Loyalty
Draco Malfoy x Reader
Summary: During the Battle of Hogwarts, you, a fellow Slytherin who’s been secretly allied with the Order, get cornered by Death Eaters in the Room of Requirement. Draco, torn between his family’s expectations and his hidden feelings for you, defies orders to protect you, leading to a chaotic escape and a heated confrontation about loyalty and trust.
CW: violence, near-death experience, intense arguments, war-related trauma, mild blood/injury, angst with a touch of fluff
Requests: OPEN <3
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The air in the Room of Requirement was thick with smoke and the metallic tang of magic gone wrong. The Battle of Hogwarts raged beyond the walls, spells cracking like thunder, screams echoing through the castle’s ancient stones.
You crouched behind a pile of splintered furniture, your wand gripped tightly, your heart hammering so hard it felt like it might shatter your ribs. As a Slytherin, you’d walked a razor’s edge for months, feeding information to the Order while wearing the mask of a loyal pure-blood. But now, in the chaos of war, that mask was slipping, and the Death Eaters had you cornered.
“You thought you could play both sides, didn’t you?” snarled a voice, low and venomous. Crabbe, his wand raised, loomed over you, his face twisted with glee. Behind him, Goyle and a wiry Death Eater you didn’t recognize closed in, their spells lighting up the cluttered room in flashes of green and red. “The Dark Lord doesn’t tolerate traitors.”
You didn’t flinch, though fear coiled in your gut. “I’m not the one hiding behind a master who’s too scared to show his face,” you shot back, your voice steady despite the tremor in your hands. You flicked your wand, sending a burst of Stupefy that caught Goyle off-guard, but Crabbe was faster, his curse grazing your shoulder, searing pain blooming across your skin.
You stumbled, your back hitting a teetering stack of crates, and for a moment, you thought this was it. This was the end, caught in the crossfire of a war you’d tried to navigate without losing yourself. But then a figure burst through the smoke, his silver-blond hair catching the light of a stray spell.
Draco Malfoy.
“Crabbe, enough!” His voice was sharp, cutting through the chaos like a blade. He stood between you and the Death Eaters, his wand raised but not aimed, his posture rigid with something you couldn’t place.
Crabbe sneered, his wand still trained on you. “She’s a traitor, Malfoy. You gonna defend her? Thought you were one of us.”
Draco’s jaw clenched, his pale eyes flickering to you for a split second before hardening again. “I said back off,” he snapped, his voice low but laced with a dangerous edge. “You don’t get to decide who lives or dies.”
The wiry Death Eater laughed, a cold, grating sound. “Your father won’t like this, boy. Step aside, or you’re next.”
You saw the hesitation in Draco’s stance, the way his grip on his wand tightened, the way his shoulders tensed like he was carrying the weight of a thousand bad choices.
You’d known him for years. You’d shared classes, traded barbs, caught glimpses of the boy beneath the bravado, but you’d never seen him like this, teetering on the edge of defiance in a way that could cost him everything. And it was for you.
“Draco, don’t,” you hissed, struggling to your feet, ignoring the pain in your shoulder. “Get out of here. They’ll kill you.”
He didn’t look at you, but his voice was low, almost a growl. “Shut up, Y/N. I’m not leaving you to die.”
Before you could argue, Crabbe raised his wand, a curse forming on his lips, but Draco was faster. “Expelliarmus!” he shouted, disarming Crabbe with a force that sent his wand skittering across the floor. The Death Eater lunged, but you were ready, your own spell, impedimenta, freezing him mid-step. Goyle, recovering, charged, but Draco tackled him, the two crashing into a pile of debris with a sickening crunch.
“Run!” Draco yelled, scrambling to his feet, grabbing your arm. You didn’t hesitate, the two of you sprinting through the Room of Requirement as it began to shift, walls groaning and objects toppling. A jet of green light missed your head by inches, singeing the air, and you felt Draco’s hand tighten around yours, pulling you toward a hidden exit you’d used to slip messages to the Order.
The corridor beyond was crumbling, stones falling like rain, the castle itself seeming to rebel against the violence within. You stumbled, your injured shoulder screaming, but Draco’s arm was around your waist, half-carrying you as you navigated the maze of collapsing hallways. Spells exploded behind you, shouts fading as you put distance between yourselves and the Death Eaters, but the danger wasn’t gone.
