imagine Draco pulling you into a secluded area before a Quidditch match, tugging at your arm to pull you towards him, the muffling roar of the crowd in the background. He smirks, his Quidditch kit half-fastened, eyes gleaming with mischief.
"You honestly thought you could sneak by in Slytherin green and not say good luck to your favorite player? For shame, L/N."
"Favorite?" You snort. "I was heading towards Zabini right now."
He rolls his eyes, barely hiding a grin forming on his lips, "Hilarious."
The air is loud, shouts and cheers grow as the crowd gathers. The muffled rumble of the announcer's voice echoes through the field, heightening the electric pre-game tension.
"Aww don't be jealous now, Malfoy." You tease, pinching his cheeks with a smile.
"Me?" he swats your hand away, "Jealous of Zabini? Never. I just want you cheering for the right guy- loudly. And you-" He leans in closer, "owe me a good luck kiss. House rules."
"Is that for every girl that's passing by or just a privileged honor?" You tilt your head raising an eyebrow, leaning back slightly to further the distance between you.
"Just yours," His smirk grows, stepping closer anyways. "Other girls can settle for an autograph- they're not nearly as distracting."
"Oh but I am?"
Draco's voice lowers, his lips barely a breath from yours, "Completely. More dangerous than any Bludger. I'll be thinking about you every time I touch the broom."
"Which broom?" You tease, tilting you head.
He laughs under his breath, "Don't start what you can't finish, L/N. You know exactly what I mean."
You giggle, tilting your head down, cheeks pink,
"Now, am I getting my good luck or not?" He slides his hand behind your back, pulling you closer. You reach your hand into your pocket pulling out a chocolate frog holding it against his chest,
"Here." He glances down, laughing softly as he sees the sweet treat.
"Really pulling out all the stops, huh?"
"Ribbit," you smile.
The blonde bites back a grin, plucking the frog from your hand, "You're ridiculous- and absolutely my favorite."
You giggle, your cheeks growing hot by the second, "You can get a better reward later- when you win." You trail a finger down his chest patting it twice before you turn to leave.
He catches your hand, pressing a quick kiss to your knuckles before letting go, voice soft but burning with confidence, "Watch me."
Visits in the Hospital Wing: Draco Malfoy x reader
im giggling writing this, its just cute and sweet also not proof read
~
A cold. An awful cold that swept through your body, catching you off guard like a thief in the night.
Which by the way is totally unfair, considering the cause of it was most likely playing in the rain with Malfoy, and yet you were the only one who got sick. If anything, both of you were dripping wet when you reached Hogwarts that night, shivering as you two left a trail of puddles with every step towards the dorms.
When he had heard that you were rotting in bed, sick out of your mind with no one to take care of you. He had barged into your dorm, princess carrying you all the way to Madam Pomfrey, it was quite the sight to see. He didn't even find the time to unwrap you in your burrow of blankets, just carried you and go. The morning after the entire fiasco of Malfoy knocking at Madam Pomfrey's door in the middle of the night, she serves you a healing potion that helped with your fever. The headache was gone, and you had more control of your body.
After breakfast Madam Pomfrey quietly watches over you as she arranges and tidies the breakfast tray. You sit up on the edge of the bed, restless.
"You're anxious to be free, aren't you? If you finish lunch and you have no more symptoms, you'll be out by afternoon," she calls. You nodded standing up, walking towards the window, bringing your blanket and hugging it tightly around you.
"I just wanna sit by the window,"
"Alright but one sniffle and you're right back in that bed, understood?" She sighs. You nodded offering her a small smile.
Wrapped in your blanket, you shuffle over to the sunlit window. The castle grounds gleam below- students bustling, brooms zipping past in the sky, green lawns alive with spring. For a moment, everything feels wide open and waiting. You settle on the window, the blanket bundled around your shoulders. The breeze carries in the faint fresh grass and distant laughter from the courtyard. Madam Pomfrey returns to organizing her healing potions, letting you soak in the view.
You pick your legs up hugging them close to your chest as you people watch. Watching the world go by from the safety of sun and stone, you feel a little more like yourself with each passing minute.
You lean against the window sill, "You've got quite a good view of the students, Madam Pomfrey."
She smiles faintly from her desk, "It's true. More mischief happens under these windows than most realize. I see nearly everything- especially who runs in after dark," she leans in, a playful glint in her eyes, "that's why no one gets away with anything for too long. These old stones have more secrets than all students put together."
You hum, "I suppose so yes, it's interesting to think about how we're surrounded by walls older than our life."
"Hogwarts remembers more than any of us, dear. It's seen countless generations- heartbreaks, triumphs, even moments like yours. You're a part of its story now."
You chuckle embarrassed, "the student who got princessed carried to your office in the middle of the night," you hide my face in my hands, "I'll never live it down."
Madam Pomfrey laughs softly, "Oh you'd be surprised. The castle has seen worse. You wouldn't believe some of the tales these walls could tell. And you- well, you might just start a fashion. Next time, someone else will be insisting on a royal rescue." You groan into your hands, looking up to catch her eyes.
"Couldn't he have been more discreet?" You complained, cheeks pink.
She chuckles teasingly, "Discreet is not Mr. Malfoy's strong suit, especially when he's worried. He all but stormed through the corridors like a knight in shining armor, blanket and all. You were quite the sight- half the portraits are probably still gossiping."
"Maybe I should stay for another week." You groaned again.
"No need for that dear. Let them talk- it'll be old news by dinner. Trust me, Hogwarts has a new scandal every day."
You chuckle looking down to watch the students again. The laughter chasing away your embarrassment, letting the steady hum of life outside offer comfort. The morning sun glows soothingly across your face- inside the ancient castle, you find your own small peace. Minutes drift by as you people watch in companionable quiet, hearing the echo of distant class bells and the muted chatter from the courtyard below. Near the greenhouses, you spot Draco- pausing, looking back at the castle as if searching for the right window.
"Drink in the peace while it lasts," Madam Pomfrey's tone is soft as she arranges the fresh linens, "The outside world waits, and so do your friends- some more impatiently than others, I suspect."
A shadow passes over the grounds- Draco walks away with slow, reluctant steps, glancing up every so often as if he could spot you through the glass. The castle feels less lonely than before, sunlight and old stories wrapping you in warmth.
Draco slips inside the greenhouse, sunlight glinting off his hair. Below you, the day rolls on- less feverish now, touched with quiet anticipation. Somewhere out there, he's waiting for you to rejoin the world. The warmth from the glass and the hush of the hospital wing settle around you. Outside, clouds drift lazily against a blue sky. The noise of distant laughter and Quidditch brooms reminds you that life at Hogwarts waits just beyond these walls.
A folded scrap of parchment is slipped under the hospital wing door, fluttering across the stone floor towards you. Madam Pomfrey arches an eyebrow, picking it up and handing it over with a suspicious look, "For you, I suppose. Honestly, this school and their secret notes."
The note is addressed in familiar, sharp handwriting- distinctly a certain blonde.
"Pft-" You hold back your laugh as Madam Pomfrey returns to her station at her desk, "what is this- the 1800s?" You mumbled to yourself quietly unfolding the parchment in your hands.
L/N, If Pomfrey is still standing guard, blink twice outside the window and I'll know you're alive. If you're dead, don't reply.
A scoff falls out of your mouth followed by laughter, glancing at the window where you're seated. You quickly tuck yourself away from it, tiptoeing towards your assigned bed slipping back under the covers, note still in hand.
Across the lawns, the greenhouse door swings open- Draco steps out, scanning the castle windows, feigning nonchalance but clearly searching for a sign. Draco lingers by the greenhouse, hands stuffed in his pockets, pretending to examine the hedges. Every so often, his gaze flicks upward towards the hospital wing, impatience barely concealed.
Madam Pomfrey's eyes narrows, watching as you slip back into bed, "I hope that note wasn't a request for midnight escape or smuggling sweets. I'll have none of that, thank you."
You smile under the covers, "He's just asking if I'm dead, like the ever gentleman he is." A snort escapes you, Madam Pomfrey walking over as she tugs on the curtains preparing to close it around you.
"Ah, Slytherin courtship- charm in its own peculiar fashion," she rolls her eyes.
You giggle as she fully encases you behind the curtains, rereading the note as warmth bubbles beneath the lingering ache of recovery.
Outside, Draco leans against the greenhouse wall, glancing at the hospital wing and shifting impatiently, clearly hoping for any signal from the window. The secret connection crackles, unseen but impossible to ignore.
"If he wants to see if I'm still breathing, he should come himself" You call out to Madam Pomfrey, "I already told him I was fine last night when he dragged me in here."
You can hear the amusement in her voice, "Some boys need five reassurances before they believe a thing. He'll be here soon enough, I suspect- note or no note."
You bite back a smile, even as you try to hide it, it still slips through. Draco's stubborn concerns nagging your thoughts.
A lone figure paces outside the greenhouse, his posture tense- clearly distressed. All around, Hogwarts spins on.
As you settle deeper under your blanket, the hospital wing door creaks open. The soft tap of cautious footsteps echoes down the aisle.
Low and behold, the expected has arrived, sticking his head around the nearest curtain, hair wind-tousled, cheeks faintly flushed, "I brought you contraband chocolate. And a quill. No more cryptic notes- next time, blink twice and save me the walk, yeah?"
Madam Pomfrey shoots Draco a stern look, lips twitching, "Five minutes, Mr. Malfoy. Then it's back outside- unless you fancy joining my patient roster yourself.
"Only five minutes?" He slides closer to your bed, half smiling as he holds out a chocolate frog and a battered quill, "You wound me, Pomfrey."
You sit up, eagerly taking the frog, "Don't tell me you actually thought I was dead?"
"I considered the posibility," he says with a shrug, feigning nonchalance, "Seemed safer to check in person. Didn't want your ghost haunting my dorm for ignoring you."
Laughter bursts from your lips, you shake your head, "Should've done that in the first place." You unwrap the chocolate frog, "I've been waiting ages."
He leans one hip on your bedside table, arching a brow, "Oh clearly, You looked positively desperate to see me- hiding under the covers and pretending to nap, very subtle L/N."
"Not as much as you're eager to see me, you're barely catching your breath, had a hard time on the stairs?" He rolls his eyes,
"I don't get winded- I just walk with purpose."
Ha. "Terribly obvious," you bicker taking a bite into the frog, you offer the bitten chocolate to his mouth, "a reward."
Draco eyes the bitten frog with mock suspicion, then smirks and leans in, taking a bite, "Generous, but that doesn't get you out of making me think you were dead." He sits beside your bed, licking a smear of chocolate from his lip, "I'll admit, hospital visits are more tolerable with company. Especially if it comes with chocolate and sarcasm."
"Three minutes, Mr. Malfoy. Make them count." Madam Pomfrey clears her throat pointedly from across the room behind the curtains, Draco leans in grinning, he lowers his voice,
"See that? She only threatens people she likes. It's when she ignores you that you're in real trouble." A quiet giggle escapes you, taking another bite of the sweet.
And even if time is almost up, none of you cared- quietly giggling and sharing a single piece of frog chocolate, one that he smuggled in, by the way, was enough for both your hearts to flutter and tug at the serenity.
And yes, Madam Pomfrey, gave you guys more than five minutes.
Summary: A LADS self-aware!AU featuring Sylus (+ maybe the other MLs!) and an oblivious player. That’s it, that’s the plot.
Tags: player!reader x sylus, fem!reader x sylus, reader x lads, maybe some suggestive language?? will add more tags as the story progresses
A/N: This is gonna be a multi-chapter fic! I’m still not sure whether to do the boys in rotation, or just focus on one ML per series. Don’t take my word for it atp tho – I’m not even sure if I can actually finish a series lol.
Also, I’ve had the creative liberty of changing stuff from the actual gameplay here and there. (Except for the self-awareness. That’s most definitely real.)
Hope you enjoy~!
Pt. 1 - Pt. 2 - Pt. 3 - Pt. 4 - Pt. 5 - Pt. 6 - Pt. 7 - Pt. 8 - Pt. 9 - Pt. 10 - Epilogue
(for the spin-off: click here!)
It’s a quarter past eight and you’re still on your desk working overtime on a Friday night.
You let out a big sigh, leaning back on your office chair after an unhealthy duration of bad posture from hours of slouching down in front of your computer. There’s nothing ergonomic about the way this job is killing you, and the ache in your lower back can attest to that.
An irate orange tabby plops himself in front of you, blocking your view of the glaring screen and you figure that it’s time for a break.
“Me-oow.”
“I know, I know,” You answer tiredly, standing up to dodge a stray paw clawing your way and you hear cracks in three different places that are honestly unbecoming of a woman your age. You haven’t even reached thirty yet, for god’s sake. “I’m a bad mother. But mom also had to skip dinner to make it to the seven PM meeting, so cut me some slack, okay?”
A high-pitched “meooowr!” is the only response you get; it seems like there’s no excusing late dinner time this time around.
As much as you’d like to hem and haw and complain, the main reason why you’re still keeping this job is because you can work remotely. If it weren’t for the fact that you’re stuck most days at home working hours past your regular nine to five, having to be on-call around the clock at all times, and that you’ve consumed more sodium than a nitrite victim with the way you live off cup ramen, then, really, it beats working in an office where you’d physically have to clock in and out from exactly nine to five.
Your right eye twitches. No, I have not fallen in love with the system that exploits me, thank you very much.
“Here is your Fancy Feast, your highness,” you tell the hungry feline who’s already ignoring the hand that feeds for the bowl full of white fish paté. He eats healthier than you, sure, but you work like this for him to eat like this. The life of a single mom is an uphill battle, but extremely rewarding.
You raise your hand to pat your son’s head lovingly, aborting the gesture halfway when you hear a warning growl. Alright, tough crowd.
After nuking a half-eaten takeout box in the microwave and grabbing a cold Bundaberg from the fridge, you hunker down on the “chaise lounge” (see: an old wingback and a rattan ottoman you’ve refurbished as a makeshift seat a few weeks back when you had guests over) for a late meal.
You barely register the taste of lukewarm rice on your tongue, mouth moving mechanically while your mind runs on autopilot about everything and nothing at the same time.
Maybe it’s time to check Jobstreet again
Is there like a laundromat near the area that’s open twenty four seven
Eugh, I hate cold peas
What do we feel about Chromakopia?
