the trail of crying girls disturbing her nightly revision sessions. she’s ready to stop it. she’s going to break the chain - SHE’S GOING TO BREAK THE PLAYER.
yeah, it’s from that tiktok trend. reader ravenclaw (not important)
Pansy let her hands hover over the wood, hesitating before she knocked. Was this a good idea? What if he was asleep? What if he wasn’t interested? What if she just came back tomorr-
No.
She was a Parkinson. She was pureblood, one of the richest at that. She wasn’t afraid of some silly boy. Even if that so-called silly boy was the definite die-for love of her life. She shook off her doubts, and let her knuckles lightly rap at the door.
She put her hands down, watching the candlelight flicker at the dark oak as she wrung her fingers in poorly suppressed nervousness. Why did it take this long to answer the door? Perhaps he was busy. Or asleep. She counted the number of knots in the door, a habit she’d acquired since he always took so long to answer. 7, just like always.
The wood was busy with swirls and twisted patterns, like a noisy crowd of flaws. On the other side of it, the room seemed silent. She was right. She should’ve just come back tomorr -
The clicking of the handle jumped her awake, startling her despite watching the door the whole time. She straightened, then desperately reminded herself to keep her composure. Keep cool. Keep calm.
The door slowly swung open, and there stood the most handsome boy she’d ever seen. As she smiled sweetly at Draco - perhaps sickly sweetly - she only just stopped herself from flinching as she took note of his messy hair and loosened collar. His white shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and if his annoyed expression was anything to go by, she could take a good guess that he really had been sleeping. His one hand was on the door, keeping it half closed, and the other rested against the wall as if he was truly irritated at this interruption.
She swallowed her regret at this timing, pushed away her curses at herself, and called his name.
“I’m really struggling with this charms topic, Draco. I would so appreciate your help,” she lowered her head as to make her eyes appear bigger, looking up through her eyelashes, “if you’d be so kind as to offer it.”
Draco inhaled deeply, then quickly exhaled as his eyes briefly closed. His hand on the door moved, and she used all her effort to not look at the veins running down as he lowered it. Instead, she looked to what he pointed at with a raised eyebrow.
A tie hang itself on the door knob, neatly and purposely.
She looked to him, then back to the tie. Ah. Do not disturb.
She breathed out a laugh like this was a small issue, and ignored the squeezing in her throat. “Sorry, silly of me to assume you’d be awake at this time.”
He cocked his eyebrows once more as if to acknowledge her apology, and returned his hand to the door.
“But, you see, I just can’t get my head around this questi - ” and the door shut in her face, the tie swinging slightly as it clicked in place. Pansy let her lips remain parted, the unspoken words still hanging on her tongue.
When the next sound of a lock clicked out to her, she shut her mouth and huffed. What a day.
She turned and stalked her way back down the steps, a sulk in every movement.
Back behind the oaken door, Draco sighed at the interruption. Then, without letting the present go to waste for any longer, he looked to the side of the door where his other hand had rested. Or rather - where his hand was stifling your mouth, preventing you from making any sound that might’ve given the two of you away.
Your eyes were wide, hands clutched around his large one in nervousness, and he smirked down at you. “No need to worry, darling. She’s gone.”
Your heart thumped in your chest, the adrenaline of almost being caught - and now having that intense stare back on you - tripling your pulse. He leaned down, the scent of mint coming closer, the scent of expensive cologne grasping you by the neck once more.
Back on the other side, Pansy paused.
The tie on the door handle. She turned mid stairwell, looking back up to the dormitories. Why didn’t she notice? The tie wasn’t green.
the finale; get excited before you read this, I’ve pulled out some of my best.
Malfoy.
He kept hearing you say the word, over and over again. You’d never called him Malfoy before, it was always Draco.
He wondered what had happened in the twenty minutes you’d been gone that made you call him that.
All he’d planned was to steal the desk, to tease you when you came back, to start another one of your arguments that he, for some reason, found himself enjoying. Draco loved annoying you almost as much as he loved winning against you, and couldn’t help doing whatever he could to get a reaction out of you - but no matter what he did, no matter how many times you’d lost against him, he’d never seen your eyes red and your cheeks damp before. He didn’t like how uncomfortable it made him. He didn’t like the fact that he was still thinking about it even after you’d left.
He kept wondering throughout the hours of studying in the library, quill writing and ink staining but nothing occupying his mind except…you.
And he hated that.
He hated that you thought of him as only an opponent. He hated that he wasn’t allowed to think of you as much as he did, and that Fred got to spend all his time with you and think of you as much as he pleased.
And he hated, more than anything, that even while he studied he was still thinking about you.
-
He waited the next day, assuming you’d show up to the library around noon since you had the afternoon scheduled off. He pushed away the thought that he was skipping Charms to be here, and pulled the chair from The Desk and seated himself.
Just like clockwork, there you were. Draco caught your faint perfume before he actually saw you, the same scent that tauntingly smelt like that stupid amor -
He shook his head, watching you from the corner of your eye. He waited for the reaction, for you to click your tongue and start doing that whisper-yelling thing in the middle of the library on why he was an ass for stealing your desk. He waited for you to fight him for it, to give him a reaction, but it never came.
Draco watched as you made eye contact with him, your books held in one hand, the other rested on top. He spoke a thousand words and asked a thousand questions in his expression alone, hoping you’d be able to read them like he could read the empty sadness and guilt behind yours. He could read you easily enough - he’d always been able to - but what he didn’t understand was what had happened. He couldn’t see Fred breaking up with you; the poor bastard was so in love, even he could see that. If anything, Draco took secret joy in the fact that he could tell Fred loved you more than you did him. If Draco was really stretching it, he might have even questioned if you loved Fred at all. But that was just his own silly thought. His own theory. And admittedly, his own hope. He couldn’t put a name on that feeling that he got whenever he thought too hard about you, but for some reason he cared about who you loved, about your strange sudden change.
He reached out to you silently from his desk by asking you the question, what’s wrong?
Of course, he wouldn’t actually voice it. Instead, he hoped once more that you could read him like he could you.
Draco watched as your hand just dropped by your side, limp and seemingly unbothered. You broke eye contact and stalked off to the opposite desk, placing your books down and a dull, blank expression occupying your features. He knew better. He knew you weren’t this unbothered, bored, nonchalant person in that moment. Something was eating you up, and if he didn’t find out what it was, it might consume him as well.
-
Mcgonagall dabbed her finger against her tongue, and separated the first two papers on the pile. Draco slumped in his seat as she made her way down the rows of desks, this feeling so familiar to him - and yet, today was different.
Despite it only being the practise papers, the competition still went on. He was still concerned with getting the best, with getting a 99% or higher, but as the professor’s short heels clicked slowly against the stone and the other students ruffled their pages to check their results, Draco wasn’t even watching her.
Draco wasn’t even thinking about whether he was the best or not. Draco was watching you, wondering why you weren’t watching the papers either. You sat back in your seat, legs still crossed like always, but no stiff posture as you watched McGonagall pace down the class. Your eyes weren’t on the stack of tests getting smaller, they were dully watching the desk in front of you.
For the first time since he’d known you, you didn’t seem to care. And not for the first time since he’d known you, he cared more than ever. That feeling that he couldn’t put a name to started bubbling in his chest.
The professor finally reached you two, and Draco habitually held his breath. He hoped he did better than you. But maybe he didn’t. Maybe he wouldn’t have minded to draw, since it was only practise papers and they weren’t so important. Maybe…maybe he wouldn’t have minded if you won this time, if only it might wipe that horrible, dull expression off of your face.
When McGonagall seemed to do a double take at the name on the test before handing it to you, Draco’s stomach dropped.
The sound of paper being set down was the only thing he heard on as he watched you, not even glancing at the test now in front of him. He watched as you flickered your gaze to the test, as you glanced up to the professor who looked down with a worried sort of disappointment, and then he saw the ‘48%’ in red.
Draco slumped back in his chair. He felt like storming out. He felt like grabbing his hair in frustration and pulling it out. He felt like throwing his stupid practise test paper off of the desk and getting rid of the big ‘99%’ staring back at him.
What could have possibly happened that you had slacked off this much? What could that bastard Fred have possibly done that made you this different to your usual self? What could have possibly happened to you that made you not care about your score enough to drop from aces to barely passing?
What could have possibly happened to you that made you not care about…him?
-
The halls were dark at this time of day. Well, at night.
The candles were flickering pathetically against stone, hardly bothering to keep the corridors alight because no one wondered them in the dead hours. No one except a boy, who had nothing better to do than foolishly think about one particular girl.
The boy leant into an alcove, melting into the shadow of the crook, pressing himself against it to peer over the corner. He saw a familiar figure approaching, the one he’d been waiting for.
Tonight, he was going to get answers. And he couldn’t do it during the day - couldn’t even find this person during daylight hours - so night would just have to do. This way, no eavesdroppers could intrude in their conversation, and the boy would get all the information he needed no matter what.
He was tired of going crazy over his own thoughts. He was sick of not even being able to take pride in his 99% because instead he was thinking about your bloody 48%. And he was absolutely, utterly, and entirely sick and tired of only being able to think about you.
The shadowy person had carelessly audible steps as he shuffled up the hallway towards where the boy waited, as if taking normal steps was too much effort and instead he could only drag his feet behind him.
Draco saw when he stepped close enough for the candlelight to flicker against orange hair, and shot out his arm to grab the shadow’s collar. With a swift turn, the person was pressed against the alcove with a forearm against his chest, a look of surprise and aggravation upon his face as Draco’s wand threatened just under his chin.
Fred didn’t have time to splutter out an accusation before Draco’s spat out with venom, “What did you do, Weasley?”
The boy furrowed his brows in a raged look of confusion. His hand went to pull off Draco’s hold, but the boy only pushed the tip of his wand harder against his neck and warned him with a silent glare. Fred, with no other choice, stiffened and let himself be pinned against the wall. He tried and failed to keep the frustration from his lowered voice as he replied, “What the fuck are you talking about, Malfoy?” His eyes darted from the wand to the boy to the seemingly silent hallway, no doubt already worrying about the consequences of being caught in this position. Which would be worse - caught by a professor that the prefect still isn’t in bed after his rounds, or caught by a fellow student that the prefect is being pinned to the wall and interrogated by Draco Malfoy?
Draco’s eyes narrowed to slits. His tone was murderous, and equally quiet for reasons completely different to Fred’s. “You know what I’m talking about, Fred. What did you do?”
Fred’s stomach dropped at the usage of his first name, the title contorted as Draco twisted it into something horrible and disgusting. He struggled to gulp as the wand prodded his throat, and wanted to look away from such an accusatory look. He didn’t want to think about what Draco was talking about. More than anything, he didn’t want to think about who Draco was talking about. Draco glowered when he didn’t respond, “Go on. Tell me. What did you do, Fred?” Draco felt his fingers grip tighter against his wand in fury as he continued, every word choked with suppressed anger, “What did you do,” he clenched his jaw, “to her?”
Draco watched as Fred stared back, dread painting the surface beneath his eyes. Perhaps he imagined it, but he could’ve sworn his chin was twitching with fear. And, perhaps he was undermining himself, but he knew Fred wasn’t this scared of him.
Whatever he’d done, whatever had happened between you two, could it really have been that bad? Did he really do something so cruel that he couldn’t even admit it with a wand to his throat? Draco’s fingers curled until his knuckles faintly throbbed against the wood.
Fred’s reply was an attempt at speaking, but his own throat betrayed him and his words came out whispered, the break of sound at the start. “I think you should talk to her.”
Draco’s brows twitched as he briefly furrowed them. “What?”
Was it…did you do something? Is that why you’d been so different recently, because you felt so guilty that you couldn’t cope with it? Draco pulled away slightly, his pressure easing against Fred, who instantly reached to sooth his throat that now bloomed with an angry, red, prodded mark.
Making sure to keep the confrontational tone, Draco repeated, “What do you mean?”
That strange feeling rose in his chest again, so foreign and so scary that Draco felt a little sick as Fred’s face seemed to darken with hatred - despite him still having a firm hold on his wand. He curled his lip, “She didn’t love me, Draco.”
Every limb froze when Fred finished his next confession. He felt like the alcove shrank far away, like the floor sank beneath him and the candles in the corner flickered out. He felt like he’d floated beneath where the water pressures crush man, and yet also high enough above the clouds that his head was swirling.
His wand clattered to the ground, the sound of wood echoing through the silent stone hallway, and that feeling came back to Draco. Only this time, he had a name for it.
“She’s in love with you.”
-
“I need to talk to you.”
You looked up from your friend just as she was mid-joke, the smile heavy on your face drifting as you met his eyes. You’d been doing just fine recently, you’d finally reached the part where you could just about pull a smile to your lips; and now for some reason, seeing him made that so much harder. You looked to your friend in a confused look, then back to him. “What?”
Draco tutted, like you were the one being strange. “McGonagall wants a word. She told me to bring you, so would you just hurry up?”
You clicked your tongue in fake annoyance at this interruption - when really, you were drained at the social interactions you had to go through every meal time, and really were quite grateful for an excuse out of today. You slid out of the great hall’s bench and rounded the corner to meet Draco, eyeing him with suspicion.
Although, you did notice how your face felt lighter than before without the weight of a forced smile, every muscle relaxing now that you were only with him. Perhaps it was because you didn’t care what he thought, didn’t care if he knew you were not doing great at the moment.
Or, perhaps, it was because your body naturally felt like this around him.
“What does McGonagall want?”
Draco pushed the doors open with one hand, already leading you two with great pace out of the hall. He didn’t reply, long legs already round the corner and halfway down the corridor. You forced a quicker, uneven jog to your step to keep up, clicking your tongue in irritation for the second time since he’d found you. Then your eyes widened as you rushed behind his footsteps, “It isn’t about the practise tests, is it?”
No response. You watched as the sun streaked across his platinum hair through the latticed window, then was blocked out by the concrete gap between glass panels, then was lit up again. You tugged at his robes, trying to slow him down and also to elicit a response from him. He didn’t even turn his head over his shoulder, replying by swatting your hand away from his sleeve and then grabbing your wrist, suddenly tugging you along to his speed.
