summary: Draco Malfoy would literally die for you—unfortunately, asking you to the Yule Ball might just kill him first. When he finally gathers the courage to do it, you politely decline… thanks to a spectacular misunderstanding. Now, with his pride bruised and his heart set, Draco is determined to win you over—properly, this time.
wc: 2.6k+
cw: DOWN BAD DRACO! awkward Draco who gets shy around reader, feat. Pansy, Blaise, & Theo as Draco's backup.
A/N: I love shy Draco. I AM SO SORRY THAT I HAVE BEEN INACTIVE LATELY. Aghhh I haven't posted anything in sooo long, I've been busy hihi.
⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰
Draco Malfoy was many things: a Slytherin, a menace on the Quidditch pitch, and the heir to one of the oldest wizarding families in Britain—but he had never felt this pathetic before. Not even the time he fell off his broom second year and cried because his wrist bent funny.
No, this was worse. Because he hadn’t just fallen—he’d plummeted, in front of you, with a flower in one hand and all his dignity left wilting somewhere between the Charms and Transfiguration section at the library.
You hadn’t looked back.
Not once.
Not even when he’d called after you, your name barely leaving his mouth before it got stuck in his throat with the taste of regret and disbelief.
He knew what it must’ve looked like. You thought it was a joke. That he was the joke. And for once, he couldn’t even blame you.
This catastrophe had all began the night before.
The Slytherin common room was filled only with the sound of crackling fire and the soft chatter of students with the scratch of quills against their parchment—until their heads turn to a yell that broke the silence.
"DRACO! We've been on this for over an hour now," Pansy sighed as she sat down on the couch between Theo and Blaise. "And for the millionth time, you are not going to DIE asking a girl to the Yule Ball!"
Pansy's "How to Woo a Girl 101" was clearly very hard for Draco to comprehend. Because based on the look on Theo's and Blaise's faces, it was not going well. At all.
Draco dramatically gasped as if he was being accused of murder, he then put a hand over his heart and then started rambling. "She isn't just any girl. She's the most perfect witch to ever exist! Gosh, do you guys even see how beautiful and smart and—" but, before he could continue, he was cut off by Blaise.
"We get it mate! You're bewitched by her." Blaise groaned loudly, throwing his head back and resting it on the backrest of the couch.
Theo sighed, "Mate, look," he said sternly, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "You just have to ask her a simple eleven word question, 'Would. you. like. to. go. to. the. Yule. Ball. with. me.?' see? Easier than brewing Felix Felicis!"
Draco was suddenly hot and started to fidget with his fingers all because of that eleven word question. "Easy for you to say, Theo. You don't have a big fat crush o—" he was cut off yet again. This time, by Pansy.
"Alright, Malfoy. We're done," she announced, crossing her arms. "Either you tell her—or we will!" Pansy smirked, now putting her hands on her hips, trying to hide her laugh as she stood up. The two boys beside her started snickering as they followed Pansy towards the dormitories, leaving Draco in a very difficult position.
Theo suddenly stopped in front of Draco, "You better ask her soon or you know what's coming." He teased, then continued to follow Blaise and Pansy.
"Wait! I'll do it!" He stammered, his hand reaching out, a hopeless attempt to let them stay. "But—uh—is 'You looked like a powdered donut and still managed to be gorgeous.' a good compliment? Because the potion she was brewing blew up last week."
All he got in reply was loud groans and sighs as three of his friends continued walking away from him.
"Guys?!"
Silence.
Draco sighed as he looked down at his feet. "Hey! You looked like a powdered donut and still managed to be gorgeous." He quietly muttered to himself.
⸻
The next day, Draco's heart felt like it was going to come out of his chest and his feet felt like rubber as he saw you strolling through the library. This was it. This was the day he's going to ask you the eleven word question.
Naturally, he brought backup—just in case of a stutter, a horrible nosebleed, or, Merlin forbid, passing out. He had to full-on beg them to come with him, since, in Pansy's own words:
“How are you even going to dance with her if you need us just to ask her to the ball? What—are we going to do a group dance in case you pass out?”
She may be right...
But he badly needed emotional support or he'll die of a heart attack before he could even talk to you.
"Alright. I'm going to go up to her, compliment her pretty face, ask her the question, and hope for the best." He whispered, his grip tightening on the stem of your favorite flower.
The four of them were currently formed in a circle at the corner of the library, three pairs of eyes staring at the blonde boy as he told them his plan.
Theo gave him a flat look, unimpressed. “That’s the plan? That’s it?”
“Well, do you have a better one?” Draco snapped, slightly louder than he intended, which earned them all a sharp shhh! from Madam Pince across the room. They all winced and lowered their heads like scolded toddlers.
Blaise leaned in, voice a murmur. “Yes. Literally anything other than blurting out powdered donut compliments in the library.” He rubbed his temples. “Just… try not to be weird, mate.”
“I’m not weird,” Draco muttered, offended.
“Yeah?” Pansy raised a brow. “You practiced your line in the mirror seven times this morning and then gave the flower a pep talk.”
Draco blushed furiously. “It’s her favorite flower. It needs to be… emotionally prepared.”
Theo shook his head, muttering, “We’re emotionally exhausted.”
Still, despite their teasing, the trio gave him nods of encouragement as he squared his shoulders, tucked the flower carefully behind his back, and began the slow, risky walk toward where you sat—cross-legged on the carpet between two shelves, surrounded by a sea of books and parchment, humming softly to yourself as you scribbled into your notes.
He froze halfway.
You were chewing on the end of your quill, a bit of ink on your chin, your eyes narrowed in concentration. You wore a flower crown made of daises again today—different colors if he may add—the yellows, oranges, and whites complimenting your face. Draco thought he might pass out on the spot.
'Gosh how can she be so beautiful while doing nothing.'
"GO!" Pansy whisper yelled as she pushed Draco toward you.
"Wait n—" he stumbled toward you. He was begging his feet to go back to his safe cocoon where he wouldn't get humiliated or possibly pass out, but they were stuck on the ground—unable to move.
"Hey!" he gulped, his cheeks rapidly turning red for being flustered but mostly from embarrassment.
You glanced up at the sudden noise and there he was. He looked... hot.
HOT! as in sweating hot—not the kind of hot where his hair was pushed back after a shower in the quidditch lockers and definitely not the time when—
Stop it!
“Oh! Hello, Draco." You said, offering him a warm smile as you stood, brushing the creases from your skirt to face him properly.
He smiled back—but it wasn’t the kind of smile most people gave. It was lopsided, almost shaky, like it couldn’t decide whether it wanted to be confident or terrified. His hands fidgeted behind his back, and then—
"ELEVENWORDQUESTION!" he blurted.
You blinked. “I’m sorry—what?”
Draco swallowed hard, his cheeks rapidly turning pink. “What I meant to say is… you look like a powdered donut.”
What.
The.
Hell?
Your smile faltered. You looked down at your shoes, heart sinking a little. Was that… was that supposed to be an insult?
“Oh,” you murmured, suddenly self-conscious. A quiet, uncertain panic started to rise in your chest.
“No, no, no, wait—!” Draco rushed forward, eyes wide. He reached out and placed his hands gently on your shoulders, his voice frantic now. “That came out wrong. I mean—you looked like a powdered donut last week—when the potion exploded—and you still looked… you still looked gorgeous.”
You looked up at him, stunned.
He took a breath, then, with trembling fingers, pulled a flower from behind his back. Your flower. The one he’d somehow remembered you loved.
“Would you like to go to the Yule Ball with me?” he asked, quieter now—earnest, vulnerable, the chaos gone from his voice.
And that was when everything seemed to stand still. You stare at him, your mouth agape. You could feel blood rushing through your cheeks.
And then… from behind the nearest shelf came the unmistakable sound of stifled laughter.
You glanced past Draco and saw them—Pansy, Blaise, Theo—all doubled over, failing miserably at hiding. Pansy wiped a tear from her eye. Blaise was wheezing. And Theo was clutching his stomach, trying to breathe.
Oh.
Of course.
It was a dare. A prank. A joke at your expense.
The flower in Draco’s hand suddenly felt like a knife.
Your chest clenched. You took a step back.
“I’m sorry, Draco,” you said, forcing your voice to stay steady even as your throat tightened. “I… I have to say no.”
His face crumpled in confusion as you turned away, blinking back tears you refused to let fall—not here, not in front of them.
