TW: Blood, kissing, violence, ya know. The good stuff
Featuring: Draco and a whoooole lotta Death Eaters
Summary: A stupid yet sentimental mistake you made with Draco Malfoy a year ago may just save your life when trying to rescue him from the Death Eaters.
“Ambitious little thing.”
The Dark Lord’s voice seems to endlessly echo off the walls, its ghostly tone slithering around your ears and throat. You can’t help but notice the resounding laugh that exudes from the rest of them.
You don’t know how it got to this. To you, standing like an absolute bloody fool in front of the Death Eaters in their main residence. How you waited this long to be brave, how much convincing it took to step foot in this room.
Just you, in a tattered, faded dress that once sparkled and glowed on you. The dress you spent hours shopping for to find the perfect one. The dress you put on to meet him at the dance yesterday, the dress you were wearing when he took your hand and bowed to you…
Just as the Death Eaters burst through the windows and stormed Hogwarts. As they pried him from your relentless grasp, nearly breaking your bones as you fought them back. The Great Hall became engrossed in chaos and hell.
You ignore Voldemort’s retort and the sick reaction from his peers as your eyes slowly trail over to meet Draco’s wide, horrified stare. You will the tears welling up to subside, as to not show weakness in front of such villainy.
Draco notices your blinkless, unending trance on him and silently mouths to you, “Come back.”
The devastation hits your heart like a bomb. Usually when he says this it’s during a test when you zone out, or when you lose yourself in your nerves before a class presentation.
And now it’s certain death.
“Y/N, come back,” He mouths again, his eyes becoming desperate.
You come back to yourself, ready to have words with the dictator.
“I’ve come for the boy.” You say with your full chest, a demand, not a request.
“Is that right? I’m afraid you’re too late, my dear. The boy is mine.” Voldemort glides a hand out, using magic to force Draco’s arm up to reveal the dark mark.
“Fresh as a daisy.” Voldemort sneers, a tinge of sick humor lining his smile. The sounds and sights of the room become a blur as you watch the ink of the dark mark swirl on Draco’s skin.
You close your eyes for a second, letting your head drop a bit. Thinking…
Thinking that you know exactly how it got to this.
How you remember this mansion as much more than a meeting place for evil. How you remember this boy with a million dollar smile, with potential greater than all of Hogwarts. You remember this life as much more than a nightmare.
You remember the first meeting, the build up, the tension. The hair twirls, the hand grazes, the winks and flirtatious comments.
You remember the unbreakable vow you made with Draco when you were drunk in his dorm a year ago. When you both recklessly, drunkenly slipped away from the Slytherin party and into his bathtub fully clothed and laughed as you held hands under the water and said to each other, laughs turning into whispers…
“Never die, Y/N.”
“Never die, Malfoy.”
You remember it all. As you come back to the moment, you remember the sheer guts it took to show up at the Death Eaters’ front door.
You decide then and there, you aren’t leaving without him. You lift your head and meet Voldemort’s eyes with refreshed focus.
“It’s nothing more than a tattoo.” You say after a deep breath, your voice full and clear.
The Dark Lord pauses for a second, taking time to drink you in, to challenge you.
“If it’s so powerless, then remove it.” He casually states, trying to batter your hopes further. Draco’s breath catches before he speaks up.
“Y/N,” the sound of your name on his tongue nearly breaks you. He sternly shakes his head in desperate disapproval.
Voldemort interrupts again. “Remove it and walk free with him. Fail and you shall receive one yourself.” The look on Draco’s face turns from horrified to completely, utterly sick.
“You can’t get stuck here.” Draco nearly whimpers, his voice shaking with undeniable fear. You look to him with that determined stare.
“I won’t.”
He attempts to stand up, just too late as Voldemort hits him with the confudus charm, locking him frozen still in his seat with his dark mark exposed.
The sight of it pulls at your heart strings, but you remain steadfast, diving into the well of your magic. Your feet take a solid stance, your wand at the ready.
“Eager, I see.” Voldemort remarks. “To join us.”
But you’ve blocked out his voice, getting tunnel vision as you focus yourself on Draco. You refrain from making eye contact with him, knowing it would hurt too much.
But the tear that lands on his arm from his eye catches your attention, slowly cascading down the dark mark.
His eyes- that used to have that twinkle to them. The shine you must restore, even if it kills you. You nod your head to him in potential farewell, his eyes crushing closed as more tears spill and screaming lodges in his throat.
Behind him, Narcissa gently smiles with tears of her own, a hand over her heart in silent salute to you.
The image alone has you raising your wand, directly to the blackish symbol on his arm. This must end. A single phrase echoes in your mind as a surge of magic boils within you and quickly reaches the surface.
Never die, Y/N.
“Deletrius.”
A blast of blinding white magic explodes from your wand like lightning, slamming into Draco’s arm as he writhes in pain. The impact removes small flakes of the mark, falling to the ground at his feet like ash.
It’s a start.
The room glows as observers cover their eyes, unable to withstand the sheer brightness.
The spell holds out as you draw magic from every part of you, every memory, every exchange with him. The pressure in your wrist begins to intensify as power flows from you with rage and pure, unconditional love.
The well goes deep. You dive there, making your way down to crevices you haven’t yet explored, corners you’re just now discovering. The spell glows brighter as something snaps in you, something raw and devastating.
Visions of you two in that bathtub reappear in your head like a film reel, fueling the magic that pours from your very being.
You can’t help but scream as a wall of pressure builds in your chest, becoming heavier with each passing second. The sheer strain of your voice and your heart and your wand combine and you suddenly feel like… like this could be the end.
Never die, Y/N.
Another blast of power bursts from you, channeling it through your wand as you notice through the blinding light and your own tears that only half of the dark mark remains. Your eyes widen in shock.
It’s working.
A hint of hope bestows on you and the effect it has is enormous. The Death Eaters stop in their tracks in utter awe as you drop your wand, the tool hitting the floor, rolling to Voldemort’s feet…
But the magic continues to surge from your hand. The room can’t take their eyes off you, off your ruthless tirade of power- your screaming, your pain, your sheer strength.
The flame in you burns strong as the dark mark disintegrates slowly. But you know, deep down, that one more minute of this could ensure your ending.
Never die, Malfoy.
“Y/N!” Narcissa screams from across the room as Lucius grabs her to take her away. “She won’t make it,” she grunts to her husband as she pushes against his grasp.
You dive even deeper, hitting the bottom of that power, that unfiltered voltage. You can actually feel it, as you conjure up every last ounce of energy in you, pushing against the floor of your magic with all your might.
One final effort, the grand finale. Your other hand raises, magic exploding from it like a bomb. From behind the wall of noise in your ears you hear remarks of, “That can’t be possible…”
The Death Eaters step back, worried they could be harmed, as you feel the blood begin to drip from your hands.
Never die, Y/N.
You watch as the last bit of ink falls to ash at Draco’s feet, as your knees give in, the pain vanishing as darkness washes over you like a cold, soothing shadow.
—
“DON’T YOU TOUCH HER,” Narcissa demands as rushing footsteps make their way to you. Carrow and Rookwood clear the way, unsure what to do with themselves after your massive display.