You nearly yelled out in surprise, “Draco! What is it? Fuck, I really hope it’s not about those tests. God, you flunk one time and suddenly the entire world - ”
The pressure released on your wrist only to land on your shoulders, and you were slammed against a wall. Your eyes widened, a furious looking Draco in front of you, half out of breath from the literal run from the hall to -
You looked around in panic, just dreading the thought of someone catching you two in this position. Dreading the thought of looking back into his eyes, because suddenly you remembered more clearly than anything why Fred had broken up with you, why you were so confused and angry recently, why you’d failed those tests in the first place.
He’d guided you both to a quiet corridor on the ground floor, just around the courtyard where students usually loitered during free periods. Lucky for you, everyone was in the lunch hall. He lightly shook you in a motion to look at him. You swallowed, forcing the lump down your throat, and looked up.
Sun stole in through the long window to the side of you, flittering across his features with afternoon light. It was strange that the sun pooled in his grey eyes, as the cold air was already biting at your fingertips. It was strange that his eyes looked so pretty. It was strange that you forgot momentarily about McGonagall’s wrath.
Then he spoke. “Why did you fail those tests?”
Your throat choked up. So many answers and excuses and questions flurried on your tongue that your mind went blank, and nothing came out of your parted lips.
His jaw clenched, but he went on. “Beating you has never been easy, Y/N. Losing to you even less.”
His eyes flickered between yours, trying to convey a message that he wasn’t voicing. You were sure you knew what that look meant, but you couldn’t bring yourself to recognise it. Your heart thumped in your ears. He continued, “For you to fail a test, right after I’ve tried so hard these past few fucking months just to get a damn 99% - ”
“What is it you want to say, Draco?”
His breaths were uneven and heavy, like the weight of what went unsaid was tugging on every inhale. He lowered his voice, “Do you know how hard it was to get a 99%?”
You exhaled, trying to lighten your chest but still feeling this strange, tightened grip. “Okay? What is it to me?”
“It’s everything to you. It’s everything. It’s…it’s all about you.” His eyes left your face only to flicker behind you, as if something in the courtyard beyond the window caught his eyes. His attention was back before you could even question it, before you could even dwell on what he was saying. It seemed he sped up, like whatever he saw had just driven him to suddenly get it all out before it was too late. “Why do you think I study so much just to beat you? You think I’d care whether I’m top of the class or second if it weren’t for you? Y/N, it’s you.”
You didn’t understand. You pressed yourself into the hard slated wall, feeling the cold stone against your back. You gulped, feeling like your heart had risen up to your throat. You were scared. You knew what this meant, but what did it mean? You wanted this so much, but did you deserve it? You could read everything he was trying to say on his face, but what did he want?
Draco dipped his eyes, his ragged breaths just about catching up to him, and then looked back up to your eyes. As if asking for permission. “Do you know what I’m saying?” You parted your lips, half yes, half no. His eyes dropped again, lingering on somewhere above your chin. Time seemed to be slipping past faster than you could grasp. Perhaps if you just spoke, the words would string themselves together and you’d find your answer amongst them. “I - ”
His interruption was rushed, breathy, cool against your face as you realised how close he’d suddenly grown. “That’s good enough for me.” You hardly comprehended his response before a cold hand slipped onto your neck and guided your face upwards, and suddenly a smooth, ice cold velvet was pressing against your lips.
Your heart pulsed so hard that it deafened you, a high ringing sound accompanying the quickened beating. Your hands reached for something to grasp onto if only to prevent your knees from giving out, and you felt the soft fabric of his robes beneath your icy fingers. You felt something clutch at your chest, like excitement and thrill and a rush of release all at once. You thought you were incapable of love - feared that you’d only be infatuated with a boy you weren’t allowed to have. A boy that wouldn’t reciprocate it. But, with cold fingers holding your cheek and gripping your hair, with lips sure and desperate against your own, you felt that this was right.
And the words he’d spoken, the confessions behind his every expression that you could read so well, they melted your every fear and guilt.
Guilt.
The reminder slammed into you like a concrete slab decorated with ice, and your eyes flew open. You pulled back, a tugging at your chest that screamed its reluctance, your ears still ringing and blood heavily pulsing. “Draco,”
He kept his eyes closed, pressing forward, but not to kiss you again. Instead, he rested his forehead against yours, and interrupted you again. “Don’t talk. Don’t say it just yet. Just listen to me before you do.” You clenched your fists, letting them drop by your sides and release his robes. You noticed how red his lips were, how swollen they looked, and realised how warm yours suddenly felt. He continued, “I don’t want to fight this. This - doesn’t this feel right?”
You wanted to scream yes, wanted to just pull him back down and continue - in fact, you wished you’d never stopped it. Why had you, again?
“It feels natural, doesn’t it? Y/N,” he pulled your hands to his, ice to ice, “This is it, isn’t it? This is it. This way,” he let out a dull laugh, “this way, we both win.”
You breathed out a laugh back, and nodded with your forehead still pressed against his. You slowly let yourself respond without using words, with fear that words wouldn’t work to express what you felt.
And just when you felt that the weight had lifted, that the world had finally gifted you something and slotted the pieces into perfect, even places, the sound of a shoe scuffing against stone floor echoed through the corridor.
Your head snapped up to see who the intruder was, Draco’s slowly turning to follow as if he was reluctant to do so. As if he knew who it was.
Fred stood in the centre of the hallway. His figure was turned to face both of you, his arms limp by his side. You pulled away from Draco instantly, ignoring the warmth that left you, ignoring the numbing of your every limb, and faced him. Your lips parted to call out his name, to maybe tell him that it wasn’t what he thought, that it was a mistake -
But you’d be lying. Why did you feel like you’d been caught, like you were doing something cruel and vile?
You couldn’t tell what Fred’s expression meant, you couldn’t read any of that blankness, but your stomach still knew to drop when he flickered his eyes from you, to Draco, and then he turned to walk away.
You really did call out his name there, the sound seeming foreign as it fell on your muted ears, and your legs moved to follow him. You took a single step towards the boy who’s heart you’d broken twice, when you felt a weight against your wrist. Your attempt at running after him was stoppered as you slowly turned your head over your shoulder to see Draco, his fingers wrapped around your wrist with a look of desperation painted on his face.
You could tell what he was saying to you.
Don’t go.
You turned back to face Fred, seeing that he’d also turned to take one last look at you. As if he thought you might he chasing him, as if he thought you’d choose him. But you hadn’t moved. And you couldn’t understand if that disappointed him, angered him, or saddened him.
You couldn’t tell what he was saying to you.
From behind, Draco called your name. Warmth wrapped your wrist, icy fingertips but welcoming hands.
The next moment the feeling disappeared, and your wrist was once again cold. Your legs were moving, picking up pace, and you were running after Fred.
You were running after Fred.
-
You rounded the corner, the air growing colder with every step. Just after Fred had escaped your sight, you could only take a guess as to where he’d gone, and you trailed your way up to here while pushing down the numbing guilt of who you were running further from.
You would think about him later. You would think about what this meant, what your all-consuming and deafening feelings meant. For now, you just knew that you had to reach Fred. Watching him walk away after seeing you two like that was not an option. Forgetting about it was not an option. Closure was not an option - not where you two had left things, anyway. Not unless you found him.
At the top of the astronomy tower, Fred leant over the railings with a chill wind brushing his hair back. A sense of deja vu tingled in your chest, but you knew this time was somewhere different to the last. And, though you couldn’t see his face, you knew you wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t smile at you this time.
“Fred?”
He didn’t move at all. He must have known you were there before you called out, but he didn’t turn around or even call your name back. You slowly took a step towards him, wondering if this was the smart decision. Wondering, if he even listened to you, what you might say.
His voice stopped your slow approach, your posture stiffened by the cold air, and by his words. “I understand.”
You hated deja vu, you decided. Images of your dream from weeks ago crept into your mind, intruding faces and trailing hands drifting in and out of thought despite how much you tried to push it away. You remembered how even in your dreams, Fred was so understanding, so sweet to you.
To him, you could do no bad. And even if you did, he loved you enough that he wished it was only to him. Anything was excusable.
He finally turned around. “I get it, Y/N. I really do. You can’t force yourself to love someone.”
You felt like crying at his words. You wanted to tell him that they weren’t true, that you did love him, that you would’ve done anything to force yourself to love him.
But you would’ve been lying.
And you couldn’t lie anymore. Not to yourself, nor to Fred.
You held your arms limp by your side, wondering if walking away now would be the best thing to do. That is, until he spoke once more. “I understand, Y/N. I think I might’ve done the same, if I was with someone else and the other person was you.”
It took a moment for you to understand his comparison. Once the words set, your heart dropped further. Was he deliberately trying to hurt you, or was this some attempt at reassurance?
He continued. “I would’ve done anything, if it meant that the other person was me. If the one you loved was me.” He smiled at you, a smile that seemed so genuine but lacking of anything a smile should suggest. “But I’m not. And that’s okay. I understand.”
“No, Fred.” You were shaking your head, but he interrupted you before you could elaborate, which was probably a good thing since you didn’t know how you would argue against that.
“It’s not fair of me to stand in between you and…him.” He held out a hand, as if inviting you closer. You were by his side and feeling the open air at the edge of the railings before he held your hands, and smiled again. It was just like the way he smiled at you in your dream, the one where he’d forgiven you for your feelings. The one he was wearing as he forgave you once more for your feelings. “I’ll get over you.”
You breathed out a laugh, watching his expression carefully to find the truth in his words.
After careful searching, you couldn’t find any malicious intent behind his eyes. There was nothing except a poorly painted over sadness, but there was also reassurance. There was also forgiveness.
“But I’ll never get over you. You’ll always be important to me, Freddie.”
He laughed at the nickname again. You both laughed together, a gentle sound against the silence of the cold air. Although, as the sun set into orange skies, you noticed it was starting to get warmer.
Fred admired you for a little longer, his features relaxed. For the first time in a while, his smile didn’t feel heavy on his face. It felt genuine. Perhaps it was just because you were there. Perhaps his body just responded like this to you.
Or, perhaps he was just slowly learning how to get over you.
He really did like looking at you. You were a sight to see. A sight he loved. He loved buying you small deer necklaces, he loved taking you to the lake during lunch breaks, he loved knowing he’d find you at the astronomy tower whenever he missed you.
Loved.
Fred looked at you for just a little while longer, and decided he was going to be fine.
“I’m going to be fine,” he said.
He decided he was going to stop being selfish.
“You should go find him,” he said.
He decided he was going to get over you.
“Go find Draco, Y/N.”
-
Your knuckles were quiet against the soft wood of his dormitory door. The long, thin set of stairs behind you led down to an empty common room, the hallway before you a map to the boys’ rooms. You knew Draco’s room was the one with the silver plated number, the width of the room slightly wider than the others.
It stayed quiet for a long while on the other side, and you dreaded the thought of it not opening. You knew he knew who it was. You gave it another moment before your shoulders slumped, and you turned your body to start descending the grey stairs again.
Then a lock clicked, and the sound of wood slipping out of its frame ticked behind you.
You froze. Perhaps actually having to face him was even scarier than not.
He called your name, soft against the fragile silence. The air felt thin, like it might dissolve into nothing and you might run out of it any moment now.
You turned back around, and faced him.
He probably knew why you were here. He probably knew why you’d left him by the courtyard and chased after Fred instead. He probably knew why your bottom lip started quivering.
He probably knew why he was reaching out and grabbing you, pulling you against him and winding his hands into your hair, digging his face into it. He probably knew why he felt relief, why he felt a heavy pressing against his chest, why he felt so much of it that he thought his knees might give out.
He definitely knew when he was sliding his hand onto your neck and guiding your face upwards to look at him, when you looked at each other and the floor slipped away beneath him. When it felt like the whole world was watching, but also that you two were the only two people in existence.
He definitely knew when he was finally pressing his lips against yours.
You definitely knew when you kissed him back, when you told him everything you wanted to through the way you grabbed him closer, scrunching your hands against his jumper. He definitely knew when the door closed with a kick that didn’t even require him to pull away from you.
He knew he loved you when he felt like he was winning as he kissed you.
You knew you loved him when you felt like you were dreaming once again.
-
AN. it’s been so long since I’ve left a message at the end of my stories :’) but hello, thank you all so much for giving such positive feedback on this series and being so sweet to me! I hope you loved this ending, I tried to give Fred the closure he deserved hehehe
@gwlvr hope you love this so much because I love you(+r request) so much
“When it felt like the whole world was watching, but also that you two were the only two people in existence.”
this is SUCH A PERFECT ENDING OMG.
“You knew you loved him when you felt like you were dreaming once again.”
AAAAAHHH I CANT
i CANNOT believe that you came up with this from just my silly little request-
to think that you would write something so????? perfect??? i am beyond impressed with all of your works but this fic demonstrates all of my favorite things about your writing. the ineffable scenes you create are such a pleasure to read!! the way i’m always completely entranced in them?? please never stop- you are SUCH a talented writer and i’m so glad you managed to turn my request into this work of art<3 MWAH ILYSM KAY!!
Doe eyes looked into yours, soft, sad, reluctant. And then they caved, melting into a forgiving and understanding expression. You watched it all happen behind his features, the way his thoughts were as obvious as a flame across his face. Your heart ached as you broke his, but you still had the selfishness to hope that he forgave you.
He understood.
“I understand,” he said.
He wouldn’t break up with you just because your amortentia had messed up.
“I’d never leave you, Y/N.”
You smiled. You knew he’d respond like this. You had hoped for it. And, now that you were so sure of his feelings for you, you were sure of yourself. You were sure what you wanted - it was him.
You could feel yourself deciding to finally fall in love.
You leaned forward and pressed your lips to softest skin, feeling his love in response. You could feel his gentleness, his tenderness behind every movement, and it melted every part of your body. Fred was so good to you.
Then the kiss changed.
It turned fiery, hands suddenly trailing their way upwards. Cupping your neck, grabbing your hair, every feeling amplified as you both closed your eyes. Ice was crawling up your spine while a fire scorched every limb, your relaxed and melted feeling prior now evaporating with every touch. You were driven into this. You couldn’t stop. You’d never known an addiction like this, had never experienced something as passionate as this. Is this what people meant by falling past ‘like’? Is this how people knew they were finally in love?