I will… die alone
I really need to stock on some fresh produce this weekend—
Ping!
A notification from your phone pulls you out of your thoughts—and like a well-trained dog pavlov’d into responding, you visibly perk up at the sight of your lock screen lighting up and the familiar banner you’ve already memorized by heart.
Your Galaxy Explorer rewards are here. Did you put my hotel’s address as the shipping address?
Ah, just like clockwork.
You press on it with a quiet, bubbling anticipation, chewing on the plastic spork as you wait impatiently for the silly mobile game that’s been your short respite at intervals—for more than you’d care to admit—to boot up.
Offhandedly, you wish that the devs would add more variations to the game’s push notifications; more random, personalized stuff like maybe a reminder to drink water, or a fun update about their day. What you’d give–pay–for a: "Less on the overtime, kitten. I miss you,” dialogue from a certain character, but you digress.
Oh, well. Probably better this way, lest you dig yourself deeper into delusion.
The game greets you with the usual picturesque view of a silver-haired man sitting cross-legged on a chair, looking all the bit at ease in his signature crimson and white button up. The warm ambience of the Destiny Café at night draws you in, already pulling your attention away from the never-ending stream of thoughts in your brain.
“Before seeing you, I thought today would be another dull day,“ Sylus comments airily. The way he drawls out the words in that deep timbre of his voice never fails to make your heart flutter – just a teeeensy bit.
“Ever the charmer,” you sigh happily in return, situating yourself more comfortably on the sofa, almost horizontal from how far you’re leaning back on the cushion. “You’re looking awfully normal tonight. What, no pineapple glasses for your favorite girl?”
Having bypassed the initial cringe of talking to yourself after literal months of gameplay, it almost comes off natural, the banter. You’ve already accepted the fact that you’re crazy about a fictional, pixelated man—what’s pretending to have actual conversations with him gonna do? It’s not as if he actually hears you yap your nonsense; there are worse things in the world than a parasocial attachment to an otome game character.
Your little jab at the sometimes random addition to his choice of attire earns you a laugh from the man himself—or at least it looks as though it does, making you blink momentarily in surprise. Happy coincidence, I guess.
You shake your head, cracking a smile, then proceed to do the routine of completing the daily agenda and then some.
It’s tedious business, sure. You’ve dedicated hours upon hours on this game and you’re honestly starting to feel pretty bored with some of the gameplay elements, but you *do* like the ritualistic nature of ticking off the tasks one by one. It’s almost ironic— the way you dutifully do one thing after the other in this game, just to avoid the pile of work that’s waiting for you in real life.
It’s not as if anything, or anyone’s relying on you to do your daily log-ins, so you suppose it’s due to that lack of pressure as well.
Pulling yourself away from the five-star Xavier memory card you’ve grinded to level seventy, you stare despondently at the sad little 2 on your remaining energy. The embarrassing amount of materials you lack to ascend the card seem to mock you, even as you exit the Memories window. Another goal for another day, perhaps.
All tasks on the daily agenda are complete, except for one that you’ve always saved for last.
You’re met with a standing Sylus on the game’s home screen, arms crossed and wearing an expression you’d almost describe as impatient, if you didn’t know any better. The sight makes you grin.
Cheekily, you poke his crotch.
You’re looking forward to getting a playful remark, or if you’re lucky, a blush along with an embarrassed retort about your shamelessness.
What you get, however, is a resounding scoff. Your eyes snap back to his face – from, ahem, your prolonged staring at the area below his waist – and you do see the familiar tinge of pink on his cheeks, but what he says in response catches you off-guard.
“You spend that much resource for a card that isn’t mine?” Sylus tsks, both his voice and expression coming across as… affronted? “Kitten, I’m actually hurt.”
Huh?
You haven’t heard that line from him before. Was there a recent update you weren’t aware of? The man in question then appears to look amused, from the way you’ve been rendered speechless by the unexpected dialogue.
All at once, you gasp when you realize what the new response means.
“That’s so smart,” you say giddily. You see Sylus cock his head to the side, synchronously quirking an eyebrow—expectant. “They actually added a feature that lets them know which memory I’ve upgraded last, and make you react to it. Oh, that’s so cool!”
If you weren’t too busy being excited over what you think is a new update from the game, you’d see the chagrined look on Sylus’ face. But when you glance back at him, all trace of the emotion is gone before you could notice anything different.
“Don’t worry, Crow Man. You’re still my favorite,” you assure him, making his mouth tick upwards in a semblance of a smile. He looks pleased all of the sudden, his demeanor shifting into something more relaxed.
Then a pout forms on your face. You crinkle your nose in frustration as you complain, “It’s just really hard to level your cards up at this point. It takes ages and a shit ton of energy just to level you up past seventy five.” Sighing, you add, kind of bitterly, “And I’m too broke to be spending money on growth packs.”
Checking the time on your phone, you see that you’ve already spent more than an hour on your self-imposed break time and you know that you ought to get back to work soon. With a groan, you pull yourself to sit upright, savoring the last few minutes of free time before you slave off for the rest of the night.
You’re about to clean up what’s left of dinner when you notice the oddly thoughtful look on Sylus’ face.
There’s a deep furrow in his brows as he brings a hand up to cover his mouth. He closes his eyes shut for a few seconds. He's never done that gesture before... Ugh, he looks really hot–
Suddenly, you see a flicker—then a weird, sort of graphic distortion happening in the background. Uh, what??
A beat; then a glitch on the screen. “Ah, shit.”
The game crashes.
You exhale loudly as the game’s interface goes back to the loading screen, tapping your thumb impatiently as the bar slowly loads to 15%... 50%..... 81%.......
“Maybe make sure to patch up first before releasing an update next time, jeez—huh?”
For a quick second, nothing seems to be amiss. But then the first thing you see on the home screen is Sylus’ figure standing before you, wearing an expression one could only describe as a cat that ate the proverbial canary.
He speaks— and it’s another intro you haven’t heard him say, ever.
“You should’ve told me sooner, sweetie,” he almost coos the words out, making your eyes bug out in shock.
“Now, why don’t you go check your–” he pauses, and his mouth moves as if he’s rolling the word out, testing it. “Inventory?”
Sylus slides his gaze towards the upper left corner of the screen, a coy smirk still ever-present on his face.
There, you see something you haven’t noticed earlier: two notification badges. One on your mailbox, and another on the Hunter’s Info tab. Bewildered, you press on the mail icon first, despite the insistence for you to start with the latter.
You see a new message: [For You]
A small gift, to bridge our worlds closer. – S
Nothing is attached to it. You read it twice, perplexed.
“You’re quite the contradictorian, aren’t you?” Sylus tuts as soon as you return back to the home screen, his gaze boring into you even when he tilts his head sideways in mock exasperation. “Mmm, I suppose it doesn’t matter. Take all the time you need, sweetheart.”
Helplessly, you open your inventory next.
Your jaw drops.
“What. The fuck,” You whisper to yourself, voice wavering in disbelief at what you’re seeing, and the sheer amount of what you’re seeing. “This—this can’t be real.”
You see that all the materials you own, from the bottle of wishes to the ascension crystal boxes, have been multiplied a hundred times over.
And on top of that–
Ninety nine thousand red dias????
You cannot believe how this—this recent… update (or is it a bug? Infold sure isn’t this generous) didn't make the news. Even as someone as uninvolved as you are with the community and the game’s latest releases, something like this for sure would’ve made headlines on Twitter (X), at least. But you haven’t heard anything. Nada.
Holy shit.
You feel a little light-headed, both from incredulity and excitement. Needing a moment to calm yourself down, you exit the Inventory tab in a daze.
You stare at Sylus. He stares back at you with what looks to be mirth in his eyes.
Skeptically, you mutter, “did–did I get hacked or something?”
Anticipating another unexpected dialogue to prompt up, you wait for a full minute without saying anything else. And for a moment, the man in front of you looks indecisive, contemplative.
There’s something very odd, very… human in the way he’s looking at you. He looks as if– as if he’s—
His face falls back into a neutral expression. Not unlike how his idle animation usually looks.
..
…
….. It doesn’t seem like he’s going to initiate a conversation any time soon, so you hesitantly poke him on the nose.
“Even in the worst-case scenario, there’s no need to panic.”
You’ve heard that one before.
So he’s back to normal now. You temper the small disappointment that blooms in your gut.
Shaking your head slowly, you try to make sense of all the stuff that just happened, but a sharp bite on your ankle pulls you out of your reverie.
“Ow–!” The sight of your cat flopping near your feet reminds you of the time. More importantly, the backlogs waiting for you at your desk.
“Wait, shit– I gotta get back to work.” This… unbelievable stroke of good luck (?) is gonna have to take a backseat for now.
You grab the carton box and the half-empty bottle of sparkling peach as you stand up. Making quick work of throwing the container in the trash and gulping down the rest of your drink, you rush into your room and back in front of your PC.
Cracking your knuckles, you gingerly set your phone against the monitor. Setting the timer to one hour in Quality Time, knowing fully-well that you’re going to have to keep extending it until the wee hours of the morning—or until your battery dies, whichever comes first—you give Sylus one last look, letting out a long exhale before locking in.
“Just keep me company for the night, alright? I’ll figure out what’s going on once my shift’s over.”
-
It could just be your overactive imagination, but you swear you hear a quiet chuckle from the man polishing his gun in your peripheral.
im finally back my people!!! I have overcome writers block victoriously!!!!! hope you like it
~
It's been hours. Draco, long and far off into the land of dreams lays beside you, his arm around your waist, his head nuzzles on top of your head.
Bless his heart for trying to stay awake with you until you fall asleep but you just couldn't. You eventually had to pretend after an hour of waiting, closing your eyes to try and match the breathing patterns of someone deep in rem, just for Draco to finally allow himself to sleep.
Bless his heart for kissing your head and muttering a 'goodnight' before he closed his eyes and relaxed against you. You always felt guilty when you acted asleep, but you knew that if you hadn't he'd stay awake with you all night and wait until sunrise.
After an hour of laying against him, you sigh, unable to distract yourself with your thoughts to lure you to sleep. You open your eyes and look up seeing Draco's shoulder move slightly as he breathes in and out. In and out. In and out.
You try to match his pace, try to force your body to relax and give in to the slumber, but to no avail, your body is wide awake, too aware of everything around you.
You hear the ticking of the clock by the nightstand, the wind blowing against the window, the rustling of the trees.
You sighed, turning your head up to see Draco's face. He looked so relaxed. His usual sharp features, softened by the glow of the night peering through the window. His usual clean and neatly gel hair falls messily across his forehead. You let out a small chuckle, as he snores slightly.
For someone who's usually so well put together all the time, it's heartwarming to be able to see this sight. An image he showed only to you. You reach out your hand to caress his face, pressing a kiss next to his lips.
After another minute or so of staring you shuffle under his hold turning your back to him to try and get into a more comfortable position, careful not to wake him up. He lets out a slight grumble, his arms tightening subconsciously around your waist.
You hold in your breath, trying to stay frozen, afraid you've woken him up. His grip eventually loosens after a few moments. You sigh of relief, closing your eyes to try again to sleep.
He buries his face against your neck, tickling your skin as he continues to sleep peacefully. His body completely wrapped around you, his legs entangled with yours.
You raise your arm up behind you to play with his hair. He lets out a soft hum at your touch. You take your hand away, shuffling again to lay on your back as you stare at the ceiling. Your mind wanders. Eventually you hum a soft tune of a song that got stuck in your head earlier, trying to pass the time.
Draco stirs in his sleep mumbling something incoherent as he snuggles down to press his face in the crook of your neck, most likely trying to drown the sound. You mumble a sorry, your hand reaching to lightly caress his face.
There was a sense of peace in you as you count how many times he takes a breath. Each breath deep and even, his chest rising and falling in a steady cadence that you find yourself trying to match again. Too focused on admiring every part of his face, you smile to yourself, feeling so much love for someone who hasn't done anything but sleep by your side.
He remains so blissfully unaware of your adoring gaze, "I love you," you whisper softly. He hums in his sleep as if responding to your declaration, shifting himself closer to your warmth,
"what a big baby." You mutter to yourself, chuckling quietly.
A couple of hours pass slowly as you lay in bed, listening to the silence occasionally being broken by the sound of Draco's soft snore. The night drags on, and you can feel yourself becoming increasingly restless and sleep-deprived as you wait for morning to come.
Having enough of the silence you try to wiggle your way out of his embrace, perhaps try to sneak into the kitchen and let Draco sleep more comfortably. However, you soon realized this to be a difficult task, his grip on you, firm. You groan in annoyance.
Despite your attempts at trying to stay silent and still, you couldn't help it anymore, wiggling a bit to try once more.
Draco stirs at your movement, his eyes fluttering open just a bit. His voice deep with sleep as he looks at you,
"What's the matter?" With his grip finally loosened up, you sit up. "Where are you going?" He looks up at you with half-lidded eyes.
"Kitchen," you mumbled, he groans at the way you leave his embrace, reluctant to let you go.
"But it's the middle of the night.."
You stand up from the bed leaning down to plant a kiss on his forehead, "I know, just go back to sleep, love. I'll be back soon."
You try to keep your voice hush and soft afraid to wake him up any further. He lets out a huff, clearly displeased as he sits up as well, rubbing his eyes,
"You're insufferable, you know that?"
"You don't have to come, it's just the kitchen, darling." He sighs and gets out of bed, still groggy from sleep. While he stretches his arms above his head, you grab a pillow and head for the kitchen.
He grumbles the whole way muttering under his breath about how tired he was, and how stupid this was. Even so, he follows you, clearly unwilling to let you go off on your own despite your assurance that he could go back to sleep.
As you reach the kitchen, he sits himself at the table counter leaning his head on his hand, half awake. You give him the pillow you brought as you make your way to the cupboards grabbing a mug.
He lets his face fall against the pillow, sitting himself up on his chin watching you move around the kitchen to make yourself tea. His expression, a mix of sleepiness and slight annoyance.
"You better not keep me up all night with your midnight snack." He huffed.
"I didn't force you to come with me," you retort, "just take a nap here, I'll be done in a bit."