A set of hands lifts your head onto her lap, one of them clasping onto your own, blood lightly dripping there.
It’s nearly impossible to open your eyes in this state, or rather, in between states. The room is a blur and sounds are vaguely distant, like your world is hanging by a brittle thread.
In a desperate attempt to keep you awake, she starts rambling with a quiver in her voice.
“I made a vow like that once too,” she starts, sniffling between words. “Actually, I made the same exact vow, for the same exact same boy."
She peers down at you with eyes shining in gratitude. “But the vow goes both ways, love. Stay with us. Stay with him.”
Another phrase drifts through your mind, sounding hazy and slow.
Come back.
Your eyelids feel like bricks as you attempt to open them, finding a groan escaping from your throat as you move your fingers slowly, your bloody hand reaching to rest on your heart.
“Is it... gone?” you painfully whisper, eyelashes barely fluttering.
A voice you’ve loved for the last year cuts in over Narcissa’s with a gentle beat.
“Like it never existed.” Draco coos to you as he leans down next to you, taking you in his arms.
A sigh of relief exudes from Narcissa as she reacts to your movement. "Thank fucking Merlin," she exhales.
“Did it scar?” you ask.
“Well, you did sort of blast it with your flamethrower magic. Safe to say it’s a bit… textured.” A smile grows on your face at that, so he desperately continues.
Anything to keep you with him.
“You were a bloody sorcerer out there, Y/N. Scared Macnair shitless and had the lot of them running for their lives,” he remarks.
His face lights up with infinite joy and wonder as a small laugh finds itself in you, your eyes finally opening enough to gaze up at him.
You’re back.
He lifts you, turning to his mother. “I must go,” he nods. Narcissa tucks her wand into his coat pocket, smiling at the charred end.
A soft kiss on your forehead was the last thing you remember before falling back into a deep, restful sleep.
—
A few days of recovery later, you find yourself in front of the fire in the Great Hall, wrapped in Draco’s Slytherin robe and sharing a tea with him. He helps you hold the mug as your hands are wrapped in gauze, still weak from the magic.
“Do you think the vow actually saved me?” You ask, staring into the fire in a daze.
He moves closer, wrapping a secure arm around you. “I think it’s the stupidest and most brilliant idea we’ve ever had.”
You both smile, looking at each other now, noses almost grazing as you respond. You lift your tea slightly as if making a toast.
“To being stupid and brilliant.”
And with that, Draco’s wild eyes close as his lips land on yours.
A moment of elation hits you, healing what was broken just a bit more. His scent and the warmth of his skin pressing into you triggers a tiny but noticeable jolt of magic somewhere at the bottom of your well.
His hand lifts to grab the mug and sets it down behind you on the table. His lips move slowly, savoring every second of your touch.
You both pull back, unable to form words.
“Unbelievable,” he utters under his breath, staring at your face in awe.
“What do you mean?” You ask softly.
“We got in a bathtub, drunk, and all I wanted to do was kiss you, just like that.” You blush at the response, glancing down for a moment.
“And instead I panicked and made an unbreakable lifelong bond to you.” You both laugh, harder this time, seeing how truly ridiculous the memory seems.
Your eyes meet his again, drinking him in.
“So since I saved both of us, does that make me the brilliant one, and you the stupid one?” You play, fully turning your body to him now.
“It has been the case since we first met.” He replies, citing the memory again. “I can’t believe we even remember the vow. We were completely blasted that night,” he recalls.
“I remember it. I remember it all with you.” You press a kiss to his cheek, another jolt of magic forming at the bottom of the well.
GAWD i missed your writing. it’s always a powerhouse of visuals and emotions and magic badassery and this ATE!!!!!! not reader absolutely shutting down voldemort #thank u next, I DIE!! draco mouthing encouragement to reader 🥹 i’m a melted puddle on the floor, narcissa my mother in law 😮💨 “my sorcerer” GOODBYE. this was everything i needed and then some, absolutely fabulous my love!!
TW: Blood, kissing, violence, ya know. The good stuff
Featuring: Draco and a whoooole lotta Death Eaters
Summary: A stupid yet sentimental mistake you made with Draco Malfoy a year ago may just save your life when trying to rescue him from the Death Eaters.
“Ambitious little thing.”
The Dark Lord’s voice seems to endlessly echo off the walls, its ghostly tone slithering around your ears and throat. You can’t help but notice the resounding laugh that exudes from the rest of them.
You don’t know how it got to this. To you, standing like an absolute bloody fool in front of the Death Eaters in their main residence. How you waited this long to be brave, how much convincing it took to step foot in this room.
Just you, in a tattered, faded dress that once sparkled and glowed on you. The dress you spent hours shopping for to find the perfect one. The dress you put on to meet him at the dance yesterday, the dress you were wearing when he took your hand and bowed to you…
Just as the Death Eaters burst through the windows and stormed Hogwarts. As they pried him from your relentless grasp, nearly breaking your bones as you fought them back. The Great Hall became engrossed in chaos and hell.
You ignore Voldemort’s retort and the sick reaction from his peers as your eyes slowly trail over to meet Draco’s wide, horrified stare. You will the tears welling up to subside, as to not show weakness in front of such villainy.
Draco notices your blinkless, unending trance on him and silently mouths to you, “Come back.”
The devastation hits your heart like a bomb. Usually when he says this it’s during a test when you zone out, or when you lose yourself in your nerves before a class presentation.
And now it’s certain death.
“Y/N, come back,” He mouths again, his eyes becoming desperate.
You come back to yourself, ready to have words with the dictator.
“I’ve come for the boy.” You say with your full chest, a demand, not a request.
“Is that right? I’m afraid you’re too late, my dear. The boy is mine.” Voldemort glides a hand out, using magic to force Draco’s arm up to reveal the dark mark.
“Fresh as a daisy.” Voldemort sneers, a tinge of sick humor lining his smile. The sounds and sights of the room become a blur as you watch the ink of the dark mark swirl on Draco’s skin.
You close your eyes for a second, letting your head drop a bit. Thinking…
Thinking that you know exactly how it got to this.
How you remember this mansion as much more than a meeting place for evil. How you remember this boy with a million dollar smile, with potential greater than all of Hogwarts. You remember this life as much more than a nightmare.
You remember the first meeting, the build up, the tension. The hair twirls, the hand grazes, the winks and flirtatious comments.
You remember the unbreakable vow you made with Draco when you were drunk in his dorm a year ago. When you both recklessly, drunkenly slipped away from the Slytherin party and into his bathtub fully clothed and laughed as you held hands under the water and said to each other, laughs turning into whispers…
“Never die, Y/N.”
“Never die, Malfoy.”
You remember it all. As you come back to the moment, you remember the sheer guts it took to show up at the Death Eaters’ front door.
You decide then and there, you aren’t leaving without him. You lift your head and meet Voldemort’s eyes with refreshed focus.
“It’s nothing more than a tattoo.” You say after a deep breath, your voice full and clear.
The Dark Lord pauses for a second, taking time to drink you in, to challenge you.
“If it’s so powerless, then remove it.” He casually states, trying to batter your hopes further. Draco’s breath catches before he speaks up.