Your stomach dropped as you felt his hand grip your waist and pull you closer in a desperate tug. Oh god. You realised with a shiver and a smile that you loved this. You must have loved this boy you were kissing.
You felt a grin against the kiss, a deep chuckle against your lips, and you tugged on his hair in response. You wanted to see him.
You opened your eyes, and you saw grey ones slowly stare back. Hands adorned in rings and veins and strength trailed over your body, and you suddenly froze when you recognised the owner. Then you recognised the ring on his middle finger, engraved message courtesy of you.
Draco was looking at you, swollen lips and messy hair, collar undone and tie pulled crazy loose - all done by you. You were feeling your chest tighten up, you were feeling the oxygen burn out of the atmosphere, your lungs expanding - and all the while you were experiencing these raw, burning symptoms, you were far too aware of icy fingers against your skin.
Then he leaned closer, quickly pressing his lips against yours once more. And you were losing control. You couldn’t bring about one coherent thought except the fact that you liked this, that this felt right, that you wanted to feel this excitement and passion and desire every moment of your life.
You would never stop. Now that you’d gotten a taste, you could never give it up. You had no regrets, and in that moment all you could think about was - how difficult might it be to love your opponent?
-
You woke up with dread coating every inch of your body.
Slick sweat covered your forehead, your back sticking to your pyjama top as you jolted awake in your sheets.
You felt the sinful actions of your dream still all over you, pressed against your body, your lips, your neck.
You jumped out of bed without a care for the crumpled duvet, instantly heading for the shower. A cold, icy shower. You couldn’t believe the things you mind made up. And not just the dream either - you’re sure you must’ve just convinced yourself of the scents in that potion. You were most likely just overworking yourself, probably not thinking straight enough to recognise that it was Fred’s scent.
Speaking of, you had the whole day planned just to catch up on Transfiguration and Care for Magical Creatures; the practise exams were next month. Those two subjects were holding you back, and if that 99% dropped even by the slightest then you could forget about going to Hogsmeade every other weekend or watching the flowers bloom for spring - or even having the time to have stupid, ridiculous dreams like last night.
You had no time to think of such ludicrous things.
Despite your own perseverance, the shower had only managed to wash off the sweat. The vivid images kept coming back, the even clearer touch and sensation still like phantoms against your skin. You couldn’t turn a single corridor without shivering in memory of the kiss with Fred turned wrong, and was determined to block out every single thought about it - about him - until at least those practise papers were over. At least, you wouldn’t be thinking about him in any other way except to beat him.
You could do this. All you had to do was not think about him. It was so easy to not do something. So easy. You’d ace it, just like how you were about to ace these tests.
-
It was not so easy. You crossed out the same sentence for the fourth time, the recited spell entirely wrong and your memory absolutely failing you. In between everything important you had tried remembering, that face wormed its way in. In between every charm and spell and wand movement, his hands blocked them out. You screwed up the scribble filled parchment paper and sighed, closing your eyes to gather your thoughts.
Okay. So you were going crazy. That’s fine, you could always retake the year. You could move to a different school. You could move country.
A chair being pulled from its desk interrupted your thoughts, your eyes opening and looking up to see someone occupying the desk opposite you. Long fingers ran through blonde hair as tired eyes sorted through textbooks, unbeknownst to the person’s attention across from him. First, some idiot had decided to infiltrate your dreams and disturb your entire morning. Second, the same idiot had the nerve to use the library at the same time as you, and sit right across from where you’d sat. How were you supposed to concentrate? It was so selfish of him, you just knew he must have been doing it on purpose. Draco must’ve known that you couldn’t focus on your studies this morning, to hit you when you’re down. He must’ve known that him actually being there was making it ten times worse. He must’ve known that all you could think about was him.
He looked up.
You hadn’t realised you were glaring until he glared back, eyeing your papers and quills and textbooks with annoyance. Yeah, that’s right. Im studying, too. I’m gonna beat your ass in these practise papers.
You looked away, sharply exhaling as you picked up your quill. You had nearly forgotten why you were here. Why all this mess had started. You nearly forgot how good that 99% had felt. You started writing again, the words flowing much smoother now, your memory perfectly bleeding the ink onto the page. Somehow, despite all your glaring and internal complaining, it was easier now that you knew he was there.
It wasn’t rare for you two to end up opposite each other in the library. Whichever victor caught the desired fireplace desk first would be lucky enough to enjoy the scenery and atmosphere, but chances are the other would come waltzing in half an hour later, occupying the second best space - the desk opposite. In between hardcore study sessions, you’d spare a moment to look up and send glares to him. Sometimes, you caught him doing the same.
A poke on your shoulder interrupted your thoughts, a friendly face behind you whispering something that you couldn’t make out.
“Hey, Ginny. Everything alright?”
The little red-headed girl smiled, already on her way to the bookshelf by your right. “Yeah, just came to find you. I’m supposed to let you know that Fred said he wanted to see you.”
You smiled back and nodded, leaving your books and stuff with the intent of returning sooner. As you rose from your seat, you saw Draco’s eyes glimmer up at you from across the area. Yeah, that’s right. Stare. I don’t even need to study to ace these tests. I’m gonna go meet my loving boyfriend, and forget all about you and your stupid face. Your stupid eyes. Your stupid, stupid, way of sneaking into everything, including the stupid, stupid, stupid amortentia.
-
“Hi, love.” You said, coming to wrap your arms around Fred as you spotted him in the astronomy tower. If you two ever wanted to meet, this was the designated spot.
You didn’t expect him to back away, smiling at you despite avoiding your hug. You scrunched your eyebrows, laughing despite his strange behaviour. He looked different today, but you couldn’t pinpoint where. You could never read him so well. “You okay?”
He breathed in a way that seemed like a sigh, “Yeah, everything’s fine. I just…” he paused, leaning against the railings of the tower and looking to the cliffs beyond. You felt suddenly antsy - Fred was acting weird, and also you couldn’t help but think that you really should be getting back to your studies. Despite what you like to lead Draco on to think, you actually did need all the hours you could get to beat him. Sometimes even all your spare hours weren’t enough.
You leaned across the railings too, peering over at his face. You hummed in question, wordlessly prompting him to elaborate. He continued, “I just needed to find a space to talk.”
You breathed out a quiet sound of amused relief. “That’s fine, Fred. I’m always here to talk. Has something happened?” You saw something soft seep back into his features as he turned to look at you, like you’d said the right words. You laughed. “It must be something serious - you never pull me straight from a study sesh.”
Then he looked away again. Like you’d said the wrong thing - again.
You leaned further, scooting closer to where he stood. In a more cautious voice, you called out his name. Something was settling in your stomach, and it was making you nervous. In all honesty to yourself, you were already nervous just from meeting him today. If you had your way, you would’ve found excuses to avoid him just until the evening, at least. You were still going crazy from the damned dream, and even as you looked at his distant face you were constantly trying to shake the image of blonde hair and grey eyes from your memory.
Instead, you watched Fred’s fingers as they tapped against the metal railings in thought, trying to forget about the other hands that trailed in your dreams. You focused on the slow rhythm of them, a habit you’d noticed he always had when he was nervous or in deep consideration.
Finally, his quiet, deep voice broke the silence. A chill in the air showed itself in soft wisps from his lips as he spoke. “Why are you always studying, Y/N?”
You nearly straightened. You weren’t expecting that question. If anything, you were so paranoid that you nearly expected him to start asking about your amortentia, or even your subconscious thoughts at night. “What do you mean?” You forced a laugh again, trying to find the humour in his question. It wasn’t like him to be so serious, but you couldn’t find where the joke lay. “To get good grades? For my future? To get a good j - ”
A scoff interrupted you, and this time you did straighten. He turned his head so that you couldn’t see his look of disbelief, but you caught it from his mannerisms. What the fuck?
“Fred, what’s the problem?” Did he have a problem with all the time you spent in the library and not with him? Was that it? You supposed that was kind of reasonable, seeing as if it were you -
“It’s Malfoy, isn’t it?”
You nearly toppled over. You were so grateful that you were holding onto the railings, otherwise you weren’t so sure that your legs could support yourself. Fighting to keep the stammer from your voice, your next question came out strong and defensive. “What?”
He turned to look at you, one hand resting on the rail, the other dropped by his side. You’d never seen such a lack of humour in his face before. It was like someone had taken the boy you knew so well and wiped everything that made him him, replacing all his usual features with this blank, sad, dull expression. “Malfoy. You’re not studying to get good grades, you’re studying to beat him.”
You laughed, this time less humorous. “Well, yeah. That too. You knew that; everyone knows that!”
He shook his head, “There’s another reason you’re so adamant on beating him. No one cares this much about their grades.”
You threw your hands in the air, “He cares equally much as I do, there’s nothing else to it? I just happen to be the smartest student, and he thinks he can beat me. That’s all it is.” You snorted at your own statement, wishing for a moment that Draco was there to hear it if only to see the expression on his face and hear the arguments he’d throw back.
Like a fool, you were thinking of him again.
Fred squeezed shut his eyes before speaking, as if trying to block out your reaction to the conversation, as if he hated the way you weren’t taking this seriously. Which you were. You so well. You were nervous, in fact, gripping the freezing metal as you waited for something that felt inevitable, something that felt impending ever since Christmas. Actually, perhaps it was since you won last winter’s exams. Or, maybe, it was ever since you first competed against Draco back in first year. But, despite all that, you could feel a bubble of something like relief trying to explode in your chest.
You took a step towards him, and took it as a good sign when he didn’t step back. You ignored the stiffness in his figure, the lack of wanting to reach out to you as he usually did when you were this close, and continued. “What about you? Why do you spend so much time at the joke shop? Why are you so serious about jokes and pranks - are you trying to impress someone?”
“You! I’m trying to fucking impress you, like I always am.” You felt like your heart had sunk. He then shook his head again, “Don’t try and turn this on me, that’s nothing like this. The only person involved in my jokes is George.” He paused again, looking away for a moment.
“How do you think I feel seeing you spend all your time focused on Malfoy, buying him Christmas presents, writing letters to each other everyday, having your own thing with him - and just waiting for you to come spare a moment with me afterwards?”
You stayed quiet, feeling like the air had dropped in temperature. You suddenly hated the silence up here, hated how empty the space felt.
You couldn’t find anything to say, but knew it was your turn to speak. You knew if you didn’t say anything, Fred would leave.
Your voice was a near whisper as you said the only thing you could think of. “I don’t respond to his letters. He sends them, I’ve never sent one back. They’re just about the rin - ”
You stopped yourself before you mentioned the present you brought him, remembering what Fred said moments ago about Christmas presents. You didn’t know that had bothered him. When you saw Fred’s blank face and lack of response at your reply, you could’ve slapped yourself for saying such a stupid thing.
The two of you bathed in the silence for a moment longer, time floating by along the chills of winds that brought a biting cold with it. You took note of his finger tapping against the railing, and waited for him to talk. And when he did, you felt like your throat had swelled so much you could hardly breathe.
“I’m not waiting for you to fall in love with me, I’m watching you fall in love with him.”
-
You raced through the library, trying to find your damn books and bag. You couldn’t leave them in there, even if Fred had just torn your heart out and told you how you’d been tearing his out the whole time. Somewhere behind all that consuming guilt and sheer, utter misery, you still had a mind thinking for your studying and all the work you’d be leaving for someone else to throw away - or steal.
You were lucky to not run into many people on the way, but couldn’t care less about the few that you did anyway. The students in between the rows of books that looked up with nosy, confused or concerned expressions only spotted a flash of red and blotchy skin before you were gone. Your robe sleeves came up to wipe away something cold from your face before you reached the desk you were at before.
You went to shove the textbooks in your bag but stopped dead when you saw a figure at your table. Normally, you might’ve started a petty fight and threatened to throw a few curses, but when you met his smug face and glanced at his crossed arms, his proud stance at taking the desk, you couldn’t find the energy to care. Instead, you looked away and started carelessly stuffing your things into your bag.
Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed he stiffened. Like he was expecting a different reaction. You continued to feel his eyes subtly studying you as you packed, but you gave him no thought, no glance, no reaction.
“Aren’t you gonna congratulate me?”
You stilled for a moment, making eye contact with him. You could tell what he was trying to do, you could see everything on his face. He was so readable - at least, to you. Beneath a smug smirk, he was wondering why you had patchy cheeks and dampened eyes. Perhaps it was because he’d never seen you like this before, or he was just nosy. You might’ve accused that it was the latter, but you knew it wasn’t. You knew he cared just as much as you would have. “Congratulate you on what?”
“I’ve taken your desk - ” he caught himself instantly, “My desk. I’ve taken…my desk.”
You’d been frowning and crying and angry and guilty ever since leaving the astronomy tower, but watching Draco’s brows cross and the confusion flicker across his eyes on replacement of his usual confidence made you almost want to smile. You felt amusement smudge at your grief, but your lips didn’t move.
Instead, you looked away. You had turned and was out of the library before he could even respond to your mumbled parting of, “Congratulations, Malfoy.”
I don’t have much experience w writing series’s, so I hope that this is as good as I’d like it to be and that you love it as much as I’d like you to!
And yeah, I had to include that cliché again. I love it too much to not, even if I did roll my eyes while writing it. You’ll know when you get to it.
Candles swarmed every inch of the walls, illuminating the enormous space of the castle’s ground floor with orange light, flickering against every student as they crowded around the doors. Your year group lined up in clusters, waiting to go into the great hall for the start of the ‘summer term speech’ now that Christmas had passed. You stood chatting with Fred and your friends, Daphne and Theo by your side as few others stood by in a range of coloured houses.
The murmur of chatter was like a blanket settling over everyone as you all integrated back into school life, many feeling like you’d never even left in the first place. The rumble of movement in the hall beyond suggested that the younger years were already settling in while you waited to be seated, the first years no doubt the loudest you could hear. It was strange; the place was in no way quiet, but the collection of hushed whispers bubbling through the crowds made it seem like a loud silence. The only thing that interrupted it was three sudden sets of marching footsteps, expensive shoes tapping against stone as a deep voice yelled out, “What the hell is this all about?”