He lets out a soft grumble, burying his face in the pillow and closing his eyes. He tries to ignore you. You can tell he's annoyed by how you've woken him up, upset that his sleep got cut short, but even still, the fact that he's still here in the kitchen with you makes your heartstrings tug. You sigh as you prepare your tea. He cares that you don't go to the kitchen by yourself in the middle of the night, he probably thinks you woke up and couldn't sleep again, worried that if he leaves you alone, you won't come back to bed until the morning. It's a sweet thought, you smile to yourself, even if he is a little grumpy about it.
The silence in the kitchen only furthered Draco to sleep in his uncomfortable position. The poor boy has his back hunched as he sits, his head resting against the pillow on top of the counter, you can tell he's gone back to sleep again.
You grab some biscuits from the pantry, holding your mug in one hand as you sit beside him by the table counter. You sip and eat quietly, but the sound of crackers munching in your mouth stirs him awake again.
He lifts his head from the pillow and scoots closer to you. Even through his half asleep state, he sits up and leans his head against your shoulder, letting out a soft sigh. As you munch on your midnight snack, you reach one hand up to brush his messy hair lightly, to which he hums softly to in response. Your touch soothing him into dozing off again.
You stay silent just letting your eyes focus in front of you, where the kettle stands on the kitchen counter. You raise your mug, sipping your tea.
"Love you," you whisper into the silence, wondering if he heard you.
He response is barely audible, a soft murmur against your shoulder. You know he's fighting to stay awake. You feel his arm slide across your back as he wraps it around your waist.
Time passes by slowly as you sit there in the kitchen. You sip your tea and eat your biscuits. Draco's hand patting your side rhythmically, a sign to show he's still awake. Your heart swells at the feeling of the tea entering your body, or perhaps it's the fact that he's there with you, in the middle of the night, barely awake.
Nevertheless, you feel content and loved. He tries to hum a tune, his voice thick with sleep. You rest your head on top of his and you feel your eyes begin to get heavier with every note he sings to you.
Warnings: I guess mention of sexual activity and condoms
Summary: Fluff, Comedy | Draco navigates through muggle life with the love of his life.
Word count: 8966
author's note: I am so sorry that this request took so long. But work has been hell before the holidays. Now that I have some time off I managed to finish it. I hope you like it! @malfoy-mrsdracomalfoy
The first week of living together with Draco Malfoy had been… an adjustment, to say the least.
You smiled to yourself as you wandered down the stairs of your new house, recalling the mix of chaos and charm that came in the start of sharing a home with Draco. Moving in together had been a big step, one you hadn’t expected to take so soon. But after months of navigating your relationship between your cozy Muggle world and his pristine magical one following your graduation from Hogwarts, it only made sense to create a space that was truly suited for the both of you.
Granted, the transition had been smoother for you than it had been for him.
Draco, for all his poise and pure-blood grace, had little to no experience with Muggle life. Your enchanted house—a quirky blend of his velvet armchairs and your mismatched cozy furniture—reflected that perfectly. It was a home where magical portraits coexisted with photo frames from your favorite vacations, where your television and laptop shared a shelf with his collection of ancient spell books.
It was perfect. Except for the moments where Draco had done his best to interact with Muggle appliances.
The faint sound of muffled clattering pulled you towards your kitchen, curiosity outweighing your desire to get yourself a hot mug of coffee. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you padded down the hall toward the kitchen. As you stepped through the doorway, you froze, your grogginess instantly replaced by disbelief at the sight before you.
The dishwasher, a seemingly harmless Muggle machine, stood wide open. Inside, dishes were arranged in what could only be described as abstract art. Draco stood in front of it with his wand drawn, muttering incantations under his breath. A suspiciously green, bubbling potion had been poured into the detergent slot, and—Merlin help him—a set of silver goblets that were very much not dishwasher-safe glinted proudly from the bottom rack.
“Draco.” you said carefully, crossing your arms and leaning against the doorframe, “what are you doing?”
He didn’t flinch, though his wand froze mid-air. “Using this infernal contraption you insisted on bringing into our home.” he replied, his tone clipped.
You couldn’t help the grin tugging at your lips. Our home. The words still gave you butterflies.
“This ‘infernal contraption’ is a dishwasher,” you corrected, stepping closer. “It cleans dishes. Without magic. That’s sort of the point.”
Draco huffed, a faint pink tinting his pale cheeks. “Well, it’s doing a poor job of it so far.”
“Probably because you’re trying to curse it into submission.” You peered into the dishwasher, your eyes widening. “Wait. Is that—oh my God, Draco, is that the antique goblet from your mother’s dining set?!”
He glanced at the goblet, then back at you, feigning innocence. “What? It needed cleaning.”
You groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose. “It’s over 200 years old! You can’t just throw it in a dishwasher!”
“Well, I certainly can’t hand wash it,” he said indignantly, crossing his arms. “Do you know how much trouble the preservation charms require? It’s exhausting.”
“Then maybe don’t drink wine out of a priceless artifact?”
“Then maybe don’t serve wine in cheap glass cups,” he shot back, a smug grin tugging at his lips. “It ruins the wine taste…”
You couldn’t help but laugh. “Okay, fine. Touché. But seriously, what is this… potion?” You gestured to the green, bubbling mess in the detergent slot.
“It’s a universal cleaning tonic,” he said proudly. “Far superior to whatever chemical nonsense Muggles use.”
“It’s not even liquid! It’s oozing! You can’t put that in a dishwasher!”
Draco frowned, glancing back at the machine as if it had betrayed him. “So what’s the proper way, then?”
You sighed, grabbing the small box of dishwasher tablets from the counter. “Watch and learn, Pure-blood.”
With a sigh you carefully removed the bubbling mess he had poured into the detergent slot. Draco watched with a mix of curiosity and mild indignation as you wiped it clean with a paper towel.
“This,” you said, holding up one of the tablets from the box, “is what you’re supposed to use.”
Draco tilted his head, eyeing the tablet skeptically. “That tiny thing? How could that possibly clean anything?”
“It’s designed for this, Draco. It dissolves in the water and works its magic—well, not literally, but you get the idea.”
You slid the tablet into the designated compartment and snapped the dishwasher closed, pressing the buttons to set the correct cycle. “And this,” you added, pointing to the buttons, “is how you actually start it. No wand required.”
Draco’s expression was unreadable as the machine hummed to life, its rhythmic sounds filling the kitchen. After a moment, he muttered, “It still seems unnecessarily complicated.”
“Complicated? You were about to duel the dishwasher,” you teased, crossing your arms.
Draco smirked, his signature smugness returning. “And I would’ve won.”
You rolled your eyes, laughing as you leaned against the counter. “You’re hopeless.”
Before you could say more, you felt his arms snake around your waist, pulling you back against his chest. His chin rested lightly on your shoulder, and his breath tickled your neck.
“Perhaps,” he murmured, his voice softer now, “but I’m learning, aren’t I?”
You snorted, tilting your head slightly as you felt his lips brush against the curve of your neck in a featherlight kiss. “Barely,” you teased, though your tone lacked the bite to make it convincing.
Draco chuckled, the vibration of it humming against your back. His kisses trailed lazily along the side of your neck, his hands tightening ever so slightly around your waist. Just as you began to melt into his warmth, a sharp, electronic beep shattered the moment.
Draco froze, his lips pausing mid-kiss. “What in Merlin’s name was that?” he asked, his voice tense and laced with suspicion.
You laughed, turning in his arms to face him. “That’s just the washing machine.” you explained, finding his baffled expression entirely too adorable. “It beeps when it’s done with a cycle.”
Draco frowned, glancing over at the machine as if it were an intruder. “Why does it need to announce its accomplishments? It’s not as though I announce every time I complete a task.”
You raised an eyebrow, smirking. “You sure about that? Because I distinctly remember you declaring victory the last time you hung up a picture frame.”
Draco scowled, though the faint pink creeping back into his cheeks betrayed his embarrassment. “That frame was enchanted to repel nails. It was a triumph,” he muttered defensively.
You couldn’t help but laugh, reaching up to brush a stray strand of hair out of his face. “Draco,” you said, still grinning, “the Muggle world is going to kill you at this rate.”
He grumbled, tightening his hold around your waist and resting his forehead against yours. “Life is unnecessarily complicated without magic,” he muttered, his tone dripping with indignation. “Why would anyone willingly choose this… process over a simple charm?”
You smirked, tilting your head. “Maybe because some of us didn’t grow up with the luxury of a wand to fix all our problems?”
Draco pulled back slightly to look at you, his lips quirking into a faint smirk. “You’re saying you willingly endured this madness? What kind of resilience do Muggles possess that I’ve clearly been deprived of?”
“Patience!”
Draco scoffed, stepping back just enough to look at you. “Patience is for people with time to waste,” he said, though the corner of his mouth twitched in amusement.
You rolled your eyes, slipping out of his arms and heading toward the counter. “Come on, your Highness,” you said over your shoulder, pulling open the breadbox. “Let’s see if you’re capable of making toast without burning it.”
Draco followed you with a mock-offended expression. “I’ll have you know I’m perfectly capable of operating a toaster,” he declared, though his hesitation as he glanced at the machine suggested otherwise.
“Uh-huh,” you replied, smirking as you slid a couple of slices into the slots. “Here, I’ll start it for you. You can handle buttering them when they’re done. Think you’re up for the challenge?”
Draco leaned against the counter, folding his arms. “You’re underestimating me again, love. I’ll butter the toast so flawlessly you’ll weep.”
You snorted, turning to grab plates from the cabinet. “Sure, let’s call that your triumph of the day.”
As the toaster clicked and the smell of warm bread filled the kitchen, Draco busied himself setting the table—his version of setting the table, which involved summoning everything with a flick of his wand and arranging it with the precision of a dinner party.
“You do realize breakfast doesn’t require formal presentation, right?” you teased, sitting down as he placed a perfectly folded napkin by your plate.
Draco smirked, sliding into the seat across from you. “Just because it’s breakfast doesn’t mean it shouldn’t be elegant.”
You couldn’t help but laugh as he reached for the now-popped toast, applying butter with such deliberate care you half-expected him to use a ruler for even distribution. Shaking your head with a soft smile, you rose from your seat and quietly grabbed a mug from the cabinet, filling it with fresh coffee from the pot on the counter.
The warm aroma filled the kitchen as you set the pot down and returned to your chair, savoring the first sip in comfortable silence. Across the table, Draco finished buttering the toast and waved his wand casually, sending the coffee pot floating over to his side. It tilted gracefully, pouring a perfectly measured amount of coffee into his mug before settling back in its spot on the counter.
You raised an eyebrow at him over the rim of your cup. “So, pouring coffee is too much effort, but you’ll put on a show buttering toast?”
Draco looked up, his expression far too smug. “Presentation matters, darling. Coffee is utility. Buttering toast is an art.”
You snorted, biting back a laugh as you leaned back in your chair. “You’re impossible.”
“And yet,” he said, taking a sip of his coffee and giving you a sly smile, “you can’t seem to get enough of me.”
“Debatable,” you shot back, though the way your lips twitched betrayed the truth.
As the two of you ate, the quiet hum of the dishwasher filled the air, mixing with the faint clinking of dishes and the comforting warmth of the morning. You couldn’t help but think that, chaotic as it was, life with Draco had its charm.
Halfway through breakfast, Draco cleared his throat, setting his mug down with a deliberate clink. “By the way,” he said nonchalantly, brushing a nonexistent crumb from his sleeve, “my parents have asked to visit for dinner this evening.”
You froze mid-sip, glancing up at him.“Tonight?”
This wasn’t the first time Draco had invited his parents over since you’d moved in together, but it never got easier. The Malfoys had made their opinions about his choices abundantly clear. The arguments had been frequent and heated when Draco first announced his decision to move into the Muggle world. Dating mudblood, as Lucius had so delicately put it during one particularly venomous conversation, had been a sore point from the start. The disdain in their voices, though carefully masked in your presence, was never far from the surface. Still, Narcissa had tried to keep things civil, at least outwardly. Her maternal instincts, perhaps, outweighed her prejudices. Lucius, on the other hand, had never fully hidden his disapproval. The sideways glances, the veiled barbs—it all painted a clear picture. They saw your relationship as a deviation, something temporary that would inevitably pass. And yet, they remained fairly cordial in front of you, no doubt for Draco’s sake. Tonight’s visit felt like yet another test, one you were determined to pass—though it always left you walking on eggshells.
Draco nodded, as if this were the most natural announcement in the world. “Yes, tonight. Around seven, I believe.”
You blinked, setting your coffee cup down carefully. “Right,” you murmured, your mind already racing. “I’ll need to go shopping today before the shops close, then.”
Draco frowned slightly, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Shopping? Whatever for?”
“For dinner, Draco,” you replied, standing to gather your plate. “We don’t exactly have a stocked pantry suitable for hosting your parents.”
As you moved toward the sink, he waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll just send a house-elf to take care of it.”
You froze, staring at him over your shoulder. “Draco,” you said slowly, turning back toward the table, “We don’t have house-elves.”
He blinked, as though the idea hadn’t even occurred to him. “We don’t?”
“No,” you said firmly, placing your hands on your hips. “They don’t exactly come with Muggle homes, you know.”
Draco leaned back in his chair, a look of mild bemusement crossing his face. “Strange. Well, no matter—I’ll ask Father to send a couple over for the day.”
You stared at him, momentarily speechless. “You’ll what?”
He shrugged, as if this were a completely reasonable solution. “I’ll write him after breakfast. It’s hardly a problem.”
Your mouth opened, then closed again as you tried to formulate a response. Finally, you shook your head, rubbing your temples. “Draco, we are not borrowing house-elves from your dad.”
“Why not?” he asked, genuinely baffled.
“Because,” you said, sighing as you sat back down, “this is our home. I’m not dragging house-elves into it every time we have guests over. I’ll just go shopping, make a nice meal, and that’s that.”
Draco looked at you as though you’d just suggested cooking dinner over an open flame. “You’re serious?”
“Dead serious,” you replied, sipping your coffee again. “This is how Muggles do things. Welcome to the real world.”
For a moment, Draco looked as though he might argue, but then he sighed dramatically, leaning back in his chair. “Fine,” he said, his tone begrudging. “But I’m coming with you.”
You raised an eyebrow. “To the grocery store?”
“Yes, to the grocery store,” he said, his expression a mix of determination and distaste. “If I’m going to endure this… experiment, I might as well see how it works.”