You reached a narrow alcove, a forgotten passageway barely lit by a flickering torch. Draco pushed you inside, his breath ragged, his face streaked with ash and sweat. He leaned against the wall, his wand still clutched tightly, his eyes scanning the corridor for pursuit. You slid to the ground, your back against the cold stone, pain and adrenaline making your head spin.
“What the hell was that?” you demanded, your voice sharp despite the exhaustion. “You just painted a target on your back, Draco. For me. Are you insane?”
He turned to you, his expression a storm of conflicting emotions. “You’re welcome,” he snapped, his voice biting but unsteady. “Or would you rather I’d let Crabbe curse you into oblivion?”
“You didn’t have to do that!” you shot back, wincing as you shifted, your shoulder throbbing. “You could’ve walked away, saved yourself. Why risk everything for me? You’ve made it clear where your loyalties lie.”
His face twisted, and he stepped closer, his voice dropping to a low, furious whisper. “You think I wanted this? To be stuck between my family and—” He stopped, his breath hitching, his eyes searching yours like he was trying to find an answer he didn’t have. “You don’t get it, do you? I couldn’t let them hurt you. Not you.”
The words hit like a spell, stealing your breath. You stared at him, the torchlight casting sharp shadows across his face. For years, you’d danced around each other, allies in secret, bound by stolen moments in the Slytherin common room, late-night talks about a world neither of you could fully belong to. But this was different. This was real.
“Why?” you asked, your voice softer now, though it trembled with the weight of the question. “Why me, Draco? You’ve got everything to lose. Your family, your name, your life. Why throw it away for someone who’s already a traitor?”
He laughed, a harsh, broken sound that held no humor. “Because you’re the only thing that makes sense anymore,” he said, his voice raw, like he was tearing the words from somewhere deep. “This war, my family, the Mark—” He yanked up his sleeve, revealing the Dark Mark branded into his skin, its edges stark against his pale flesh. “It’s all poison. But you… you’re the one thing I can’t let them take.”
Your heart pounded, a mix of fear and something warmer, something dangerous. You pushed yourself up, ignoring the pain, and stepped closer, close enough to feel the heat radiating from him, the faint tremble in his frame. “You’re an idiot,” you said, but your voice cracked, betraying you. “You could’ve died back there. I could’ve lost you.”
His eyes widened, just a fraction, and then he was closer, his hand hovering near your face, hesitant, like he was afraid to touch you. “You think I’m not scared of losing you?” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Every time you sneak off to play spy, every time you put yourself in their crosshairs, I—” He stopped, his throat working, and when he spoke again, his voice was softer, almost pleading. “I can’t do this without you, Y/N. I don’t want to.”
The confession hung between you, fragile as the flickering torchlight. The castle shook, a distant explosion reminding you of the war raging just beyond the walls, but in this moment, it was just you and Draco, two broken pieces trying to fit together in a world that wanted to tear you apart.
You reached out, your fingers brushing against his, and he flinched, like the touch burned. But then he grabbed your hand, his grip tight, desperate, and pulled you closer, his forehead resting against yours. His breath was warm, uneven, and you could feel the rapid thud of his pulse where your hands met.
“Don’t do that again,” you whispered, your voice fierce despite the tears prickling your eyes. “Don’t throw yourself in front of a wand for me. I can’t.. Draco, I can’t lose you either.”
He didn’t answer, not with words. Instead, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you against his chest, careful of your injured shoulder but holding you like you were the only thing keeping him upright. You buried your face in his neck, the scent of him grounding you in a way nothing else could. His heartbeat was a steady rhythm against your cheek, a reminder that he was here, alive, with you.
“We’re not safe yet,” he murmured, his lips brushing your hair, the words more a promise than a warning. “But I’m not letting you go. Not now. Not ever.”
You pulled back just enough to look at him, his face inches from yours, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that made your chest ache. The war was still out there, the danger still real, but in this crumbling corridor, with his arms around you and the torchlight fading, you felt something shift.
“Then we fight together,” you said, your voice steady now, a vow as much as his. “No more secrets. No more sacrifices.”
He nodded, a small, almost imperceptible smile curving his lips, and for the first time that night, you saw the boy you’d always known, not the heir or the Death Eater, but Draco. Flawed, fierce, and yours.
“Together,” he echoed, and as he leaned in, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that was soft but desperate, you felt the world fall away, leaving only the two of you, holding on through the chaos, a light in the dark.
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