Not when your heart had almost believed him.
⸻
“Mate,” Blaise had said later, tentatively, from the foot of Draco’s bed, where Draco had buried himself under his emerald blanket like a disgraced ghost. “She didn’t even see the part where you were being sincere.”
“She saw enough,” Draco mumbled.
Pansy kicked his mattress. “She saw us laughing, you dolt. She thinks we were laughing at her. Do you know what that does to a girl?” she added sharply, voice rising with frustration and—Draco noticed—genuine guilt. “You’ve got less than a week till the Yule Ball, and if you want any chance of fixing this, you better stop acting like a sad house-elf and do something.”
Draco’s next plan of action was, to put it bluntly, disastrous.
If he couldn’t speak to you like a normal person, then maybe he could… gesture grandly instead. Show, not tell, right?
Wrong. So very wrong.
It began with him walking—strutting—past your table in the courtyard three times in one lunch period, each time pretending he just happened to be passing by. The first time, he loudly commented to Blaise about how some people had “really excellent taste in flower crowns.” The second time, he tripped on a root and faceplanted into a bush. The third time, he tried to recover by dramatically pulling out a textbook and reading upside down while sneakily peeking at you over the pages.
You didn’t look up once.
“Subtle,” Blaise had deadpanned as he helped pick leaves out of Draco’s hair.
Then came the grand gestures. One morning, you opened your Transfiguration book and found—inside it—a single, freshly pressed forget-me-not. The ink on the page was slightly smudged as if someone had fumbled it with nervous fingers. Tucked next to the flower was a piece of parchment with a single line in jagged, uptight handwriting:
I never forgot. - D
The next day? A little paper crane fluttered down onto your lap during Charms. No one else noticed—except you. It unfolded itself midair to reveal another message:
I’d say something. But every time I try, I ruin it.
He was trying. You could feel it, in all his awkward, dramatic glory.
Then, during Care of Magical Creatures, he nearly sacrificed himself trying to separate you from a cranky Murtlap. You didn’t even ask for help, but there he was, sprinting across the paddock like a knight in shining robes, yelling, “DON’T WORRY, I’VE GOT IT!” before the Murtlap turned and promptly bit his wrist.
You rushed forward instinctively, wand already out, muttering a healing charm with a furrow in your brow. And Draco… Draco smiled like he’d just been kissed.
“You didn’t have to do that,” you said, half-annoyed, half-worried, as he flexed his hand and hissed.
“Worth it,” he said, eyes locked on you.
That night, you found another note tucked into the folds of your Herbology textbook:
Still an idiot. Still hoping. Still not giving up.
You rolled your eyes.
But you smiled.
⸻
It wasn’t until three days before the ball that he finally had a chance to explain.
You were walking back from dinner, your hands tucked into your robes, eyes on the frost glittering across the windows, when you heard it:
“Wait—please.”
Draco’s voice. Real. Sincere. Clear.
You turned, surprised to see him without backup, no Pansy whispering strategies in his ear, no Blaise with the emergency escape plan, no Theo who can tease him to no end.
Just Draco.
Alone.
Face flushed from the cold—or nerves. Maybe both.
You folded your arms. “Going to call me a pastry again?”
He winced. “Gods, no. Never again.” A beat passed. Then: “Well, unless you start working at Honeydukes. Then maybe once. Or twice.”
You didn’t laugh. But the corner of your mouth twitched.
He took that as a good sign.
“I know what you thought,” Draco said, stepping forward. “When they laughed. You thought it was a joke. That I was making fun of you.” His eyes were painfully honest, gray and glinting like wet stone. “But they weren’t laughing at you. They were laughing at me.”
You blinked. “Why?”
“Because I’d been practicing that line since breakfast. Because I’d stammered like an idiot and spilled ink on my cuff and given a flower a motivational speech. Because I was absolutely pathetic. For you.” He let out a nervous huff.
“You make me stupid.”
Your heart did a little leap.
Draco stepped closer. “And you know what? I don’t care if I look stupid. I’d rather look stupid in front of the entire school than let you go to the Yule Ball without knowing the truth.”
There was a long, breathless pause.
“I like you. I’ve liked you since the first time you made that little dandelion braid and stuck it in your scroll instead of using a bookmark. I like how you hum to yourself when you’re thinking. I like that you stay up after curfew just to stargaze and name constellations like they’re your personal pets. I like that you make everything around you feel… lighter.”
He stepped closer again, now inches from you.
“And if you’ll let me… I want to make you feel that way too.”
Your lips parted, but no sound came out. For once, you were the one struck speechless.
Draco reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a a bouquet of your favorite flower. Blooming. Vibrant. Alive.
“I grew this,” he said quietly. “Chose the seed, studied the soil, made sure it got the exact right light. It took weeks. But it’s yours.”
He gently held it out.
You stared at the flower. Then up at him.
Finally, your voice found its way back.
“…You didn’t stutter,” you whispered.
Draco smirked. It was slow, confident—flirty.
“No. Not when it really matters.”
And then, with a wicked gleam in his eyes, he added, “So. Would you like to go to the Yule Ball with me?”
You smiled.
Not just because the flower was perfect.
Not just because his voice was steady.
But because, for the first time, it felt real. No nerves. No games. Just Draco. Asking you.
Properly.
“Yes,” you said, cheeks glowing.
His grin was immediate.
“And I expect a dance,” you added, pretending to be stern. “A real one. No passing out. No backup dancers.”
Draco leaned in just enough for you to feel the warmth of his breath.
“Only if you promise not to look like a powdered donut this time.”
You laughed—finally, laughed—and shoved his shoulder.
Warnings: angst, smut (but not the sexy kind lol) depression, alcohol, loss
Summary: After 4 blissful years of the only unconditional love Draco had ever known, you were killed in the battle of Hogwarts. 3 miserable years pass, and Draco simply can’t get over you. He drinks heavily and he looks for you in other women. Each night brings him deeper and deeper into regret and despair, and yet, he can’t bring himself to stop.
Draco sits at the bar, staring into the dark liquid of his 4th drink of the night. Or was it his 5th? Didn’t matter. He doesn’t keep count anymore so long as the razor sharp edges of his miserable reality are dulled by it. Eventually his gaze subconsciously drifts up and around at the environment spinning before him. It’s an unfamiliar bar, 5 towns over so that he won’t be recognized. (At least not immediately).
As his eyes lazily drift about the room in a drunken haze, they land on a cascade of flowing y/h/c locks. When the woman attached to them meets his eyes, she smiles and winks. Perfect. Tonight will be easy.
She was beautiful, no doubt, with a figure that reminded him painfully of y/n.
With a practiced smirk, Draco raised his glass to her, a silent toast to the night ahead. He pushed himself off the bar, his movements betraying just a hint of the alcohol's influence. As he approached her, the scent of her perfume reached him, a floral note that was unfamiliar, too sweet. Not hers. He did his best to ignore it.
"Hello, there," Draco drawled, leaning against the edge of the table where the woman sat alone. His words were slightly slurred, but his charm was still intact. "I couldn't help but notice you from across the room. You're even more stunning up close."
This, of course, was not true. Though she vaguely resembled y/n from afar, from up close he could see that her nose wasn’t the right shape, her eyes didn’t hold the same passionate chaos, her lips didn’t form into the smile that only she could possibly form.
The woman smiled coyly, her eyes drinking in the sight of him. "Well you’re quite the charmer," she replied. "What brings someone like you to a place like this?"
Draco chuckled, the sound hollow even to his own ears. "Just looking for a bit of company, something to take the edge off," he admitted, his gaze lingering on her lips before meeting her eyes once more. "How about you? What's a beautiful woman like yourself doing in a bar all alone?"
She laughed, a light, airy sound that seemed to raise the hair on Draco’s neck at its wrongness. "Maybe I'm just waiting for the right person to come along and make my night interesting.”
Draco pushed aside every instinct that screamed agains the unfamiliarity of her, and he raised an eyebrow at her playful response. The corners of his mouth twitched into a smirk, and he leaned in closer, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Well then, consider your night officially interesting. I'm Draco, by the way."
For a split second, he imagined he saw a spark of recognition in her eyes, but it vanished just as quickly, and the woman extended a delicate hand, her fingers cool against his skin. "Nice to meet you, Draco. I'm Lila."