“Y/N,” the sound of your name on his tongue nearly breaks you. He sternly shakes his head in desperate disapproval.
Voldemort interrupts again. “Remove it and walk free with him. Fail and you shall receive one yourself.” The look on Draco’s face turns from horrified to completely, utterly sick.
“You can’t get stuck here.” Draco nearly whimpers, his voice shaking with undeniable fear. You look to him with that determined stare.
“I won’t.”
He attempts to stand up, just too late as Voldemort hits him with the confudus charm, locking him frozen still in his seat with his dark mark exposed.
The sight of it pulls at your heart strings, but you remain steadfast, diving into the well of your magic. Your feet take a solid stance, your wand at the ready.
“Eager, I see.” Voldemort remarks. “To join us.”
But you’ve blocked out his voice, getting tunnel vision as you focus yourself on Draco. You refrain from making eye contact with him, knowing it would hurt too much.
But the tear that lands on his arm from his eye catches your attention, slowly cascading down the dark mark.
His eyes- that used to have that twinkle to them. The shine you must restore, even if it kills you. You nod your head to him in potential farewell, his eyes crushing closed as more tears spill and screaming lodges in his throat.
Behind him, Narcissa gently smiles with tears of her own, a hand over her heart in silent salute to you.
The image alone has you raising your wand, directly to the blackish symbol on his arm. This must end. A single phrase echoes in your mind as a surge of magic boils within you and quickly reaches the surface.
Never die, Y/N.
“Deletrius.”
A blast of blinding white magic explodes from your wand like lightning, slamming into Draco’s arm as he writhes in pain. The impact removes small flakes of the mark, falling to the ground at his feet like ash.
It’s a start.
The room glows as observers cover their eyes, unable to withstand the sheer brightness.
The spell holds out as you draw magic from every part of you, every memory, every exchange with him. The pressure in your wrist begins to intensify as power flows from you with rage and pure, unconditional love.
The well goes deep. You dive there, making your way down to crevices you haven’t yet explored, corners you’re just now discovering. The spell glows brighter as something snaps in you, something raw and devastating.
Visions of you two in that bathtub reappear in your head like a film reel, fueling the magic that pours from your very being.
You can’t help but scream as a wall of pressure builds in your chest, becoming heavier with each passing second. The sheer strain of your voice and your heart and your wand combine and you suddenly feel like… like this could be the end.
Never die, Y/N.
Another blast of power bursts from you, channeling it through your wand as you notice through the blinding light and your own tears that only half of the dark mark remains. Your eyes widen in shock.
It’s working.
A hint of hope bestows on you and the effect it has is enormous. The Death Eaters stop in their tracks in utter awe as you drop your wand, the tool hitting the floor, rolling to Voldemort’s feet…
But the magic continues to surge from your hand. The room can’t take their eyes off you, off your ruthless tirade of power- your screaming, your pain, your sheer strength.
The flame in you burns strong as the dark mark disintegrates slowly. But you know, deep down, that one more minute of this could ensure your ending.
Never die, Malfoy.
“Y/N!” Narcissa screams from across the room as Lucius grabs her to take her away. “She won’t make it,” she grunts to her husband as she pushes against his grasp.
You dive even deeper, hitting the bottom of that power, that unfiltered voltage. You can actually feel it, as you conjure up every last ounce of energy in you, pushing against the floor of your magic with all your might.
One final effort, the grand finale. Your other hand raises, magic exploding from it like a bomb. From behind the wall of noise in your ears you hear remarks of, “That can’t be possible…”
The Death Eaters step back, worried they could be harmed, as you feel the blood begin to drip from your hands.
Never die, Y/N.
You watch as the last bit of ink falls to ash at Draco’s feet, as your knees give in, the pain vanishing as darkness washes over you like a cold, soothing shadow.
—
“DON’T YOU TOUCH HER,” Narcissa demands as rushing footsteps make their way to you. Carrow and Rookwood clear the way, unsure what to do with themselves after your massive display.
A set of hands lifts your head onto her lap, one of them clasping onto your own, blood lightly dripping there.
It’s nearly impossible to open your eyes in this state, or rather, in between states. The room is a blur and sounds are vaguely distant, like your world is hanging by a brittle thread.
In a desperate attempt to keep you awake, she starts rambling with a quiver in her voice.
“I made a vow like that once too,” she starts, sniffling between words. “Actually, I made the same exact vow, for the same exact boy."
She peers down at you with eyes shining in gratitude. “But the vow goes both ways, love. Stay with us. Stay with him.”
Another phrase drifts through your mind, sounding hazy and slow.
Come back.
Your eyelids feel like bricks as you attempt to open them, finding a groan escaping from your throat as you move your fingers slowly, your bloody hand reaching to rest on your heart.
“Is it... gone?” you painfully whisper, eyelashes barely fluttering.
A voice you’ve loved for the last year cuts in over Narcissa’s with a gentle beat.
“Like it never existed.” Draco coos to you as he leans down next to you, taking you in his arms.
A sigh of relief exudes from Narcissa as she reacts to your movement. "Thank fucking Merlin," she exhales.
“Did it scar?” you ask.
“Well, you did sort of blast it with your flamethrower magic. Safe to say it’s a bit… textured.” A smile grows on your face at that, so he desperately continues.
Anything to keep you with him.
“You were a bloody sorcerer out there, Y/N. Scared Macnair shitless and had the lot of them running for their lives,” he remarks.
His face lights up with infinite joy and wonder as a small laugh finds itself in you, your eyes finally opening enough to gaze up at him.
You’re back.
He lifts you, turning to his mother. “I must go,” he nods. Narcissa tucks her wand into his coat pocket, smiling at the charred end.
A soft kiss on your forehead was the last thing you remember before falling back into a deep, restful sleep.
—
A few days of recovery later, you find yourself in front of the fire in the Great Hall, wrapped in Draco’s Slytherin robe and sharing a tea with him. He helps you hold the mug as your hands are wrapped in gauze, still weak from the magic.
“Do you think the vow actually saved me?” You ask, staring into the fire in a daze.
He moves closer, wrapping a secure arm around you. “I think it’s the stupidest and most brilliant idea we’ve ever had.”
You both smile, looking at each other now, noses almost grazing as you respond. You lift your tea slightly as if making a toast.
“To being stupid and brilliant.”
And with that, Draco’s wild eyes close as his lips land on yours.
A moment of elation hits you, healing what was broken just a bit more. His scent and the warmth of his skin pressing into you triggers a tiny but noticeable jolt of magic somewhere at the bottom of your well.
His hand lifts to grab the mug and sets it down behind you on the table. His lips move slowly, savoring every second of your touch.
You both pull back, unable to form words.
“Unbelievable,” he utters under his breath, staring at your face in awe.
“What do you mean?” You ask softly.
“We got in a bathtub, drunk, and all I wanted to do was kiss you, just like that.” You blush at the response, glancing down for a moment.
“And instead I panicked and made an unbreakable lifelong bond to you.” You both laugh, harder this time, seeing how truly ridiculous the memory seems.
Your eyes meet his again, drinking him in.
“So since I saved both of us, does that make me the brilliant one, and you the stupid one?” You play, fully turning your body to him now.