Smiling, you leaned over and gave him a soft kiss. “Alright then. I’ll go get ready.”
When you returned a short while later, Draco’s gaze immediately fell on the several empty shopping bags you were holding. His brows knitted together in confusion, but to his credit, he didn’t say anything. Instead, he simply followed your every movement with the intensity of someone trying to solve an unspeakable mystery.
You set the bags by the door and reached for the keys to the house, slipping them into your pocket before pulling on your shoes. Draco’s confusion deepened. “What are you doing?”
“Getting ready to leave,” you said, nonchalantly tying your laces.
Draco raised a perfectly arched brow. “And how exactly are we planning to get there? Apparition or Floo Powder?”
You snorted softly, shaking your head. “Neither.”
“Neither?” he repeated, the word dripping with disbelief.
“We’re walking,” you said matter-of-factly, straightening up and grabbing the empty bags.
Draco blinked, his expression torn between incredulity and exasperation. “Walking? Why on earth would we walk when we could be there in seconds?”
“Because,” you explained patiently, “the shop is close by, and it would be weird to just appear in the middle of it. Muggles don’t take kindly to people popping out of thin air near the frozen food aisle.”
Draco stared at you as if you’d just suggested climbing a mountain for fun. “This is madness,” he declared.
You laughed, patting his arm as you opened the door. “Consider it part of the full Muggle experience.”
Still grumbling under his breath about the absurdity of it all, Draco stepped outside with you, his silver hair catching the sunlight as he scanned the street. “Walking,” he muttered again, shaking his head. “What will they think of next?”
You only smirked, knowing the real fun was yet to come. Draco laced his fingers with yours as you stepped out into the crisp winter air, the snow crunching softly beneath your boots. He pulled you closer as you walked, his warm breath visible in the cold. The streets were lined with houses adorned with twinkling lights, wreaths on doors, and the occasional snowman standing proudly in a yard.
“I could’ve taken the car,” you said casually, glancing up at him, “but I don’t think you’re ready to experience traffic yet.”
Draco gave you a pointed look, though his lips twitched with faint amusement. “If it’s anything like the stories you’ve told me, I’d rather not risk my sanity—or my temper.”
You laughed softly, nudging him with your shoulder. “That’s probably for the best. One honking horn, and you’d be out of there faster than you could say ‘Pure-blood.’”
He sighed, his gaze drifting to the bustling scenery around him. The sidewalks were busy with people bundled in coats and scarves, some carrying shopping bags, others chatting cheerfully. There was a warmth to it all—a vibrancy that was so different from the cold, quiet grandeur of the Malfoy Manor.
“For all the stupidity the Muggle world has to offer,” Draco murmured, his voice thoughtful, “I’ll admit… I do enjoy how lively it is.”
You glanced up at him, surprised by the rare vulnerability in his tone. “Lively?”
He nodded, his icy eyes catching the glint of the snow-covered streets. “The manor was… beautiful, I suppose. Grand. But it was so isolated. Mostly empty land, save for the occasional visitor or house-elf passing by. There was nothing like this—” he gestured to the people around you, the soft hum of life that filled the air. “—no life, no… warmth.”
Your heart softened at his words, and you squeezed his hand gently. “Well, you’ve got that now,” you said, smiling up at him. “Even if it comes with grocery shopping and dishwashers.”
Draco smirked, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your forehead. “It’s a compromise I’m willing to make,” he said, his voice teasing but sincere.
As the two of you continued walking, the snowflakes began to fall again, dusting the streets and your hair in a light layer of white. Draco tightened his hold on your hand, the moment between you quiet and peaceful as the world around you bustled with life.
As you approached the grocery store, you reached into your pocket and pulled out a coin, flipping it between your fingers before sliding it into the lock on a row of shopping carts. With a satisfying click, the cart popped free, and you grabbed it, turning to Draco with a smile.
He stared at the cart, then at you, his brow furrowing. “What in Merlin’s name are you doing?”
You laughed softly, gesturing to the coin slot on the cart. “It’s how you unlock them. You put in a coin, and when you’re done, you get it back.”
Draco’s confusion deepened as he examined the contraption with a critical eye. “Why would you need to pay for a cart? Isn’t that the store’s responsibility? Do you lose the money if you don’t return it?”
“Yes, you only lose the money if you don’t return it.” you explained, suppressing a giggle at his baffled expression. “It’s just a system to make sure people don’t leave the carts all over the parking lot… or steal them”
He tilted his head, considering this. “So, Muggles have to bribe themselves to do the responsible thing?”
“Pretty much,” you said with a shrug, trying not to laugh at the sheer disdain in his voice.
Draco narrowed his eyes at the cart as if it had personally offended him. “What a pitifully inefficient system,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Why not just enchant the carts to return themselves?”
You snorted, wheeling the cart toward the entrance. “Because not everyone has magic, Draco. This works just fine.”
He fell into step beside you, still looking slightly affronted. “I should write to the Ministry. There has to be some sort of international wizarding intervention for this level of absurdity.”
You smirked, patting his arm as you entered the store. “You do that. In the meantime, try not to hex anything while we shop.”
Draco grumbled something under his breath but followed you inside, his sharp gaze taking in the bright fluorescent lights, the neatly stacked shelves, and the bustling crowd. “This is going to be an experience,” he muttered.
“You have no idea,” you replied with a grin, steering the cart toward the produce section.
You wheeled the cart through the store, stopping in the produce aisle to grab fresh herbs and vegetables for the roast dinner. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched Draco wander a few steps away, picking up various food items and squinting at the labels like he was deciphering ancient runes. It was adorable, really, but you couldn’t help but focus on your shopping. As you mentally ran through your list, you zigzagged through aisles, tossing essentials into the cart—seasoning, potatoes, stock, bread. Before you knew it, you were in the snacks aisle, debating between crisps and popcorn.
That’s when you realized it. Draco was gone. You glanced around, craning your neck to see if you could spot his silver-blond hair anywhere in the sea of shoppers. Nothing. You sighed, silently praying he hadn’t decided to duel the automatic doors or try to interrogate the self-checkout machine. Just as you picked up a bag of crisps, you heard his unmistakable voice behind you.
“Look at this!” he said, sounding thoroughly impressed.
You turned around, and there he was—holding a bright yellow plastic broom.
“They have brooms here!” he said, turning it over in his hands as if he’d stumbled upon the latest innovation in flying technology. “Never seen one like this… must be a new model.”
You froze, staring at him, your lips twitching as you struggled to keep it together. “A new model?” you repeated, barely managing to suppress a laugh.
Draco nodded, completely serious. “It’s so lightweight. And this handle… not wood, but some kind of sturdy Muggle material. I’ve no idea where the charms are hidden, though.” He ran his fingers along the bristles, frowning slightly. “Odd design, but maybe it improves aerodynamics?”
You pressed a hand to your mouth, fighting to keep your laughter under control. “Draco… that’s not… it’s not a flying broom.”
He blinked, his expression shifting from curiosity to confusion. “What do you mean? It’s a broom. What else could it be used for?”
“It’s for cleaning,” you managed, your voice trembling with suppressed laughter. “Muggles use it to sweep floors.”
Draco stared at the broom, then at you, then back at the broom. “You’re joking.”
“Nope,” you said, finally letting out a small giggle. “That’s about as far from a flying broom as you can get.”
Draco’s face twisted into a mixture of horror and disappointment as he looked at the broom again. “They’ve completely ruined it,” he declared, setting it back on the shelf with a level of disdain usually reserved for cursed objects. “What’s the point of a broom that doesn’t fly?”
You couldn’t hold it in anymore and burst out laughing, earning a few amused glances from other shoppers. “Oh, Draco,” you said between giggles, grabbing his arm. “Come on. Let’s get the rest of what we need before you find something else to ‘improve.’”
You couldn’t stop grinning as you watched Draco hover near the cleaning aisle, his gaze fixed on a row of mops. He tilted his head, his brow furrowing as he gingerly poked at the mop’s sponge end.
“What’s this for?” he asked, holding it up like it was a weapon he needed to disarm.
You chuckled, wheeling the cart closer. “That’s a mop. Muggles use it to clean floors—specifically, to scrub them when they’re wet or dirty.”
Draco’s lips parted in disbelief, and he blinked at you as if you’d just told him people used quills to sew fabric. “You’re telling me… they manually drag this thing around on the floor instead of just casting a Scouring Charm?”
“Pretty much,” you replied with a shrug, struggling to keep a straight face.
He shook his head slowly, muttering under his breath, “Primitive. Absolutely primitive.”
After returning the mop to its place like it had personally offended him, he stuck closer to your side for the rest of the trip, steering the shopping cart with surprising enthusiasm. At first, he pushed it tentatively, testing its movement, but before long, he was zipping down the aisles like a child with a new toy.
“Draco,” you called after him, trying not to laugh as he gave the cart a small push and watched it glide forward. “It’s not a racing broom.”
“Of course not,” he said, smirking but not stopping. “It’s much slower.”
Despite his antics, he peppered you with questions as you continued shopping, picking up random items and holding them out for inspection.
“And this?” he asked, holding up a box of instant pudding mix.
“It’s dessert. You mix it with milk, and it thickens into pudding.”
He frowned. “No wand required?”
“No wand required,” you confirmed, tossing the box into the cart.
He sighed dramatically, moving on to the next item. “And this?”
“A tin opener. It opens cans.”
Draco’s expression fell further. “What’s wrong with an Opening Charm?”
“Not everyone has one, Draco,” you said patiently, biting back a laugh as his disappointment deepened.
Item after item, his curiosity turned into sheer disillusionment. “Muggles really have to work this hard for everything, don’t they?” he muttered, picking up a manual whisk and giving it a dubious glance.
You smirked, taking it from him and placing it in the cart. “It’s not all bad. You’re surviving, aren’t you?”
“Barely,” he replied, pushing the cart forward with a little more flair than necessary.
By the time you made it to the checkout line, Draco had perfected his ‘long-suffering Pure-blood enduring the trials of the Muggle world’ expression, but you couldn’t help but notice the occasional glint of fascination in his eyes as he took in the bustling store around him. You were focused on unloading the cart, placing items neatly onto the till conveyor belt while Draco hovered a safe distance away from the machine. His cautious glances at the moving belt made it clear he wasn’t entirely convinced it wasn’t alive. Out of nowhere, he called your name, and you turned just in time for him to shove a small box into your face.
“What is this then?” he asked, his tone a mix of curiosity and bewilderment.
You froze, your eyes widening as you recognized the box of condoms he was holding with an almost clinical detachment. Your face turned scarlet in an instant.
“Draco!” you hissed, snatching the box from his hand and glancing around to see if anyone had overheard.
“What?” he asked, genuinely confused, tilting his head as he looked down at you. “What are they for? Some kind of… candy perhaps?”
You swallowed hard, trying to find the right words without alerting the nearby cashier or the couple in line behind you. Pulling Draco closer by the sleeve of his coat, you whispered urgently, “They’re… for, um, protection. During, uh, intimate moments.”
Draco’s brows furrowed, his confusion only deepening. “Protection? From what? Are Muggles frequently attacked during—oh.”
The realization dawned on his face, his pale cheeks tinging pink as he took a slight step back. He cleared his throat, glancing at the box still in your hand. “I see. That’s… efficient, I suppose.”
You groaned, pressing a hand to your burning face. “Can we please not discuss this here?”
Draco, however, seemed more intrigued than embarrassed now. “Do they… work reliably? Or—how do you even put it on?”
“Draco!” you hissed again, cutting him off as you stuffed the box back onto the shelf behind you.
He smirked at your reaction, leaning closer and lowering his voice. “You’re blushing, darling. It’s adorable.”
“Because you just asked about condoms in the middle of a grocery store,” you muttered, turning back to continue unloading the cart, your face still burning.
Draco chuckled softly, clearly finding your embarrassment far too amusing. He stayed quiet for a moment, but out of the corner of your eye, you noticed him lingering by the shelf where he’d found the box. His eyes narrowed in concentration as he examined the options: strawberry, ribbed, ultra-thin. Before you could say anything, he plucked one off the shelf and, with exaggerated caution, tossed it onto the conveyor belt from a distance, as if it might attack him.
You blinked at him, your confusion only growing as you stared at the box sitting innocently amidst the rest of your groceries. “Draco… what are you doing?”
He avoided your gaze, suddenly very interested in straightening his coat. “What? I want to try them,” he mumbled, his voice almost innocent.
You bit back a laugh, shaking your head as you leaned closer to whisper, “Draco, you do realize these aren’t, like, some kind of Muggle novelty item, right?”
He finally glanced at you, his pale cheeks tinged with pink. “I’m perfectly aware,” he said, straightening his posture. “I just… want to see what all the fuss is about.”
You covered your face with your hand, torn between exasperation and laughter. “You are unbelievable.”
The cashier began scanning the items, and Draco, determined to prove himself useful, did his best to place them into the bags you had handed him. His movements were deliberate and almost comically precise, as if packing groceries was a skill to be mastered.
You watched with quiet amusement as he gingerly placed eggs into a bag, his face a mask of concentration. He only paused when the cashier announced the total and you pulled out a card to pay.
Draco’s eyes widened, his gaze darting between you and the small machine where you inserted the card. “That’s how you pay?” he murmured, half to himself.
“Yup,” you replied, suppressing a grin as the machine beeped, signaling the transaction was complete.
But what truly left him speechless was the receipt. The small slip of paper emerged from a hidden compartment with a faint whirring sound, and Draco stepped back slightly, his brow furrowing in suspicion.
“What now?” you asked, noticing his confusion.
He pointed at the receipt, his voice low and serious. “Is it enchanted?”
You chuckled, taking the receipt and tucking it into your pocket. “No, Draco, it’s just a record of what we bought. No magic involved.”
He said nothing, though his expression suggested he wasn’t entirely convinced.
Once outside, with the shopping bags evenly distributed between you, Draco slid an arm around your waist, pulling you close as you walked through the snowy streets. His grip was firm and grounding, but his face was set in a deep, pensive frown. You glanced up at him, his furrowed brows and slightly parted lips betraying the whirlwind of thoughts in his mind. Deciding not to interrupt, you pressed yourself closer to his side, letting your head rest lightly against the side of his chest. The walk home was quiet, save for the crunch of snow beneath your boots. Draco remained silent, processing the bizarre journey into Muggle life. You didn’t push him, knowing he’d speak when he was ready—or maybe not at all. By the time you reached your house, his frown had softened, though his eyes still had a far-off look. As you unlocked the door and stepped inside, you caught the faintest glimmer of a smirk tugging at his lips.