He took her hand, his grip firm yet gentle. "Lila," he repeated, the relief that she hadn’t immediately recognized him as the ex-death eater disgraced Malfoy heir making the name roll easily off his tongue. "That's a beautiful name."
Draco continued to fulfill the obligatory banter between himself and Lila, listening as she spoke animatedly about her interests and passions. He nodded and hummed, but he quickly felt the familiar sting of emptiness fill him at the juxtaposition of this beautiful woman who has dreams to speak of, while he has nothing but emptiness and shame. Nothing to offer the world except generational wealth that was earned solely at the cost of others.
"Draco? You seem distant, is everything alright?"
He blinked, focusing on her face. He hadn’t even realized he’d zoned out. "Yeah, sorry. Just... a lot on my mind," he admitted, tracing the rim of his glass with a finger.
"Anything you want to talk about?" she offered gently, her hand reaching out to rest on his thigh. The contact sent a jolt through him, a reminder of the physical connection he so deeply craved.
For a brief moment, Draco considered opening up to her, sharing the burden of his past. But he quickly dismissed the idea. Instead, he forced a smile and shook his head. "It's nothing, really."
the lights in the bar began to flicker, signaling the approaching closing time. Draco drained the last of his firewhiskey, the warmth of the drink mixed with the intense hollowness that had been brewing within him throughout the evening. He turned to Lila, his eyes searching hers in the dimming light.
"It's getting late," he began, his voice low and tinged with the remnants of his earlier confidence. "I live nearby. Would you like to continue this conversation at my place?"
Lila smirked, clearly pleased at the expected invitation. "Sure, Draco. I'd like that."
He stood, offering his hand to help her up from her seat. They made their way out of the bar, the chill of the night air sobering him slightly as they walked to the apparition point.
Draco apparated them directly into the master suite. He had stopped bothering with the formality of the sitting room or a polite nightcap 10 random women ago.
Lila seems equally unbothered. She smirks up at Draco, one hand caressing his chest, the other his thigh, and Draco forces himself to lean into her touch. A new woman touches him just like this almost every night, but it never gives him what he needs. It’s never her touch. He looks down at Lila, her face illuminated by the soft glow of the fireplace, her eyes locked onto his with an intensity that should make his heart race.
her hands and lips continue their slow exploration of him, and he mindlessly feels along her body as well, closing his eyes, trying so hard to lose himself in her.
His eyes open as her fingers move from his collarbone to trace the line of his jaw, her touch feather-light as she drags her tongue up his neck to his ear. "You don't have to do anything," she whispers, her breath warm against his ear. "Just let go, Draco.
In that moment, Draco made a decision. He would allow himself this respite, this temporary escape from the relentless torment of his memories.
With a resigned sigh, Draco closes his eyes, surrendering to the illusion that Lila could somehow fill the void left by y/n for tonight. He turned his face towards hers, their lips meeting in a kiss that was equal parts desperation and longing. Her hands roamed over his chest, pulling him closer as the intensity of their connection grew.
Draco's own hands found their way to her hair, tangling in the y/h/c strands that reminded him so much of his lost love. He deepened the kiss, seeking solace in the physical closeness, the warmth of a body against his.
They moved together, a tangle of limbs and heated whispers. Clothes were shed hastily, each piece falling to the floor like forgotten memories. In the dim light of the room, Draco caught glimpses of Lila’s form, her beauty undeniable, yet unfamiliar. his heart ached for the one woman he couldn't have.
Yet, between the dim light of the bedroom, and the haze of alcohol clouding his senses, Draco allowed himself once again to succumb to his nightly fantasy. The curves of the woman’s body beneath him, the softness of her skin, the sound of her breaths – for a fleeting moment, he could close his eyes and almost believe it was y/n.
His hands explored her eagerly, tracing the contours of her body as if memorizing every inch. He whispered her name – "y/n" – a slip of the tongue that went unnoticed in the heat of the moment.
Lila responded with a passion that matched his own, her hands running through his hair, down his back, pulling him closer. It was nothing like the tender, loving, knowing touch of y/n and still.
They moved together in a rhythm fueled by desire and the need for connection, however temporary it might be. Draco's mind swirled with emotions – guilt, longing, pleasure, and an overwhelming sense of loss. Each touch, each kiss, each shared gasp of breath was a desperate attempt to recapture her.
Draco groaned, burying his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling the faint scent of her devastatingly unfamiliar perfume. He kissed and nipped at her collarbone, desperate to anchor himself in the moment, to keep the ghosts of memory at bay.
“Missed you,” he mumbled against her skin, voice rough with emotion and whiskey.
But it wasn’t her. Not really. And as much as he wanted to drown himself in this illusion, the ache behind his ribs remained. Unrelenting. Unforgiving.
His hands gripped her waist tighter than necessary, chasing something real—something he’d never had since she was ripped away from him: Love. Belonging. Safety. Comfort.
He needed her to hold him. To stroke his hair like she used to. To tell him he was safe. That she forgave him. That she still loved him, even after everything.
Instead, he had Lila. And she would have to be enough.
Because he didn’t know how to ask for what he really needed—not out loud. Not with words.
Draco pulled back slightly, his breathing uneven as he gazed down at at the ghost of y/n—at Lila—that lingered in his mind. His vision blurred, whether from the effects of the firewhiskey or unshed tears, he wasn’t sure. Everything felt hazy, dreamlike, like he was floating somewhere between past and present.
“I need…” he started, voice hoarse and uncertain, before trailing off. His fingers tightened briefly on her shoulders before softening, almost apologetically.
He didn’t finish the sentence. He couldn’t. Because he didn’t know how to say what he meant—how to explain that he needed her to stay, to hold him, to remind him he wasn’t completely broken beyond repair. He needed her to be her—to be y/n, even though she wasn’t.
Instead, he leaned down and kissed her again, slower this time, deeper, pouring everything he couldn’t say into the movement of his lips against hers. One hand slid up to cup the side of her face, thumb brushing lightly over her cheekbone as if mapping out a substitute for the one he truly needed beneath him.
His fingers trembled slightly as they traced the curve of her jaw, his thumb sweeping over her bottom lip. For a second, he hesitated—as if silently asking permission, silently begging whatever part of y/n still lived in his memory to forgive him for this betrayal.
Then he gave in.
He pressed his forehead to hers, eyes shut tight, as if trying to block out the truth.
He needed the illusion to hold, even if just for a little longer. His hands searched for purchase on her body, grounding himself in the warmth she provided. Every touch was frantic, hungry—not just for sex, but for reassurance, for comfort, for something he hadn’t felt in years.
Draco let out a ragged moan as he continued to thrust into her, his entire body tensing at the sensation. When she whispered his name—soft, breathless, nearly drowned out by the crackling fire in the corner—it sounded wrong. Too casual. Too unfamiliar.
His jaw clenched, eyes squeezed shut, and he gritted his teeth against the wave of shame that crashed over him even as desire burned hot in his blood. He should stop. Should pull away. Should apologize.
But he didn’t.
Instead, he did what he always did—he ran straight into the arms of self-destruction, chasing the ghost of a woman who once held his heart in the safest, softest place it had ever known.
He bent forward, bracing himself on either side of her head, and began to move harder, faster, chasing something he could never reach. Redemption. Forgiveness. Oblivion.
“Yes… yes…” he muttered under his breath, though it wasn’t Lila’s name that slipped free—it was hers. Always hers.
“Y/n…” he choked out, the name escaping like a prayer laced with sin, his voice raw and trembling as he drove into her with reckless abandon. The word echoed in the cold, cavernous room—the same room where he had spent countless nights imagining her, dreaming of her, cursing the day she was torn away from him.
Each thrust was punishing, desperate, as if he could force the memory of her into the spaces she had left behind. His muscles strained, heartbeat roaring in his ears.
Lila whimpered beneath him, her nails digging into his shoulders, but Draco barely registered it. All he could feel was the phantom weight of y/n—her laughter, her touch, the way she used to look at him like he mattered, like he hung the moon.
He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Could only feel.
“Say it again,” he rasped, pressing his forehead to hers, eyes still tightly shut. “Say my name again…”
He didn’t want to hear Lila’s voice. He wanted to hear her’s Even if it was a lie.
Draco’s breath hitched as he waited, straining with the effort to hold on. The silence stretched, heavy and expectant, filled only by the rhythmic crackle of the fire and the pounding of his own heart.
Then, blessed relief—Lila obliged.