Heads turned towards the noise, the boy who’d shouted out now marching up a set of stairs that seemed golden under the light, goons in order behind him. His eyes were on you, contorted in a fury that must’ve been suppressed all holiday until he saw you today. He ignored the other staring eyes, marching straight over to you and foolishly flaunting the source of his anger. Draco held up the back of his hand - more specifically, the ring glinting off of it. You felt Fred automatically bring his hand to your back, ready to pull you away as if Draco would actually start throwing curses at you.
You uncrossed your arms that were folded during your previous chattering, smirking despite his furious figure. “What’s the matter, don’t like my present?”
He reached you at the top of the steps, the great hall’s doors beside the group where you stood. You could see the annoyance up close now - could almost feel it radiating off of him. Despite wanting to irritate him, the heat you felt from his anger made your shoulder twitch in a shiver. You were suddenly more aware of Fred’s hand on the small of your back.
Draco clicked his tongue, “Does this look like a present to you?”
The candles danced across his hand, highlighting the shadows and veins that trickled down it as he held it up. The rest disappeared beneath the sleeves of his robes, bringing more attention to the glinting of his fingers. More specifically, to the thick ring that decorated his middle. Your Christmas gift to him had been a ring, one that conveniently wouldn’t be able to be stolen or broken unless the buyer uttered the specific spell. As soon as Draco put the ring on, it was sealed to him until you decided otherwise. Now that alone wasn’t enough of a gift for him, so of course you had it engraved specially.
The ring pulsed in thick writing, gold fit for a king and a title fit for, well, him. Whenever he held it up, the words would be charmed to jump out at you like a flame. It read, ‘FAT LOSER TWAT (who dyes his hair)’.
Laughter spluttered out from the people around you once they read it, a glare from Draco instantly silencing a few, merely quietening the rest to sniggers. It worked better than you’d expected, the spell. You’d expected him to find some way to take it off, or that the engraving would get lost amongst the gold band, but no; it was perfect. His eyes were still narrowed, his voice deadly with venom as he seethed, “I can’t take it off, Y/N.”
You smiled. “At least you won’t lose it.”
He took a step closer before Fred pulled you back by one, not even flickering his gaze from you to bother looking behind at him. “Take it off.”
You smiled brighter, ignoring the tightening in your chest. You were probably just not expecting such confrontation, that’s what it was. That’s all it was. Despite your urge to do otherwise, you simply responded with, “No.”
Draco looked like he was going to murder you with his stare alone, his gaze never relenting from that blank stare. Just when you thought you caught a twinkle of something near amusement in his eyes, the doors clicked open and all the sounds of the students within buzzed through. You were thankful for an excuse to break the stare, looking off to the side and feeling his attention linger for just a moment longer before he, too, tore his eyes away. He mumbled something to Crabbe and Goyle behind him as McGonagall came to lead you in, letting it go for now. You knew it would only last until he next got you alone.
The thought both unnerved…and intrigued you.
-
Your footsteps pattered down the silent hallway, your slippers sliding as they went. A thick bag of books swung over your shoulder as you carried quills and spare ink in your hand, aiming straight for your most frequently visited place at hogwarts.
You had six months before the next final exams started, and this year was worth more than ever so far. Your OWLS were at the end of summer, meaning you had precious little time to waste before those final grades would follow you for the next few years. Within three months, you had the practise papers that you were already starting to study for. As most of your past few days had been spent in class and the lunch breaks with Fred and friends, you’d need to spend every hour before curfew studying to keep up with everything. To get a 99% again, or higher. You couldn’t drop below that, because Draco wouldn’t either.
Your hands pushed the doors open, instantly feeling like the quiet of the library was deeper than the quiet of the halls. The librarian sent you a smile as you passed her desk, and you spotted a few other students dotted around the shelves and the desks. Past rows of books deep into the back of the wing, a huge fireplace set itself along the back of the wall, windows either side that looked down onto the cliffsides. The last remnants of winter trickled against the glass, the sky painting a dull grey as the days became slowly longer. Facing the fireplace, a small desk tucked itself between rows of books, unlit candle inviting you to come and take your usual position there. Every time you saw it you knew you were in for an exhausting study session, but it made the hours a little easier with such a beautiful atmosphere. Here, you forgot the rest of the world existed outside of you and your quills. It was like a lulling piece of music played while you focused, the owls outside hooting and the fireplace crackling.
“What are you looking at my desk for?”
And the music abruptly stopped, a record scratch of an interruption as an irritating voice called out to you. It was low enough to not disturb the library, but loud enough to disturb you. You turned to the source, already cringing at the sight you knew you’d meet.
Draco Malfoy stood, books in hand that fell by his side, watching you. Watching your desk.
“Your…desk?”
This was the best spot in the library, anyone who spent all their time here knew that. So, in other words, only you and Draco knew that. On top of many other things, sitting here was like a competition, or a race; whoever got here first, won. His eyes narrowed.
You both watched one another, studying every movement made by the opponent. An equal distance away the two of you stood, the small desk appearing to shrink in size and cower away from the two glaring figures. Your hand clenched around your quills and ink pot, legs readying to move. He fixed the bag strap around his shoulder, steadying it before he advanced. You could hear a pin drop it was so silent, and you half expected an alarm or whistle to sound out at any moment to announce the start of the race. And, just at that second, the distant crackling let out a sudden pop of firewood, and you both simultaneously jumped into action.
You ran for the desk, muting your footsteps against the carpet and not bothering with the care of keeping the feather quills from bending. Out of the corner of your vision, you could see that Draco raced for it at the same pace as you - though perhaps it seemed like he was going even faster. Curse him and his stupid long legs. The chair was already a hand’s breadth away. You reached your hand out and slammed it onto the top of the desk, using it to swing yourself onto the seat as you heard him thump his books down the top of it. Just as you slid neatly into the chair, you felt him bump against you and prevent you from fully sitting yourself on it.
You kept your voice quiet while seething out, “Get off, Draco. I got here first.”
“Yeah, real mature, Y/N.” He scoffed, trying to push you off the chair. It wasn’t rare that you two ended up fighting over this desk - like, literally fighting over it - as the desk helped get the best quality studying done and provided the perfect environment to do so. But you weren’t going to lose this time, not after so many sessions spent on just the regular, colder, less sight-seeing spots in the library.
You gritted your teeth as you tried keeping quiet while practically wrestling him off, “Get off, you prat!”
“I’ve already put my books down, idiot. You get off.”
You clicked your tongue, “I’ll take your books and shove them up your - ”
Suddenly, you noticed the red title on the ring you bought for him bounce out in angry red letters, a glowing light shouting the words ‘FAT LOSER TWAT’ at you both. You spared a moment of energy to laugh - big mistake. Draco took advantage of your distraction and made one final shove, the momentum throwing you off the side of the chair and landing you onto the carpet. The sound of you hitting the floor echoed through the big room and you instantly brought a hand to your backside, rubbing it in pain.
The librarian made a short appearance moments after through the bookshelves, shushing you two and then shaking her head in disapproval when she saw you on the floor. Draco casually rested his head on hand and tapped his other fingers against the desk. You acknowledged the librarian with a slow nod, watching her figure retreat through the shelves again. You turned to Draco, narrowing your eyes as you saw his shoulders shake in silent laughter.
He turned to you, smirking down at your figure. Then he held out his hand, inspecting the ring you bought that was meant to be an inconvenience to him, not you. You scowled, and he grinned.
“I may like this more than I thought.”
-
Few weeks had gone by, each starting off the same way at breakfast. Once the post came, the flurry of owls dropping down any letters or small parcels that students had, you’d receive a single item each morning. A black letter, scratched in neat writing that asked (threatened) you to give the sender the spell to take off the ring. And each morning you folded the letter up and placed it neatly by your pumpkin juice, continuing with your breakfast and ignoring it completely.
Some days, when Fred would be by your side, you’d purposely leave the letter to open till later. After the Christmas present, the public ring fiasco and…well, just feeling guilty for spending so little time with him and so much time studying to ensure you beat your opponent, you thought that opening daily letters from Draco in front of him wasn’t the best way to go about things.
In terms of you and Fred, things were going great. It seemed he was truly telling the truth that day - he wasn’t expecting anything anytime soon. It reassured you to know that your boyfriend was letting you go at your own pace, and it only made you more determined to love him.
You wondered down the dungeon's hallway, school shoes tapping against frozen stone, rosy thoughts of your boyfriend drifting through your mind. You rounded the corner, seeing the corridor where the door to Potions class was. Some students were in front of you, others coming down from the opposite way. As the boy opposite you walked into the classroom, you spotted another familiar one behind him. The light hair made you take notice, slowing down your steps and stilling your previous thoughts. You smiled when Draco met your eyes, his gaze instantly looking away in an unbothered manner as if he couldn't care less about you. You grew closer to each other as your steps brought you both to Snape's door, and you couldn't help but call out, "Let's see the ring, Draco."
You expected a sneer or a sly comment thrown back, but instead he simply held up his hand and actually flashed you the ring. Oh, wait, no. He was holding up the finger it was on. He was giving you the finger. He continued into the classroom, flashing you the jewellery all the while. You caught the suppressed smirk on his face as he disappeared into the door, leaving you rolling your eyes in the hallway as you followed behind.
Chatter of the students settled in a thick buzz around the classroom, Snape flitting through a textbook at the front of the room while you all filled your seats. After everyone seemed to be present, he shut his book with a thud as dust sprayed into the air in a way of shutting you all up. The noise died down. “Attention, students.”
Everyone sat down and watched as he rounded the front of his desk, coming to stand at the front of the room and looking down his nose at everyone. “You can put your quills and books away, we aren’t covering content today.” A few relieved sighs sounded out, earning a glare from Snape as he raised his monotone voice. “Instead, we are performing a required practical.” Groans sounded out, only encouraging him to speak faster and spout worse and worse news by the moment. “You will be concocting the amortentia potion today. You have forty minutes to complete it and must work by textbook only, absolutely no talking and sharing ingredients and it is worth twenty percent of your final OWL grade - start.”
You looked to your desk partner, Theo, and exchanged a look of dread. Snape had arranged the tables in ‘boy-girl’ formation in a way of preventing people from talking to their friends (which didn’t work out well in your case), and if you looked just to the front of the class, you could see Daphne paired with Ron…and Draco paired with Pansy. You dully wondered how much she had to pay Snape to get that sorted in her favour.
You waved Theo off to get the ingredients for you both while you quickly wiped down the cauldrons and prepared the textbook. The classroom eventually settled into a drone of whispers despite Snape’s command of otherwise, and you and your partner eventually fell into a rhythm of slowly chopping and stirring, waiting and stirring again. The purple medium turned into a lighter pink, a pearl like gleam to every ripple as your ladle stirred. The scent of the florals and roots and shells combining in the cauldron gradually dimmed and simmered until it became nothing, a flavourless liquid that made you curious. What might your amortentia smell like? Would it smell like cinnamon, firewood and parchment? Would it smell like the burrow, like autumn and pumpkin and vanilla and love?
Snape slowly drifted around between desks, inspecting everyone’s cauldron. You jumped when his wrist suddenly flicked up and slapped a student on the back of his head, “You’re making amortentia, boy. Not poison.” When the class peered over to said boy’s cauldron, they found his mixture to be chunky and slimy, a disgusting brown colour. Theo sniggered, elbowing you with a knowing look. You’d both aced this practical (although Theo’s was a little lighter than it should’ve been, but it was better than brown sludge). You glanced around the room at your competition, pride sinking on your shoulders as you saw an array of off-coloured potions. And then your jaw clenched once you spotted another batch identical to yours - even though you should’ve expected it. It just so happened that the creator of it was also checking out his opponents, because as you looked up into grey eyes you saw them looking right back at you.
You looked away, stomach dropping. It must have just been the strange smells of the potions that made you feel so strange, you thought. It must have been the weight of this potion on your final grade that made you feel so nervous.
Snape nodded at you once he checked it over, blinking in satisfaction before rounding off and marching to the front of the room. You smiled. You wondered who’s was better out of you and grey eyes - who might’ve gotten the lower nod, or the slower blink.
“Okay, now take your potions and vial them. Make an orderly line, we’ll commence the judgement of passings - or of failures.”
Hushed and excited whispers glittered through everyone as the students put themselves in a neat line, Daphne meeting you with raised eyebrows. “I can’t imagine what mine might smell like.”
You whispered back, standing behind a tall figure in the line to hide from Snape’s prying eyes. “I imagine yours might smell like books.”
She hummed back, considering the possibility, seemingly content.
You continued. “Maybe of pet rats.”
She suddenly looked at you, brows furrowed, mouth parted to question you before you interrupted, “And a little of ginger hair. You know, because that guy just seems like your type.”
She followed your eye-line as you nodded towards her desk mate, Ron Weasley too busy trying to keep his rat in his pocket to join the line or even notice your attention. You laughed as Daphne elbowed you sharply, a mock expression of annoyance on her face.
A deep voice interrupted you from behind, low and taunting. “I suppose you might smell secondhand clothes and a weird obsession with muggles, Y/N.”
You turned your head at the intruder of your conversation, furrowing your brows at the idiot who was insulting Fred. “You think you’re funny, Draco?”
He smirked, “Hilarious.”
You returned the expression. “What might you smell, hm? Quidditch games, gryffindor uniforms, lightning-bolt scars?”
Draco’s smirk dropped at once, replaced by narrowed eyes as he scanned around to make sure no one heard the words you spouted. He glared, “You dare throw such stupid accusations at me? You can’t even smell those things, idiot.”
You shrugged, “We’ll just see who’s the idiot once I kick your ass in this practical, and every other exam to come. Besides, shouldn’t you be carrying my equipment for me right now?”
Luckily for him, the student in front of you had just finished being graded his potion, and Snape had called you to the front. You handed it to him confidently, rolling your shoulders back as you felt the rest of the line - Daphne and Draco - few metres behind you. Snape held it in his palm, tipping the vial to see the true colour. He held it up to the little sunlight streaming through the window, then brought it closer and shook it. He nodded, contented with it. “Done very well, Miss Y/L/N. Ten points. Take a scent test - we shall test the purity of the potion.”
