#〔 ও 〕 ─── 𝐋𝐔𝐍𝐀'𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐒

[pctterswprld]

vena amoris

pairing: draco malfoy x slytherin!fem!zabini!reader

request: ok hello hello hello 😵‍💫 i have a request but only if u write for draco!! if not, please do ignore this.

i was kind of brain-rotting about this for a while now, so hear me out even if this might not be the best description ever. T__T

so, reader could be in the same house or not, this isn’t exactly a huge part of the plot. but draco has kind of been crushing on reader for a while, but reader keeps pushing him away—in a sense that they would keep denying draco’s attempts at wooing them, and would constantly reject anything he gets them (firm believer of draco's language being gift giving, at least one of them)

so clearly draco is like so whipped he grows so out of character and gets teased by his peers 😭 the ending is up to you, but i picture this as a fluffy (maybe the pushing away contributes to a bit of an angst factor) fourth or fifth year draco fic. your writing is so muah, by the way 🫂 much love, xx! ~ anon.

word count: 5,269 words (woah)

warnings: FLUFF, reader is blaise's twin (slay), a shit ton of swearing (sorry), theodore nott smoking his iconic cigarettes, reader kissing draco at the end, not proofread!

author's note: IM SO BAD WITH WARNINGS SO PLS LMK IF I MISSED ANYTHING. i kind of included high valyrian (as in the language from game of thrones + house of the dragon) bc im currently in my asoiaf era so YEAH. also, anon, i'm sorry if i botched this, i kind of messed up the end but this has been sitting in my inbox for so long; I REALLY HOPE YOU ENJOY<3

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AS SNAPE DRONED on about Wit-Sharpening Potions and their advantages, you began fiddling with your silver bracelets, seeming to zone out of the lesson as the thought of dragons entered your mind. Your tongue licked your bottom lip rimmed with strawberry-flavoured gloss whilst you acted as if you were paying attention, flitting your eyes over to the back of Professor Snape’s greasy-haired head.

At this moment in time, you were bored out of your mind. There was nothing more riveting than the words of your historic fiction books, often containing stories about families with the blood of their dragons running through their veins. Instead, you were here in Potions class, preparing for your approaching OWLs, your chin resting in the palm of your hand as your eyelids fought to stay open. You did not even have the comforts of your twin brother, the well-revered Blaise Zabini, who had begun skipping class to see his “greatest love” (his words, not yours), Luna Lovegood. Others thought her to be a strange girl, especially because her mother was a powerful witch. Though Pandora Lestrange (who had never fitted in with her family) was known for her skills and her friendship with Regulus Black, she married Xenophilius Lovegood, who was now the editor of the Quibbler. He was stranger than his daughter, and many students theorised that it was him who filled Luna’s head with such… Such bizarre assumptions.

You, much to one’s dismay, quite liked the fourth year. Luna was often correct with her words and had interesting stories about her mother, to whom you had admired dearly.

Thankfully, something had caught your gaze. Unfortunately, it seemed to be much worse than the lecture you were enduring. Your eyes widened at the sudden appearance of a paper sparrow, the bird flying around in the air as it landed in the palms of your hands. You pulled a face, glimpsing at the faces around the godforsaken dungeon before stopping at a particular platinum-haired, blue-eyed boy, gazing at you with a goofy grin as the confusion written on your face contorted into vast annoyance.

The boy you met eyes with was the one and only Draco Malfoy. Son of the ‘wonderful’ Lucius Malfoy and beautiful Narcissa Black, he would’ve been raised with privileged views about the wizarding world, uttering vile words against those ‘below’ him and his maniacal pureblood ancestry. Quite frankly, you  had hated Malfoy ever since first year, regretting you had ever spoken to him because now…

Now he would not leave you be.

It had been five years since your first encounter. Draco had ensured that over the course of the half-decade, he’d never leave your holy presence. You could not, for the life of you, figure out what his obsession with you was about. Yes, you were pureblooded. Yes, you were Slytherin. Everything else about you did not, at all, reflect his persona.

Except, perhaps, his ever-repeating threats. The only difference between yours and his words against others was that you always had the will to act on them.

You were never one for affection. In the five years you’d been in this school, you hadn’t obtained a single crush. Kisses were shared in your fourth year with a Ravenclaw, but that was it. Your mother, the famed woman who had married seven husbands, but had died tragically and had left her with mounds of gold, had always taught you to not waste your time with boys in your academic years, for they were merely children. Instead, you should wish for a man, one like your father (who was also dead, but had died because of a disease when you and Blaise were young. Your mother still yearned for his presence daily).

You didn’t bother opening up the sparrow, knowing that it merely contained his one-hundredth love confession. What you did in reply was a little cruel, but you did not care. Instead, you crumpled the bird into a little ball right before him, seeing Draco’s expression crumble as you wore your signature sarcastic smile, throwing the paper ball behind you, huffing before looking back at Snape, who now had eyes on you.