“Draco,” she breathed, her voice soft and yielding, laced with the heat of the moment. Not /her/ voice. Not quite. But close enough in the dark.
Something inside him fractured.
His control snapped.
He kissed her hungrily, swallowing the sound of her sigh as he moved inside her, losing himself in the rhythm once more. His hands tangled in her hair, gripping almost too tightly, anchoring himself to this illusion, this fragile, fleeting moment where he could pretend he wasn’t alone.
Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes—whether from grief, guilt, or sheer exhaustion, he didn’t know. Maybe all three.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, barely audible, as he came inside her. Not just to Lila—for using her, for pretending—but to y/n, wherever she was. For failing her. Again and again.
Draco collapsed atop her, his breath coming in short, uneven bursts, his body spent but his soul still restless. The weight of what he’d done—again— settled over him like a suffocating blanket, pressing down until he could hardly breathe. His face was buried in her neck, damp with tears. bitter and hollow tears.
He didn’t move for a long time.
Inside, he was screaming. On the outside, he was silent—just the steady rise and fall of his chest, the tremble in his fingertips as they curled loosely beside her head.
He had said her name again. Had begged for it. Pretended.
Failed.
A single tear escaped, sliding down his nose and disappearing into the pillow beside her. Whether from regret or sorrow or the unbearable weight of missing her so damn much, he couldn’t say.
Eventually, he rolled off of her, lying flat on his back and staring at the ceiling, the darkness pressing in from all sides. He could hear Lila’s soft breathing beside him, the rustle of sheets as she shifted.
He didn’t look at her.
Draco stared at the ceiling, the shadows dancing from the dying fire casting ghosts across the room. His chest felt hollow, like something vital had been carved out of him and left to rot. The silence between them was deafening, louder than any scream he could muster.
He swallowed hard, throat dry, tongue heavy. The taste of firewhiskey and regret clung to his mouth.
Beside him, Lila stirred, shifting toward him, probably expecting him to pull her close, to murmur sweet nonsense into her ear, to pretend he cared beyond the physical.
He couldn’t.
Instead, he dragged a shaking hand down his face, wiping away the traces of tears, and exhaled sharply.
"You should go," he muttered, voice hoarse, barely recognizing it as his own.
There was a pause. A hesitation.
"What?" Lila asked softly, confusion lacing her tone.
Draco finally turned his head to look at her. In the dim light, her eyes were wide, her lips parted in surprise. He saw disappointment flicker there, maybe hurt, and he hated himself a little more.
"I’m sorry.” Draco muttered, turning away from her, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and resting his elbows on his knees. His fingers dug into his temples, pressing hard as if he could physically squeeze the noise out of his skull—the noise of her breathing, the noise of his own traitorous thoughts.
“Please,” he continued, voice quieter now, brittle at the edges. “You…you should go.”
Lila sat up slowly, the sheet pooling around her waist as she watched him. There was anger in her expression, and maybe something else, maybe pity. Something he hated seeing.
“Draco,” she said carefully, “do you want to talk about it?”
His nose twitched in anger. “No.”
Another beat of silence passed between them.
He stood abruptly, grabbing a discarded shirt from the floor and yanking it over his head. The room suddenly felt too small, too full of ghosts he couldn’t fight off.
“You can use my fireplace.” he said stiffly, already walking toward the door. “Or just aparate.”
She huffed, rising angrily from the bed to dress herself. “Should’ve known. Down know what I expected from a Malfoy.”
3 years ago this comment would have gutted him. Now he simply agrees with it. How could he not? Look what he has become. He sobbed once Lila was gone.
_________________________________________
Draco groaned as consciousness clawed its way back into his skull, sharp and unwelcome. Sunlight filtered through the heavy curtains like daggers, slicing into his brain and making his stomach churn. His mouth tasted like ash and old firewhiskey, and his head pounded with the kind of vengeance only a night of excessive drinking could deliver.
He opened one eye cautiously, immediately regretting it. The room spun lazily, the ornate furniture of the Manor swimming in and out of focus.
He was alone.
Of course he was.
The sheets beside him were cold, untouched by anyone but himself. No trace of Lila remained except for the faint imprint of her perfume clinging stubbornly to the pillows—and even that was fading fast.
He rolled onto his back with a grunt, dragging both hands down his face. His fingers trembled slightly.
Last night came rushing back in jagged pieces—drinking, the bar, Lila’s flirtatious smile, the way she touched him, the way he had used her like a cheap replacement for something he could never have again.
The World Was On Fire And No One Could Save Me But You | Draco Malfoy
As Lord Voldemort rises to power, Death Eater legacies such as Draco Malfoy and Elise Selwyn are forced to join their ranks. Desperate to return his family to the Dark Lord’s good graces, Draco Malfoy is forced to fight alongside Elise in a war they never wanted any part in.
The sound almost made my ears bleed. But Draco couldn’t hear it.
“You’re telling me you can’t hear that?!” I whispered.
“No, I can’t!” he repeated. “Quit fucking about, and let’s go back before someone catches us!”
“No,” I protested firmly, shaking my head, “I can’t. I can hear it. I can feel it. It’s close.”
The piercing ringing turned to a vile reverberation. It was like nothing I’d ever experienced before. It hurt my ears. It hurt my brain, it hurt my teeth.
“What’s close?!” Draco questioned. “You can’t even see the damn thing, you don’t know what it looks like!”
“It’s here,” I insisted, scouring the shelves for the book that was causing the searing pain in my head. “I can find it.”
I couldn’t stop myself. It was like I had no control, no body of my own. This thing, whatever it was, had consumed my entire being, forcing me to do its bidding. It was like I couldn’t even stop myself from search for it even if I wanted to. This thing had an hold on me. And I hadn’t even seen it.
“I don’t like this, Elise, quit fucking around,” Draco Malfoy spat, in a hurry to leave.
“Here!” I exclaimed in disbelief, grabbing a thick leather book from the shelf.
I flipped it open furiously, searching for any hint at all as to what it might be. I thought the sound would die out once I found it, but it didn’t. At least not all the way. A soft, but certainly present ringing still filled my ears. It was driving me insane.
“Are you mad?!” Draco cried. “Let’s get out of here before someone hears us!”
I ignored him, flipping it open to the title page. But there was nothing. No title, no author, no writing. Nothing.
“What the hell?” I murmured in frustration.
I flipped through all the other pages. Each of them empty. Nothing at all. The ringing in my ears worsened.
“What the hell is this?!”
Draco looked around uneasily. Then he heard it, footsteps somewhere down the corridor. He wasn’t willing to take the chance.
“Selwyn! We need to go,” Draco interrupted.
No longer willing to wait, he pulled me by my arm. We left the library, using Invisibility Charms to go through the corridors unseen. Draco dragged me back to my dorm room, shutting the door in a panic. I threw myself onto the bed, scanning each and every page of the book for some modicum of explanation. Still, I found nothing. Its pages were all blank. That damned ringing.
“What the hell is your problem?!” Draco demanded. “You nearly got us caught!”
“No, I didn’t,” I snapped, flipping through pages, “I had it under control.”
“Under control, my arse!” he shouted. “You were to busy looking for a bloody book to pay attention! Have you gone mad?!”
“I found what Bellatrix was talking about, which might solve all of our problems, by the way,” I reminded him, “You’re welcome.”
“‘You’re welcome’?! For nearly getting us expelled, all for a blank fucking book?!” Draco cried. “I don’t owe you anything.”
“You will once I figure out why this thing wanted me to find it,” I muttered as I scanned the pages.
The ringing in my ears was a cruel sort of torture. Not killing me, but chipping away at my sanity.
“Bloody hell, I’m going to bed,” Draco muttered angrily, leaving me to my own devices.
But I didn’t even hear him leave.
*****
“You actually found it?” Bellatrix Lestrange remarked. “Well done.”
“Ever since I came near it, it’s been causing this horrible ringing in my ears. It’s like it won’t leave me alone,” I told her.
“Yeah, that’s dark magic alright,” she murmured, staring at the leather bound book.
I held it up for her to see, flipping through its stark pages.
“Can you tell me how it works?” I inquired. “How to read it, what it is? Anything at all?”
“I can’t tell you that,” Bellatrix relayed regretfully. “I only know the Dark Lord himself wanted the bloody thing. And even he couldn’t find it.”
I stopped.
“What?”