“Next time,” he said as he set the bags down, his tone a mix of humor and resignation, “I’ll handle the receipt.”
—
You busied yourself in the kitchen, determined to make a flawless roast dinner for Draco’s parents. You knew they weren’t particularly fond of you or the fact that Draco was immersing himself in the Muggle world. Still, you were set on showing them that you belonged in Draco’s life, no matter how many raised eyebrows they threw your way. Draco leaned casually against the counter, arms crossed as he watched you work. His silver hair caught the warm light of the kitchen, and though his expression remained neutral, you could tell he was intrigued. You chopped, seasoned, and kneaded everything by hand, and it was clear he wasn’t used to such a process.
“You really do all of this without magic?” he asked, his voice tinged with curiosity.
“Yup,” you replied, sprinkling some herbs over the potatoes. “From scratch. It’s not so bad once you get the hang of it.”
Draco hummed in response, clearly not convinced but unwilling to argue. The quiet shuffling of aluminum caught your attention, and you glanced over your shoulder.
What you saw nearly made you drop the salt shaker.
Draco stood there holding an unpackaged, rolled-up condom in his hands, a deep frown etched on his face. He was holding it between his fingers like it was a particularly slimy slug, his lips curling in disgust.
You bit back a laugh, trying to focus on the potatoes as you replied casually, “You have to unroll it.”
“Aha,” Draco mumbled, clearly no less confused, as he turned and disappeared into the other room.
You shook your head, unable to stop the grin spreading across your face. For a moment, the kitchen was quiet again, save for the sound of the roast sizzling in the oven. Then came muffled grumbles from the other room.
It didn’t take long for Draco to reappear, still holding the condom. His face was a mix of defeat and lingering disgust as he held it up. “I have no idea how this thing works,” he admitted, his voice low. “And why does it feel so… disgustingly slimy?”
You couldn’t help it—you burst out laughing, clutching the counter for support as tears sprang to your eyes. “Oh my God, Draco,” you managed between fits of laughter.
He scowled, tossing the condom onto the counter as if washing his hands of the whole ordeal. “It’s not funny!”
“It is!” you replied, wiping at your eyes. “You look like you’ve been wrestling with it!”
Draco sniffed, clearly unimpressed. “I don’t understand how Muggles deal with this nonsense. Magical contraceptives are far less… revolting.” He glanced down at the discarded condom with a look of pure disdain. “It couldn’t even go on.”
You bit your lip, barely holding back your laughter as you stepped closer to him. Reaching up, you cupped his cheek gently, guiding his attention back to you. His silver eyes softened slightly, his frown easing as you leaned in and kissed him softly, your lips lingering against his just long enough to distract him from his frustration.
When you pulled back, your voice was low, your tone teasing. “You need to be… excited for it to work, Draco.”
Draco blinked, his cheeks immediately flushing a soft pink. He straightened, his usual composure cracking for a brief moment as he processed your words. “Excited?” he echoed, his voice slightly higher than usual.
You grinned, brushing past him to check on the roast in the oven. “That’s right,” you said casually, as if you hadn’t just sent his mind spinning.
Draco stood frozen for a moment, glancing back at the discarded condom as if it had betrayed him yet again. Then, he turned to you, his voice laced with indignation. “You could have told me that earlier instead of letting me wrestle with it like some kind of fool!”
You laughed, glancing at him over your shoulder. “Where’s the fun in that?”
Draco huffed, crossing his arms as he leaned against the counter once more, his pink cheeks still betraying him. “Muggles,” he muttered under his breath, though there was a faint, reluctant smirk tugging at his lips.
“Alright, Malfoy” you teased, brushing your hands off on a towel. “Go set the table before your parents get here, and I promise no more surprises. For now.”
Draco gave you a mock glare before turning to do as you asked, his mutterings about Muggle nonsense fading as he left the kitchen. You chuckled to yourself, shaking your head as you returned to your cooking. Living with Draco was chaotic, but moments like this reminded you just how much you loved having him in your world—even if he’d never quite understand all of it.
The table was set perfectly, as if Draco had spent as much time arranging it as you had cooking. You took a deep breath, smoothing your hands over your clothes as the knock on the door echoed through the flat. Draco opened it with his usual composed grace, greeting his parents with a stiff nod.
Narcissa stepped inside first, her expression polite but guarded as she glanced around the house. “Draco,” she said softly, pulling him into a quick hug. Her gaze flicked to you, and she offered a small, tight smile. “Y/N.”
“Mrs. Malfoy,” you greeted, doing your best to keep your voice steady.
Lucius followed behind her, his sharp features betraying nothing but disdain as he surveyed his surroundings. He inclined his head slightly toward you, though his lips never moved to form a greeting. It was clear that he was only here under duress, likely at Narcissa’s insistence.
“Do come in,” Draco said, stepping aside and gesturing toward the dining room.
As everyone settled at the table, the tension was palpable. Narcissa sat with perfect posture, her delicate hands folded neatly in her lap, while Lucius sat rigid, his cane resting against the table. His icy gaze swept the room, his disdain evident in every furrow of his brow.
Draco, however, seemed unbothered. He stood proudly, bringing out the food you had spent all afternoon preparing. He set the dishes on the table with a flourish, clearing his throat. “Dinner is served,” he announced, his voice filled with pride. “And before you ask—yes, it was cooked entirely without magic or the help of house-elves.”
Narcissa’s brows lifted slightly, a spark of genuine surprise in her eyes. “Really?” she asked, glancing at the dishes. “That’s quite impressive.”
Lucius, on the other hand, let out a scoff, his lips curling into a faint sneer. “Why anyone would willingly endure such a process is beyond me,” he muttered, earning a sharp glance from his wife.
You bit your tongue, focusing on serving the food as Draco sat down beside you, clearly unfazed by his father’s comment. The meal began in awkward silence, the only sounds coming from the clinking of cutlery and the occasional scrape of a chair.
Finally, Narcissa broke the quiet, turning to her son with a warm, curious smile. “So, Draco, what did you do today?”
Draco sat up straighter, his face lighting up as he launched into an enthusiastic recount of the grocery store trip. “We went to this… Muggle establishment,” he began, his voice carrying a mix of awe and incredulity. “You wouldn’t believe it, Mother. Rows upon rows of food and supplies, all sorted into sections. It was fascinating.”
Narcissa listened intently, her eyes softening as he spoke. “That does sound rather intriguing,” she said, her tone genuine.
Draco continued, describing the shopping cart, the conveyor belt, and the curious beeping machine at the till. “And did you know they have these tiny coins you put into the carts to unlock them?” he added, gesturing animatedly.
Lucius let out a low groan, pinching the bridge of his nose as if Draco’s enthusiasm was physically painful. “I fail to see the appeal,” he muttered under his breath, casting a glance toward the window as though contemplating apparating away.
You stifled a laugh, watching the stark contrast between Draco’s animated storytelling, Narcissa’s interest, and Lucius’s clear misery.
“I even packed the bags,” Draco added proudly. “It’s a ridiculous system, but I managed.”
Narcissa smiled warmly, her pride evident. “I’m glad to see you adapting so well, Draco. It’s important to understand how others live, even if it’s different from what we’re used to.”
Lucius muttered something unintelligible, his knuckles whitening as he gripped his cane.
Draco turned to you, his eyes bright with satisfaction. “See, love? Mother appreciates it.”
You smiled back, your heart warming at his excitement. “She does,” you said softly, glancing at Narcissa, who nodded in agreement.
Lucius, however, simply sighed, leaning back in his chair with a resigned expression. “Let us hope this… experiment of yours doesn’t last too long,” he said, his tone dripping with disdain.
Draco’s jaw tightened slightly, but he kept his composure, reaching for your hand under the table. His fingers squeezed yours briefly, a silent reassurance that he didn’t care what his father thought. The rest of the meal continued with a mix of awkward small talk and Draco’s detailed observations of the Muggle world. Though Lucius remained unimpressed, Narcissa’s quiet encouragement made the effort feel worthwhile. As the conversation wound down and the plates were nearly cleared, Draco suddenly leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers thoughtfully on the table. His sharp blue eyes glimmered with something unreadable, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.
“I have something to show you,” he muttered, his tone casual but with a hint of mischief.
You blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “What is it?” you asked cautiously, your brow furrowing as you tried to guess what he could possibly be up to now.
Draco stood up, strolling out of the dining room with the air of someone retrieving an important artifact. Lucius and Narcissa exchanged puzzled glances, while you felt a flicker of dread creeping up your spine. He returned a moment later, holding a familiar box in his hand.
Your heart sank as your face turned beet red. No. No, no, no, no.
He placed the box of condoms on the table, directly in front of you, and tilted his head with a curious smirk. “You never explained properly,” he said smoothly, though the faint pink on his cheeks betrayed his nonchalant demeanor. “I think it’s time I fully understood how they work.”
The silence in the room was deafening.
Lucius froze mid-sip of his wine, his expression a mixture of horror and disbelief. Narcissa’s lips parted slightly as her eyes darted between the box and her son. Meanwhile, you felt your soul leaving your body as your entire face burned hotter than the roast in the oven earlier.
“Draco,” you hissed, your voice a mix of mortification and desperation. “Not now.”
“Why not?” he asked innocently, his smirk widening as he clearly enjoyed your discomfort. “You said it was important to understand Muggle things if I am living here.”
Narcissa cleared her throat delicately, clearly trying to suppress a laugh. “Draco, darling, perhaps this is a… conversation better suited for another time,” she said, her voice calm but tinged with amusement.
Lucius, on the other hand, looked like he was ready to sink into the ground. “For Salazar’s sake, Draco!” he snapped, his pale face turning an uncharacteristic shade of red. “Have you lost all sense of decorum?”
Draco shrugged, unbothered. “I was merely curious, Father. Isn’t that what this move is about—understanding?”
You buried your face in your hands, groaning. “I’m going to die,” you muttered under your breath.
Draco leaned closer to you, his smirk softening into something almost endearing. “Don’t be dramatic,” he said quietly. “It’s just a box. Besides, you’re the one who said they’re important.”
“Not during dinner with your parents!” you shot back in a harsh whisper.
Narcissa stood gracefully, reaching for her wine glass and glancing at Lucius, who was visibly seething. “Perhaps we should take a moment to admire the décor in the living room,” she suggested, her tone light but firm. “Give them a moment to… collect themselves.”
Lucius rose quickly, eager to escape the situation, and followed her out without another word.
As soon as they were out of earshot, you turned to Draco, glaring at him through your lingering embarrassment. “What is wrong with you?”
He grinned, his pale cheeks still faintly pink. “I couldn’t resist.”
“Draco,” you groaned, covering your face with your hands. But despite your mortification, a reluctant laugh bubbled up, escaping your lips.
Draco chuckled softly, nudging you playfully with his elbow. “Hey,” he said, his voice laced with mischief. “It looks like my parents knew exactly what the box contained.”
You groaned louder, shaking your head as you peeked at him from between your fingers. “Why are you like this?”
“Because it’s more fun than I had ever experienced in my life,” he replied, smirking. “And because your reactions are priceless.”
You swatted his arm lightly, biting your lip to keep from laughing again. “You’re going to pay for this later.”
“Oh, I’m counting on it,” Draco said smoothly, leaning back in his chair with an infuriatingly smug expression.
You shook your head, standing to start clearing the table. “Unbelievable,” you muttered, though the corners of your mouth twitched despite your best efforts to remain stern.
Draco stood as well, grabbing a plate and following you to the kitchen. “For what it’s worth,” he said, his tone softening slightly, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen my mother look that impressed. You’re winning her over, you know.”
You glanced at him, your irritation melting a little as you caught the sincerity in his eyes. “Maybe,” you said with a small smile. “But your dad looks like he’s ready to disown you.”
Draco shrugged, setting the plate down on the counter. “He’ll survive. I’d say this visit is going better than expected.”
You arched an eyebrow, gesturing toward the box still sitting on the table. “Even with that little stunt?”
He smirked, leaning closer to press a quick kiss to your cheek. “Especially because of that,” he whispered.
You rolled your eyes, but your smile lingered as you turned back to the dishes. Life with Draco was unpredictable, embarrassing, and absolutely worth it.
After a while, with the kitchen cleaned and dessert plates neatly arranged, you rejoined Draco’s parents in the living room. You placed the cake and a small pot of tea on the coffee table, smiling as Narcissa complimented the presentation. “It looks lovely, dear,” she said warmly, her eyes lighting up as she tasted the first bite. “And delicious.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Malfoy,” you replied, feeling a small wave of relief at her approval.
Meanwhile, Draco stood by the TV, flicking it on with the remote. The screen lit up, filling the room with sound and color. He had been obsessed with it ever since the two of you moved in, constantly exploring its features and marveling at the variety of channels.
“And this,” he began, gesturing to the screen, “is called a television. It’s a Muggle device that streams moving pictures and sound. There are different stations—some show plays or sports, others music or news.”
Lucius, who had been seated stiffly on the sofa, cast the TV a disinterested glance at first. But as Draco flipped through the channels, his gaze lingered, his eyes narrowing in a mixture of curiosity and intrigue.
Draco settled on a music channel, where a pop song played over vibrant, fast-moving visuals. Lucius leaned forward slightly, his cane forgotten at his side as his eyes remained glued to the screen.
Narcissa, meanwhile, sipped her tea and turned to you with a soft smile. “The cake is truly wonderful, Y/N. You’ve outdone yourself.”
“Thank you,” you murmured, glancing at Lucius, whose face was now bathed in the colorful glow of the TV. Draco was explaining the concept of music videos, his voice carrying a mix of excitement and pride.
“And these stations,” Draco said, pointing to the remote, “play music continuously. The visuals match the songs—like this one, see?”
Lucius didn’t respond immediately, his eyes fixed on the screen as if he were analyzing every detail. Eventually, he gave a slow nod. “Remarkable,” he muttered under his breath, clearly fascinated despite his obvious disdain for anything muggle.