You nodded, taking the vial back as he handed it over. If it smelt like nothing, you’d overmixed it. If it smelt too strong of ingredients or distinct things you’d added to the cauldron, you’d undermixed it. You unscrewed the cork and shook it slightly, then brought it to your nose and gently inhaled. You waited for the pink fumes to smell like cinnamon. You waited for the scent of parchment, for firewood to tingles up your senses. Something was coming to you, but it wasn’t clear yet.
It didn’t smell warm, like firewood. Instead, something cool drifted in the scent. Something refreshing, something like ice. Mint.
Okay, mint. Fred always used spearmint toothpaste. You knew that.
The next layer was deeper, a muskier scent. Something citrusy, alongside something that smelled like crisp winter winds, like dew drops of ice. Expensive cologne, and green fruit.
Fred did wear cologne, that was something you also knew (then again, so did half the school. And…you’d never really noticed him wearing this particular one before, despite it smelling familiar). And green fruit? You knew Fred preferred reds, like apples and cherries.
You closed your eyes while searching for that one scent you couldn’t pinpoint. Was it parchment? Was it cinnamon? Was it - no, it was more vague than that. You couldn’t concentrate when you felt like someone was looking over your shoulder - when you could smell that familiar scent peering right over you. You turned over your shoulder, ready to tut and scold him for trying to cheat off of your potion. Did Draco think that just by looking at your amortentia that he could fix his to be perfect like yours? Well, you wouldn’t let him even get the chance. You turned expecting to see him right behind you, the scent overwhelmingly strong now, but you saw nothing.
Daphne was still a good metre away, a much taller Draco to the side of her, watching you. His hands were stuffed in his pockets, his posture unbothered and casual as he studied you. His brows crossed as if to say ‘why are you staring at me?’
Your stomach dropped.
The final scent. It was like…no, it couldn’t be. Not the smell of gold. Of money. Of success. Of pride. Not the scent of…of someone who strived to win in everything. Who thrived off of academic validation. Who was your biggest competitor, who was the opposite of the person you should be smelling.
Your eyes widened into stiff shock, your jaw slackening as your lips parted the slightest fraction. You could hardly move. You felt frozen, as cold as the mint in the aroma. The amortentia was the opposite of what you expected. It was ice to fire. Black to white. It was…not Fred.
Draco’s expression continued to be confused as he held eye contact, a question hanging between the silent exchange. Then, just as your pulse thrummed in your ears and your veins turned to ice, his eyes seemed to soften; the edges fell but the rest of his face was tight and blank. As if he knew. As if he understood.
And then it disappeared, and he was back to unbothered. He looked away. It snapped you to turn back around instantly, your mind half working, hands even less stable to the point that you worried the amortentia might spill. The damned amortentia.
You looked up into your professor’s eyes, seeing black, beady ones stare back. Snape had his signature hard glare on, but once you met his gaze you swore it shifted. You swore his lips twitched, and a smirk was playing behind his eyes. There was just something in his look, something that suggested…that he knew.
And you didn’t know which was worse; if this was because you’d made the potion wrong and failed, or…or because…
☝️- academic rivals to lovers PLEASE. draco and reader have been competing for the highest grade in class since 1st year. sometime during 5th/6th year reader’s bf broke up with them and they kind of lost sight of the whole competing thing. ofc when draco realizes he gets all worried and wonders what’s wrong😋. he corners and confronts her about what happened, and the rest is up to you! not a want, but a NEED😁
DM. A WORTHY OPPONENT
academic rivals - SERIES
I, II, III
absolutely YES. I am in LOVE with this trope and I hope that you enjoy this as much as I did writing it (and dreaming about it allllll night long). thank you once again for the request of the century, dearest lin<3
btw this is in 'you' person (lol) I just start it in third for the sake of the story ok enjoy
His hands shook. Her hands shook. Everyone watched as the teacher ruffled the papers, going down the rows of desks and slowly handing them out to the students one by one. His knee bounced up and down beneath his desk while her leg, crossed over the other, swung back and forth. The clock ticked quietly in the background, the little owl clock face charmed to hoot softly at every hour. A delicate drizzle pattered against the window panels and, despite the winter's rain that was kept at bay in the cold castle by radiator spells, the two were sweating. It was that time of the term again, the time where the students all took their half-annual tests to indicate who had been keeping on top of their studies, and who had been, god forbid...slacking.
McGonagall neared the final two desks in the centre of the classroom, and their knee bouncing stopped. The leg swaying stilled, and the clock seemed to stop ticking. Even McGonagall seemed to still slightly, peering over her glasses to glimpse at the two students, fingers on papers. The final two papers.
He glanced to her. She glanced to him. This was it. This determined who had won after these entire six months, and who deserved bragging rights (along with several other privileges) for the next six months to come. Old fingers carefully picked up the two tests. She placed one in each hand. She let out one final exhale and then handed them with an oozing slowness to the two students. Their bated breaths caught in their throat as they accepted the papers, focusing on nothing but where the red pen would mark their triumph - or failure. Of course, either one would be higher than the rest of the school, but this wasn't about them. It never was. This was about him and her.
Draco Malfoy inhaled, taking a deep breath in, and looked at the number. 98%. He bit down a smirk, cheeks swelling up as his eyebrows cocked up. He'd won. You both looked up from the papers and turned your heads, the same routine as always - look to your own, then to your opponents. But Draco didn't understand...why were you smiling?
Both heads peered over to see the others’ results, and he couldn't believe what he saw. He wouldn't believe it. He'd worked so hard these past six months. There was no way...It just couldn't be...
99%.
You leapt up from your chair, slamming the paper down on the desk with both hands as you cheered a yelp of triumph. You pointed to Draco who stared up at you with wide eyes, "I win, you stupid little bitch!"
McGonagall gasped, the students laughed, your friends cheered or booed (depending on who was on who's side), but Draco was in disbelief. 99% was...it wasn't just beating him, it was beating both of you. It was a new record, and the only thing he could’ve done to top that was...full score. His jaw slackened as he, too, leapt up from his seat and snatched your test. You danced in a small circle as the owl hooted and the other students peeled their eyes away, starting to pack away for the next class. You were on top of the world, especially as you glanced over to see him studying each of your answers, brows furrowed and lips still parted in disbelief.. Nothing ever topped this feeling - including your dates with your boyfriend or even your first kiss. Sure, Daphne could joke that it was because of a lack of passion behind your relationship, but you knew better. It was because academic validation was sweet, the most delicious thing you'd ever tasted - and when it involved Draco's losing...it was absolutely delectable.
The class slowly emptied and you turned to look at him with a stupid, satisfied smile on your face, still catching your breath from the adrenaline and dancing. He slowly lowered the paper and met your gaze, mouth finally closing from shock. His voice was quiet, lethal and a promise of vengeance. "I'll get you next time, Y/N."
You hummed, rounding the desk and snatching it back from his hands. "When you do, let me know, will you? I might be too busy graduating, leaving school, who knows? I might even be married by the time you next beat me."
He grumbled under his breath, no doubt calling you all sorts of colourful names as the two of you packed away in silence, the last of the students trickling out of the room. You threw the bag over your shoulder and made your way to the door, an extra skip in your step as you felt him follow behind you. A tall figure stood by the door, leant against the frame with a neat and tidy uniform unlike someone behind you who sported the ‘loose collar and tie’ look. You smiled up at the familiar boy who always waited outside classes to walk you to and from - the boyfriend.
“Hello, Fred.”
The boy took a brief step closer with his eyes on you, arm hooked around your neck to pull you in for a gentle kiss on the forehead. “Morning, love. You all done?”
You smiled and nodded, to which he held out his hand to take your bag from your shoulder. Instantly, you pushed him off and took the bag strap in your own hands, “No, no - he’ll do it for me.”
You slowly turned your head over your shoulder, Fred following your eye-line to meet the sulking, sore loser behind you. Draco looked up at the two of you, confused as to why you were both staring at him before he realised. He looked to the bag outstretched in your hands with dread. This was it, this was his punishment. The forfeit for the next sixth months.
You grinned. “Go on, loser. Carry my bag for me.”
-
You hadn't always been as head-strong as you were about your grades - in fact, you hadn't even studied once in your life until you came to hogwarts. It hadn’t started until the first exam season in first year, where this little stuck up rich kid started boasting that he'd had private tutoring all summer and that he was bound to get the best grades in the school. Of course, younger you couldn't just stand there and listen to this bleach-haired prat spout a load, so you confronted him. And you argued with him. And you beat his ass in those tests. The win had felt so good that during the summer exams of that year, you’d been determined to win again; he'd retaliated and bet his new broomstick that you wouldn't be able to beat him. The defeat had been so brutal that, from that winter on, the both of you had made some sort of unspoken oath to never feel such a horrid feeling as long as you could help it.
It was funny, the way it worked. So far, every exam season had been an alternate - first you won, then he'd be bragging six months later, then the next season you'd be wiping the floor with him again. Even the professors had started sliding each other gold coins in the teacher's office, secret bets as to which they thought would win this time. You purposely snuck out of the dinner hall after every results day to sneak a peak through the little window, seeing which teacher had betted on you winning that time.
You smiled to yourself at just the thought that you had won these winter exams, at the thought of winning against Draco. At the thought of Draco -
"What about you Y/N?"
You looked up to see your friend group, a complete mixture of different houses all sat at the Gryffindor lunch table. To the side of you, Fred sat with his arms crossed on the table, eyebrows raised as if he'd just asked you a question. Um.
"Sorry, what was that?"
He laughed, "You've been like this since exam season started - I thought now that you'd won I'd finally have my girlfriend back. Who would've thought you're still drifting in and out of your own world?"
You nudged him, biting down the smile playing on your lips. "I'm not even thinking about that, I swear."
He hummed, "So what were you thinking about then?"
You grinned, scooting closer to him just to wrap your hands around his arm and batting your eyelashes playfully. "About how much fun I'm going to have with my boyfriend this Christmas."
Fred grinned back down at you, his eyes playful and yet full of anticipation. Sometimes, you could see something far deeper in his expressions that you just couldn't find yourself understanding - nor reciprocating. You just assumed that everyone in relationships went at their own pace, some falling quicker, some slower. You just happened to be the latter - and unfortunately, you could tell Fred was the former. "What fun things were you thinking of, exactly?"
You couldn't tell if he was being mischievous or if he was trying to hint at something else. Nothing between you two had crossed a simple kiss yet and, if you had learnt anything from being friends with Daphne all these years, you needed to cross that line before being able to consider it a serious relationship. You wanted to, you really, possibly, maybe wanted to. You also loved Fred - you really, very possibly might’ve just loved him. You think. To be honest, you didn't know what being in love actually meant; this was the first thing you'd ever even experienced with it. But Fred treated you well, you could tell he loved you, and if you had to work hard to feel the same then you would.
You laughed, pulling away from him and your thoughts at the same time. You glanced down at your plate, then happened to look up opposite you. Across the hall, right on the far end of the hall where the Slytherin table was, you found that Draco Malfoy was already watching you. Perhaps he was just thinking to himself and had happened to land his gaze on you, but something about his attention made your stomach drop.
You pursed your lips. Something fluttered in your stomach, something you'd only felt when you were nervous for exams. For the results of who would reign victor between you two. Um.
You blinked, hard, and the feeling went away. Smiling once more, you turned back to Fred - back to your boyfriend - and reminded yourself that there was more to life than studying and academic validation and petty rivalries that you held with your life.
"Anything. Surprise me, why don't you?"
-
The main hall was empty apart from few students dotted around the tables, the candles seemingly dimmer today, casting an orange glow all over the stone walls. Most students were already making their way home this afternoon, but you had a last minute thing to do. You waited on a table by yourself, blowing hot air into your gloved hands despite the charmed warmth of the hall. To your right, a group of three gryffindor friends discussed something with apparent urgency, a chessboard in front of the boys, a thick book in front of the girl. They almost looked like they could be planning how to save the world, you thought.
The doors opening popped your train of thoughts, the sound quietly clambering through the great hall. You looked up to find just who you were waiting for, the tall figure making his way over to you as soon as he spotted where you were. His hands were stuffed in his pockets, his suitcase charmed to trail behind him as he made his way in.
You stood up from the bench, grabbing the handle of your suitcase. This would only take two minutes.
The boy made his way to you as you made your way to him, coming to meet just about halfway between the rows of benches. You might’ve smiled, but you weren’t friends. Instead, you glared. “That’s funny, Draco.”
He cocked his head to the side. “What is?”
“That thing.” You said, nodding to the charmed suitcase behind him. “I remember last year you made me carry it all the way to the station. Who knew you could just charm the damn thing?”
He rolled his eyes, reaching behind him to said suitcase and grabbing a black parcel. He threw it to you with such suddenness that you were forced to release your hold on your own luggage to catch it. “Here, this’ll get you through your dreadful winter’s break.”
You glared again while turning to reach behind you and pick up a brown parcel. You slapped it down into his hands while eyeing him with annoyance. “Who said it would be dreadful, Draco?”
He looked to you, blank faced with a dull voice. “You said you were spending it with Weasley, didn’t you?”
It took you a moment to realise what he was saying, but once you grasped that he was insulting your boyfriend and your relationship you opened your mouth to retaliate back -
But the prat was already making his way out of the hall, not even a wave in goodbye as he swaggered off. You didn’t need him to turn back, you just knew that he would be smirking. Everything was a competition to you two and, if you knew him at all, you were certain that he took that conversation as a win. Typical. So childish of him - you couldn’t care less about such petty things, only the grades truly mattered.
You looked down at the black package in your hands, tightly wrapped with a brown, thin rope. The poor wrapping had creases and it was made to look obviously halfhearted, but that didn’t annoy you in the slightest. Instead, you smiled down at the mess of a Christmas present. Yours was neater.
I win, you thought.
-
The train station bustled with parents and children, all ready to return home and escape London’s ruthless winter. Snow flurried in soft sprinkles until it coated everyone’s eyelashes, tinting the cheeks of anyone you saw without a scarf up to their nose. You searched for your parents as Fred found his, the Weasleys already on their way back to their little car - you’d be meeting him midweek, the end of Christmas Day where you could exchange and open presents together.