“He only spoke of it on a few occasions,” the Death Eater recalled, “I only know what it’s called. ‘The Tome of the Profane’. Never knew what it was, or what it was for. Neither did he, for that matter. All I knew was the name, and that he was looking for it. He knew it was at Hogwarts, and that it was something dark. Powerful. Something that might help him win the war the first time around.”
“And he never found out anything else about it?” I questioned.
Bellatrix shook her head. “Not a fucking thing. He searched the school once, didn’t find nothing. He swore it didn’t exist. I never even heard of it again until now.”
My brows furrowed.
“Who told you about it?”
“Never you mind, child,” she corrected herself quickly. “You did good finding the thing. Just keep at it.”
“I will,” I stated.
“Good. Oh, and Selwyn,” Bellatrix recalled, stopping me. “Dark magic usually collects its price in blood,” she informed me.
I paused, taking in the information.
“Right,” I breathed, watching as she nodded, signing off before the fire burnt out.
I was left alone, sitting with the book in my hands. I knew it would be almost impossible to figure out, but still, I wasn’t discouraged. If nothing else, I knew one thing for certain. Whatever it was, it wanted to be discovered.
*****
Late into the night, I sat up in bed trying to make sense of the book Bellatrix had led me to. Hours of using various revelation spells on the pages, and nothing. I even used a strange concoction I’d purchased in Knockturn Alley, and nothing was revealed to me. This magic, whatever it was, was powerful, and sadistic. The shrill ringing in my ears only worsened as I failed to open the book to me, as if to consistently punish me for my failure. Then, I heeded Bellatrix’s advice. ‘Dark magic collects its price in blood.’
Of course. I searched the room for a knife, finding one in my Potions kit. I positioned the blade at my wrist, scraping at the skin. I clenched my jaw. Little red droplets splattered onto the page. I waited. Nothing happened. I groaned in frustration, once again digging in my bag for something, anything that might help. I cursed whoever had written this book, now seeing why they had left their name out of it. I cursed them for their thorough spell work. Then I found my ornate quill, and it dawned on me. Perhaps the book really hadn’t been claimed yet. I dipped the tip of the quill into the blood like a forbidden ink, flipping to the first page. In perfect penmanship, I wrote.
Elise Selwyn
My eyes widened as the blood seeped into the book and all its pages, before disappearing completely. I knew I’d cracked it when my name disappeared, and other, foreign words slowly appeared on the page. I frantically flipped through. Text appeared on every page of the book, ancient runes I didn’t recognize, revealing itself to me finally. I’d done it. This book was mine. This ancient tome, that had alluded even the Dark Lord himself, was now mine, and in my control. The ringing in my ears lessened, and became more of a low, promising hum as I read through the pages.
Ao3 | Masterlist
Draco Malfoy X Reader
Summary: Draco and Y/N get into an argument. Harsh words are spoken and Y/N gets injured.
Tags: Falling, pain, use of Y/N, no use of pronouns
“Grow up!”
Eyes wide you stared at your lover across the room. Your surprised face soon formed into an angry scowl. Fists clenched so hard it was surprising that blood hadn’t sprouted from your palms.
“Use your own advice for a change, Malfoy!”, you screamed at your boyfriend, watching him swiftly turn around to meet your eyes. You hadn’t used that nickname on him since you started dating. And using it now showed the level of your anger.
It was a stupid fight really. At this point, neither of you truly remembered the reason for it. You both had woken up on the wrong side of the bed- and being irritated, decided to lash out at each other. One thing led to another, and now you were here. Throwing curses and blaming each other for the stupidest things.
“Me? At least I act mature unlike someone.”
“Yeah? Well, that didn’t stop you from being you-know-who’s servant!” you spit out.
You wanted to take the words out as soon as they left your mouth. The dark lord was a touchy subject for him- reasonably so- and you tried your best to avoid it.
“Get. Out.”, Draco seethed, eyes blazed stormy gray, but still not enough to hide the hurt that flashed for a brief second.
“Fine!”, you shouted, more out of anger at yourself than him, as you picked up your belongings and stormed out of the room, “Don’t want to be near you anyway!”
You searched for your wand in the inner pockets of your robe and prepared to apparate back to your dorm. Noticing it empty, you probed around in the sleeves coming up with nothing.
“Oh for Merlin’s sake”
Sighing in frustration, you remembered that your wand was on Draco’s table.
In Draco’s room.
Where you were just fighting.
Your body practically begged to go back and get your wand. After all, it was basically a second arm for all wizards and witches.
However, your pride was bigger. And you rather get your wand back tomorrow than go back in embarrassment.
You marched towards the staircase, deciding to just use the floo network to go home.
However, being in the hurry you were, you failed to see a bump in the rug and slipped.
A scream left your mouth as you felt gravity do its work and pull you down. You tried to grab onto the railing, the wall, anything, but failed as you tumbled down.
After what seemed like an eternity, but was probably only a few seconds, you landed on the base of the staircase. Pain flooded your entire body as black spots danced around your vision. You felt something cool- or was it burning hot?- on your forehead drip down over your eye and color your sight red. The pain was unbearable, but it didn’t stop you from hearing a familiar voice scream out your name. From the ringing inside your head you heard footsteps rushing towards you.
“-/N!”
Arms went under your head and knee and you felt the cool ground move away from you.
“Y/N! Stay awake!”
You tried. You really did. But nothing seemed more appealing than the embrace of sleep at the moment.
“Please!”
The last thing you saw was pale blond hair before you welcomed unconsciousness with open arms.
The first thing that you noticed- or felt really in this case- was something soft near your fingers. You tried opening your eyes to see what it was. However, it was impossible. While you weren’t much of a morning person, opening your eyes wasn’t a struggle as it was now. It felt like someone had taped- no stapled them shut.
The sight once you finally pried open your eyes was not what you expected. Instead of your room, with the glowing stars your father had put up when you were six, or Draco’s familiar ceiling, you woke up to the ceiling of a familiar place.
St.Mungo’s
Sunshine filtered through the windows and shined upon a body on the chair next to your bed. It took you a moment to realize that it was Draco, sleeping with his head on his arms on your bed. He looked ethereal, like an angel. So much that you almost didn’t see the bags under his eyes and his paler than normal skin.
Maybe it was the sun, or the creaking of the bed as you tried to sit up, but Draco soon opened his eyes and woke up.
He blinked a few times, as if to get rid of the sleep still stuck to him.
“Y/n?” he mumbled as he sat up.
His eyes suddenly widened, “Y/N!”, and soon stong arms wrapped around your frame and pulled you closer to him.
You tried to open your mouth to say something, only letting out a dry cough.
He pulled away and swiftly moved towards the jug of water on the cabinet near the bed. Pouring some into a glass, he handed it to you, “Here, drink”.
You could feel him staring at you as you let the cool water wash down your throat. Gray eyes scanned your face, and when you finally looked up at him, you could see a crease between his eyebrows. He took your palm between his hands and started rambling,
“How are you feeling? Does anything hurt? Do you need me to go get the healer? Should I get food? Or wait- no- do you want to rest more? Tell me whatever you want-”
“-Love, love”, you interrupted him as you put your palm on his cheek, “it’s ok. I’m fine, just stay here”. You smiled as you watched him lean into your palm.
“I- I was worried…You were just laying there, bleeding, and there was so much blood.” You felt something drop on your hands. It took you a moment to realize that they were tears. Not yours. Draco’s.
“I’m sorry for shouting at you, I was just so irritated and-” his words got interrupted by your lips pressing against him in a soft kiss.
Draco never cried, and seeing him show his vulnerable side to you, especially after your harsh argument was a surprise indeed. Without a moment to waste you brought him closer to you, hugging him tight as his head fit into the crook of your neck.
“It’s okay, I’m fine” you repeated
“...”
“It wasn’t just your fault. I said some choice things too.” you chuckled, “next times how about we just talk hmm?”
“...”
“Now are you gonna keep being a crybaby or can we finally go home?”
A pillow hit your side and you laughed. Draco moved away from you, cheeks pink with a soft blush, but tears tracks now dry. A small pout was present on his face as he stood up from the bed and helped you up.
“Grow up” he muttered, earning a smack on the head from you as you both laughed, already forgetting the clash from yesterday.
summary:You and Draco grew distant for the first time ever in your relationship of two years.You are getting tired being the only one trying to fix things.
