Narcissa glances from the picture in the book back to her mess of yarn. There’s supposed to be a singular loop on the end of the needle, yet somehow, there are three, the latter two crossing over each other.
“There’s nothing for it…” She sets aside the project, making a mental note to reach out to Molly Weasley at their next women’s group.
“Mum, mum, look what I found!” A red-faced, sweat drenched Draco rushes around the corner, his small body ricocheting off the edge of the settee.
“Darling, what did I say about running in the house?”
“That it’s un–un–becconing.”
“Unbecoming,” Narcissa corrects as she brushes a hand through his damp curls.
“But look!” Draco raises his hands in offering, a small black bundle of fur clamped between his pale fingers.
“Darling,” exasperation laces Narcissa’s tone as she gears up to give Draco the don’t-bring-strange-animals-into-the-house spiel for the thirtieth time.
His smile drops and his hands loosen around the furball, the creature wriggling free and plopping to the cushion.
Narcissa sees now that it is a kitten—black and fluffy with bright green eyes and an unusual white marking running from its forehead across its left eye and cheek. The kitten’s eyes lock on the skein of yarn that Narcissa was attempting to make into a sweater. It crouches low before pouncing, all four feet aloft, body hurling through the air. The kitten’s claws make contact with the ball, nails embedding even as it lands unsteadily, body swaying to the side and tumbling, yarn in its paws, from the couch’s surface.
“Oh,” Narcissa gasps.
Draco rushes forward but the kitten is already up, chasing the rolling ball of yarn across the carpet.
“It is rather cute.”
“Can we keep him?”
“If your father agrees, I don’t see why not.”
“Father, mum said I can keep Harry!” Draco hollers, his young voice high and carrying through the house.
“Harry?” Narcissa prompts.
“He looks like Harry Potter, mum. Even has a lightning bolt on his head.”
Day 8: cider + corn maze + sweater + burn + cinnamon [read it here on AO3]
When the door shuts behind James, Regulus’s breath rushes out of him, and he slumps onto one of the stools for sale. He presses a fist to his mouth, trying to keep his smile at bay.
He feels light—hopeful, even. James is handsome and funny in an honest, self-deprecating sort of way, with strong hands and a sharp grin that makes him want to kneel at James’s feet. Everything is shaping up to be more than he could have imagined, better by far than his first impression of this town.
It’s what he thinks people mean when they say “homey.” It’s a hidden gem, it’s inviting, it’s—
It’s entirely too quiet.
Regulus rushes to his feet and peers around the corner: nothing. No movement, no sound. His heart picks up speed. “Draco? Harry?” He looks behind the counter, down each aisle, in the loft upstairs, the hammock, the storage room, the back porch where James and Monty exited.
summary: you and draco met when the two of you were six
a/n: this is the first chapter of a fic I probably won’t ever finish, but I think it works by itself too. it was originally written with an oc named Darcy Lovelace, so if you see either of those names, it just means that I forgot to replace it with y/n or y/l/n. please let me know if you see a mistake!
content: draco and reader are both kids cause it’s how they meet, fluff, fem reader (it’s necessary for the plot, sorry guys and non binary people), reader has a sister (named mabel)
Y/n adjusted her head band as she looked at herself in the mirror, moving it so the bow was to the top left of her head. A knock at her door drew her attention from her reflection,
"Come in." The door creaked open, showing the old age of the manor and revealing a house-elf.
"Dizzy has come to inform the young master that it is time to leave for the Malfoy's winter ball."
The journey to the unfamiliar manor was a short one, as all journeys are when Apparition is an option. Y/n clung to her mother's hand as they stepped through the grand archways of the Malfoy Manor. Her mother laughed and gave the girl a comforting squeeze right before they were greeted by the owners of the manor themselves.
"Ah— Mr. and Mrs. Y/l/n. It's lovely to see you," Mr. Malfoy shook the hand of Mr. Y/l/n as he spoke. Mrs. Malfoy on the other hand looked to the two young girls,
"Hello Mabel." Y/n’s sister smiled,
"Hello, Mrs. Malfoy." The woman's gaze shifted to the younger girl,
"And you must be Y/n. It's my pleasure to meet you."
Y/n received another squeeze of her mother's hand. This one wasn't full of reassurance but was strict, letting the girl know that it was time to put on her best face to impress those around them. So Y/n did just that as she smiled,
"The pleasure is mine, Mrs. Malfoy." This simple line earned a laugh from the Malfoy lady,
"My my, someone has amazing manners. I wish Draco was as sweet as you. I think he's around your age, six, right?" Y/n nodded in response, even though she was much older, while Draco was six and a half, she had just turned seven. "Well, Draco is in his play room. Would you like me to take you there? So you can play?"
She really didn't want to associate with the Malfoy boy at all. But she still gave another small nod, knowing exactly what's expected of her. Mrs. Malfoy held out her own hand, which Y/n took in place of her mother's before being led up the stairs.