Narcissa glanced at him with a knowing smile but said nothing, letting her husband enjoy his unexpected discovery.
After a while, Narcissa stood gracefully, placing her empty teacup on the table and smoothing the fabric of her elegant robe. “It’s getting late,” she said gently, her tone warm but firm. “We should be heading home.”
Lucius didn’t move. His gaze remained fixed on the television, where a lively music video was playing. His normally composed expression was slightly softened, his eyes darting between the screen and the remote in Draco’s hand.
“Lucius,” Narcissa prompted, her voice holding a hint of exasperation. “It’s time to go.”
He finally tore his gaze away from the screen, his brows furrowing slightly. “Yes, yes, in a moment,” he muttered, waving a hand dismissively as if he needed just a little more time to understand the contraption.
Draco smirked, leaning back against the wall with his arms crossed. “I think he likes it,” he whispered to you, his voice filled with amusement.
Narcissa gave you a knowing glance, her lips twitching into a faint smile before turning back to her husband. “Lucius,” she said again, a bit more firmly this time, “we’re leaving. Now.”
Lucius sighed dramatically, rising from the sofa but casting the TV one last, reluctant glance. “I suppose,” he said, his voice tinged with regret, “we can continue exploring this… device another time.”
You exchanged goodbyes at the door, Narcissa giving you a soft pat on the arm and a smile that felt almost maternal. Lucius remained as formal as ever, though there was an unusual glint in his eye as he glanced at the living room one last time.
As the two of them stepped outside, you lingered by the door with Draco. The crisp night air carried the faint sound of their voices as they walked toward the apparition point.
“You know,” Lucius muttered to Narcissa, his voice carrying just enough for you to catch, “we should consider getting one of those televisions for the manor.”
Narcissa’s laugh was soft but unmistakable. “I’ll make the arrangements,” she replied, her tone indulgent.
Draco closed the door, leaning against it with a triumphant smirk. “See?” he said, turning to you. “It wasn’t so bad.”
You laughed, shaking your head. “I think you just converted your father into a TV enthusiast.”
“Not bad for one evening,” Draco said, wrapping an arm around your waist. “Though I’d say the real victory was your cake. Well done, love.”
You smiled, leaning up to give him a gentle kiss. “Thanks, but I think your TV demonstration might’ve been the real winner tonight.”
He smirked, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Of course. I am rather persuasive.”
Shaking your head with a laugh, you turned off the living room lights—a concept Draco still found mildly perplexing. He mumbled something about how inconvenient switches were compared to a simple wand flick as you guided him upstairs to your bedroom.
By the time you finished washing up and changed into your pajamas, Draco was already tucked under the covers. The glow from his nightlight—a softly enchanted orb you’d insisted on for his comfort—bathed the room in a warm, golden hue.
You paused at the vanity, applying cream to your face while sneaking a glance at him through the mirror. He was sitting upright, his brow furrowed as he read the label on the back of the box of condoms. His lips moved faintly as if he were trying to work out some sort of instructions.
Biting back a laugh, you shook your head and turned off the main lights, leaving only the dim glow of his nightlight. Crawling into bed beside him, you couldn’t resist teasing him.
“Still trying to figure that out?” you asked, propping yourself up on one elbow.
Draco looked over at you, holding up the box with a faint smirk. “The instructions are absurdly detailed for something so… basic.”
You chuckled, resting your head on the pillow. “I’m not sure what you expected. Magic?”
“Honestly, yes,” he replied, setting the box on the nightstand and settling under the covers. “Everything’s unnecessarily complicated without it.”
You leaned over, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Well, if it gets too overwhelming, just remember—I’m here to guide you through it.”
Draco turned to you, his smirk softening into something warmer. “I’ll hold you to that,” he murmured, brushing a thumb lightly over your hand before pulling you closer.
As the nightlight cast its soft glow over the room, you snuggled into his side, grateful for the quiet comfort of the moment. Life with Malfoy was a whirlwind, but here, in the stillness of your shared space, everything felt just right. Draco was silent for a while, though you could feel him thinking, his body slightly tense beneath yours. Finally, his voice broke the quiet, soft and hesitant. “Could you show me how to use them? Tonight?”
You lifted your head to look at him, his silver eyes meeting yours, a faint blush creeping into his cheeks. Leaning in, you placed a soft kiss to his lips, lingering just long enough to reassure him. When you pulled back, you smiled gently, your voice a quiet whisper.
“Of course.”
The room fell into a quiet calm, the only sounds the faint rustle of the sheets as you moved closer to him. Draco’s arms wrapped around you, his touch steady and warm. Life in the muggle world had turned out to be far more surprising than Draco had ever expected. It wasn’t as grand or as effortless as the magical life he’d always known, but there was something about it—something real, unpolished, and oddly comforting.
Though, as he discovered later that night, the condoms were nothing special after all.
Likes, reblogs and comments are always very much appreciated! ♡
A/N: hello, my loves! :) I am here with another imagine and this one is going to be a couple of chapters because I think it’d be too long to be a one-shot xD I am super excited about this request so I hope you all love it as much as I did! :) so, here’s chapter one! please let me know what you think
Request - Anonymous said: Hello! I would love if you wrote something around reader and draco being forced into an arranged marriage by their parents. They hate each other at first because draco used to bully/insult her in school, they’re constantly at each other’s thoughts at first but then they begin to not mind each other’s company… idk if that makes sense feel free to ask any questions. if you don’t mind writing it I would love you see your take on it ❤️ oh and maybe the reader would fit the whole pure blood slytherin comes from a wealthy family thing too. Something like that…
Warning: this ones a bit angsty, mostly Draco being an asshole basically (but it’ll get better)
Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter :D gif isn’t mine :)
Your name: submit What is this?
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Stuck With You
I’m not one to stick around
One strike and you’re out, baby
Don’t care if I sound crazy
Malfoy. Mrs. Malfoy. Mrs. Draco Malfoy. It didn’t matter. No matter how you said it, you still cringed at yourself in the mirror when you heard your name now. You still couldn’t believe it. You married Draco Malfoy. Draco Malfoy was your husband. You looked down at your hand, now displaying the ring he had given you. It could be worse, you thought. You didn’t know how, but it could, right? You let out a deep sigh and walked out of your bathroom. At least he had agreed that you would live in your flat. It had two rooms, so you were grateful that was something you still didn’t need to worry about. You made your way over to the kitchen where Draco was sitting at the table, reading the Daily Prophet. You almost let out a loud snort at the view; you two were complete opposites. Draco was there in his all-black suit, his hair perfectly combed and he looked extremely elegant next to you. You looked down at yourself. Your dirty worn-out overalls, old sneakers, and messy hair trying to stay in place with a headband with flowers. You were a vivid, colorful image and Draco was the furthest thing from that.
“Good morning” you said, trying to be polite. Draco looked up from his paper for about two seconds and went back.
“Morning” he replied, quietly. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes when you saw he was only having a cup of tea, expecting you to make breakfast.
That was the deal, if you were not going to live in the Malfoy Manor where elves could attend to your every need, you had to do all the house chores. Not that you minded, you did them before anyways, you just hated doing them for him, since he wasn’t even able to say thank you.
“What would you like for breakfast?” you asked, taking a deep breath.
“I’m not having breakfast” he answered, coldly. “I am meeting my father early in the office today” he informed you.
“Shocker” you muttered under your breath.
“I’m sorry?”
“Bummer” you said, with a fake smile. “Are you going to be late tonight?” Again?
“Yes” he stated, taking another sip of his tea. You were about to say something but an owl flew in, holding an envelope. He landed on the table and looked up at Draco. He tried to take the envelope from him but the owl gave him a peck on the hand, making him snatch it away.
“Bloody hell!” he said, holding his hand as the owl turned to you. “Stupid bird” Draco muttered under his breath as you grabbed the envelope from him.
“It’s Errol, the Weasley’s owl” you informed him, ignoring the look on his face when you mentioned the Weasleys. “And you shouldn’t open mail that is not for you” you mocked him before you placed your hand on the table and the small bird stepped on it. You guided him to the small garden you had in her kitchen, letting him get food and water before he resumed his journey.
“It says Mr. & Mrs. Malfoy” he pointed out at you.
reader is childhood friends with tsukki, and has an ongoing bit where she'll ask him out periodically. she's grown used to him saying no, and doesn't expect it when he actually says yes.
You would easily consider Tsukishima Kei your closest friend. You grew up on the same street, went to the same schools, and were in the same class on multiple occasions, so your frequent proximity had forced the two of you to become very familiar with one another. Though he had a personality that others may find sour, knowing him for so long meant that you had seen every version of him, and knew that there was more to him than the reputation that he had gained. Sure, he was arrogant and standoffish a vast majority of the time, but you knew that he was also kind and considerate towards those he cared about.
You didn't think that it was possible to gain feelings for a friend so close to you, but over the years you couldn't help but find yourself growing more and more intrigued with the idea of being in a relationship with your best friend. You cherished the friendship that the two of you had, but you couldn't help but wish that it could blossom into something more. Even as a child, you knew you wanted to make a move, but were held back by the fear that he would take it negatively, and you would lose a friend that meant the world to you. Sure, you both had other friends outside of each other, but a life without Tsukishima Kei by your side was not something you wanted to risk.
The first time you asked him out was a joke to test the waters. The situation had been perfectly laid out for you, so you figured you might as well give it an attempt.
At twelve years old, you, Tsukki, and your deskmates sat chatting about how White Day was approaching, with some members of the conversation more enthusiastic than others. One boy excitedly announced that he had started dating another girl in the class, and was planning on surprising her with candy on the special day. One by one, each of the boys rattled off who they wanted to give a present on the holiday, while the girls helped pitch ideas on how they could make their surprises even better.
"Who are you getting a present for, Tsukishima?" a voice sounded next to you, a bright eyed girl addressing the one member of the circle who had not made a contribution.
Tsukki stared blankly at her, before shaking his head, "No one, I don't have a girlfriend."
The boy seated next to him accusingly pointed a finger in his direction. "There's gotta be someone you want to get a gift for. It's White Day, this is your chance to get one!"
Your best friend scoffed, folding his arms in defiance. "It's a made up holiday, and a girlfriend right now would be a waste of time and money. Why would I buy chocolates for someone I don't have any interest in?"
Sounds of protest came from everyone sitting at the table. Upon hearing his thoughts, you supposed that should have been a clear enough answer to whether or not he had an interest in anyone, but you couldn't help but think that he was only staying quiet because you were present at the table. While somewhat disappointed, you knew that this was your chance to prod him further and get a more concrete answer.
"Date me, I'm your best friend and I'll gladly take the chocolates," you half-joked, trying to play it off as cool as a twelve year old possibly could.
Your answer came quickly, not in the form of an answer, but in the ease of him brushing you off, not even considering the possibility that you could genuinely mean what you had just said.
"I'm not getting anything for anyone, find someone else to buy your chocolates."
Following that conversation, it had been a whole year before you took another chance at proposing the idea of a relationship, fearing that you would be shot down once again. It was a similar situation; the environment had given you the chance to casually slide the idea into the conversation, and you couldn't give up the opportunity.
You and now-thirteen-year-old Tsukishima Kei stood in a convenience store on your way home from school, picking out snacks after you had spent a long day with your clubs at school. You were in the art club and had to take home a painting that you had done on a disproportionately large canvas. As you decided you wanted a barbecue pork bun, Tsukki picked yours up on your behalf, seeing as your hands were fully occupied with your artwork. Standing at the till, he gave the payment to the store owner, an elderly man with a strong gaze, and took the bag that was handed to him in return.
"Young man, why don't you give the food to your girlfriend and carry that massive painting for her instead?" the elderly man chimed as the two of you began to pull away from the counter.
Both your eyes widened, and you could see that the taller boy's cheeks had gone slightly red at being criticized by the man before you, along with the realization that you had been incorrectly identified as his girlfriend. He opened his mouth in protest, but the store owner gave him a pointed look, forcing him to place the bag back on the counter and take the painting from your arms. A large grin broke out on your face as you picked up the buns and gave the man a toothy smile while the two of you gave him a small bow before exiting the store.
"That's more like it," you heard the owner's voice carry from behind you as the doors to exit the store chimed while you walked into the evening air.
The second you were out of earshot of the man, you broke out into laughter, immediately turning to the boy who had turned an even deeper shade of red.
"Hear that Kei? Carry the massive painting for your girlfriend," you mocked, taking your bun out of the bag and taking a bite, ensuring to make a grand show of the amount of freedom your arms had in that moment.
"Tsk," was the only response heard from the boy as he turned his face away from you to try and hide the red that was slowly disappearing from his cheeks.
"I say we should start dating so that you can become my personal artwork carrier," you quipped as you skipped ahead of him along your path.
"Never going to happen," his voice sounded from behind you, unamused.
"Go out with me!" you called back, continuing to skip ahead of him.
"No."
That incident had begun the joke that ran between the two of you. You would ask him out, and he would respond with some form of deadpan denial. Your friends had grown accustomed to it, expecting you to make the joke from time to time. On the days you spent with both Tsukishima and Yamaguchi, the shorter boy would even occasionally play along.
"What in the world is that poster for?" you asked one day, noting an obnoxiously coloured poster stuck to a pole near the corner where you and Tsukishima split off from Yamaguchi on your paths home.
"A couples dancing competition," the green haired boy read off with a laugh.
"I wonder what the turnout would be, based on how ugly that poster is," your best friend commented, leaning forward to get a better look at the image before the three of you.
"The two of you should sign up," Yamaguchi responded jokingly, matching the smile that was growing across your face, "It would be a sight."
"You're so right, both of our incredibly above average dancing skills would blow the competition away," you joked, "the only thing we're missing is being an actual couple."
"I'm not going out with you."
"It was worth a shot."
As you grew older, the two of you continued to remain best friends. You had shared sentiments over schoolwork, had jokes shared between each other, and you knew the ins-and-outs of each others' lives. You were closer than ever, but the fact that you two had only grown closer meant that it hurt even more that the two of you wouldn't be anything more than friends. As far as you were concerned, he only thought of you as a cherished friend, and all the times you had asked him out were nothing more than a gimmick resulting from a comfort level obtained from your level of friendship. You loved having him as a friend, but as you grew older and more mature, your feelings grew with you, and your childhood crush developed into infatuation with the boy living down the street.