“Miss Zabini,” Snape sounded out quietly, you realising that he had just witnessed you discard parchment across his floor. “Another brilliant display of Slytherin’s impeccable manners, I see,” he reprimanded, sarcasm encasing his tone as you refrained from correcting him. “Perhaps you’d like to continue this performance by littering the entire dungeon, just to make sure everyone is fully aware of your utter disregard for cleanliness and decorum.”

You pressed your lips together, hearing the quiet sniggers from other houses enter your ears as you exhaled through your nose, meeting Draco’s stare before glancing at Snape.

“I apologise, Professor,” you replied meekly, though not regretfully. Snape recognised this, but he did not say anymore, returning to what he said prior the supposed interruption.

Sighing to yourself after hearing another cry for your attention, you turned your head at the sudden ‘psst!’ from across the dungeon, the irises of your eyes growing dark as Draco shot you a wink. The sudden glint of his silver snake ring caught your eye, causing you to raise an eyebrow out of interest. Yet, you regained composure, tutting at his behaviour, staring at him no longer.

Draco Malfoy would be the death of you. The funniest thing of all was that he would not be delighted if such things ever came to be true.

In the corners of the Great Library, you sat alone, your eyes widened with amazement as you whispered the words of a foreign language unbeknownst to many, smiling as you began to uncover the secrets of your fictitious world. However, from across your table, Draco and his small band of friends (consisting of Theo, Blaise, and Pansy) sat with their own share of textbooks. They did not, of course, share the same interest as you did. Draco kept a watchful eye, his chin resting in the palms of his hands, the pupils of his blue eyes dilating into hearts as Theo and Pansy shared a disgusted look. They weren’t disgusted by you, but Draco’s continuous rants about you.

“Merlin, isn’t she gorgeous?” Draco murmured, practically drooling over the pages of some novel as Blaise snatched it from under him, shaking his head as he sighed.

“I know that. She is my sister,” Blaise grumbled, his knuckles resting on his forehead. He whispered into Theodore’s ear, extremely bothered. “I cannot take this love-sick nonsense any longer—”

“You aren’t very good at whispering,” Pansy mocked, twirling her quill as she leaned into her seat, smirking at the fact that Draco hadn’t heard a single word.

“You’re acting like you hadn’t been doing the same with Lovegood the last month,” Theo pointed out, matching Pansy’s smugness as Blaise rolled his eyes.

“I haven’t been following Luna around for the last five years!” Blaise retorted, leaning back in his seat as he watched Draco twist his ring around his finger.

“She was staring at my ring earlier. Should I give it to her?” Draco suggested, no one paying attention to him as Pansy piped up.

“Perhaps I would be a better match for [Y/N/N],” Pansy joked, getting a reaction out of both Draco and Blaise.

“NO!” They said simultaneously, causing Pansy to tsk as she rested her legs on the edge of the wooden table. Draco then stood up, taking in a deep breath as Blaise furrowed his eyebrows at him. He would have protested, but Draco had already sauntered off towards your desk.

“Balerion... Zȳhon perzys iksin hae zōbrie hae zȳhon ñelly, zȳhon tīkuni sīr rōvabona giez lenton sia ipradārin bē isse pōja sȳndor skori ziry rēbagon,” you read fluently, biting your bottom lip from smiling ever so widely as you read the Valyrian words with awe. Your necklace dangled from your neck, hitting the constant stripes of your loose, Slytherin tie as you looked up suddenly, hearing someone clear their throat.

“Merlin’s left fucking tit,” you seethed, snapping your book shut as you met the one and only Draco Lucius Malfoy with a hard gaze, pushing your novel away from the platinum-haired boy so it didn’t feel his stench.

“Hello, [Y/N],” Draco replied, his voice ten times softer than yours (was your tone ever gentle?) as you ran your hands through your hair.

“I do not understand why you keep bothering me—”

“A gift,” Draco interjected, aggravating you even more as he took out his left hand, removing his ring that bore a snake. You furrowed your eyebrows, realising that it was the same ring you had eyed earlier and you stood up abruptly, looking up at his towering figure.

“A-are you serious—?” you began, disbelieved.

“I know how much you like your accessories and this would look great with your Yule Ball dress—”

“I do not want the stupid ring and I’m not even going to the—”

“It would look better on you than on me—”

“Shut up,” you groaned, not understanding how gravely Draco felt for you as he became quiet almost immediately, almost like an obedient dog. You were a little surprised, but you feigned nonchalance. “Listen, I appreciate the offering, but I looked at it for not even ten seconds! That does not mean I actually want it, Malfoy.”

Draco remained silent, almost like he was contemplating her words as her chest heaved of simmered frustration. And then, he nodded, giving you a brief smile before turning around, heading towards the Library’s exit. You pulled another face, irritated beyond compare before stuffing your hands in the pockets of your robes.

That was until you felt a cold metal in the right one.

You pulled it out, cursing under your breath as your head cocked towards Draco’s friend group, where your brother also sat. Scoffing at Draco’s notion, your feet carried you to Blaise, where you slammed the ring on his table, causing Theodore to sit completely upright.

“Well, hello there, love—” Theodore began with his deep voice, only to be swatted on the head by Blaise.