She couldn't help but notice that the Malfoy's manor was much larger than the one she resided in. This was of course due to the Malfoy's being one of the richest wizarding family from the merging with the Black's, making them second only to Bellatrix LeStrange, who hardly counted due to her imprisonment in Azkaban. But this all went right over the girl's head, who's thoughts were more focused on the sparkling chandelier hanging in the corridor than the economics of the wizarding world.
"Draco, this is Y/n Y/l/n." His mother's words caused him to turn away from his mirror as he fixed a single hair that was out of place. "I expect the two of you to be on your best behavior, alright?"
The two children nodded, allowing Mrs. Malfoy to leave them with reassurance that they wouldn't knock over a priceless heirloom during their time together. Draco put his hand forward,
"Malfoy, Draco Malfoy." This information was very known to Y/n, but formalities were important to the high-class society they lived in. Y/n however didn't shake his hand, she instead took a step back,
"You have cooties." In three words, Y/n made Draco forget every etiquette lesson that's been drilled in his head as he stomped his foot on the floor in frustration,
"I do not!"
"Yes you do! My sister said that all boys have cooties. And she's older than us, so she knows more." Draco pondered this reasoning,
"Well, where's your sister now?"
"She's downstairs."
"Then we'll ask her," he walked past Y/n, leaving her no choice but to follow him downstairs.
With the combined efforts of Draco navigating the complicated manor and Y/n looking for her sister, they located the older girl in five minutes.
"Mabel!" Y/n picked up her pace, wanting to run, but knowing not to. "Y/n, tell Draco that all boys have cooties." Y/n looked Draco over,
"All boys have cooties." Draco frowned,
"How old are you?" Mabel smirked, knowing that like the Y/l/ns, the boy was raised to believe that age brings wisdom,
"Nine." His frown only deepened as he slowly accepted the fact that he had the pretend disease that plagues playgrounds around the world. "It's alright, when you turn seventeen and you're no longer a boy, it goes away."
"Is there a cure?" Draco asked with a voice full of concern." Mabel shook her head,
"Just becoming old." Y/n was practically bouncing from excitement of an idea she had,
"But there's a shot! Right? Don't you have the cootie shot? Can you give me the shot?"
"No, you can't have the shot."
"But, why?"
"Cause I don't want to give it to you." Y/n frowned at her sister's words,
"You're mean. Come on, Draco, she's being mean."
The two younger children stomped off, leaving Mabel laughing at their stupidity. They found themselves back where they started, in the room full of toys next to Draco's bedroom. Draco fell into a big chair that even an adult would drown into,
"I don't want to have cooties."
"But you heard Mabel, there's no cure. You just have to wait." His face lit up with an idea,
"Then we'll make a cure. And then you'll shake my hand, right?"
"Yes, I'll shake your hand when you no longer have cooties."
The children got to work, using Draco's kiddie potions set, fully equipped with different dyed vials of water and sugar with labels for different ingredients, and a cauldron for it to be mixed in.
"How did you get this?" Y/n asked as she added 'salt from the Dead Sea' (to dry up and kill the cooties, of course) to the solution.
"What? The potions set? I got it for Christmas last year. Santa brought it." Y/n scoffed, seeing where her extra half a year of life gave her wisdom above Draco's,
"Santa's not real."
"Yes he is! He gives me lots of presents every year."
"Well, my parents say that he's not real. And I've never gotten any presents from him." Draco stirred two circles in the cauldron, mimicking the action used to administer the cootie shot,
"They just say that because you're bad and don't get presents. They don't want you to be sad that you don't get presents."
"But I'm not bad. I eat all of my vegetables, even the brussels sprouts."
"I don't mind brussels sprouts." Y/n made a face of disgust,
"That's because you're weird." Draco dipped a vial into the brown sugar water and brought the glass to his lips, drinking the cure and making a face at the overwhelming sweetness.
"There. No more cooties. I'll be right back," He left through a door that connected his play room to his bedroom in a Jack and Jill manner.
He came back quickly with a green dragon plushie that Santa gifted him years ago that he had plucked off of his bed. It was something that had gotten him through many thunderstorms and fights between his parents. But now his father was insisting that it be thrown away. That boys shouldn't really have a stuffed animals anyways.
"Here, now you have a gift from Santa," he held the dragon out to Y/n. "I got him when I was little." Y/n shook her head,
"That's yours. I can't take it."
"But my father will get rid of him. Then he'll be sad. I think he'll like your house better than the trash." She took the plushie from him and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek,
"Thank you, Draco." The small act of affection was something Draco wasn't used to so it very quickly raised heat to his cheeks. His fingers ghosted over where her green apple chapstick clung to his skin. She backed away and offered him her hand, "And now I can shake your hand."
"C—can I have another kiss instead?" She smiled and gave him another peck on the cheek,
"Of course. All you have to do is ask."
It was no exaggeration to say that Narcissa Malfoy and Y/m/n Y/l/n were already picking flowers for a future wedding when they saw how close the two grew in a mere few hours.