“It has been the case since we first met.” He replies, citing the memory again. “I can’t believe we even remember the vow. We were completely blasted that night,” he recalls.
“I remember it. I remember it all with you.” You press a kiss to his cheek, another jolt of magic forming at the bottom of the well.
TW: violence, depression, extreme levels of badass-ery
Featuring: Mattheo, Draco, Lorenzo, Theo
A/N: My first multi-part series! This is part 2 of 3. Y/N is a damn warrior in this one. Enjoy.
Summary: It’s been one year since the Death Eaters finished training you in their ways… and one year since you escaped their clutches. One year since you last saw Mattheo Riddle, the love of your life. And one year later, you’re going back to get him as a full-fledged assassin.
Part 2: Five, This Time
Four Slytherin kids that have each abandoned the legend of their house sit in a car hidden in the woods a hundred yards from Riddle Manor.
“If my memory serves well, they should be in a meeting right now. All of them.” You begin, glancing briefly at your silver watch.
Theo in the front seat, Draco and Enzo in the back, all leaning into your instruction.
“Draco and Enzo, you have to get Mattheo out. Theo and I will go first and take care of the guards. When the lights go out in the foyer, that’s your cue.”
You feel a hand squeeze your shoulder in reassurance. You couldn’t deny how unsettling it was to be back here, to know the most important person of your life was in that house just beyond the hill.
To wonder if he’ll even want to come home with you. The thought made you so sick, you forced it to the back of your mind.
“Fuck,” Draco says, astonishment rooted in his voice. “We’re really doing this. We’re… back.”
Your reunion had been short and sweet, though it hadn’t been a full year since seeing the two of them.
They sometimes visited your townhouse to check in and make sure you had supplies. Enzo cooked meals on your birthdays, probably the extent of fun you’d allowed yourself since leaving Riddle Manor.
You felt for Draco, knowing the likelihood of running into his parents, and possibly having to hurt them, was quite high.
This whole thing royally sucked, and you resented Voldemort with every fiber of your being for bringing it upon all of you.
Three of your closest friends now leant on you for survival. The weight of their stare and reliance anchored you to the seat, unable to move.
You had done stupid shit together, but nothing of this calibre. Nothing this reckless.
And yet, nothing this… loving. You were dying to get Mattheo back, your Mattheo back.
You weren’t sure how to talk to them, how to convince them this could work. You were shocked they had agreed to this at all, and on such short notice. Your brows furrow as you struggle to accept that this may be some of your last words to them.
You couldn’t let yourself wonder how you’d repay them if it did work. Because that meant assuming the best, something your brain never allowed.
You heard Enzo exhale in the backseat, his hands gripping either side of Theo’s shoulders as he sucked in another breath.
Then, he suddenly exits the car, slamming his door and striding to your side with purpose. Draco and Theo sat as frozen and intrigued as you did.
Enzo strides to your side, opens your door and extends a confident hand to you.
“We escaped once and we’ll do it again. With five of us this time.”
The certainty in his words felt comforting, even if it was a front. You could feel his determined glare as he spoke directly to you.
“Five.” You repeated, taking and clutching his hand as he hoists you out of your seat, while you said the words, like that of an Unbreakable Vow.
—
It wasn’t hard to take down the guards outside.
Your dexterity and lightness on your feet was a huge advantage as you slipped and glided through the side entrance of the manor.
It was the same as you left it. Clean, but dark. Spacious, but empty. Every piece of furniture in its exact spot, nothing ruined or replaced. Perfect for infiltrating.
The coast was clear and Theo was right on your tail. So far, so good.
Only two guards in the foyer, one for each of you. You looked at Theo and gave him a wink, the two of you sprawling to your feet in attack. They were strong, but you were agile. Your movements were so smooth, so feline, you could’ve convinced yourself you really had nine lives.
Hell, maybe I do.
You flicked the lights off for Draco and Enzo’s cue before dragging the unconscious guards to the side. Sudden approaching footsteps on the other side of the closed dining hall doors quickly caught your attention.
“Shit, shit, shit,” you cursed to yourself. Theo’s accomplished smile instantly turned to panic. The foyer is too open to hide, the two of you standing completely exposed.
“Someone’s coming!” Theo whisper-shouts to you from across the foyer, your eyes rolling in response. God forbid he helps come up with a solution, always a girl’s job.
Think. Breathe. Decide.
You considered the door in front of you, then the sleeping guards. It was either leave and start over, or blend in. The answer seemed clear as you mentally refused to sacrifice your progress.
“Get fucking dressed!” you respond, hastily ripping off the uniform from the guard you defeated and cloaking yourself in the Death Eater’s robe. You had no time to dwell on how undoubtedly wrong this felt.
You glanced at Theo, who obeyed and never questioned your orders. You were grateful to have someone as cooperative as him by your side tonight, despite his lack of experience.
Just as the double doors to the hall were about to open, you both assumed the same position the guards held before you took them down. You prayed the cloak was big enough to conceal your many sharp knives and-
“Rookwood, Carrow, get in here! You’re needed at this meeting.”
There it was.
Your hopeful thoughts interrupted by a booming voice so angelic, so utterly and heartbreakingly boyish and familiar that it paralyzes you momentarily. You nearly choke on your own tongue, time seemingly stopping as you fail to form a coherent thought.
Mattheo.
Tears immediately welled up in your eyes, and for once, you were glad to be wearing the damned mask. You weren’t sure there was enough oxygen in your lungs to keep breathing.
Theo slowly turns to you, his hands shaking and his eyes like headlights as you give him a subtle nod, urging him to follow you.
Collect yourself, you thought, but you weren’t sure who you were talking to anymore. You find a second to grab Theo’s hand, steadying it with your own.
Mattheo stays, holding the door open as you make your way over, your face masked and hooded.
There’s no time to decide. He either finds out now, or later. Trying to walk towards him felt like trudging through mud, your body hesitant and genuinely scared of its own reaction.
But you proceed. Your heart rate explodes as you breach the entrance of the dining hall, Mattheo’s scent enveloping you as you struggle to approach him.
Your next move feels like slow motion, like a blurry and hazy dream. Before you take another step, you slowly lift your gaze to Mattheo’s, your eyes meeting for the first time in a year. You could’ve sworn something broke in your chest, like your heart actually cracked in two.
The space in the doorway seemingly shrinks as your noses practically touch. To the others, it’s a staredown between two competitive peers. But for you, it’s two fated soulmates feeling the impact of each other for the first time in what you could swear was forever.
And before you can wonder if the Mattheo you loved had truly vanished… a sound.
A hitch in his breath. You hold his pained, longing stare for a few extra seconds, which feel like millennia, as the world stops around the two of you. His lips part, his mouth slightly agape as he trips, actually trips, over himself at the sight of you.
You somehow find it in yourself to break the crushing eye contact. It takes a few strides to calm down, to snap back to reality as you remind yourself of the objective.
Five.
You identify the empty spots meant for the two Death Eaters they think are now joining them. It takes everything in you to continue past Mattheo, treating him like an acquaintance felt like anvil on your chest.