A figure suddenly barged from behind you, forcing you to stumble a few steps forward and swivel your head to find who the idiot was, tongue already forming the words to start shouting when you spotted who it was. Of course. You huffed, watching the blond prat strut off towards his parents on the other side of the platform.
Mr and Mrs Malfoy were high class - anyone could see that. They were clad in jewellery shining to the gods, black clothes all pristine and neat. Draco’s mother had gloves on to her elbows, their leather tipped fingers reaching out to embrace her son as she spotted him. Lucius’s lip curled with a sort of satisfied nod in his own special way of greeting someone, yet it only looked like he’d smelt something bad. Which, you thought, was probably just his son.
To the side of them you spotted two familiar figures, equally tall and dressed in white instead of black. Their clothes might’ve been a stark contrast, but their jewellery and posture suggested the same high class and status. You smiled and rushed over, more than ready to get the hello’s over with and apparate home. You didn’t even get further than a hug to both your mother and father before a voice interrupted from behind, low and drawling. “Ah, Y/L/N. What a coincidence.”
You pulled away from your father, all three of you looking behind to see the Malfoys stood facing you. Lucius had his hand resting on his cane, looking down his nose as he addressed your father. Equally, your father stared back as if Lucius was shorter than him by about five foot. “Malfoy. Pleasure.”
So perhaps it wasn’t just you and Draco who had this rivalry - basic pureblood eloquence involved competing with anyone who might be better than you. In this case, the only ones who might be worth comparing were the best of the best; your family, and the Malfoys.
“I’m adoring that coat of yours, Narcissa.” Your mother said, cold hand gently grasping yours in the process.
Narcissa smiled tightly while your mother inspected her nails, manicured and perfect despite the biting frost in the air. “I remember,” she continued, nonchalant as ever, “how last season’s line was simply lovely. I must say, I wasn’t aware that they still sold those pieces anymore.“
You bit down a smile, watching the way Narcissa stiffened and a rigid expression flourished on Draco’s face. You cocked your eyebrows in a subtle taunt to him. He narrowed his eyes.
“I heard the news,” Lucius started before Narcissa might struggle with a response. “The Wizard’s Weekly seemed to quite thrive in their article - ‘Pureblood Elected Muggle Mayor’. My congratulations on the election, dear friend. Although, I must say, very intriguing choice of career.”
Yeah, that’s right. Your father was a mayor. Sure, it was the muggles that he governed, but he was essentially his own boss - what he said, went. It’s more for what Draco’s father could say for himself, what with allegedly working for the dark lord and all. Although, despite what you thought, Draco was smirking at you like he’d just won that round.
You didn’t need to turn to know that your father was tightly smiling back, nor that he narrowed his eyes sarcastically as he said, “Thank you for your congratulations, Lucius, but I’m afraid we can’t stay and chat - we must be going. I have a city to run and a daughter to praise; did you know, dear friends, that our Y/N here achieved 99% in her exams this term? Why, we couldn’t believe when Dumbledore himself owled us the news!”
Your mother squeezed your hand, “Although, we could believe it. We expect nothing less from our little girl.”
You grinned up at her, then looked to Draco. Your grin widened. “It was nothing. It’s embarrassing, really, I hardly remembered to study for it.”
Draco was practically fuming at the ears, no doubt recalling all those sessions you’d both spent in the library (on desks far-away from each other). His parents smiled down at you before your father grabbed your hand also, his wand already out. With one final goodbye, he flashed the three of you out of the cold train station and into the Y/L/N manor.
As soon as they were out of sight, Lucius untensed his shoulders as Narcissa subtly checked her coat. Did it really look like last seasons’?
He grumbled as he grabbed his wand from his robes while Draco started exclaiming, “Rubbish, what she said. She studied just as much as I did.”
Lucius grabbed his hand, joining them to apparate home, and didn’t keep the venom from his voice as he quietly spat back, “Then why didn’t you get 99%?”
He shut up, and let his father apparate them back to the manor.
-
Warm arms enveloped you, their touch gentle as fingers slowly soothed down your hair. You smiled into the embrace and breathed in the scent of firewood, cinnamon and parchment. Fred was like home, such a calming scent that you might feel like putting it into a candle one day, lighting it whenever far from home. His warm breath breathed against your hair as he spoke, “Merry Christmas, darling.”
You pulled away, “And to you, Freddie boy.” He chuckled at the strange nickname, bending down to kiss you sweetly. You leaned into the kiss, tilting your neck upwards and keeping your hands clasped around him lazily. You felt him smile against the kiss, pushing closer and closer, hands slowly driving upwards into your hair and cupping your face. You pulled back, feeling him try and follow you as you did so, but you stopped the kiss before it escalated further. You giggled to play it off, placing your hand on his chest. “Come on, we have presents to open.”
You grabbed his hand and led him towards his own bedroom, knowing your way around because of how much you’d been around here. Greeting his parents warmly on the way up, you already felt like you were enjoying yourself immensely. Except for the heavy burden that was a subtle sense of guilt, the feeling weighing you down from your chest. You knew that if anything was going to happen between you and Fred, it would be during this holiday. You’d been together for nearly a year and yet all you’ve done - all you’ve allowed him to do - was kiss you. If anything was to happen…well, you’d worry about it when it came to it. You could make yourself love him if it was him.
The door opened smoothly, the two of you plopping onto his bed with laughter following. You always felt giddy with him - just like when you were around Daphne, or Blaise, or one of your other best friends. Of course, it was different with Fred. He was…he was your boyfriend.
Your head snapped up at the sound of his voice. “Which are you opening first?”
You shook your head discreetly, clearing the fog of thoughts before they prevented you from enjoying your evening. You grinned at him and shrugged sweetly. “I want to save best for last.”
“Ah, so you’ll be opening mine last, then.”
You giggled as you reached into your bag of presents. You’d just taken all your presents and shoved them in together - minus the ones from your parents which you’d opened in front of them - so that the two of you could open everything from your friends and each other together.
Fred and you went through the piles of sweets, clothes, shoes etc until only few presents remained at the bottom of your pile. Wrapping paper was discarded messily around you both, scrunched up on the bed. You sighed as you set another box of chocolate frogs down on top of the many others, “I can’t wait anymore, Fred. I’ve got to open yours, now.”
He chuckled, raising his eyebrows at your impatience as he carelessly chucked a new jumper behind him. “I guess the best doesn’t always have to be saved.” He reached behind him into the desk by his bed, pulling out a small parcel neatly wrapped in paper, a ribbon delicately tied around it. Fred set the parcel in front of you, his jumper sleeves baggy and almost creating mittens of their own. You smiled giddily, excitement creeping back up as you took the present into your lap and took great care to undo all of it.
Underneath the first layer of wrapping was a wooden box decorated with golden engravings, a picture of a deer carefully drawn on. A little latch held the lip closed, and once you opened it a small golden chain glittered up at you. The charm attached was in the shape of small deer antlers, little diamonds glistening at the ends and in between like drops of snow. You looked up from the necklace to Fred, eyes wide and lips parted. “Fred…”
He interrupted, the usual playfulness in his voice but a hint of red on his cheeks. “They’re deer antlers. Because, you know, you’re ‘dear’ to me.”
You made a teasing cringe face while laughing, still admiring the beauty and simplicity of it. “It must have cost you a fortune.”
“That’s the first thing you think of?”
You laughed, “No, of course not. I love it! You didn’t have to spend so much on me, Fred.” You took it from its box, letting it dangle gently between your fingers. You quietened your voice, as if anything louder might break the fragile diamonds or the thin branches of gold. “I love it, thank you.”
The gift you got for him was opened afterwards, thank you’s in the form of kisses all over your face as he admired the array of rings you brought him. All silver, all thick and all hot on his fingers. One had his name engraved, another had a secret message of ‘from your sexy girlfriend’ on the inside, and the final one was just plain and simple. “I thought you could do with something to remind you of me aaaall the time.” You said, dragging out the syllables as you poked his face playfully.
Fred grinned, and you noted how handsome he looked with his hair messy and clothes lazy. “Like I’m not already thinking of you - aaaall the time.”
He turned to check behind him, “Is that everything?”
“Yeah, think so.” You replied, smacking your hand down on what was your bag of presents to make sure it’s empty. You straightened. Your fingers hit something hard, something lost at the bottom of the bag beneath all the wrapping paper. You furrowed your brows as you reached in, ruffling around and finding a black parcel that camouflaged itself in the fabric.
You exchanged a look with Fred before shrugging and opening it, a small tingle in your chest at the thought of a final surprise to open. This must’ve been from your parents or something, just a final parcel that you forgot to open at home.
It was creased around the edges, and you almost didn’t remember who would be so particularly careless with their wrapping until you saw what was inside. A hardcover book was under an extra layer of black wrapping paper, white leather with silver detailing. It was the title that caught your attention, the italic writing in bold.
‘How to Deal With Someone Being Better Than You.’
Supposedly it was meant to be one of those self care books that helped struggling people, but you knew that the sender didn’t mean for it to help you. You smiled down at it, biting your bottom lip as you suppressed a stupid laugh at the message behind it. Idiot, you thought, cheeks trying not to swell up as you fought the urge to roll your eyes. Didn’t I just kick your ass at those exams?
The idea of buying presents came when you were in hogsmeade one day (obviously not together) and the twins’ joke shop had created a new pen that wrote perfectly until the writer left it for an hour - then, the person who brought the pen would be able to manipulate it into what they wanted it to say. McGonagall wasn’t very amused when you’d turned in an essay that detailed why Draco was the most attractive and successful in the wizarding world, a range of colourful swear words thrown in to really sell it. After you tried getting back at him with a quill that exploded ink whenever used, it had started the small exchange that you two did every occasional that called for presents. Draco’s present was thoughtless, an obvious present to buy when you both had the ‘relationship’ you did. But you still…you liked it.
But yours was better.
A throat cleared itself just as you carefully opened the cover to inspect the inside, causing you to shut it abruptly before you could read the small bit of writing on the inside. Idiot, you thought again. You completely forgot where you were.
You sheepishly smiled at Fred, tucking the book back into your bag without taking your eyes off him. He raised his eyebrows in forced entertainment, “Who’s it from?”
He probably knew. You shrugged. “Not important.”
Fred might’ve questioned you - probably should’ve asked about that book, had every right to as your boyfriend - but he didn’t. Instead, he eyed where the book was moments ago with contemplation behind his eyes. And then he looked at you.
And he decided to kiss you. He was pulling you closer as you automatically tied your hands into his hair, making it messier with no shame while you were glad for a reason to forget about the book. To forget about why you felt such a strong urge to smile when you saw it, when you remembered who it was from. To forget about how you wanted to apparate straight to his manor and remind him who had won those exams, and then see his reaction to what you had brought him.
You were confused at all of that. You were confused why you were still thinking about that book when Fred was kissing you. You were confused why you suddenly weren’t in control of your own emotions anymore - especially when you placed your hands on his chest and pulled away. You were confused why you didn’t like the idea of kissing your boyfriend as much as you liked getting 99% in exams.
His eyes were worried, soft at the edges as he stayed quiet a moment and then softly asked, “What’s wrong?”
You pursed your lips and swallowed, hard. “I’m sorry. Nothing. Sorry, I just, I don’t know what’s wrong I just don - ”
Hands moved from your hair to your shoulders, stabling you as he shushed your blabbering and told you it was okay. He put a hand on your cheek and forced you to look at him, “Y/N, let’s just watch a film or something, yeah? It’s no problem, I can wait.”
You looked at him, watching as his eyes flickered between both of yours and showed no disappointment or anger at all. He was so good to you. You nodded.
He cleared the bed of wrapping paper and started playing a film, leaning against his headboard and wrapping his arm around you as you leant your head against his chest. You kept thinking, kept being confused as his finger started drawing mindless patterns on your shoulder, and wondered if there was something wrong with you when he whispered, “For you, I’ll wait as long as you need.”
i have a request that i really really love! what if the reader was snape’s daughter, ok? and the malfoys want y/n and draco to be together. y/n and draco grew up just being regular friends, you know, nothing significant. the malfoys and snape know that y/n is kinda in love with cedric, as they have been together for maybe two or three months. so the malfoys use coercion to have snape make a diluted love potion of some sort to give to y/n, making her fall for draco. (also draco doesn’t need the potion cuz he’s completely on board w this whole relationship and actually does love y/n.) so this relationship has gone on for a few months, and they’re both head over heals in love. BUT😌 y/n starts to think that something pretty fishy when draco is practically begs the reader to drink her pumpkin juice that contains the love potion. you can get creative with the rest and maybe change some stuff if you’d like:) thank you! love your writing!
DM. MADE WITH LOVE AND POISON
fluff and angst, and then some
This…this is such a creative idea.🫶I hope you love this, and that it makes up for how long it took for me to write it! ALSO it’s 100% all consensual nothing non-consensual etc is going on!!!
“Look at her.”
A sound came from beside him. “I am, Draco.”
Draco scoffed, not taking his eyes away from the person he was referring to. “You’d think she’s daft, wouldn’t you? An absolute fool. I mean - you might assume she’d know better, having me by her side and all.”
Another sigh came in reply, a hand clapping on Draco’s shoulder as his friend got up to leave the conversation. The boy’s eyes didn’t leave you though, glaring as if any moment now, he might just pull out his wand and start throwing curses. He hated what he saw. More specifically, he hated the boy who’s lap you sat on, grinning like a lunatic as his hands casually ran down your leg.
He scoffed again. Right in the middle of the courtyard, too. As if anyone actually wanted to see that. Although, as he looked around and saw the girls fawning over him, and then the boys even discreetly sneaking glances to you, perhaps it was just him in this bloody school that saw the awfulness of it.
But if it was him instead of that Diggory filth, he might not have minded so much.