As the third week of December drew closer, the sky became gloomier with cold embracing the Hogwarts and its library became busier with scrambling students stressed out for midterm before the winter break.But this december not only brought cold to your school,but also to your relationship with Draco Malfoy,unfortunately there is no amount of sweater u can wear to recover from it.
''We both are just probably busy with studies,everything will go back to normal once the exams are over''
You try to comfort yourself as you tag your freezing hand inside your coat,remembering how Draco used to always scold you for forgetting gloves.He would hold your cold hands nonetheless,and put them in his coat for extra warmth. You felt a pang in your chest when u find yourself thinking about the memories again. No matter how hard you tried to ignore,you can't shake off the feeling of the way his eyes turned icy whenever he looks at you now.
You haven't talked to Draco properly for a week now. It's either he is studying or you are busy with essays. And in meal time in Great Hall, his cold galres and sharp replies drained your energy to talk at all. But, you can't just let it happen, not when you have spent your past two years falling head over heels for the blonde boy.So,you tried your best to pretend like nothing is wrong,like the physically painful tension between you and him doesn't exist at all. And finally,the exam is over before it snaps.
''Dray..do you wanna go to Hogsmeade together before the Christmas break? ''
His eyes are tense.His brows are frowned noticably. The pale and long fingers are folded far away from yours.
''I don't rlly know. I might have to go home ealier this year''
Lies.
''we can at least spend tonight together right?we can go to astronomy tower and-''
Then it snapped.
''No,Y/N .I don't want to. The exam just finished. Let me live''
It is like an ice bucket has poured over your head. Numb, lost and cold.
''..why'',you sobbed out .
''There is no why.I'm just tired. and we do not have anything to talk anyway,do we? Y/N...we spend our days in same routine:what's still there to talk. stop playing pretend. we both know we need some break''.
You desperately searched for any signs of intimacy in his eyes,any signs, just anything at all,but the silver orbs are colder than ever. A gust of wind rushed through and messed up his blonde locks. You felt a chill run down your spine.
''a break?''
Suddenly,everything start making sense to you. How he had time to run around from parties to parties but not for you.How his laughs faded when you entered the group conversation. How he dropped your hand in the hallway. How he hasn't hold u for a month now. The exam wasn't a cause,it was a mere excuse all along. He was falling out of love.
''not as in break but you know what i mean...'', his tone is soft with guilt lingering around. A heavy sigh left him. He gets closer to you awkwardly. Can this even be called as a hug? Instead of the warmth it used to give, it feels suffocated and forced. You shivered.
"whatever you mean Draco''
You are getting tired being the only one putting effort. Staring at his messy hair and his stressful figure, you've decided you are going to let this go. All these memories you made in two years, all the ''I can't live without you'' talk. All the sneaking between classes,making love. Love? Was it even there.
You dropped his hand. You ignored the uncertain guilt in his eyes. You turned your heel and walked away.
Draco never meant for this sort of thing to happen between two of you. You were precious. The way your soft touch traced along his face to comfort him whenever something worried him. The way you squeezed his hands with a smile whenever he felt the disappointment in himself. You saw things other could not see in him. Your lips brought love and peace he didn't even know exist in him. He didn't realize how he should be grateful for the things until they are gone. Now everything is gone. He thought he might feel free and less responsible once he is away from you. He put all of his stress and the pressure from his family on you. Merlin,he feels the terrible guilt ride in him.
He spent the entire holiday forcing himself to believe he did a right thing and he should feel more satisfied now. He didn't. His days became more terrible. He started to notice how clean his dorm used to be when you were around. He started to find himself subconciously looking for your presence in his sleep. The alone time he thought he needed start to haunt him down.
He waited. He waited for you to come back to him like you always did whenever he pushed you away. But he grew more restless day by day whenever he see you in the hallways and classes unbothered and calm sitting NOT next to him. For once in his life,Draco Malfoy knew he fucked up. He has lost you.
You and Your Twin Brother Harry have finally got the opportunity to leave the dursleys behind after you got the invitation letters to hogwarts the school for Wizards Like you, and Hagrid came to pickyou up. While Harry hesitated a bit to answer you instantly said "I'll go with you!" To Hagrid.
when you arrived in hogwarts
A young boy caught your eye and you were looking at him with a slight smile "Who are you looking at?" He said. You encountered him with a confident "You silly. I am Y/N Potter by the way! Do you want to be friends?" The boy started laughing "Why should I Draco Malfoy be friends with a Potter?" Your smile faded away as he said those words "Oh... I- Sorry.." You turned away as you looked at your brother who was listening to Proffesor McGonagall as she explained the rules in hogwarts.
During the sorting ceremony you were a bit nervous hoping to become a Gryffindor just like your brother and as your name was called out you walked up and sit down. The sorting head started to think as it was put onto your ahead "hmm You have high potential, plenty of carriage as well i see.." It mumbled "She's a Potter just like you so she'll probably be Gryffindor." Harry's new found friend Ron said. "Hopefully.." Harry said looking at You sitting on the chair "How about.. Slytherin!" The hat said and then was taken off your head "What? A Potter here in Slytherin?" Draco didn't know anything else to do then just laugh at You "Stop it Malfoy." You said sitting down at the Slytherin table. "This can't be possible. You are a Gryffindor as well Harry!" Fred, one of
the Wesley twins, said "Well the hat wanted to put me into Slytherin as well but it didn't as I told it not to.." Ron looked at Harry a bit confused but did not know what to say.
As the Year went by you tried to become friends with Draco but he kept ignoring you and pushing you away. Still giving up was not an option. As the second Year Started you saw draco at the diagon alley as you were getting your books at Flourish and Blotts he was secretly sneaking glances at you to make sure your okay while you were reading books in the crowd. He walked down the stairs as you were about to leave. "Oh hello draco! How was your summer break?" You asked the Blond with a smile on your face. "It was great because i didn't have to see you all day." He answered in a way that hurted you a lot. "Now now Draco be nice to her." Lucius, Draco father said in a polite tone. "What ever father.." said Draco and rolled his eyes. One day during class you caught Draco looking at you and waved him in which he just looked back at the teacher "Weird.." you thought. Later Draco randomly came up to you and jokingly said "hey Y/N how are your Parents?" You looked at him silently "Ohh wait I forgot. They're dead." He laughed "Maybe you should pay them a little Visit.." If only he knew what he'd done now. You weren't seen for the rest of the Year and draco got concerned something happened. "Potter. Where is Your sister." Draco said as he walked up to Harry. "I don't know where she went she's in Your house so wait untill later maybe you'll see her in the common room." But that didn't happane. Teachers and Students have been searching for you for a while and Years went by untill 2 Years later in Year 4 the truth came out.
"Dear Students i am very sorry to say this but We have been informed that Y/N Potter has taken her life due to some for us unknown reasons." Dumbledore said a lot of students were shocked, especially draco. He got up from his table and left the great hall hurriedly running to the bathroom. "this is all my fault.. Why did I have to say this to her..." he said to himself and looked into the Mirror. "I'm an idiot.. why didn't I just confess my feelings to her..?!" He noticed Harry standing behind him in the reflection of the mirror "what did you say to her?" Draco looked down at the Sink "Potter.. I was making fun about Your parents and told her she should visit them... I-I didn't know what was riding me and If i would be able to undo it i would do it just to confess my feelings!" Harry stared at the Blond. He was outrageous and just wanted to punch then Slytherin. And thats exactly what happened, Harry, full of hatred and anger punched Draco who just wanted to.. apologies. "Why would you do Such a thing?!" Harry said before he grabbed dracos shirt and pulled him closer. "Why did you have to even take the last Family member I had away from me.." he was about to punch the Blond again but luckily for Draco, Dumbledore pulled Harry away. "I know this might be hard for you Harry but Draco will get his punishmen." Dumbledore said.
Years have passed and Draco still could not get over the death of you. He was not able to really love again cause his heart still remained to you. Every day if he had time he would go to your grave and sometimes leave some flowers there "Blame it on me i was the one who ruined it.." he said standing in front of your grave..
Hope you liked the story and as aleays i'm open for requests!
Series Synopsis: Having been raised in a pureblood family obsessed with keeping the bloodline pure you’re betrothed at birth to a boy you’ve never met. Unaware of just how strange this is, you have few qualms with it, until you meet Fred Weasley and find that love is much more complicated than you ever could’ve imagined. But what happens when everyone is all grown up, and the real world can’t be stopped?