As you sit at the table, you quickly realize you are now being met with the faces of everyone who had been hunting you for the last year. It was so horrifying that you couldn’t help but laugh to yourself beneath your mask.
Months spent fooling them, a year spent on the run from them, and suddenly you find yourself back at square one. You’d make sure to find time to enjoy that later… if you made it.
Theo’s foot nudged yours, bringing you back to the present. You couldn’t pay attention to the words ringing from the Dark Lord at the end of the table as Mattheo took a seat in the empty chair next to you.
You kept your stare forward, focusing as much as you could on Lucius Malfoy to distract yourself from him. What you would do for a single touch, a graze of his hand on yours… but you’d know what you’d do.
You’d burn down the room, the entire damn house, and everyone in it.
I’d end an empire for you.
As the meeting ends, everyone stands and bows to Voldemort, something you have to replicate and will block out of your memory later. If the three of you can make it out of the room, the path to freedom will pave itself.
Mattheo walks first, taking the lead, then you, then Theo.
You have to wonder how this is all playing out in Mattheo’s mind. Is he as horrified as you? Is he seething with anger? Will he send you home?
But what if… it works? What if you’re about to walk out of here together? You let your mind wander, imagining just seconds from now when you’d turn the corner and he’d already have you pinned against the wall, smashing his lips against yours, a kiss filled with a year’s worth of passion.
The thought of him next to you in the passenger seat while you drive them all home was enough for the tears to come creeping back.
But then, just on the brink of freedom, your eyes grow wide in pure horror as you witness the gravest mistake play out before you, an error that you knew immediately would cost you the plan.
He turns back to you.
A quick glance over his shoulder, ever so slightly, and without a thought. That’s all it took for a wave of the Dark Lord’s power to erupt from behind.
The dining hall doors slam shut, faster than you can blink. And then that ghostly, terrible voice emerges once again, a laugh escaping his throat with it.
“Slytherin’s apprentice returns.” He announces.
Your footsteps halt, and your breath with it as he declares his next request.
TW: violence, depression, extreme levels of badass-ery
Featuring: Mattheo, Draco, Lorenzo, Theo
A/N: My first multi-part series! This is part 1 of 3. Y/N is a damn warrior in this one. Enjoy.
Summary: It’s been one year since the Death Eaters finished training you in their ways… and one year since you escaped their clutches. One year since you last saw Mattheo Riddle, the love of your life. And one year later, you’re going back to get him as a full-fledged assassin.
PART 1: A Gift for a Gift
“The usual, please. The steel six inch and the set of emerald daggers, the small ones.” You relayed to Theo as you sat on the worn down couch, tying your boot laces extra tight.
“You sure about this, bella? Shouldn’t we take a second to think about it?” He pleads, his words laced with worry. But you continue on without a thought, Theo helping you stand up while you begin to strap the weapons to your belt.
“The black blade,” you request, your eyes casually feigning down at your gear. You were intentionally ignoring the nerves radiating from Theo’s very being at the risk of second guessing yourself. There was no time for that.
Not when Mattheo’s involved.
Theo’s eyes instantly grew wide with fear as he began to understand how serious you were. The use of the black blade wasn’t to be taken lightly. It was yours, only yours, given to you by the Dark Lord himself.
And now you were going to use it against him.
“Y/N, tesoro, come on, sit down with me. This has to be planned, I can call Draco-”
“It’s been almost a year, Theo. A year.” You reason as he recognizes the weight of the pain in your eyes.
The nightmares had become unbearable. They always occurred right after a beautiful dream, the kind where Mattheo was laughing uncontrollably or telling you funny stories at the lunch table in the Great Hall. In both, his eyes glistened with that perfect, boyish charm he exuded so naturally.
You couldn’t take it anymore, the not-knowing. Something has to be done.
Theo was always so gentle that actually arguing with him was simply not done. The grace of his Italian dialect tugged at your heartstrings as you hastily tied your hair up. He, of course, helps with that too, his fingers softly tugging the loose strands of your hair together.
You stand back, looking to him for approval. He scans you up and down, making sure to fix that one strap on your left shoulder you always left a little too slack.
“Good?” You ask. “Am I forgetting anything?”
“Si, your sanity.” Theo responds as his hands rake through his own hair with anxiety.
The air in the room suddenly weighs heavy as he hesitantly hands you the hilt of the black blade, the grip of it fitting your hand like it was molded special for you.
It feels so real now, your threat, as your eyes study the clean silver details lining the onyx sword. Even Theo steps closer, his eyes drawn to it like a siren’s song.
You lift it over your head, securing it to your back in its leather holster.
You offer him a little smile and meet his stare for the first time since you made this impulsive decision. A moment goes by while you take each other in, silently exchanging your mutual feelings of desperation and sorrow.
And then, your voices collide in a soft symphony, uttering the phrase you were both thinking at the same time, and in your respective accents.
“We’ve got to get him back.”
—
As you turn the key in the ignition, the memories flash through you like a film reel. Things used to be so, so different.
Six years ago, you met Mattheo at Hogwarts. You laugh to yourself, remembering how you beat his ass in a wand duel during Defense Against the Dark Arts. Even Snape got a kick out of that.
That’s all it took for Mattheo to fall head over heels for you. The boy who always looked for a challenge finally met the one he couldn’t defeat. Then there was the pining…
And oh gods, was there pining.
In fourth year, Mattheo wrote (yes, wrote) an argument for why you should be his date to the Yule Ball. It was his first real move on you, and he knew a girl as smart and worthy as you would need some convincing.
You sat in the library in the dead of night, trying to contain the volume of your laughter as he laid out his many points, explaining each with a lawyer-like tone and fleshed out support. He even wore something that resembled a suit so you’d “take him seriously.”
The soft, yet explosive kiss you bestowed him afterwards was answer enough.
The two of you became everything to each other. Your whole routines centered on the other, your worlds meshing and mixing and blossoming. You were the first one he told things to, and the other way around.
Your days and nights were spent picnicking on the Black Lake, drinking in the Astronomy Tower, and traipsing around Europe in the summers with the Slytherin gang. Hand in hand, you took on life together.
And it never, ever got old.
You couldn’t wait to see each other after class to exchange gossip and jokes, and you went to lengths to get each other out of detention. Professors had to separate you in class to keep you from constantly giggling and talking.
You were more than lovers… you were best friends.
And then there was now. You look around, your vision shrouded in quiet darkness in the driver’s seat of Mattheo’s old vintage car, this devastating reality hitting you like a tidal wave as the low rumble of the engine and the light patter of rain on the windshield mask the silence.
He had thrown you the keys to this car when you last saw him. And now you sit in it alone.
A distinct sadness had taken its place over you ever since you met his father.
—
Just over a year ago, when Voldemort’s reign commenced, he demanded his son come home to help the cause. You couldn’t stand to leave him, but you couldn’t stand the Death Eaters or their vision for the future either.
So you lied. And you let those monstrous, evil dictators train you. Long enough to learn the ins and outs of the Slytherin manors, their strategic tendencies, and their battle protocols. It took all your mental strength not to slaughter them.
All in the name of love and deceit.