When high school came around, you both joined Karasuno together, acknowledging that it made sense for you to attend the same school once again. After the incident when you were thirteen, he had formed a habit of helping you carry your larger paintings on the walk home, and in turn you feigned some interest in the volleyball club, hearing what he and Yamaguchi had to say about their matches.
When the boys volleyball team qualified for the finals of their tournament, you joined your school in supporting your two friends as they faced the top school in the prefecture. You were one of many loud voices cheering the boys on, though you liked to believe that amongst them all, you were cheering the loudest. When Tsukishima made the first block against the opposing ace, you felt a burning pride to see the boy you liked finally begin to show some emotion on the court, your excitement visible from the stands.
Though you didn't understand the game well, it had you on your toes; everything that took place was crucial to the boys' success in the game. So encapsulated by the gameplay, and cheering on the series of blocks that Tsukki had done only moments before, you were confused when murmurs started to pass through the crowd and the players began to crowd around the tall blonde. It took a few seconds for you to realize that he was injured and was gripping his hand while the others spoke to him. Concerned, you left your spot amongst your classmates and approached his brother, who had a matching look of concern etched upon his face.
"Akiteru, did you see what happened? Is Kei injured?" you questioned, standing next to the older Tsukishima brother.
"I hope not," he muttered back, eyes carefully watching what was going on below.
You both watched intently as your friend wrapped a towel around his hand and began to walk towards the gymnasium exit.
"C'mon, let's go see what happened," he stated, as you both left the stands along with the first-year Karasuno manager to go meet his younger brother. Walking down the steps you could feel the anxious energy radiating off of all of you, and you tried to shake it off so that the injured boy would not sense it too. The three of you met him outside the doors of the gym.
"Kei, are you okay?" you asked, somewhat redundantly; of course he wasn't 'okay' if he was leaving the game because of an injury.
"I'm fine," he quipped back, trying to act more nonchalant than you could tell he felt inside. You observed your friend as he had a back and forth with his brother over his physical state. He commented on how it was nice to rest after all the sets- you could tell that there was some truth to the statement, but you could also see that he had finally found his groove, and really wanted to be back in the game. As he began to walk away, you could see the frustration emanating from his stance, and you and his brother decided to follow him and the older manager to the infirmary.
You ran up to catch him, and walked alongside Tsukki, Kiyoko and Akiteru. You walked in silence, knowing that the middle blocker was busy ruminating on the events of the game, and could only think of getting back on the court, despite his efforts to pretend otherwise. As the four of you arrived at the infirmary, you sat beside him and the two others stood near the door behind you while the nurse took a look at his hand. You could tell that he was scared that the nurse would announce his hand was too severely injured and he would have to sit out the remainder of the match.
To try and ease some of the nerves that he would be feeling, you grabbed his non-injured hand and gave it a small squeeze.
"I'm sure it's fine and you'll be back soon," you whispered so that only he could clearly hear, "and once you get back, you'll win the game and go to nationals."
You gave him a small encouraging smile, finally meeting his eyes, and for a few moments the boy did nothing but stare back at you.
After a short pause he finally responded with a nod, "I hope so," before dropping his eyes as the nurse analyzed and dressed his wounds. The remainder of the visit, you four sat in silence, the volleyball player evidently deep in thought over what he would do when he returned to the match, however his eyes occasionally fluttered away, as if something were distracting him.
Soon, his finger had been wrapped and immobilized, and the nurse announced that he would be allowed to return to the game. The four of you sprung up, and began jogging back to the gym, Tsukki slightly out-pacing the rest of you. You and Akiteru stood by the doors as the other two ran to the coach to explain his condition and request that he be put back in the game. You and the other Tsukishima brother ran back up to the stands to watch upon seeing him take a seat on the bench, the substitution card in his hand.
You watched as the remainder of the match unfolded, Tsukki back on the floor, knowing that he was still in pain though he tried to hide it. You didn't think it was possible, but you were even more captivated by the game in front of you, every movement drawing you closer and closer to the edge of your seat, more and more in awe of your best friend’s tenacity. When the final point was scored and Karasuno were announced as the winners, you jumped out of your seat, cheers and hollers all around you as your entire section cheered on the victory of your school's team.
The victory party had begun, with Karasuno staff and students overjoyed alike, excitement filling the air. The team bowed to your cheering section, and you let out more cheers to your two friends before you. You first made eye contact with Yamaguchi, who had found you in the crowd sooner and you gave him a smile and a thumbs up to show your congratulations. Noticing his teammate's line of vision, your best friend found you as well and you beamed even more, changing your thumbs up into a heart that you made with both your hands. You could almost hear the half-laugh, half-scoff that came from the boy as he immediately turned away from your antics. You couldn't help but laugh as well when you turned away from your seat and started to join the crowd that had begun to trickle out of the stands.
When everyone had finished mingling in the lobby, you excused yourself from your other friends to go greet the volleyball players who were dispersed outside the gym. You easily spotted the blond head of hair that stood taller and slightly apart from his teammates, the green-haired boy nowhere in sight.
You decided that the best course of action to get his attention was to launch yourself at his back. So you did, and he let out a yelp as he caught you behind him, a small exasperated laugh being let out. You let go of him and gave him a proper hug, but from the front, despite his protests.
"What did I say, go back soon, win the game, go to nationals," you said matter-of-factly, pointing a joking finger in his face once you had finally freed him of the hug, "I think I can see the future."
"I mean we were already so close to winning, the prediction was right in your face," the boy responded sassily, obviously trying to get back at your outrageous remark.
"I don't know, I think I have a gift," you continued joking, "I'll show up to all of the nationals games and start predicting who's going to win, just you wait and see."
"There are too many games going on, you'd never go to them all," the boy responded, trying to shut down your new aspirations.
"No, I'll do it, just you wait and see. I'll go to all of yours too, up until you win it all."
"You'd look like a stalker, the crazy fan of Karasuno who won't leave us alone."
"Hmm... no," you responded back, "The best course of action is for us to start dating because then I would no longer be a crazed fan and instead a loyal girlfriend there to support my boyfriend."
"Mhm okay."
"And then if anyone asks I could just say that I... wait did you just say okay?"
You had continued on your rambling, so focused on the dumb situation that you had thought up, that you had completely failed to notice the boy's response, or the way that he had been looking at you since the moment you had met him outside the gym.
He now stood, smiling smugly at you, and you realized that while you had been going on and on, he had been looking down at you, a newfound admiration on his face. You couldn't say when exactly the change had been made, but you realized now that he was looking at you in a way that he had never once before, and you began to feel the butterflies in your stomach.
"I did say okay," he stated plainly, placing a hand on the top of your head, making light of the fact that he towered over you.
You were speechless and could do nothing but stare back at him in confusion.
"After all this time, did you want me to say no again?" he asked, when almost a whole minute passed without a response from you.
"NO, no not at all," you said finally, accepting that he wasn't just messing with you and actually meant it, "it just caught me off guard."
The boy removed his hand from your head and smiled once again, less smug this time.
"Okay, so now I'm expecting you to show up to all our games at nationals and be the supportive girlfriend cheering me on constantly."
"Girlfriend already?" you retorted, once again taking his non-injured hand in yours, the difference being that now he held it as well, the feelings no longer one sided, "What happened to taking a girl out on a few dates before claiming that title?"
"Did you really ask me out all those times just to not even want to be called my girlfriend?" he asked back, eyes narrowing in disbelief at the comment that you just made.
"Nevermind, girlfriend it is."
Bonus:
A week had passed since the volleyball team had won the game against Shiratorizawa. The boys had been busy following the win, so you finally had a moment to treat both your friends to a congratulatory dinner. The three of you walked in the direction of the restaurant on a Sunday, with you standing in between your two friends. You passed a hideous poster, identical to the one that the three of you had previously joked about.
"Now that we've mastered volleyball, I think it's time for you two to take up dancing seriously," Yamaguchi smiled, recalling the previous joke that you had made over the poster.
"I wholeheartedly agree," you said back, "this time we even meet the couple criteria."
Yamaguchi stopped walking, turning to look at the two of you. You innocently looped your arm into Tsukki's, though your boyfriend stood still, no reaction evident on his face or through his body language.
A few seconds passed before Yamaguchi unfroze and continued walking, a smile now plastered on his face.
"Congratulations," was all he said at first, before he finished his train of thought, "but it was really about time."
“We start to find comfort in the strangest of places.”
The war has ended, and life is getting back to normal, or least supposed to be. For returning half-blood Ravenclaw Y/N Y/L/N, her only focus is to finally have a year without fear and uncertainty, until professor Slughorn asks her the question the rest of the room is dreading: “I trust you will be Mr Malfoy’s partner?”
Draco Malfoy returns to Hogwarts the same as any other past seventh year student. He wants to complete his education and ensure himself a good future, one better than his previous years, but there is one slight problem: he’s Draco Malfoy. For his family’s involvement in the war, Draco attends school feeling alienated and resented, spending most of his time alone and suffering his guilt in silence. When Y/N starts coming over to the manor, they begin a rocky work relationship, and often argue
After a small but grand gesture, they decided to become friends. Neither of them realise, however, it was about to get a whole lot more complicated than that.
Being a Malfoy meant being busy. Draco's childhood consisted of schedules on top of schedules, especially when he went home during the holidays. His parents were so influential in the wizarding world that his attendance in every tea party, every ball, and every dinner was a must. When the socializing season was over, he still wasn't free. His schedules consisted of horse riding, lessons upon lessons about the family history, taxes, basically everything he needs in order to become the successor. Lucius was, at first adamant with Draco's lessons, he wanted him to start as early as possible. However, his original plan was interrupted by his wife. Narcissa had somehow managed to convince her husband to wait a couple years more, wanting to allow Draco to be a kid for as long as possible without interfering with the duties he had to do.
Even as Draco moved to Hogwarts, he kept himself busy. He grew accustomed to his previous years of busy schedules and appointments, that it felt so empty without it. This new freedom he has makes its presence known the first week of the school year.
There's no doubt Draco was excited about Hogwarts and finally being able to learn magic, but he didn't expect it to be so....relaxed? He was busy with classes for half the day, yes, but what else was he supposed to do in between? What else could he do before lunch? dinner? At first he found himself sharing his free time teasing the other kids with his friends but it made him feel so unproductive. It made him feel like he was behind schedule by a long mile, and he didn't know how to spend his time wisely.
He tried to go to the library, researching more about previous topics he's learned from before, but it was all the same. He already knew the information these library books had to offer to him. He felt restless and uneasy, having nothing to do, that was until he met you.
It was so baffling to Draco, the first time he saw you, how instead of being productive and studying, doing your work, he found you sprawled on the Slytherin common room couch cuddled up in a blanket peacefully slumbering.
Is she mad? He thought to himself. He knelt down next to you and shook you, asking you what you were doing. You woke up disoriented squinting up at him,
"napping?" You said with a groggy voice before pressing your head once more on top of your arm to return to the sweet dream you were having, "just give me five more minutes..."
Draco stared blankly at you. How can you waste such precious time by going to bed? It wasn't even curfew yet, in fact, it was hours before curfew.
When you were awake and conscious of your surroundings, Draco didn't find you half as bad as he thought he would. You were sweet with a lot of spunk to you. He found you so admirable, so chaotic, so free, and before he knew it, he was tripping and falling for you.
He could never thank you enough for everything he's felt and done when he's with you. Two years of dating and you still surprise him. Even though you found similarities in one another, you still were in some way complete opposites. You were the type of person to go with the flow, to wing it. Draco needed a schedule, he needed reassurance of how his day will be.
On Saturday nights you always spend the night in his private dorm. It took so long for you to convince him to have a free day. It took many kisses to persuade him to at the very least stay in bed with you. Often you'd groan about being cold in the mornings needing his arms around you. He knew that you knew that he couldn't ever resist you. He knew that you would always monopolize this very fact to make him cuddle you for a half hour more before he had to leave to start his day. He always groaned, and complained how needy you were, but he would always kiss your forehead right after, tightening his grip on your waist and pulling you closer nonetheless.
Without you in his life, Draco would have never truly felt the bliss of naps, lazy days and staying in bed doing nothing. He loves waking up to the smell of your hair, to your soft breathing, still asleep. He loves your arms that drape around his waist while you're snuggled up against his chest. He always felt his heart squeezed every Sunday morning at the sight of you. He would rub small circles around your back, or gently play with your hair while he waits for you to wake up.
After a couple of minutes he knows you're awake, but you refuse to look at him, refuse to open your eyes. A small smile falls on his face, because he knows that your little negotiation every Sunday morning would start if you opened your eyes. He doesn't say anything, though. He just lets you think that he hasn't noticed your consciousness yet, but you know. You know he's aware of it, which all the more makes your lips curl up into a smile, snuggling closer to him. He chuckles at the action before placing a kiss to the top of your head, an act of affection that's full of love.
2:30 am, the phone rings. Ring Ring! Draco groans at the noise, tossing in his bed, his peaceful slumber disrupted. He was about to turn his phone on silent when he caught a glimpse from his squinted eyes at the caller.
"Hello..?" He greets groggily, sleep still present.
The other line is silent, "...Hello?" He mutters again. *Hiccups* Draco, confused, takes his phone off his ear to check if the call was still there. As he was about to start talking again, the other line finally speaks.
"DrACoOo!" A burst of giggles following.
"Y/N?" He rubs his eyes trying to get rid of his tiredness, "..are you drunk?"
Another hiccup, "let's facetimeee...I missed youu~"
"Do you want me to come over?" He asks prompting himself up on his elbows.
"No!" Followed by another hiccup, "it's cold out."
"You're outside?" The sleepiness, no longer present, he gets up quickly and rushes to the front door while on the phone with her, "Who are you with? Where are you?"
The call echoes with giggles, "I don't know...I'm losttttt"
Draco falls into a panicked state, why was she drunk all alone in the middle of the night? "Stay on the phone with me, princess, okay? I'm coming right now."
He hears her giggle and hiccuping not giving a clear answer, he quickly checks her location and jogs over since it's nearby.
"Ooh Kitty!" Y/N exclaims excitedly, *hiccups* The phone can be heard falling on the ground, Y/N scooping the cat up in her arms, "Wanna comee home wit me?"