Draco dug his hands into his trouser pockets, finally looking away and scowling. His friend group was boring him today, and now that two spots were missing - both you and Blaise who he’d driven away moments ago - it was even duller. He missed having you by his side all the time, laughing at his jokes and taunting the first years - and a few idiots in your own years - together. Diggory just had to go and ask you to the Yule ball, and against all his advice and warnings you just had to say yes. It’d been a sort of hell for him, having to see you together all the time. Having to see that affection develop through the months, the touching and staring get more and more frequent, get less and less bearable.
Quick paced footsteps stomping through the field struck his miserable thoughts as he shot his head up to look for the source of the noise. A black figure stormed its way up the small hill in the courtyard, long robes billowing behind in a nonexistent summer’s breeze, a mind of its own. Draco smirked once he noticed who it was, his scowl instantly gone. It looked like someone else had come to solve the problem.
Professor Snape was glaring at the Hufflepuff with an expression scarier than the Gryffindors usually got. Draco wondered if he were on the receiving end on that look whether he’d start shooting defensive spells or just run away. Snape’s long, black covered arm was reaching out before he reached you two with the grace of a ghost. His fingers grabbed the collar of Cedric’s uniform and suddenly he was pulling the boy up from his seat, startling you in the process.
Draco didn’t even bother stopping his laugh as he watched Snape drag him down the hill and no doubt towards the detention rooms, your too-slow figure running after them with shouts of protest to your father.
Perhaps it wasn’t such a bad day, after all.
-
“Father, he wasn’t even doing anything! Let him go!”
You trailed down the dungeon hallways after his storming figure, Cedric now accepting his fate and going along with him instead of fighting.
Snape hauled your boyfriend into his classroom while replying in his monotone way of yelling, “When will your boyfriend learn that he remains a metre away from my daughter - ” he twirled, hand on the door and ready to block you out, “at all times?”
The door slammed before you could reject or argue, leaving you in a quiet hallway with cold stone around you. You saw your father’s hand dig into his robes and heard the low, deadly way he addressed Cedric before he shot a spell to the door and silenced all the sound. You saw your boyfriend’s wide eyes glance to you through the window before another spell was shot to the door and the blinds threw themselves down, blinding you to the scene.
You stepped back, sighing into the quiet. It was amusing at times, but he was always like this. Your father was far too protective - it’s not like you were dating several people a month, this was your first ever relationship - unless you counted the time that you and Draco had planned your fake wedding as children and even performed half of it for your parents in the gardens of his manor. A throat cleared itself from the side of you and your head swivelled to see a tall, handsome boy stood with his hand in his pockets, smirking at you.
Speak of the devil.
“Amused, Draco?”
He hummed, sauntering over to lean on the wall opposite you, just to the side of the door that your boyfriend was in. “I wonder how old Diggory is keeping up under Severus’s scolding.”
He didn’t call him Snape because he thought he supposedly didn’t need to; growing up with you had given him the impression that he was the only kid your father could put up with - apart from you, of course. And…he might’ve just been right. Snape would’ve probably given Draco points just for showing up to class on time.
You glared at him to which he shrugged in reply. If anything, his smirk only grew. “What? He deserved it.”
“For…?”
You never did question why Draco seemed to hate Cedric so much - he wasn’t Gryffindor, nor was he even really friends with the whole trio that irritated him (and you) so. He wasn’t even some immature first year; he was a hot older year that treated you well, so what was his problem?
Draco opened his mouth to reply when the door clicked open once more, and out came your boyfriend with pink cheeks and a guilty expression in his eyes. As soon as he met your gaze, he gave a sheepish smile. Your hand extended to him with a giggle and he took it, trying to hide his hesitation and caution at the fact that Snape was still behind you two. You dragged him away, breaking into a sort of run down the hallway and away from the only other two idiot boys of your life - but not without one final playful glare at your father.
When your footsteps echoed out of the corridor you didn’t know that Draco’s smirk dropped, replaced with a serious, apprehensive expression as he met Snape’s eyes. With a nod of his head, the professor gestured for him to get inside the classroom.
He had something to discuss with him, apparently.
-
The Malfoys were intimidating, and no one could deny that. Blonde hair contrasted against such black attire, features sharp and gorgeous. Narcissa was almost as tall as her husband, both of their postures perfect and upright. Severus might have straightened and thought of the first defensive spell he could when they suddenly flashed in if it wasn’t for their decade long friendship (or, more accurately, ‘acquaintanceship’).
“Severus. Always a pleasure.”
He lifted the corners of his lips in what was an attempt at a smile, “Narcissa.” He turned to her husband, “Lucius.”
Lucius simply inclined his head and moved to stand behind Draco’s desk, who casually seated himself with one ankle rested over his other thigh. His mother leant against the desk to the side. Snape sat himself in his desk chair and let the quiet drift around the dusty classroom before clearing his throat. “What had you coming all the way here to talk, Lucius?”
His bright eyes tailed down his own long cane before meeting Snape’s, “A proposition. You see, I caught the news that your daughter is…involved with a boy here.”
Snape’s eyes flickered to Draco who didn’t meet his gaze, then back to Lucius. Was this a result of Draco ‘snitching’ on you? And, if so, what did it have to do with his parents? Even if Snape didn’t like the thought of his own daughter dating, even if he wanted to strike down that stupid Diggory boy every-time he saw him (instead just settling for taking points away from Hufflepuff), what concern was it of Lucius’s?
It took a moment for his reply to come, blunt and slowly forced out. “Indeed.”
“Don’t misunderstand, Severus. We’re immensely happy for her - all of us.” Narcissa said. She had a funny way of speaking - always like a near whisper, and yet strong and confident all the same. “When I heard the news, I could only hope that this boy was treating her like she ought to be treated.”
Snape could sense the ‘but’ coming, and so stayed quiet. Her lips pursed in thought before she constructed her next sentence. “It’s just…we always thought…well, I’m sure we can all agree that we never expected Y/N to find someone who wasn’t my son.”
Minutes ago, when Snape was having a ‘talk’ with Cedric, the boy had been shuffling in his seat and upright like a pole. Now, as Draco listened to such a conversation go on, he was slumped backwards in his seat with a boyish demeanour and remained completely still, expression lethally blank. If Snape was about twenty years younger, he might’ve found him to be intimidating.
As Snape briefly studied him, he thought the same thing he had thought for all the long years you two had been friends and grown up together - he very well might, perhaps, just suit my little girl.
He let the room settle in silence before speaking, a rare choice in any situation where the Malfoys were present. "I assumed you two have a solution to offer?"
Lucius let his lip twitch in amusement, as if he knew something that Snape didn’t. He hated the way he did that - always so conniving and condescending - but if whatever this plan was had his daughter’s best interests in mind, and got rid of that snivelling little Hufflepuff? He kept listening. He watched Lucius reach into the pocket of his dark robes, and pull out a small vile. An empty vile.
“Do you know what this is, my dear friend?”
Snape curled his lip. “I assume you’re going to tell me.”
He held it up, a beam of moonlight that snuck in through the high windows illuminating it with a ghostly gleam. “This,” he started, lowering his voice, “Is to hold a love potion.”
Snape shot up from his chair, the sound of it skirting against the stone floor echoing through the room. His eyes were wide and his throat was already forming the words to start shouting, when Lucius let out a laugh and held his hand up to still him.
“Calm yourself, Severus.” He hated the way Lucius would say things without meaning them. He didn’t look to Narcissa, who apprehensively played with the skirts of her dress, nor to Draco, who was now watching the vial with that emotionless stare of his. Who knew what was going on inside that mind of his?
His voice was deadly quiet, a whisper against stone when he spit out, “If you’re implying I drug my own daughter just so that she can go prancing around with your son, then I suggest you - ”
“Severus, do you want Y/N to be with this boy?”
He didn’t need clarification that they were referring to Diggory, nor needed to ask how they knew about him to begin with. Instead, he just kept quiet.
“Do you want Y/N to be with a worthy heir, someone who can guarantee comfort and safety for life?”
Snape didn’t need to ask what they wanted in return for such care - he knew the Malfoys didn’t want anyone else marrying into their line but someone they approved of. The professor’s daughter made their family look educated and passionate, not to mention the fact that they actually seemed to like you; even Snape couldn’t deny that.
He took his silence as a yes, and didn’t bother to hide the subtle smirk as he asked his final question. “And do you want Y/N to be happy?”
-
Draco watched from afar, watching for the moment where Cedric’s heart broke.
It had only been a couple days since you’d both been in this scene before, and yet everything on your side had changed. The gestures you were making with your hand implied something serious was going on at the other side of the courtyard, the expression in your eyes fierce and yet unbothered while Cedric stared at you with a pleading confusion and something akin to pain. Your lips moved quickly and yet slowly, breaking the boy apart in words alone. And all the while, you looked like you couldn’t wait for it to be over.
And neither could Draco. Once you finished with the last line - whatever it was unheard to Draco’s side of the huge courtyard - you turned your back to Cedric, only to have him grasp your arm. His fingers latched onto your wrist, stilling you in your steps. Draco stiffened and instantly made to stand up, hand already on wand as you slowly turned back to your ex boyfriend. Draco only backed down once he saw you shake his grasp off, shouting something that could be distantly heard from where he was and along the lines of, “Get over yourself, Diggory.”
Draco couldn’t felt guilty for breaking you two apart, not when he’d waited half his life for this opportunity. He hadn't even realised until recently just how much he liked you, just how different that like was to how he liked his friends, or how he liked winning the quidditch cup. He hadn't realised why he couldn't stomach seeing that filthy Hufflepuff with his hands all over you, much less what that meant for your friendship. But, the most important thing he hadn't realised until now, was just how far he'd go to get what he wanted.
And so he pushed any feeling that might linger into guilt deep down until he couldn't feel it anymore, and watched with a growing smirk as you met his eyes from across the field. Your eyes lit up, and suddenly his chest was tightening. So maybe he wasn't as ready as he thought. He suddenly realised he was nervous. This was everything he wanted, and yet he wasn't sure if he wanted it just yet. if he wanted it this way. But then you were already close enough for him to see the sparkles in those eyes, already close enough to hear his name called from your lips, close enough to smell that familiar, sweet scent, close enough to feel the warmth of your soft, sudden touch as you grew closer, lowered yourself onto his lap, and grinned.
You ran your fingers through his hair, and his rising worries drifted away with the lightest summer's breeze. "Hello, Draco."
No, he thought. I was wrong.
I definitely want this.
-
Life was the greatest thing. Every day was a gift, every morning filled with sun, every second filled with you. The sweet taste of strawberry melted on his tongue - his pockets full of your favourite lollypop, one already lolling in his mouth. Within the first few weeks, Draco had mentally thanked the gods (and Snape) for the love potion, and even worked harder in potions just to express that gratitude.
He loved touching your hands under the table, loved the way your voice would call his name down the corridors, loved walking you to every class despite being late to his own. Draco currently leant his figure against the doorframe of a Charms class, mind wandering as he saw the students start to pack away. Afternoon was flittering through the window, thick orange beams lighting the dust that covered the old, stone walled room. His back felt warm from the sun coming in through the corridor window behind him, but his chest felt light and airy as he watched you. Those nerves never went away, even after months of being so helplessly in love that he thought he might one day wake up and find your arms around Cedric once more. Despite the foolish and lovestruck butterflies, his nerves were also hiding from that sense of impending doom.
A soft owl's hoot from somewhere in the nearby turret shook his thoughts from mind, the sound flurrying in through the open window behind him, and he noticed the students were already rising from their seats and readying to leave. The chairs scraped against the floors with deep echoes, the sound of papers and notebooks being sorted accompanying the scent of parchment in the warm air. Beside you was Daphne, your closest friend in Slytherin who had watched you fall deeper and deeper by the day for your childhood best friend - and knew nothing of what had started it off, of course.
She nudged you as you arranged the books into your leather bag, turning to look at her as you swung the thing over your shoulder.
"Your boyfriend's waiting for you, love."
You looked past her to see that tall figure leaning against the doorframe, ignoring every student who walked past him and entirely oblivious to the girls that discreetly gawked in the process. Instead, his eyes were already on you. A white lolly stick was between his lips, the candy hidden by his tongue that played with it. His arms were crossed, his hair casual and his robes missing, implying that he was finished with classes for the day. Coincidently, so were you.
You and Daphne exchanged a knowing, giddy look before you kissed her cheek goodbye and made your way to your boyfriend. He greeted you with a gentle kiss on the forehead, his arm swinging around your shoulders as he smiled down at you. You could so get used to this. "You alright?"
You nodded, smiling as you linked your hand with the one around your shoulder. "Great now that class is over. You?"
He chuckled. "Yeah. I was thinking we could go to the library, if you wanted. Flitwick's kicking my ass with assignments. Or - I say we could just fuck the homework and go sit by the lake?"
The two of you weaved through the crowded hallway, people naturally parting to let you through, apprehensive looks from the first years and jealous look from the fellow years. Everyone knew who you two were. It was a typical love story to the public’s eyes - the book of two young, rich pure bloods. Y/N Snape, and her Draco Malfoy.
His free arm that wasn’t draped over your shoulders came to run through his messy hair and then pulled the lolly from his lips. He smirked then gestured it to you, to which you giggled back and took it. Before you could even taste it’s sweet candy, his fingers grabbed your cheeks and pulled you to him. He pressed a strawberry flavoured kiss to your lips, right in the middle of the hallway as you both continued walking.
You tried swatting him away to which he merely laughed into the kiss in response, finally pulling away once you hit hard enough. He watched you with a shit-eating grin as you gave him a playful look of disbelief, rolling your eyes before finally putting the candy in your mouth.
Everyday was as sweet as this. Everything tasted like strawberries to you, every moment your stomach fluttering with butterflies.
You didn’t know why just yet, but life was better than ever through these rose tinted glasses.
-
The lunch hall was crawling with people desperate for a new rumour to circulate around the tables, fresh gossip to discuss over their food. Lucky for them, they had their favourite golden couple to watch every mealtime, always clad in subtle expensive jewellery under their robes or the highest quality school shoes beneath them. Unlucky for them, they had nothing much to discuss apart from baseless claims rooting from their jealousy, or spite. The ones that admired you two (whether separately or as a power couple) still joined in on the conversations, as it seemed that the Malfoy son and the Snape daughter was their favourite topic.