Mattheo grew miserable. The flair of his young-hearted light had faded from his face over the course of those months like a wilting rose. He was to be by his father’s side nearly all day, every day. His once joyous smile was replaced by grim, blatant despair.
The suffering sole heir.
You learned their language for three months… and fled like a shadow the night before your dark mark ceremony.
You had returned to your room that night, quietly packing your clothes, when you were summoned to the dining hall. You opened the large, cavernous doors with all your strength to find Voldemort, alone, sitting at the head of the table.
A chill ran down your spine as his ghostly, echoing voice grazed your ears.
“Enter, child.”
And so you did. Your heart fell closer to your stomach with each step you took closer to him.
He knows. He knows I’m leaving.
You said to yourself as the sweat gleamed on your hairline. As you went to sit down, he stopped you with a gentle slight of his hand.
He stood up, retrieving a light gray box and laying it before you. You stood utterly frozen, observing every one of his devastating movements as that haunting drawl reached your ears again.
“A gift, for a gift.”
The box opened on its own with another graceful wave of his hand. Though rooted in villainy, you were always in awe of his sheer power, how the effects of it hung in the air like vapor.
It was the black blade. A long, old, stunning piece of absolute weaponry. Death seemed to inhabit it, its presence alluring and intimidating. It had hung on the wall above his throne since he took over.
It took you a minute to understand that he wasn’t just showing it to you. The words echoed in your head.
A gift, for a gift.
The last trick of your act. To accept this meant to betray him and his empire. You could only imagine the wrath he would unleash the next day when your spot at the table was empty. For a moment, you worried what the consequences would be for Mattheo.
For Mattheo, who you hadn’t seen for weeks now. For Mattheo, who couldn’t visit your room anymore.
For Mattheo, who was slipping away with each passing minute in this prison.
It had occurred to you then that you had never actually spoken to the lord. He’s never heard your voice, your ideas. He’s only heard of your successful training and completed missions through his Death Eater cronies.
And now he believes your abilities are valuable, your skills honed and sharp, worthy of praise.
So after months of learning and practicing their methods, you decided to leave him with a dangerous, yet brutally honest remark.
“Thank you for this, my lord. For everything.”
And you meant it.
The corner of his snake-like mouth lifted as he bowed his head to you. But you couldn’t ignore the slight squint of his right eye as he replayed your words in his head, your voice tinged with finality.
As you turned from the Dark Lord for the last time, you captured the mental image of his expression.
You smiled to yourself as you realized you had left the most powerful force of evil in the world utterly and completely unnerved.
—
“WAIT, BELLA!” Theo yelled from behind you as you accelerated the car towards the street. You rolled your eyes, braking and lowering the window as he caught up, nearly out of breath. You couldn’t help but notice his white-knuckle grip on the car.
“I’m coming with you. Open the door, per favore.” He begged. You considered it for a minute, his plea. You had turned him down before, and you couldn’t deny that taking this on alone would be nearly impossible.
Maybe all hands on deck wasn’t such a bad idea.
His face lit up with surprise as you unlocked the car and granted him inside. Theo had just as much a hole in his heart as you did. He was Mattheo’s right hand man, his most favorite friend.
Theo buckled his seat belt and took a deep breath, his exhale telling you all you needed to know. His determination had undertones of fear, but you knew which one would override the other.
You’d go to the ends of the earth for Mattheo, and Theo wouldn’t let you go by yourself. Your mutual mission felt more dire each day, and as a result, had brought you closer together.
His backpack had all kinds of pointy things jutting out the sides, a decent attempt at coming prepared. It seemed he took everything you hadn’t. You take a minute to analyze how this will change the plan, idly rubbing your thumbs together.
“You will stay close.” You ordered him. He nodded, a silent salute. You lower your forehead to your arms resting on the steering wheel.
“Anything else?” he asks, his voice steady and sure.
You only had one chance. If it was all hands on deck, then you were going to make sure all hands were on fucking deck.
“Yes. Call Draco.”
You put the car in drive, the townhouse you had been hiding in for a year becoming gradually less visible in the rearview mirror.
“Theo…” you start, your voice lowering to a whisper, almost embarrassed to utter the words. He looks to you with that signature expression of pure loyalty.
“You can’t let me see Mattheo.” The phrase pierced your heart like an arrow as you tried to swallow the quiver in your voice.
Luckily, Theo doesn’t need an explanation. He’s smart enough to put the pieces together. It broke your heart that your soft spot was already common knowledge.
But you were the Slytherin apprentice… the Death Eater’s infamous protege. You couldn’t afford that level of distraction. Part of you wondered if Theo should even see him.
“I know, bella... I know.”
And as the car ventured forward, two young, beautifully broken and tethered friends were swallowed by the dark and uncertain night.
summary: whether it's the knowledge of what's coming or the way he can't tear his gaze away from you, draco realizes it's not as easy to keep his distance as it had been in the past.
word count: 2.7k
ˋ°•*⁀➷ series masterlist / series soundtrack
The browns and greys of London blurred into the rich greens of the countryside like an impressionist painting in the windows of the Hogwarts Express as you watched the landscape fly by.
You steadied your footsteps against the gentle rocking of the train as you walked the narrow corridor, dodging friends and classmates, stopping intermittently to catch up on your way to find the trolley.
You were struck by the overwhelming normalcy of returning to school on the heels of a summer spent gripped by constant fear and the gut-wrenching news of attacks on muggles and wizards alike by death eaters. But you soon realized that not everything was as it seemed as you passed increasingly empty compartments, a grim reminder that less students were returning to Hogwarts than usual.
You entered the next carriage and found yourself eerily alone. You moved quickly for the far door and reached for it before it slid open in front of you and Draco stepped forward, nearly knocking you over until he caught your eye.
It had been years since you’d spoken to one another, but sometimes you still felt that eleven-year-old girl inside of you when you looked at him; you would always have an immediate, unwarranted, unearned tenderness towards him where so many others only felt on edge.
You tried to ignore the pounding in your chest as he closed the door behind him, his eyes never leaving yours, and as it snicked closed you realized quite suddenly how alone the two of you were as the train continued to rock you back and forth.
You searched his eyes to see wisps of grey like dark smoke. He was impeccably dressed, head-to-toe in black, but you clocked the bags under his eyes. He looked tired, sick even, yet somehow still frustratingly handsome at the same time. You suppressed the urge to hug him, to pull him into your arms; you knew that his father had been arrested and were certain that's what must've been weighing so heavily on him.
“YN” he said by way of acknowledgement.
“Draco” you replied.
The weight of a thousand unspoken words sat between you like a third passenger in the car.
“Did you have a good summer?” he asked.
“Good as can be, I suppose” you replied, trying to keep the tone light.
He nodded, realizing in retrospect what a daft question that was. No one had had a good summer.
“Draco, about your dad, I’m so sorry” you continued.
His eyes snapped to yours and you worried for a moment that you’d said the wrong thing; you were never scared of Draco, but you knew he had a temper and after everything you’d heard, everything you’d seen, perhaps even as a half-blood you knew you should be afraid of him. But you weren’t. You knew you never truly could be.
“Thanks” he said simply, unable to understand how you could express compassion towards him or the man that had said so many vile things about you it tossed his mind.