“Blaise, I swear on Salazar’s grave, if you do not get Malfoy to leave me alone, I will feed your organs to our dead stepfather,” you hissed, leaning forward as Pansy bit her bottom lip, fighting the urge to grin.

“Which one?” Blaise remarked, his eyes still trained on his book as you snatched it out of his hands, giving him a warning look as he sighed. “Just accept the ring—”

“NO!” You yelled, leaving the ring on the table as you thudded the novel against its wood before Theodore, once again, jumped at the noise as you left, leaving a vexed Blaise, an exasperated Irma Pince (who had flinched at the sudden outburst, and Pansy), who seemed to be falling in love with you every second.

As the soles of your Doc Martens entered your Common Room the following week, you made your way over to the couch, rubbing your wrists because of the hair ties that had strangled them. Your gaze had been on them the entire time, so long that as soon as you looked up, a few stares were coming your way, wrinkling your eyebrows as you looked them up and down. It was natural for some Slytherins—mostly girls—to dislike you purely because of Blaise. Not your twin specifically, but they were jealous of the attention you received from his friends, Theodore and Draco. It was the same for Pansy, even though (as much as you admired her) she had been horrible to everyone she’s ever met.

In all respects, you were not rude. You just didn’t like talking with people. A totally understandable prospect, right?

Back to the situation at hand, you had just approached the couch, freezing when you saw the amount of people huddled around an object on the sofa. You tutted, weaving your way past, most likely stepping on someone’s toes. You only wanted to sit down and rest your feet.

“Salazar’s sakes, can you move—?!” You began to raise your voice, but your words quickly died down in your throat, noting the extremely large package resting on the velvet cushions of the emerald couch. You glanced at the girl beside you, recognising her to be Daphne Greengrass, who smiled slightly before handing you an envelope.

“It’s for you…” She nodded awkwardly, giving the box a glance before turning away from you. You looked at the envelope, seeing that the seal wax was in your favourite colour, the actual symbol being a dragon.

Curious, you opened it, your fingers lightly grazing the parchment as your eyes moved along the page, the cursive letters peaking your curiosity. There was a dry flower taped to the note and you picked it off with care, the corners of your mouth briefly curling when you saw your favourite rose, looking fresh.

‘Dearest [Y/N],

I hope this note finds you well. As the annual ball approaches, I wanted to extend an invitation to you. I've chosen a dress and jewellery set that I believe would compliment your elegance and beauty. Please consider it a gesture of goodwill, with no expectations or strings attached.

 I wanted to offer this gift and extend an olive branch in the hope that we can enjoy a pleasant evening together, even if it's just as friends. If you still decide not to attend with me, I completely understand and respect your choice.

Wishing you happiness and looking forward to whatever the future holds for us, whether as friends or acquaintances.

Sincerely,

D.M.’

“How romantic,” Pansy’s voice suddenly appeared against your ear, a smirk tugging on her lips as she looked you up and down, seeing you eye the box with agitation. You cock your head to face her, your lips pressing together.

“Go away, Pans,” you mumbled, scrunching the note up as you shoved it in your pocket. You kept the rose, however, safely in your other pocket, too pretty to be destroyed. You picked up the box, throwing a look to whoever else that dared to gawk at you before descending up the staircase towards your dorm with a huff.

“Did she like it?” Draco’s voice suddenly boomed in Pansy’s ear as she jumped, pushing the blonde boy away, still gazing at where you had gone.

“She hasn’t even opened it, you twat,” Pansy retorted, walking past him as she made her way towards Theo, giving him a pleading look as he pulled the cigarette from between his lips.

“What?” He asked in a hushed voice, but immediately widened his eyes when Draco began nearing them. “Shit—”

“Did she like the rose?” Draco asked once more, his gaze becoming frantic as he looked at the stairwell. Theo pinched the bridge of his nose, stubbing out his cigarette as he tossed it aside.

“I mean, she kind of smiled—”

“She smiled?!” Draco guffawed, his lips curving into a wide grin as he sighed dreamily, sitting on the armchair beside Theo. Both Pansy and Theo shared another look as the short-haired girl sucked in a breath, forcing a smile on her lips.

“I wouldn’t say that, Draco. Like, she was a little flattered that someone knew her favourite flower—”

“Rose.”

“Flower,” Pansy repeated, feeling irked as she crossed her arms. “But the smile dropped as soon as she saw it was you who gave her the dress.”

“She smiled,” was all Draco said, gleeful as he leaned into his seat, staring at the ceiling as he began to daydream.

“Fucking hell,” Theo muttered, shaking his head as he ran a hand through his brown hair. “What are we gonna do with this kid?”

“You’ve got to be fucking shitting me.”

You had unwrapped the box. You had taken out the dress. You had taken out the jewellery, as well as the shoes and whatever else. You expected to hate everything in the gift box, predicting that you would’ve shredded the gown to pieces by now

But this guy had bought a dress so ethereal that it had suited all your tastes. You were satisfied with what was in front of you.