The two of you sat at the centre of the slytherin dining table, a large group of friends clustered around you. Draco’s hand rested on your thigh, finger swirling mindless patterns against your skin as you rested your own hand atop of his.
“I heard that Filch is taking kids to the Forbidden Forest for detention again.”
Theo wrinkled his nose, taking a sip of his pumpkin juice. “That’s filthy, that.”
Blaise nodded, “Yeah. What can you do? The guy’s a sadist.”
Daphne and Pansy discussed their own plans for the summer while Blaise and Theo discussed Filch, and you and Draco remained in a peaceful quiet as you had your lunch. Everything was beautiful, as always. Perfect.
“I would never let him drag me to some old forest for detention.”
“Yeah, it’s shit. Trust me.” You looked to Draco who just spoke, breathing out a laugh as he gave them a knowing look.
Pansy piped in, “What’s the worst you’d let them give you for detention, then?
Theo furrowed his brows in thought, setting his glass down as he gulped his drink. “I wouldn’t get detention in the first place.”
“We all know you wouldn’t, Theo.” Daphne called, picking at her nails as she teased the student that all teachers favoured.
Despite the boy glaring at her playfully, Blaise took the question into his own consideration. “You know what, I think I wouldn’t mind one of those things where they cuff you to the ceiling.”
Pansy widened her eyes, her voice turning higher as she exclaimed, “Blaise? What the fuck, that’s weird.”
The group started laughing as Blaise tried defending his strange confession, hand gestures wild and theatrical. Draco’s hand suddenly left your thigh, and you looked up to see him reach for his goblet of pumpkin juice. You assumed it would be to drink, but instead he handed it to you. “Go on, love. You’ve not had a drink, yet.”
You smiled at him, taking the glass but setting it down on the table. “Thanks, I’ll just drink it later.”
If you’d stayed looking at your boyfriend, you would’ve noticed the flash of worry in his eyes. The way his grin dimmed and his lips pursed as he thought against offering it again. But then he was imagining what would happen if you didn’t drink it. He was wondering if you might say something, or just pretend like everything was normal. He was thinking about the time limit on the love potion that Snape had warned about, and the mixture that he’d poured into his goblet just minutes ago - the dilution only lasted three days.
Originally, the plan was to use it only until Cedric got the message. Until everyone got the message, actually. Then, once you gradually stopped taking it, you would hopefully come to your senses and realise you were madly in love with your childhood friend. Or, you might just go along with it until you really did fall for him.
Now, Draco was too scared to take the risk. If he could prolong this heaven on earth, he would. He would do anything to keep you happy, and you looked happy with him.
It was that thought that pushed his hand not back onto your thigh, but around the goblet once more. He swirled the liquid inside, and offered it again. “You sure? I haven’t seen you drink anything all day, you must be thirsty, love.”
You laughed, “I drank all that pumpkin juice at breakfast, Draco. In fact, I’m always drinking pumpkin juice. I’m a little sick of it, to be honest. If I could - ” you paused, noticing his eyes and the poorly hidden, suppressed panic behind them. “Darling - what’s wrong?”
He blinked harshly and smiled once more, “Nothing, nothing. I’m just worried for you, that’s all.”
You looked to his tightening expression, then back to the pumpkin juice between his fingers. Something was turning sour in your mouth. “Don’t worry about me, I’m simply not thirsty.”
Draco nodded, and got the message that you won’t be drinking anytime soon. He took the goblet and placed it next to your plate, so close that it might as well have been on top of your chicken. You crossed your brows, breathing out a laugh in confusion before pushing it away. Really, you were sick of that damn juice.
Instead of going back to his food, he continued staring at the goblet. After a moment’s pause, he spoke. “How can I not worry when my girlfriend isn’t drinking anything? It’s health - ”
“Draco, really. I’m not thirsty.” You just couldn’t understand why he was so adamant over this stupid juice - it’s not like he pressed the damn pumpkin and made the thing himself.
The hall smelt a little dusty, suddenly. It’s like your sense of smell had been blocked all along with roses and vanilla, and you were only just now realising how old and musty the stone castle was. But then you sniffed, and the lovely floral scent was back.
Draco watched your features flash with this confusion, and knew exactly what was happening. He needed you to drink this juice, now.
He tried once more, pushing it towards you with a gentle movement, but you merely pushed his arm away as you stared off into the distance, brows crossed. You were focusing on the hall with unfamiliarity coating your eyes, as if seeing it all for the first time. As if a pink tinted lens had been smudged away. Draco watched that all flash across your face with rising panic.
You blinked, and it was gone. Your loving expression was back, and you were suddenly seeing in pink again. Everything was beautiful again. You smiled at him.
Draco’s shoulders stopped tensing, sinking down a little and finally relaxing into the bench. It would be fine. He still had today - you were bound to have a drink sooner or later. And, sooner or later, he would be there to make sure you kept loving him.
Blaise looked to you, oblivious to the exchange that just went on. “What about you, Y/N? What’s the worst detention you’ve had to deal with?”
You met his eyes, smiling at your friend. You hummed in thought. “I’m not sure, actually.”
And then your pink world turned to black, your eyelids sinking and the weight of the world too heavy to hold. You felt yourself falling, falling, falling backwards, and then you knew nothing more.
-
You had stopped falling, now already as deep as could be. The first thing you knew was that the ground beneath you was soft, just like a cushion. The second thing was that the room was bright, far too bright to open your eyes. The light burned against them, so much so that you kept them closed. Voices were blurred around you, some familiar and some less so.
Still, you eventually managed to decipher them amongst floating in and out of consciousness.
“What do we do? She’s clearly past her refill stage.”
A low voice responded, one so familiar that it hurt too much to name. “We leave it, mother. We don’t do anything. I’m not doing this again, not to her.”
Another familiar voice came again, this one deeper and lower yet. “If you would have just listened to me in the first place, none of this would have happened. I told you,” the voice said, slow and drawling, “If anything happened to my daughter, you’d be sorry.”
“Sorry? What are you going to do, Severus? You agreed to the whole plan.”
Somewhere along the conversation, you were conscious enough to grasp the gist of what was going on - what had gone on - and it made you so sick that you felt the bed falling beneath you once more, succumbing to black if only to avoid the cruel reality thrown at you.
-
Draco had never left your side. He’d stayed by that hospital-wing bed day and night, avoiding lessons and meal times and even curfew. Sure, it wasn’t allowed in the slightest, but who dared stop the Malfoy heir from doing what he wanted?
Every second of every day he sat in a metal chair beside your bed, hands wrapped around your cold, still ones. He prayed and wished and imagined that you’d wake up and look at him with sweet, love-filled eyes, ones that he’d been looked at with the past few months. He might’ve hoped that nothing had changed, that the potion had only made you regain your senses, but he couldn’t focus on any of that. Not when you’d spent the last few days in the infirmary, slipping in and out of consciousness as the stupid love potion bled out of you. The nurse had said that it must’ve been a sort of overdose, something your body wasn’t dealing with well, and Lucius had simply slipped her a gold coin to keep the news secret. Draco had felt sick to his stomach.
His head was rested against a white blanket, his hands clasped around yours as sleep threatened to take him away from you. The sun coming in through the blinds heated his head as the afternoon trickled away, and it was just as his eyelids started to slide down that he felt you stirring in the bed. He snapped upwards, instantly checking to see if you were in any discomfort or an unusual state. You slowly opened your eyes, briefly checking your surroundings and making note of where you were.
The infirmary, you realised.
And Draco was with you, you noted.
Draco. Your childhood bestfriend. The most constant thing in your life. The one person who you’d thought would never hurt you. The one who had…who had poisoned you…for his own selfish wants.
You sat up straight, suddenly thinking and seeing and smelling and feeling with a whole new body.
Draco was reaching for your hands, but you were already pulling away. He didn’t realise that these past few days he spent by your side were the last he’d ever get that close to you.
“Y/N, how are you f - ”
“Don’t fucking touch me, Draco.”
He flinched at your voice, the strained and weak sound still fierce and full of power. Draco was past scared and worried, he was near acceptance if anything. He knew what he’d done, and he knew it from that day in Snape’s office, where he agreed to go along with his parents’ plan - for what he’d done, he would never be forgiven. And he knew, more certain than anything, that if it were him, he couldn’t have forgiven you either.
Instead, he let his hands fall to his lap and watched you slowly sit up, making sure to watch his every move as if he might try something on you. Like he’d ever do anything like that. He’d only wanted the best for you, whether it be that you knew it or not. He didn’t dare speak, not until he knew exactly what you were thinking. What the fate of your friendship was.
Your eyes were strange, like they were seeing him for the first time. “Draco…I can’t believe you. I can’t believe you.”
He stammered his words, tripping over each as if he couldn’t stomach saying them. “Y/N, I’m sor - I’m…I’ve been so stupid, I just - I regret it so much, you wouldn’t believe me. If I could take it back, I would in a heart beat.” He ran his fingers through his hair, messing it up in the process. “I don’t know what to say.”
You looked away, staring off into the beams of sun coming in through the blinds. Perhaps the sharp rays were more forgiving than what reality was throwing your way. “Say the truth, Draco. Tell me how you lied to my face these past few months. Tell me why - how - you could do such a thing to me.” You looked back to him, razor sharp eyes on a blank face. “Tell me about how you poisoned me.”
The word was so horrible from your lips, so negative that he almost thought to deny it. Then he realised that…seeing you in this state, it might’ve been exactly what he had agreed to do. He had done this. He had…he had done this.
“I’m sorry, Y/N. I thought that it would be different. I thought that…I never thought this would have happened. I thought we could be - ”
“We could be what, happy? That I could live under this fucking potion for the rest of my life? That we could…” you trailed off, not even knowing if the words could slip out past the knot in your throat. “Could you really bare to live a life with me, knowing that it was all fake? That you’d forced me into it?”
You asked less for his benefit, and more for just knowing where you stood with him. Looking at Draco Malfoy, half his face illuminated under an orange sun and the other half silhouetted in a darken glow, you felt that you were in the presence of a stranger. That a ghost had followed you throughout childhood, and the boy you had loved so fiercely both before and after taking the potion was now gone.
When Draco didn’t respond, it was clear he knew what you were thinking. And there was nothing he could say to fix this. You looked away again once you saw his eyes blurring, unable to face such a sight because you weren’t sure how forgiving you might turn just at that face. You wished it hadn’t happened. You wished he had just expressed his jealousy in a normal way, and that you’d simply had an argument because he broke you and Cedric up - and most of all, you wished you could have naturally come to realise how much you loved him. It could’ve been that way - it should’ve been that way.
“I think you should go.”
The room must’ve grown quieter, because although you whispered your words Draco still felt like they were screamed at him. He thought about staying, about fighting for you. Is that what you wanted? Would an apology fix this? An explanation? Draco looked at you with your focus solely on the window and perhaps nothing beyond. Perhaps he was overthinking, but he hated how you couldn’t even use his name anymore.
There were so many things he wanted to say, but he couldn’t get them out. They wouldn’t have changed anything, anyway. Fruitless, a wasted battle. His throat was closing in on itself, his chest constricting and his knees already numbing. He had to leave.
He tucked the chair away, rounding the bed and soundlessly walking away until you were behind him, out of sight. He thought the words he could never stomach to say. I’m sorry.
He walked what felt like the mile to the exit and quietly closed the door, taking one final look back at you through the glass. You must’ve known he would’ve turned back, because you didn’t. You hadn’t moved an inch. I’m sorry, I’ll never hurt you again.
He made it all the way to an abandoned hallway few corners away from the infirmary before collapsing into an alcove, knees finally giving out. He was choking on his thoughts; thoughts of you, of you and him. He did this. He couldn’t undo it, couldn’t fix it, couldn’t regret it more than he already did. He stayed there for the rest of the day until Filch came and kicked him out, grumbling something about a threat to put him in detention in the forbidden forest, before seeing him to his dorms.
Draco would’ve taken any punishment over this. Would’ve put up with anything if he could just turn back time and redo it all and express his jealousy in a normal way. He should’ve left it to fate to decide, not the hands of a potions master. Not the hands of his selfish wants and his prying parents.
He wanted to tell you so much, but he’d never get the words out. Instead he kept them all inside, hoping that in another life he might’ve managed to tell you everything he didn’t get to during those few, blissful months.
I’m sorry, I love you.
-
“Look at her.”
No sound came from beside him, his companion silent. Blaise turned to Draco, confused as to why his friend was so quiet. “Have you seen this? Mate, what's going on? I thought you two were doing fine.”
Draco picked his head up, glancing over to where Blaise was gesturing to with heavy lidded eyes. There you were, sat in a group of friends with Cedric grinning down at you, his arm draped over your shoulders like a dead weight. It was like nothing had changed, like he had gone back months and months before he had made the stupidest decision of his life. For a strange moment, he almost wished that it was true. But then he looked at the way you laughed at something Diggory said, the way Cedric watched you with soft eyes that were full of an emotion that he used to look at you with. He watched the way you looked shy and lovestruck, healing from what he had done; and you were doing so under no sort of love potion or manipulation.
Draco could blame himself for ruining it by using that stupid potion, but there were years before that where he hadn't made such a bad choice.
The harsh truth was that when you could choose, you would never choose him.
- UNKNOWN POV
She watched him from the depths of the courtyard, drifting in and out of an absentminded conversation with her friends as her attention remained focused on him. The tree trunk her and a few of her friends leant against was warm against her back, the leaves from far above blowing across the whole field. It was a beautiful scene, and she might’ve enjoyed it if she wasn’t hurting inside. She had spent the last year hopelessly falling deeper and deeper for him, feelings so consuming that it was like a drug - like a poison. She’d read about love before in her books, but she never thought it would feel as painful as it did. And all the while, as she spent the days covering the jealousy over you and the pain over him, he hadn’t looked her way once. He probably didn’t even know she existed. There wasn’t a single chance for her, for anyone, not when he spent his days in love with you. She’d wished for a chance, and she might’ve gotten one if he only looked up from you. If he only could realise that there were people out there who loved so fiercely that it was nothing compared to love potions or books.
But as she watched him, she knew he would never realise it; anyone apart from you was not an option. Because it was Y/N Snape, and her Draco Malfoy.
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