He met your eyes again briefly and you saw something behind his stormy gaze: anger, pain, but there was also fear and something else you couldn’t quite put a finger on that made your heart beat a little faster and brought a blush to your cheeks.
“I should—” you gestured to the next car and moved to slide by him in the narrow space, close enough that he could smell your perfume, amber and vanilla.
“Yeah” he said in response, trying to nudge out of the way, pulling his hands into fists when his fingers itched to reach for yours, to grab you back to him, to talk to you, to tell you everything, even though he knew you’d never understand.
You slid the door open and exited without looking back.
School proved to be a welcome distraction.
Despite the evidence of extra security, everyone and everything seemed to fall into its normal rhythm, like Hogwarts could remain permanently untouched by the realities of the outside world.
Days later, you found yourself thinking back to your conversation with Draco, and not just for the first time, your mind having frequently wandered back to the sound of his deep voice, to the intangible look in his eye. You bit your lip, worrying it back and forth as you zoned out until Hermione kicked you gently under the table.
“What’s got you all distracted?” she asked playfully.
She loved goading you on about your love life, hoping that maybe this year you would find somebody that stuck. But when she caught your eye, she realized you weren’t that type of distracted. Well, not quite.
“I saw Draco on the train” you sighed, hesitantly. “We… talked...” you admitted.
Hermione was well aware of your complicated history with Draco and despite the fact that he made every inch of her skin crawl, she trusted your heart and your judgment and tried her best to support you.
“Oh” she said simply, pursing her lips in response. “And how was that?”
“I’m worried about him.”
Hermione’s eyebrow quirked at that. What had this boy ever done over the last five years to be worthy of your concern?
“YN—” she sighed, putting her quill down, steeling herself to talk you through this once more.
“—I know what you’re going to say” you said, stopping her before she could get started. “I just… Something’s not right. I know I have no right, no place to care. I just…do.”
Your words summed up the feelings Hermione knew you’d held in your heart for years. Resigned, she grabbed your hand and squeezed it.
“He’s not yours to worry about” she said as kindly as possible.
And for once, that seemed to be the problem.
You had never liked potions class, but as you settled into first term with Professor Slughorn, you were beginning to think that had a lot to do with Professor Snape.
You no longer mixed potions that were unmanageably complex and smelled like spoiled milk, Slughorn introduced you to new things like Felix Felicis and today, Amortentia, the most powerful love potion in existence.
In a world that had made each of you face the dark realities of adulthood faster than you should have, it was nice to remember that you were all still teenagers as you stared at the cauldron bubbling in front of the room. It was said to smell differently to each person according to what attracted them and the class eagerly jostled to line up and sense it themselves
You stepped up with Hermione, smiling broadly at each other before leaning forward. You took a deep inhale as she muttered freshly mown grass, new parchment… and spiraled off.
It didn’t hit you at first and you were worried that you were broken somehow, that it wouldn’t work for you, and then you smelled the daisies that bloomed in the field by your house, floral and dewy, you smelled warm pumpkin pasties that melted in your mouth on a summer day and the undeniable scent of the expensive cologne that had invaded your senses when you ran into Draco on the Hogwarts Express.
Hermione looked at you, eager to hear what you had smelled, her face falling as she registered your expression which was both happy and extraordinarily sad at the same time. And in the wordless way that only a best friend can read you, she tugged your hand and pulled you back to your seat.
Draco was doing a stellar job of acting like he didn’t care about this ridiculous potion, sauntering to the back of the line as Slughorn babbled on about it, but that didn’t stop him from peering around everyone to try to steal a subtle glimpse of your reaction, dying to know what you smelled but unable to see your expression.
Just as well he thought. I shouldn’t be worried about it.
When it was his turn, he barely approached the cauldron. He eyed it skeptically and took a cursory sniff, but that was all it took for the synapses in his brain to fire at rapid speed: The smell of the tall grass behind his house after a rainfall, rich and earthy, he could almost feel it tickling his fingers and toes as he ran through it, arms outstretched as he chased you. The richness of pumpkin pasties that melted over sticky fingers in the summer and your amber and vanilla perfume that had nearly brought him to his knees on the train, a scent so distinctly you, so intoxicating that he had to physically pull himself away from the cauldron to keep from putting his head into it.
He collected himself, glanced around quickly and strolled back to his seat where he spent the rest of the class trying to tame his heartbeat and the wild thoughts that ran through his head.
As the last breath of autumn swirled frosty air on the grounds, and everyone was focused on exams and the pending winter break, rumors swirled through the castle of plans for a winter ball.
The staff and professors had done a marvelous job trying to keep Hogwarts a safe haven and welcome distraction, doing it as much for the students as for themselves but they knew that everyone would soon be returning home for the holidays to face bitter realities, and it would be a gift to grant a night of carefree fun.
The afternoon the news broke to your house, the common room erupted and your friends quickly dissolved into eager chatter about dates and dresses. You were admittedly excited, but also at a total loss about who you would go with, though for just the briefest moment, the image of Draco’s smirk crossed your mind confusingly before you shook it away.
The excitement was so palpable around the ball that it didn’t take long for couples to start pairing off, everyone eager to find a suitable match so as not to be left alone. And sure enough, within a couple of days, Cormac McLaggen pulled you aside on the way out of Ancient Runes.
You knew him well enough from all of the Gryffindors you hung out with and the fact that he played quidditch with Ron and Harry. You had the same general group of friends but he had never pulled you aside to speak one on one like this before.
You tried to shoot Hermione a ‘Help Me!’ look as she walked by but she simply smiled and shot you a thumbs up before abandoning you.
“Y/N” Cormac started, getting your attention as you smiled at him. “I was hoping you might do me the honor of being my date to the ball?”
Your mouth ran dry and your palms felt clammy. There was really no reason to say no. He was perfectly lovely and honestly would probably make a great date, but part of you couldn’t bear to say yes.
You realized, suddenly, that you were holding onto the tiniest hope, the smallest possibility that maybe a certain blonde Slytherin would ask you. Draco's demeanor had certainly changed this term, and for once it didn’t seem out of the realm of possibility.
“Can I think about it?” you asked kindly.
“Certainly” he said, his cheeks flushing crimson, whether out of embarrassment or something else you weren’t sure.
Your friends begged you relentlessly to say yes. Cormac was a catch in their eyes and they were sure to remind you of his many attractive qualities over the week. Needing a break from it all, you snuck into the library, to your favorite quiet corner: a sizable window seat with a view over the lake. You watched the snow fall gently, blanketing the world in white as you lay your head back, enjoying the solitude.
And as luck, magic, fate or something else entirely would have it Draco had had the same idea.
Exhausted of Pansy pestering him about going together and his friends agonizing over every new couple, he wandered into the same quiet corner of the library for a moment alone when he saw you framed in the large window.
The shimmer from the snow outside set your face in an angelic glow. You worried your bottom lip with your teeth, deep in thought and he couldn’t tear his gaze away from your lips, your long eyelashes that fluttered against your rosy cheeks, your hair, your everything. He realized too late his feet were moving towards you before his brain could register what he possibly had to say.