Genre: Angst
Content Warnings:
Angst
Death
Forced Marriage
Word Count: 3,516
“Sorry for the mess.”
You muttered softly as you unlocked the door to your apartment, sighing in relief at the sight of it. Your mother had called you foolish when you’d told her that you had no intention of breaking your lease with the landlord, but evidently she hadn’t taken Draco’s odd post war demeanor into account. He would stay anywhere if it kept him from that damned family manor, and that was becoming all the more evident as time inched forward. He had grown significantly less tense the further away you had traveled from his family home, and now that it was confirmed that he could stay elsewhere, that hint of a smile that you had seen during the wedding had returned to his lips once more.
“Nonsense.”
Was Draco’s only response to your previous apology, his words soft and almost uncertain as he turned to look at you, before suddenly dropping his gaze towards the ground, his hand fiddling with the ring on his finger once more.
“Is it uncomfortable?”
You asked suddenly, trying to make up for the heavy silence that was slowly filling your apartment. You didn’t want to feel uncomfortable here, it was all that you had of yourself and your comfort now that you were married, and if that changed you weren’t sure how you could ever remain sane.
Draco’s head snapped up to meet your gaze once more, his brow cocked in confusion as he tried to make sense of the question you had just asked him.
“I beg your pardon?” He asked sincerely, causing you to gesture down to the ring on his left finger.
“The ring,” You murmured, suddenly less sure of yourself as you tried to push forward with the conversation, desperate to keep the silence from eating away at you any longer. All of these months of hearing Fred’s voice so consistently had made you dreadfully afraid of what could be waiting on the other side of the sound he was almost always providing.
“You’ve been playing with it a lot.”
You clarified gently, clearing your throat in hopes that it might make your voice sound less weak as you continued.
“I thought it could be because it’s making you uncomfortable. I’m certainly not used to mine yet.”
You touched your ring finger as you said that last part, feeling the cool emeralds housed within their silver setting against your skin, a reminder of the promise you had made today, and the agreement others had made for you prior to your birth.
Draco nodded in understanding as you clarified before he cleared his own throat, a nervous smile gracing his lips as his gaze returned down to the ring on his finger. He seemed happy to have it there, and you wondered again if he had worn one there before.
“No, it isn’t uncomfortable.”
Draco’s voice was soft as he spoke, so different from the boy you had grown up with and the man you had thought you would be marrying prior to the war. The man you had been dreading lying to for the rest of your life.
“I uh...”
He trailed off, breaking into a chuckle while bringing one of his knuckles to his mouth, something you had seen him due a great deal of times when you were younger. He always did that when he was nervous, because back when his adult teeth were growing in, Astoria had told him he looked like a rabbit when he smiled. Afterward, he had taken to biting down on his knuckles when he laughed, and as he grew older, biting on his knuckles when his nerves got the better of him. You were surprised to know this, and found yourself aware that maybe this man before you wasn’t as different as the boy you had known as a child, before the stress of being the Malfoy heir had turned him into someone new.
You were broken out of your thoughts as Draco began to speak once more, his fist slowly lowering back down to his side, before it moved to his other hand once more, fiddling with his ring even as he talked about that very action.
“This is a little bit embarrassing, so please don’t think less of me, but...”
He began, letting out a small sigh as you motioned for him to continue, your expression soft and curious.
“I started wearing a ring on this finger when I began my attendance at Hogwarts. I didn’t want to give any of the girls there the wrong idea, and thought it would be best to let them know in advance that I was taken. Plus I uh... I thought it would be good practice for the real thing someday, but mostly it just led to this habit of fiddling with it when I think.”
You found yourself nearly wide eyed at Draco’s confession, unable to force a response to your tongue as you stared at him, watching as he continued to twist his silver band on his finger repeatedly.
“I never knew...”
You began quietly, watching as Draco looked up to meet your eyes as you spoke, letting you know that your next words should be chosen carefully. He was paying attention now, and slowly but surely you were getting the feeling that he always had been, even if you hadn’t noticed.
“I never knew you cared that much about our betrothal.” You finished softly, feeling yourself begin twisting your own wedding ring to keep your hands from shaking.
This was not how you had imagined your wedding night. That being said, although you would never admit it aloud, your wedding night dreams died with Fred Weasley, and anything that came after would always pale in comparison, because the most important piece of the puzzle was gone for good.
Draco laughed softy, a cool tone to his voice that you recognized from all of his in between years, the ones that rested between his gentle childhood and his tortured present. This sounded like the Draco that you had thought you could never know, the one that angrily stalked the halls of your once shared school, looking for a reason to argue with anyone on the off chance that it might earn him some praise from one of the many deceitful and hate filled patriarchal figures in his life. It never had. Perhaps now, that was why he had returned to that gentle childhood. Why he lived in this tortured present.
“I know you didn’t. I was always too proud to admit how I felt, but Y/n...”
That coldness you had heard before disappeared the second the man in front of you said your name, a softness returning to him that you had not even realized had momentarily faded away.
Draco was watching you intently now, his eyes staring into your own from where he stood just a mere two feet away, beside the door to the apartment that you supposed the two of you now shared.
“There was not one moment growing up where I wasn’t near bursting with excitement over the fact that I could call you my wife someday. Even if I never said it, and even if you never noticed, I swear to you that what I say is true. I felt a great deal of pride over being your betrothed, even when I knew the truth.”
Your eyebrows creased at that last part, confusion creeping into your expression as what he said started to sink in.
“The truth?”
You asked, your head tilting as you waited for a response, your breath caught in your throat and unwilling to spill forth as Draco chuckled once more, that shake returning to his head, as if he were exasperated or shocked by your response.
“The truth,”
Draco muttered, raising his gaze to meet your own again, taking multiple steps forward until he was less than a foot away, his eyes flickering down to the way your calves pressed back against the couch, as if he had cornered you there during your efforts to escape. For all that you knew, maybe he had. You could no longer recollect if you’d moved in response to his steps forward. You could barely breathe at all. The air was so heavy with something you couldn’t quite put your finger on, and for some reason you felt as if you could burst into tears at any moment.
“Is that you loved that Fred Weasley more than you could ever love me.”
You felt as if you had just been punched in the gut as Draco spoke these words, your balance faltering and ultimately failing as you toppled backwards onto the couch, your gaze turning into a blank stare as he continued.
“And I can’t even blame you.” Draco spoke, laughing cruelly under his breath, seemingly oblivious to your blank stare and your freshly seated position. It was as if he was lost in his own world, his words having as much power over him as they did you.
“I have never been much more than the monster my father wanted me to be.”
These words were whispered, as if the man speaking them wasn’t sure he wanted you to hear. As if he were hoping it was a secret he was telling, rather than a truth that you had long since accepted.
Suddenly, Draco’s eyes snapped up to meet yours once again, and when he found himself met with that blank stare, he seemed to understand immediately that he had said something he shouldn’t have.
“Y/n,”
He spoke, his tone concerned and almost pained as he knelt in front of you, his hand reaching out to grasp your own before he suddenly pulled back at the last second, as if afraid he would burn you with his touch.
“Salazar, I’m sorry.”
He muttered, running his hand through his hair before continuing his familiar ministrations on his ring, his eyes searching yours for any signs of emotion or life as his eyebrows creased with concern. You had never seen him look worried over anyone before, and it was this face of near horror that brought you back, the dim light of feeling returning to your eyes once more. If you could see yourself through your new husband’s eyes, you would have found yourself wondering if that light had been brighter before, but thankfully for you, the only eyes you had to gaze into right now belonged to the man in front of you.
“Y/n please say something, I didn’t mean to upset you, I just wanted you to understand...”
Draco let out another gravelly sigh before continuing, his hand raking through his platinum locks, messing up his carefully done wedding night hair.
“I don’t have any expectations for this marriage.” Draco continued, his hands moving to seek yours once more, only for him to stop himself again, his eyes squeezing shut as if he were struggling with some deep and rolling agony within.
“I know you loved him, and I don’t want you to think that I expect you to lo-”
“I never told him.”
You whispered suddenly, cutting Draco off before he could finish his sentence. Your voice was shaky and full of fear as you spoke, and as you looked deeper into your new husbands clear blue eyes, you found that your reflection looked just as terrified as you felt.
“What?”
Draco asked, his hand finally moving to rest almost weightlessly above your own, as if he wanted to help soothe whatever fears you had but didn’t know if he had the right to do anything more than a slight hover, the heat of his skin more prevalent than the actual touch of his hand.