Sprinting now, he says "You're joking right?"
Draco sees Y/N hovered around a corner by a wall holding up a cat and petting it. He hears the cat's purr and meow on the phone. Despite being out of breath, he rushes to her.
Before he could scold her, Y/N puts down the cat and sprints to Draco engulfing him in a hug, "Draco!"
He wraps his arm around her waist, while the other is trying to keep her steady in her stance. As Y/N pulls away she excitedly does small jumps pointing to the cat,
"Look Draco!" She goes back to the cat scooping it in her arms, "Can we keeep him?"
A little taken aback, he shakes his head slightly, "No, Y/N, we're not keeping him, you're drunk right now."
"bUT he's so preciousss," she smiles as she pets the cat, "who's a good kitttyy?"
Draco sighs, "No, Y/N we can't keep a cat.."
She pouts at him, and as if the cat followed in her suit, meows and ironically, gives big puppy dog eyes at the boy.
"Fine, fine!" He reluctantly agrees, "Let's get you home okay, hold my hand so you don't fall"
While the two walked home together, Y/N still visibly drunk starts talking to the cat, "I'm gonna feed you soooo much food and loveee you and snuggle wiht you!"
Draco, slightly annoyed but finds it adorable, shakes his head as he grips tighter on his hold of her hand, "Hold tightly, Y/N, we can't have you tripping and falling here."
Y/N slowly trying to understand the situation, let's go of Draco's hand, "Umm excuse you! I have a boyfriend!" She states with her eyes half open.
In disbelief, Draco just stands there, "....I am your boyfriend."
Tilting her head, she asks, "What's your name?"
"Draco.."
"Prove it!"
He pinches the bridge of his nose, she's gonna be the death of me, "Love, I need you to hold my hand until we get home."
Y/N shakes her head, pouting "I can walk perfectly fine by myself! Plus, my boyfriend would get upset if he saw me with you, he'd definitely kick your ass!"
Draco puts his hand on his hip, "First off, you were stumbling and tripping over yourself a minute ago. Second, I am your boyfriend."
Y/N giggles as she stares at his face, going closer, "You look like him.."
He sighs.
"But he's soOO much more handsome *hiccups*"
"Are you trying to flirt with me right now?" He questions, somewhat amused.
"No! I wouldn't dare cheat!!" She says clutching the cat closer to her as it meows, as if it was agreeing.
Another sigh, Draco grabs Y/N's face in his hands, "Y/N, look at me."
With half lidded eyes, she looks at him, tilting her head in confusion, before getting into another set of giggles.
"Focus on my eyes, darling." Following his instructions, she does as she's told, mumbling grey.
"Good, now look at my hair." With one hand holding the cat, she lightly combs her fingers through his hair, "it looks blonde? noo! platinum?? Final ANSwer!"
He chuckles, "Now who am I?" He asks. Her eyes move their way down on his face, admiring and analyzing their features, before landing on his lips, tracing her fingers softly.
After a moment of staring she pulls away to sneeze, "Achoo!" She breaks out in a fit of laughter once again, and this time Draco joins her.
"Draco!" She finally recognizes him, "I missed you!" She pecks his lips.
Draco blushes slightly, but chuckles to himself as he pulls her closer to him guiding her once more to go home, along with their new cat.
im sorry it seems rushed i just wanted to give you guys a happy ending T_T i had lots to do, i am not doing a series type again its too advanced for me- too much pressure to keep up (maybe in the far future) its also so long mb
Warning: Angst
Pt 1 HERE
~
The night you impulsively decided to leave him alone in that tower was the worst night of your life. You had tiptoed into your dorm, trying not to wake your roommates up, slipping into the blankets. You desperately tried to make yourself comfortable, but the nagging sound of your heart beating in your chest was ringing in your ears, and your head was banging from the running thoughts of what had just occurred. You tried to hold in the emotions you felt- that you've been feeling, but it was impossible. The silent night and the sound of your roommates soft breathing, you couldn't stop the flow of the questions that had begun to compile itself in your brain, does this mean it's over? And with that realization you silently wept into your pillow covering your sobs.
The next couple of days seemed to blend in together, you had missed your classes using the excuse of not feeling well. It was believable-with how much you cried: your face was pale, you had a red runny nose, no one questioned a thing. You knew you couldn't avoid him forever though. When you finally allowed yourself to process the events that had happened, you felt strong enough to see him. You felt confident in avoiding him without having a breakdown.
Days had passed, and eventually it turned into weeks and weeks turned into months. There was no sign of Draco. Where could he have gone? Your heart yearned for him, even if whatever you two had was now unofficially over because of your stupidity of wanting more- you still searched for him in every room. You wondered why he's been gone for months, could it be because of- no, you shook your head it can't be because of that, right? Every time you wonder his whereabouts and why he's been absent, your assumption almost always wanders off into what Harry had told you a couple of months ago. There's no way Draco would agree to that..
You were walking to potions when a voice had called out to you,
"Y/N!"
Recognizing the voice you turn your head to the proclaimed chosen one, offering a wave and a smile.
"I've been looking for you, do you remember what I told you a couple months ago?" He asked as he catches up to you.
"About your crush on Ginny?" You teased.
He blushes and his hand rubs the back of his neck looking down, "N-No!" He looks around, and with a hushed voice, he comes closer, "About Malfoy.."
You freeze, standing in place for a second before beginning to walk again to class hoping that he didn't notice, "U-uh yeah? What about it?"
Truthfully, no matter how much you tell yourself to not meddle anymore in Draco's business, you can't help feeling worried, so if this is the only way you would get to know about where he was, then fine, so be it. Even if the idea of it all made your heart ache even more.
"I overheard him talking to Snape about something a couple of days ago-"
"Wait- wait he's back?" You questioned.
"I think they're planning something Y/N-" He sighs, "I'm just warning you to be careful okay?"
You nodded cautiously and as you two had begun walking into class, you made your way to your assigned seat near the front. You wondered if Harry is overthinking his claims, but if he overheard something suspicious, does this mean that all his assumptions about Draco were true?
You began to space off, until a familiar scent of expensive cologne and mint had caught your attention and you held in your breath. Shit. You completely forgot he sat next to you during potions. With how long you haven't seen him, you didn't expect him to sit next to you especially after that night.
It had been months, months since you last smelled his cologne, him. You didn't dare meet his eyes, and he didn't dare meet yours. You lowered your head to look at the quill and paper in front of you. He sighs as he stares at the front of the class waiting to start.
"Can't believe you've already moved on to Potter," he muttered under his breath. You couldn't even register what he had said, because your mind was solely focused on how much you missed his voice.
"How have you been?" You asked, still looking down as you began twiddling with your fingers. Even though you refuse to look at him, his eyes are fixed on you, from the second he walked into this room, from the hallway when you walked with Potter, it was on you.
Before he could answer, class had begun. The entire time you tried your best to avoid his gaze, to avoid meeting his eyes. You didn't know what would happen if you saw his eyes, saw his face. You were too scared to face him. However, it was the complete opposite for him. He kept stealing glances in your direction, as if making sure that it was you right next to him. He couldn't believe it.
Unbeknownst to you, these past couple of months were horrid for him. He had missed school because the Dark Lord had requested for him to attend the death eaters meetings and considering how his family almost always hosted them, he had no choice but to go. He felt restless every night, especially since his childhood home was now being used as a hotel for the most dangerous wizards known. He couldn't stop worrying and thinking about you, wondering how you were. Every night he laid in his bed with images of you in his head- memories you two had spent together. He felt himself constantly playing with his family ring every time he felt restless, and his thoughts would always wander to how the spaces between his fingers felt empty without yours intertwined in them.
And now that you were next to him, he couldn't take his eyes off of you. You were merely inches away from him, and even though he craved to feel you against him once again after all this time, he bites the inside of his tongue, to snap himself out of it. He recalls the promise he made to himself that night, and that is to keep you alive.
He managed to hold himself back, practically running out of the classroom after dismissal. You watched his fleeting figure go, disappointed that you didn't get the chance to talk to him more. Sighing in defeat, you made your way back to your next class.
You had successfully managed to distract yourself that day, and the days after. You didn't know what you wanted, you had decided to break it off with him and he never chased after you. Yes, you were heartbroken, but you still hoped for him to come back to you, you thought that maybe, just maybe, he would be willing to try things to make it work.
You sighed as you leaned forward on the railing at the Astronomy Tower. Even after months had passed, you still found yourself up here, even when Draco was nowhere to be found, you were still here, waiting. You sighed once again, nostalgically remembering him again. You stared at the stars and recalled how you would trace his face with your fingers under the moonlight. You remembered him closing his eyes, humming a tune that you doubt was even a song, but it was beautiful, nonetheless.
Footsteps echoed from the door. You backed away into a shadow, afraid of getting caught. After a couple of seconds, a figure appeared in the entrance, the familiar blonde coming into view. This was the first time in months since you've seen his face. Despite talking to him earlier, you couldn't bring yourself to look at him, so you never noticed how much weight he lost, and how he looks paler than usual but even despite all of that, he looked just as handsome as you remembered.
"Draco?" You stepped out of the shadows walking towards him. When he saw you, his eyes widened in surprise,
"Y/N.." He hesitates, "I didn't think you'd be up here.."
You shrug and walked towards him, "Force of habit, really."
He looks at you for a moment, before putting his hands in his pockets, giving a slight nod. He backs away slowly, "I'll leave you to it then."
"Wait," you reach and grab his arm as he began walking away, "stay.."
He pauses in his tracks. Your hand clung tightly to his clothes, and you finally asked, "Where have you been..?"
He turns himself around to face you, his movement delayed. You lowered your head,
"I've missed you.." you exhaled, closing your eyes to take in a deep breath. You lift your gaze to meet his. A rush of emotions coming back to you, one that you've missed. The way he looked at you with such warmth and with such love, it remained the same, even after all this time. He wants to tell you that he missed you too, but there's a voice in his head screaming at him to leave, before someone finds out that he's with you. He stops breathing for a second, trying to contain himself but he can't.
He grabs you by the shoulders and pulls you in desperately. He's missed you so much and all this time apart had him shaking slightly. He was scared and so happy to finally see you. All the pent up frustration, emotions he's piled up these past couple of months, he almost collapsed right then and there. Your arms snake their way to his waist, embracing him tightly, afraid he might go away again.
None of you say a word for a couple of minutes, until Draco's left arm burns and he hisses pushing you away. He holds it to try to soothe the pain, worried you stepped towards him,
"Dra-Draco? What's wrong?" You asked as you see a red glow underneath his robe. You grab his arm and reveal the bare skin. He doesn't have time to push you away as the pain continues, but it begins to subside once he feels your touch, and when he's back to his senses it is already too late.
You gasp, you've always denied it, but deep down you knew and seeing it with your own two eyes felt more real. You couldn't run away any longer from this truth that you tried so hard to convince yourself from. Your eyes began to water and before you knew it, you began to cry.
"Are you afraid?" He murmurs, "I didn't want you to know..."
"Since when?" Your fingers shaking as you slightly grazed over the mark.
"A while ago..." He bites his lip, trying to hold himself back from breaking apart. He's terrified, now that you know. His head is telling him to run- to leave this tower immediately but like that night his feet are planted in place. He tries to think of an idea- he shuts his eyes as he clenches his fist, nails digging into the skin, "Now you can understand why we can't be together, Y/N."
He hates talking to you this way, but he can't bring himself to leave this place- you. To him, the best next thing to do is to get you to leave, just like that night. He mentally scolds himself for letting his emotions get the best of him- acting so recklessly as he did earlier.
You couldn't stop the tears that spilled. Yes, you were scared but not of him, for him.
Draco keeps his head low, overthinking the situation- what's to happen. He tries to navigate through the list of horrible things that could happen to you because of his mistake.
"I'm so sorry I was selfish and asked you for more when- when you-" You choked on your tears and your sentences become incoherent, "I didn't know...Why didn't you tell me? I-"
Shocked, he looks up, his heart breaking at the sight of you, why were you sorry? Why were you apologizing? He should be the one to apologize, not you.
His hand reaches out to wipe your tears away, "I didn't want you to know," he repeated, "I didn't want to risk putting you in danger.."
You shake your head, "What about you?"
"I've been recognized as one of them, Y/N" His tone was soft, but there was so much sorrow to it, "It's only dangerous if I let my guard down."
"You'll only be safe for now, it's not guaranteed, Draco."
There's a moment of silence, to process everything.
"Has he done anything to you?"
Draco caresses his fingertips on your cheek, "No, I'm okay." Another pause, he looks at you and lightly traces your face with delicacy, "I'm sorry, Y/N."
"It's okay-"
"No, let me finish, love." He presses his forehead against you, eyes closed as your skin touch. He still holds your face, trying to feel your presence as much as he could, trying to savor every second that passes. You close your eyes, trying to focus you're entire mind and body to just him. Though it was such a simple act of touch, it felt so intimate.
"I love you." He whispers, "I love you so much, Y/N."
"And I love you, Draco Malfoy." You cry again, not because of sadness, but because of how much comfort those words gave you. How those three words lifted such a burden in your chest that you felt so light in his arms again.
And just as it was comforting to you, it was to him. However, he knew that he still does not want to risk losing you and getting caught up in the middle of this soon to be war.
"We can't be together...No matter how much I love you, and you love me, I don't want to risk your life, Y/N."
"I know, I understand-" He squeezes your cheeks,
"Let me finish, love." And you fall silent, waiting. "I want to be selfish and ask if- you can.." He doesn't ask, but he didn't need to because you already knew.
"I can wait." You smile, "I can wait Draco, but...what's gonna happen to us when we see each other out there...on the other side of war?"
Draco sighs, "I don't know, but whatever happens, I'm not gonna let you get hurt by them.."
You shudder at the thought of all the possibilities that could happen in battle, but it quickly fades away as you remember that he was in your arms right now, and that's all that matters.
You don't know what's gonna happen, neither of you do, but whatever happens you'll wait for him. Like you always have, you'll wait until both of you can be together, when the circumstances are right. You'll wait with a different perspective in mind- because now you know that he loves you just as much as you love him. You'll wait for him with a worried heart, longing everyday for his touch. You can wait for him because you know that on the other side of it all, he's there, waiting for you.