Donned with sequins, the dress was in a mermaid-cut style, which would’ve accentuated your curves perfectly. The bodice had a perfected pleated detailing on the waist, the gems glowing under the light of your room as your fingers itched to trail across the silk. The gown featured romantic puff sleeves which would line up your chest with a flattering square neckline. Overall, it was an airy dress that reached to the floor, creating a beautiful silhouette that would make you glow, the ivory satin of the dress increasing your beauty since it contrasted with your skin tone perfectly.

The jewellery was a whole different story. Draco had bought stones so expensive that you didn’t think you’d be able to wear them, the necklace could potentially weigh your neck down. The actual diamonds were in your favourite colour, but the crystals were silver and would rest above your cleavage excellently. There was also a matching ring with the same diamond.

Hesitantly, you reached for the ring, trying it on every finger. Shuddering, you raised your eyebrows, realising the ring would only fit on your actual ring finger. You scoffed, tossing the ring back into the box, disregarding the crème-coloured heels as you sat on the edge of your bed, head in your hands.

You were lost. This was too much. The dress was gorgeous. Simple, but exquisite. The jewellery was impeccable, and you wondered momentarily if these jewels actually belonged to the Malfoy family.

You turned your head, beginning to tug on your bottom lip with your teeth as you jigged your thighs up and down, at a crossroads. You couldn’t wear this and not go with Draco. That would just be downright cruel.

Damn, you began to think. Damn, damn, damn.

“Blaise.”

No response.

“I know you can hear me.”

No response.

“Your book is upside down.”

“I think the fuck not,” Blaise shot back, checking to see if Draco’s statement was correct. Blaise narrowed his eyes, closing them fleetingly as he jerked his head to the side, meeting the blue, wide-eyed boy’s face with exasperation.

“Stop asking me about my sister.”

“No.”

“Merlin’s fucking balls, Malfoy—”

“I just want to know if she’s going with me tonight. It’s been days since I’ve given her the dress! I haven’t gotten an answer!” Draco interjected, his hands clasped in front of him, almost as if he was begging Blaise. His best friend slumped in his seat, dropping his book onto the table before him as he placed his hands behind his head.

“I. Do. Not. Know,” Blaise reaffirmed, granting him a sarcastic smile, his eyes locking onto someone else as he let out a groan.

You had entered the study hall, eyes scanning the classroom before they landed on your twin brother. You sighed in relief, fiddling with your watch as you cursed, noting it was five minutes past six.

As you stood before Blaise, you made eye contact with Draco, curtly nodding at him as you cleared your throat.

“Where’s Pansy?” You asked quietly, looking around the room once again to see if she was there. Blaise shrugged, which didn’t help you at all. “What the fuck do you mean by that?”

“I don’t know.When will people stop asking me questions I don’t have the answer to?” Blaise  questioned, causing you to roll your eyes before you fled, rushing down the hallways towards the dungeons.

Draco was staring at Blaise expectantly, his lips pressed together as he leaned forward. “Well?”

“End my life already,” he grumbled, closing his eyes. “She nodded at you. Which means she’s going.”

“With me?”

“No. Cormac McGlaggen.”

“WHAT—?!”

“SHUT UP.”

Meanwhile, you had found Pansy making out with some girl from Hufflepuff. Sighing, you pulled her away from the girl, causing the other to feel embarrassed as Pansy pulled your hands off her.

“What’s your problem?” Pansy muttered, fixing her hair as you threw her a look, smiling once you saw that the Hufflepuff had scurried off.

“I… need a favour,” you shrugged, smiling awkwardly as your lips thinned. She pulled a face, causing you to shove her shoulder.

“What is it, then?” You puffed your cheeks, looking around the hallway as you fiddled with your hands behind your back, wanting to pull out your hair.

“Needyoutodressmyhair,” you talked under your breath, causing Pansy to furrow her eyebrows as she crossed her arms.

“Eh?” You threw your head back, staring at the ceiling as you squeezed your eyes shut.

“I need you to dress my hair.”

A gasp escaped Pansy’s lips, her hands across her chest as she tilted her head, smiling mockingly as smiled at her back bitingly.

“Your first thought was me? Aw, [Y/N]!” Pansy waved you off, sighing contently, you having enough of her as you grabbed her wrist, dragging her away to your dorm.

You had waited until everyone else was gone to exit the Slytherin Common Room, already infected with nerves as you stepped carefully across the floor, slowly walking towards the Great Hall. Surprisingly, you had finished getting ready (with the help of Pansy and a lot of magic) in under two hours, leaving you enough time to make sure you didn’t trip on the way to the Yule Ball.

You didn’t know what Draco had worn, wanting to see what he looked like—only to make sure he didn’t make you look bad. Pansy had done your eye makeup since you didn’t know how, your friend going for a [Y/F/C] eyeshadow palette that winged your eyes. Your lip colour was as deep as the richest of raspberries from the Forbidden Forest. Your hair was in a braided crown, white daisies blooming in the tresses of your locks as the rest of your hair flowed down, the length ending at your middle-back. Large stones hung from your ears, matching with your necklace that felt heavy on your collarbone.