“I never told him that I loved him. He was never supposed to know.”
You finished, that fear never leaving your eyes nor your voice even as you tried desperately to quell the shake of your body beneath the gaze of this sometimes familiar and sometimes unknown presence that you now called your husband.
Draco looked more confused than ever, slowly withdrawing his hand from above your own as he tried to understand what meaning your words held.
“Did I do something wrong by saying it aloud?”
He asked finally, his eyebrows still creased with curiosity and something close to fear that told you how bad he felt and how scared he was to have messed up.
Clearly, some things never changed.
“Oh, no, I just uh...”
You desperately searched for an answer to his question, trying to silence the deafening noise behind your eyes as you stood, dizzy and desperate to be alone.
“I just wasn’t prepared to have someone say it.”
You finished, knowing full well how nervous you sounded and how much of a lie it was.
“I’m so sorry, Y/n.”
Draco whispered in response, as if he had been waiting his entire life to say it. This apology was different from all of the others, and there was a pain within it that made you stop before you could excuse yourself to your bedroom.
You looked down to meet that strong gaze once more only to find it full of tears, a broken man behind those usually strong and sure eyes.
“Draco, I-”
“I’m sorry for being so selfish for so long. I’m sorry for never just admitting it to myself and letting you go. I wanted so badly to be a different husband, a better husband than the one that I had grown up under, and somehow I ended up worse.”
That cold and cruel chuckle returned as Draco turned his gaze downward, seemingly unable to look you in your eyes as he continued.
“If I had known what was going to happen, I never would have held onto you. If I had allowed myself to see it sooner, I wouldn’t have remained an obstacle on the path of you finding someone who actually deserved you. I have tried for so long now to convince myself that I never held you back, but I know it’s all a lie.”
Draco sniffled softly, his tears dripping to rest on his cheeks and slowly slope down his nose as he struggled to meet your eyes once more, his sincerest words yet forming on his lips,
“Please just know that I never wanted this to happen, that I would have set you free in a second had I been strong enough to admit to myself that you loved him far more than you ever could me. I never meant to do this to you, and I swear that I will spend every second of this marriage making up for what I’ve done, and what I never had the strength to do before.”
With those words, Draco straightened out, drying his tears on his jacket as he took a deep breath to steady himself once more.
Watching him as he desperately tried to tape the broken and guilt riddled pieces of himself back together felt wrong, so on shaky legs and with long held breaths you walked silently over to the linen closet, pulling out a comforter and a few pillows, which you dressed with carefully selected matching pillow cases, the act of choosing forcing you to consider anything but the conversation you had just had, and the voice that was raging in your mind.
“Thank you.”
Draco smiled genuinely as you handed the blanket and pillows over to him, his eyes reading your expression before you even had the chance to speak.
“I’m perfectly fine with sleeping on the couch for the time being.”
He stated calmly,
“I’m just grateful that I don’t need to stay back at the manor. I’ll gladly sleep on the sofa as long as it takes if it keeps me away from there.”
He nearly shuddered as he spoke, making you wonder once more what he must have endured there to feel so uncomfortable within its walls.
You watched as Draco settled in, making sure he had everything he needed before you ended up standing against the wall opposite the living room that he would be sleeping in, your hand poised over the light switch. You had said your good nights, pleasantries had been shared, and now the only thing left to do was turn the light off and leave. But even still, watching the blond laying there on your sofa like that, you couldn’t help but feel like you had to say something more.
“Draco I -”
You began softly, your voice shaky as tears threatened to spill over your cheeks just as they had done his not long prior.
“I know you’ll probably never believe me, but I want you to know that I don’t blame you.”
You said gently, feeling the confusing urge to comfort the man in front of you further, despite the fact that you had absolutely no idea how to do so.
“I was a coward. He was never meant to know, betrothal or not. Please don’t let this eat away at you the way I know so many other things do. You were a victim, not a villain. I have never seen you as the monster you think that you are.”
You finished quietly, not waiting for a reaction or a response to your words as you switched the light off quickly before taking long and gentle steps to your bedroom, latching the door behind you before you sunk down against it, finally allowing the tears to fall.
“I am so sorry Fred.”
You whispered weakly after a few moments of gentle sobs and painful hiccups, the agony in your words prevalent as you recalled the way that his pained voice had echoed around your mind when Draco had accidentally told him your biggest secret of all.
“You loved me?”
It had asked you, softly at first, as if in disbelief, before it increased in volume over and over and over again until you felt as if your head was about to split in two.
It had taken a painstaking amount of effort to not respond to him as he begged you to tell him that it was a lie, that choked up voice playing endlessly as he pleaded for an explanation.
“Godrich Y/n, I never made you explain what I saw before I died, and I never asked you why you never told me about this godforsaken betrothal, but I need you to tell me this isn’t true! I need you to say he’s making this up, or that this is some dream you can’t wake yourself up from! Tell me he’s lying!”
Your tears fell faster as you remembered those words, your body shaking in a nearly violent manner as you curled up on your side, wishing with everything you had that he were here to hold you together.
But he wasn’t.
You were all alone, an emptiness in your heart that you had not felt in quite some time. Since before you had heard his voice in your head for the very first time, just two days after his death.
“Please come back.” You pleaded, not caring if Draco heard you from the living room as you did.
There was a strong silence within the air, before that familiar voice appeared once more, making your tears fall faster, but your heart beat slower.
He wasn’t gone forever, at least not yet.
“I don’t know what to say.”
His voice sounded hopeless, and entirely humorless in nature. You had never heard him like this before, and it further solidified for you the fact that you weren’t just hearing things after all, something you had tried to convince yourself of for months following your best friend’s death.
It as an easier thing to accept than the idea that he was there within your mind, but not outside of it, never to be seen again. Oh how you wished that you could look into his eyes just one more time.
“Please don’t hate me.”
You whispered, more tears threatening to spill over as you awaited Fred’s response, your cheeks cold with half dried sadness.
“I could never hate you.”
His voice spoke soothingly, almost as if he were hurt that you could ever think such a thing.
There was a long silence between the two of you before finally, Fred spoke up again,
“I think that is the worst part of all of this,”
You could almost feel him sigh as you waited for him to continue speaking, your breath stuck once more within your strained lungs.
“I love you, Y/n L/n,”
His words sounded tearful as he spoke, as if his disembodied voice were crying the same way that you were.
“I was just too afraid to tell you. I was so sure that you could never love me back that I...”
Fred never finished that sentence, and for the rest of the night, you lay on the cold floor of your nearly empty bedroom, choking down tears in an effort to stop them from flowing endlessly down your face and into a puddle on the wood below.
summary : draco never really liked his birthday ever since the war has ended, but you were determined to change his mind and so did your son.
warning(s) : none
author’s note : i am so rusty with fluff .
draco didn't like his birthday, it reminded him of how he was a brat when he was a child. demanding everything to be placed at a silver platter .
ever since the war he felt utter shit, knowing kids his age at that time rarely get presents while he gets them whenever he wants.
thats why he stopped caring about his birthday.
but you obviously wanted to celebrate his birthday, and also congratulate him for stopping his hatred to muggleborns , and halfbloods. you and scorpius had something in plan when draco was asleep, the night before his birthday.
scorpius made a drawing of 3 stickmans holding hands, each one indicating the names. “best dada” “pretty mama” and “me”.
you baked dracos favorite cake, and got something really special for him.
a silver ring locket, with your family picture inside. you smile at the ring everytime you see it, you knew deep down this was going to be perfect.
and other gifts you got for draco, is just for the both of you at night. (ifykyk)
you quickly tiptoed with scorpius and gently placed the cake on the bed side table.
you signalled scorpius the wake draco up.. “HAPPY BIRTHDAY DADA!!!!!” scroupius greeted as he jumped onto the bed, and hugged the sleeping blonde.
draco immediately woke up and smiled at the toddler in front of him. “happy birthday darling!” you gave him a loving peck on his cheek .
“woah, whats all this? you do know i dont celebrate my birthday anymore” he chuckled. “well, yeah but we really wanna celebrate it just once” you said as Scorpius picked up his doodle to show his daddy.
“daddy heres my birthday present! me and mama made it” the smaller blonde proudly showed off, he looked and acted exactly like draco.
draco smiled at his child and hugged the both of you tightly. “thank you both, i really dont deserve the both of you.”