Movement out of the corner of your eye caught your attention as Draco approached you, clearing his throat and holding up his book by way of excuse.
“Looks like we had the same idea” he said.
You smiled at that. Your shared love of reading used to be one of your favorite things about him. You tucked your feet under you to make room for him and he sat facing you, but glanced out the window.
“This ball is driving me insane” he said after a moment’s silence.
Your heart felt like it skipped four beats at his chosen topic of conversation.
“Mm, yeah” you said, laughing quietly. “Everyone’s lost their head… it feels so… complicated.”
“Right?” he replied genuinely. “Like it should be so much easier to just pick a date and have a good time.”
You laughed again as you nodded in agreement and he turned to face you, meeting your eyes. Your knees were inches from his, and this was probably the longest time you’d spent in such close, prolonged contact with him; your body hummed and tingled in response. Your heart was beating so fast and so hard you were sure he could see it through your sweater and you tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear, nervous under his gaze.
“Y/N” he said then, leaning forward, placing a hand on your knee.
You could feel his strong grasp and warm fingers through your leggings. Was this really happening?
“Just – try to have a good time. Don’t let it get to your head. Don’t let anyone ruin it for you. I’m sure there are loads of good blokes lined up to take you. Just, have as much fun as you can.”
He looked like he was trying to say something more, but you couldn’t pick up on it.
His eyes flitted imperceptibly to your lips before he quickly pulled away, standing and righting his suit jacket before wandering back towards a darker corner of the library.
It was the best he could do. It was the most he could say without say it all. ‘Have as much fun as you can because next term, I am going to do something so unforgivable that neither you nor the rest of the world will look at me the same way again.’
It's the beginning of the end he thought, and you deserved so much better than the reality that was coming for you.
You felt like a fool for thinking for even a second that Draco Malfoy would be seen with you, a half-blood, on his arm in any public function, anywhere.
Later that afternoon, you let Cormac know you would go with him and he hugged you eagerly, the joy clear on his face.
By the time word of your date reached the Slytherin common room, Draco had resigned himself to go with Pansy, but that didn’t mean the news didn’t cut like a knife in his gut. Cormac was a good guy and a good quidditch player if not a little full of himself, Draco should be happy for you. But all he wanted to do was pout and scowl, which he did with practiced ease.
As the ball approached, the deep, overwhelming sadness and embarrassment you'd felt at your dashed hopes of a date with Draco simmered.
It simmered and it grew from pain and shame into white-hot anger.
Draco didn’t want to go with you? He didn’t want to be seen with you? Fine. You would go with Cormac.
And you would make Draco regret every waking moment of it.
BEAUTIFUL PERSON AWARD. Once you're given this award, you're supposed to paste it in the ask of eight people who deserve it. If you break the chain, nothing happens but it's sweet to know so. I think you're beautiful inside and out, never forget to love yourself 💝🌟
STOPPPPP I’m blushing!!! 🤍
What a gorgeous greeting to come back to, Vee you are once again the sweetest living thing on the planet!! I’m so lucky to have such a kind and thoughtful mutual!! 🥰
HII OMG, ALL YOUR "they're all inlove with you" HAS ME IN A LITERAL CHOKEHOLD, I LOVE IT SO MUCH !!! Please don't die early, and please write more, I beg you DIFBIENSOSKDOSKKS I'M SCREAMING, CRYING, SMILING AND EVERYTHING, IT'S TOO CUTE I LOVE YOU
AAAHHH THIS IS SO SWEET!! Thank you!!!
I always fight an internal battle of whether to come back or not. But this might've just sealed my fate 😭🤍
“Please don’t die early and please write more” is gonna be my new internal motivation 💪🏼
I do have a 3 part Mattheo fic almost finished... any takers?
Merry Christmas, Mel! I hope you have the most wonderful and special day! Sending you a hug! So grateful for your friendship and our mutual adoration of each other’s work!!! Literally obsessed with you!!! 🫶🏼
BAAAAABE i'm so late to this!! Happy new year!!! I can't wait to get back on here and share my silly slytherin writings with you again! Love you so much, my favorite Mattheo girl (and my fav in general) <3
🎁🎀 You have been selected to play the exclusive get to know your moots game! Name the top 3 most memorable experiences that have happened this year, and paste this into 5 other blog's to spread the love! 🎁🎀
ps: in case you already answered this, feel free to share 3 more to relive happy moments and celebrate your wins. sending hugs!
oh my gosh! this year really has been something different. I'd have to say...
meeting & falling in love with my fav guy
seeing taylor swift with @noble-serpent 🤍
getting a new job that will improve my life drastically!
4. (I know I know it's only supposed to be 3 but...) coming on here and embracing my creativity has been so special and fun and invigorating! Y'all make me a more confident writer and this outlet has been super inspiring for me. Love y'all so much!!
how draco would be undeniably flustered around you ♡
Overall, I think Draco is very confident and poised, but with you he becomes a flustered wreck.
ˋ°•*⁀➷
You know he would lay it on thick whilst you two are flirting, his confidence attracting you to him instantly; but now the feelings between the two of you have pent up week over week and he finally has you cornered in the common room in the midst of a party and you’re subtly biting your bottom lip, looking at him seductively, your eyes simply begging him to kiss you and it’s like he loses all of his cool. His hands feel tense and clammy and you can see him swallow deeply as he runs his fingers through his perfect hair, mussing it for the first time ever, which somehow makes him even more irresistible to you as you run your hands up his broad chest.
“I-uhhh-you—” he mutters.
The effect you have on him makes you smile as you see his eyes flitting nervously between yours and your glossed lips before he finally leans in to kiss you, a bit quick, but instantly passionate, his confidence returning the moment he feels you reciprocate, your tongue tangling with his. And even though he’s consumed by you, he feels he can breathe again, and he thinks the momentary lapse in his self-assurance is over, but it actually never ever stops.
You tangle your fingers in his in the hallway? He’s blushing.
You catch his eye across the classroom and smile at him? You’ve been dating for five months but he stops breathing.
You sit on his lap in the common room? He’s wearing a shit-eating grin as he winds his arm around your waist, but he can hear the blood rushing in his ears as his heart pounds in his chest at your proximity.
And then you’re headed for a night out in a dress that’s perfect for your figure, and more than a little suggestive and you see his eyes widen when they take hold of you.
“Mmm, what do you think?” you hum against his lips as you press yours to his.
And even though it’s been nearly a year that you’ve been together, his brain malfunctions.
“It’s- I think- really- so- very- do you need a jacket?” he asks, looking around for something to cover you with, “I can—”
And you kiss him again to spare him having to respond as you both laugh.
This boy was raised by death eaters, knew Voldemort personally and nearly killed his classmates and headmaster but somehow you are the thing that brings him to his knees.
THIS... I am such a sucker for this man. My original love. My Draco.
The sequence of being cornered in the COMMON ROOM!!! I CAN'T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT I'LL PASS AWAY
I just love the way you write him to be so utterly out of control of his emotions and reactions when his behavior otherwise is normally so calculated and purposeful. UGH
The way he STUTTERS AROUND HER!!! Oh my god. I have to go
Once again a 5 star blurb. Pulitzer worthy. My favorite author 🤍