Heels clicking against the stone of the castle, you finally got to the staircase that led straight to the Great Hall. You gripped the wall anxiously, Draco’s ring on your right ring finger as you peeked around the corner, eyes softening (only slightly) once your eyes had landed on your date.

From what you could see, Draco looked as handsome as he always was—you’d never admit that to his face. Draco was dressed in a robe tuxedo, his dress shirt and bowtie the same ivory white like your gown. The buttons of his shirt sparkled under the flames of the torches in the hallway as he checked his watch, scratching his chin as he waited for you. He also wore a black cumberbund, to your astoundment, his robes as dark as the bewitched night sky in the Great Hall. Lastly, his signature snake ring, the one you refused to keep the other week in the Library, bore his middle finger on his right hand, which defined the veins in his hand as he flexed it.

Now or never, now or never, now or never, you repeated in your mind, silently stepping out of the shadows. Your heels clicked against the first step, causing Draco’s head to pick up. Your breath caught in your throat as you caught his gaze, your hands falling to your sides as you walked carefully down the staircase.

You tried so hard not to trip, but luckily for you, Draco seemed ready to catch you as he stood at the end of the stairs, catching your hand as you instinctively reached out for him. You thanked him with a small smile, steadying yourself on the ground floor as you looked up at him, his towering figure seeming to fit in with you perfectly.

“Sorry. Sort of took my time,” you mumbled, scratching the space behind your ear. Abruptly, the jewellery set Draco gifted you suddenly felt light, no longer itching your skin away as Draco’s touch warmed your hands, your fingers coincidentally on his vena amoris in his wrist—vein of love—that led to his ring finger and connected to the veins of his beating heart. You gulped, praying he didn’t know that as he smiled softly, his gloved thumb running over the palm of your right hand.

“‘s fine. I got you something,” Draco replied, catching you off guard as you hesitated, your mouth ajar.

“You’ve gotten me enough things, Malfoy,” you chuckled, averse. You didn’t want Draco to spend so much on you—must he insist on buying you things all the time?

Yet, as soon as you saw the final gift, your lips parted in astonishment, staring at the corsage that Draco had taken out of his pocket. You looked up at him, the peach of the rose pinned to the corsage gleaming at you as he watched your amazed face carefully, scanning it for confirmation before he slipped it onto your wrist. You gulped once again, your throat raw as you didn’t know what to say.

“You… you didn’t have to buy me a corsage,” you murmured quietly, staring at your painted toenails, refusing to meet his gaze as his hand moved to link your arms together.

“What kind of date would I be if I didn’t get you a corsage?” he responded gently, earning a cool blush from you, clearing your throat as you picked your head up, nodding.

Draco sensed that you didn’t want to talk anymore, noting the redness that appeared in your cheeks. He decided not to speak on it, knowing that you would probably glare him to the ground. Instead, he led you towards the Great Hall, the soft sound of organs and harps entering your ears as the corners of your lips turned upwards, entering the room with a heart rate that quickened every second.

A number of students (from fourth year and above) were in attendance. Yet, every single pair of eyes were on the pair of you. You gripped Draco’s arm tightly, glancing at him as he reciprocated, leading you to where your friend group stood. The first dance hadn’t happened yet.

“Merlin, bless your souls,” Pansy sighed, faking tears as she hung off Theo’s arm, causing you to roll your eyes.

“Fuck off,” you tutted, pressing your lips together. You eyed her appearance, relenting slightly as you mumbled. “You look pretty.”

“Thank you,” she retorted, winking at you as Blaise appeared with Luna. Luna widened her eyes in admiration, reaching out to touch your puff sleeves.

“You look beautiful, [Y/N]. Like a dove!” she complimented sweetly, Blaise nodding in agreement, but refusing to say anything. He smiled, glancing at Draco, who only had eyes for you.

“Thank you, Luna,” you smiled, the only real smile you had given today. “You looked gorgeous,” you added, raking your eyes over the light blue satin of her gown.

“Guys, the first song is going to start,” Theo announced, his arm around Pansy as he dragged her to the floor, the pair of them giggling to themselves, seeming to be a little tipsy. Blaise also kissed the back of Luna’s hand, pulling her along gently as they made their way towards the middle of the room.

You glanced at Draco, your smile still lingering as you looked at your feet.

“Would you do me the honour and grant me a dance, Miss Zabini?” Draco murmured, his tone soft as your tongue poked your cheek, utterly wordless.

“I might step on your toes,” you breathed, your voice quiet as his thumb brushed against your fingers.

“I won’t mind,” he replied, smiling as he took the lead, causing you to follow him to the middle of the hall. You looked around, copying everyone else’s movements as you wrapped your arms around his neck, staring up at him with uneasiness.

“Relax,” he whispered against your ear, your shoulders immediately losing their tenseness as his hands pressed against your hips, guiding you as your feet followed his, syncing to the slow song that played in the background as the lights dimmed. You gazed into his eyes, not wanting to stare at anyone else, aware that others were sending you looks.

“Why does every girl have to have a crush on you?” you questioned, your gaze dropping as you felt unease. Draco tutted, tilting your chin up as you swallowed imaginary air, shivering under the coldness of his glove.

“Thought you didn’t care about anyone else’s opinion,” he mused, causing you to give him a bored look. 

“‘course I care. Just look at their patronising stares. It’s unnerving,” you grimaced, rolling back your shoulders as he twirled you around, his hands travelling up your waist as he picked you up, spinning you around whilst you gasped.

“I’m not looking at them. I’m looking at you,” Draco said softly, shrugging playfully as you scoffed lightly, feeling your cheeks warm once again. “You look stunning, [Y/N]. Absolutely stunning,” he whispered, his minty breath fanning against your face as your expression softened.

“Well, um, this is the gown you bought me,” you chuckled. You always felt weird whenever you accepted a compliment.

“It is,” he replied, his grin still tugging on his lips, “I may have picked out the gown, but it's you who makes it look so graceful… You are the definition of elegance, [Y/N] Zabini,” he whispered, a little breath escaping your lips as he brought you closer.

“I… I’ve hated you for so long,” you uttered, furrowing your eyebrows. “But you never gave up after the amount of times I’ve rejected you. Why?” Draco thought for a moment, taking in your delicate countenance.

“I don’t really know. I think I never gave up because I genuinely care about you. I saw something special in you, and I was willing to keep trying because I believe in us.” The entire time, Draco had kept true to his words, his voice fragile, as if he was going to break at any moment. He honestly could not believe that you had finally given him a chance.

You didn’t know what to say. You stared at him, disbelieved, tilting your head to the side as your expression faltered. And then, you knew what to do, your eyes flickering from his eyes, to his lips.

Hesitantly, you encaptured his lips with yours, your hands reaching up to his hair as Draco was taken by surprise, but kissed back nonetheless. You were never good with your words, but your actions always made up for it. Your noses touched as you mewled helplessly, allowing him to capture all of you as he smiled against your lips, almost wanting to scoop you up and take you out of here.

A flash suddenly caused you two to pull away, squinting your eyes as the pair of you turned to the side, letting go of each other as you stood there, mouth agape. Colin Creevey, a fourth year, had pictured your kiss with his rather massive camera, the younger kid smiling at the photo with satisfaction.

“Fucks sakes,” Draco grumbled at the fourth year as you picked up your dress, snatching the camera off Creevey with a stare so defiant, it could kill the Dark Lord himself.

“Hey—!”

“You people are not ruining tonight for me,” you snapped, knowing exactly who set this up, shooting Blaise and Theo a snarky smile before deleting the picture almost immediately, shoving the camera back into the boy’s arms before grasping one of Draco's fingers and leading him out of the floor, the Slytherin prince happily following behind you with an adoring smile across his lips.

The finger you just so happened to grab was his ring finger of his left hand. This very particular finger, as stated before, had a special sort of vein that growed throughout the body, stopping at the middle of Draco's heart—vena amoris.

Was it a coincidence that you took Draco's ring finger instead of his hand? I think not.

For he had fought his way into your heart for years, and now, you had entered his.

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#〔 ❦ 〕 ─── 𝐏𝐂𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐖𝐏𝐑𝐋𝐃 #〔 ও 〕 ─── 𝐋𝐔𝐍𝐀'𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐒 #draco malfoy #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy fluff #hp imagine #hp fanfic #hp fandom #draco lucius malfoy #slytherin

[pctterswprld]

love, love, love

pairing: harry potter x muggleborn!fem!reader

request: hello! could you do a harry j potter x fem!reader oneshot (takes place in hbp) where they are dating for a few months so reader is still slightly uncomfortable around harry and Harry’s like all touchy touchy cuddles kisses yk (in my mind he’s very clingy but not annoying) but reader isn’t used to physical contact so one day when harry wants to cuddle with her she stiffens or flinches and harry is like super worried cause he doesn’t know why she reacted like that (if you want to add a bit of drama you can make that the reader has some type of trauma like abuse or sa but only if you’re comfortable) and she explains it to him and you can make the rest up just keep it extremely fluffy<3 sorry if you don’t understand something but English isn’t my first language so idk if I made any mistakes. thank you!! ~ anon.

word count: 1,416 words

warnings: ANGSTY FLUFF, implied sa/r*pe, mentions of drugs, implied verbal/physical abuse, i don't think there's any swear words?

author's note: please tell me if i've missed any warnings. i'm SO sorry that i've replied so late!! also, i don't describe the assault graphically. it's a brief explanation. but, this is a trigger warning anyway x

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EVER SINCE YOU started dating the famous Harry Potter, you didn’t think your beloved boyfriend would be so… Touchy. You did adore his random cuddles and little forehead kisses, but it was all so strange to you—was this regular in a normal relationship?

Your last boyfriend would get mad over the tiniest little thing, and you had learned how to deal with his anger issues, but in the end, you’d be the one serving the punishment. After finally leaving that relationship, it took time to build up your confidence again. Your friends had pushed you to see who was out and about in Hogsmeade (you hadn’t told them about your ex, and you weren’t going to), and when you finally agreed, that was the day you bumped into Harry.

A few months later, the relationship was thriving. You knew Harry was content since seeing a smile on his face was rare, and nowadays, he always had a grin crossing his lips. You felt over the moon, knowing you were the source of his happiness. However, as stated before, you had started feeling uncomfortable around your boyfriend.

Perhaps I’m the problem?

You didn’t know what in Merlin’s beard was going on with you. You should feel safe with Harry. Yet, instead, all you could think about was your ex and how he treated you. The situation was bizarre—you hadn’t seen him for months. So why were your thoughts always distorted with him?

“Hello, sweetheart.” A voice snapped you out of your thoughts as you looked to the entrance of Harry’s dorm, seeing him with History books (which probably belonged to Hermione). You noticed the Advanced Potion Making textbook, with annotations from the Half-Blood Prince, on top of the book pile, and you couldn’t help but mock your boyfriend.

“I’m starting to think you love that book more than me,” you teased, seeing Harry slowly approach you with a smirk.

“I could never, my love,” he retorted, sitting on the bed beside you and taking your wrist. He was going to kiss the knuckles of your hands, but before he could do that, you immediately ripped it out of his grip, shocking Harry and yourself.

When Harry took your hand, it was so abrupt. Any sane person would be flattered at your boyfriend’s notion, yet you had to feel exposed under his touch—not in a good way. Harry had always been so careful with you—like you were some fragile shard of glass. So when you reacted like this, it didn’t only confuse Harry. It also scared him.

Harry James Potter was many things. But he was not stupid. When the Sorting Hat suggested Harry join Slytherin during his first year, the boy refused profusely. Many years later, he did not regret his choice, though it did make him realise what he could be capable of if he adhered to the Hat’s decision. To think he could’ve turned out like Tom Riddle himself was an electrifying thought, and Harry couldn’t decide if he’d like the outcome.

So, seeing his beloved girlfriend grow fearful because of his fingertips made him question everything. It made him doubt if he would hurt you—it wasn’t as if Harry’s mind and You-Know-Who’s were disconnected yet.

“[Y/N]?” Harry began, his voice quiet as he stood from his bed, “I–I’m sorry, I didn’t realise—”

“No! No, you didn’t do anything wrong.” Quickly, you corrected him, causing Harry’s body to relax a little. But, as soon as he stepped forward, you moved away from him on the bed.

“[Y/N]...” He repeated, noticing how your right hand pulled the fingers of your left hand. Your lips parted, trying to get the words out of your mouth.

Yet all you could do was stay silent. It was one of the things you were extremely good at.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Harry muttered, rooted to his position, “I just want you to know I’m not going anywhere if you want to talk.”

“I do want to talk,” you replied, looking up with hopeless eyes. “I’ve always wanted to talk to you about whatever is wrong with me—”

“Nothing is wrong with you,” he interrupted, slowly kneeling before the bed, gazing at you with his green eyes. “If you’re uncomfortable with me being physical, I’ll stop—”

“Please don’t,” you whispered, biting your bottom lip as you looked down, your eyes brimming with tears. “I don’t want you to stop. Ever.” You felt the weight of Harry sitting on the bed as you met his eyes, wanting to apologise profusely for how you were acting. Yet, he wouldn’t allow it, him being the perfect boyfriend he was.

“Then I won’t,” he replied quietly, his lips curling. You knew you had to tell him at that point. You didn’t deserve his patience—he needed to know.

“I, um, I’m going to start talking about it, so if I break down or something, I apologise in advance,” you joked, looking down at your fingers. You didn’t want to see Harry’s eyes during the story.

“During the summer before fifth year, I hung out with a lot of Muggles on my street,” you began, “And it involved a bit of weed and other things. You already know that because I snuck some into the common room.” You smiled slightly at the memory, remembering Harry’s reaction to the weed when he smoked it. “But I didn’t tell you, Ron, and Hermione, that I sort of got into a relationship.” When you glanced at him briefly, you noticed his posture stiffen at the mention of another relationship. Thankfully, he didn’t say anything. “I used the Muggle phonebox outside of Hogsmeade to call him on weekends… That’s where I snuck off. And it was going great.”

Silence. The room was painfully silent.

“What did he do, [Y/N]?” Harry asked, his voice strangely calm.

“He was a drug dealer—I already knew that,” you scoffed, clearing your throat. “I was always against that sort of thing. At that point, he was already treating me unfairly in various ways. And, um, in August, we got into an argument…”

More silence.

“He had enough of me. H-he held me down and practically shut me up. That’s the only way I want to describe it,” you shuddered, turning away as you blinked back tears. “I told him to stop and—” A little sob escaped you as you covered your mouth, closing your eyes as tears streamed down your face. Silently, you cried as Harry listened.

Harry looked at your side profile, stricken as sadness filled his eyes. He didn’t know what to say at first. All Harry wanted to do was to hold you and never let you go. He needed to reassure you and affirm that he would never in a million years do such a thing. But how could you believe him after you had experienced that?

Deep down, you knew Harry wouldn’t do that to you—ever. Despite how badly his uncle and aunt treated him during Harry’s childhood, it made him more potent and loving. It shaped him into the man he was today. That was the quality you loved most about him.

He knew your boundaries. He knew you weren’t touchy from the beginning and respected that. You would allow Harry to cuddle you, to kiss your knuckles, and to hold your hands. You allowed little makeout sessions (Merlin knows how much you needed him).

Harry respected everything. He respected you. He loved you.

Harry moved closer to you on the bed, his fingers reaching to touch you, but he stopped immediately. He parted his lips, thinking of the right words to say.

“[Y/N],” he began, his voice slightly breaking. His throat became raw with emotion as he blinked rapidly, letting out a breath. “Can I hold you?”

You didn’t answer for a moment. You wiped away your tears, looking up. You saw the guilt in Harry’s eyes—you saw everything. He was begging you silently to let him be there for him.

So you nodded.

And instantly, you melted into his arms, your head against his chest as he wrapped his arms around you, holding you close. More tears fell as you hid your face, but you felt warmer inside with Harry’s touch. He made you feel safe and protected, even without saying anything. He loved you so much.

You didn’t say it as much, but you loved him too.

“I love you,” you whispered, “I really do.”

“I love you too,” he replied, kissing your head softly as you closed your eyes. “Always.”

requested anonymously. like and reblog!

#〔 ❦ 〕 ─── 𝐏𝐂𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐖𝐏𝐑𝐋𝐃 #〔 ও 〕 ─── 𝐋𝐔𝐍𝐀'𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐒 #harry james potter #harry potter #hp fanfic #hp fandom #harry potter x you #harry potter imagine #harry potter fluff #harry potter x reader #harry potter angst #hbp

[pctterswprld]

stars around my scars

pairing: harry potter x hufflepuff!fem!reader

request: hii!! can i request a harry x fem!hufflepuff reader where she's really self conscious over her body bc she has a slightly round body with a stomach dip, and she constantly feels like she's not enough and compares herself to her friends. harry notices it and comforts her one day, she has a crush on harry but she thinks he will never like her back, but that day changed everything for both of them?? ~ anon

word count: 4,349 words (?)

warnings: FLUFF, a little angsty, harry has a history of self-harm in this fic!!, lack of self-love, insecurities, not proofread, please let me know if i've forgotten anything!

author's note: this feels so rushed so im really sorry😭 but i read a hc the other day that harry suffered through self-harm during fifth year because he had survivor's guilt/PTSD from cedric's death SO I JUST SOBBED AT THAT and decided to implement it into this imagine. if this topic is a trigger, im really sorry in advance. i do not describe the scars, harry just explains why he did it &lt;3 also this hasn't been properly edited I'LL FIX IT LATER. the draco malfoy requests in my inbox will be answered soon!

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“COME ON, [Y/N], you’ll be late!” Hannah Abbott exclaimed, grabbing her bag as you waved her off, the blonde girl exiting the dorm and closing the door behind her.

You ran your hands through your hair, looking down at your half-naked body as you sighed in frustration, staring at your stomach, your belly fat slightly spilling out of your skirt. Glimpsing at the full-length mirror by Hannah’s bed, your figure went rigid as your expression crumpled.

Every morning after Hannah left, you always found yourself staring at the mirror in your room, pointing out your flaws and imperfections. Broad shoulders, an undefined waist, thick thighs—you could never win. And, unsurprisingly, you couldn’t help but compare your friends’ bodies with yours. They were slim, pretty, and had curves in all the right places.

You had curves in all the wrong places.

You gulped down any emotion that rose in your throat, snatching your shirt off your bed as you buttoned it up quickly, loosely tying your Hufflepuff tie around your collar. You wore the rest of your uniform, adjusting it so your belly wasn’t on display through your robes. You checked your appearance, turning to see your back in the mirror. You bit your bottom lip, rubbing your eyes before wearing your Doc Martens, taking your back as you walked out of your dorm with discomfort.

Exiting Hufflepuff House, you saw many people still in the hallways as your legs slowed, feeling self-conscious, ultimately holding on to your bag strap before you continued your journey. You shoved your other hand in your pocket, hearing numerous conversations throughout the hallway. You gathered that none of them were about you, but your overthinking had already driven your mind crazy as you kept to yourself, hurrying to Potions to greet your new Professor, Horace Slughorn.

You stood next to Hannah at the back of the classroom, trying to listen to Slughorn’s lecture as he displayed the numerous potions before you. However, you set your mind in overdrive once you glanced at Hannah’s side profile, staring at your Potions textbook as you pressed your lips together.

Hannah didn’t have chubby cheeks like you, nor did she have your notorious stomach dip—which you hid with your robes. Hannah (her smile, curves, hair, body) was beautiful. Again, you knew you shouldn’t be comparing yourself to your friends, who were always kind to you, but you couldn’t control your thoughts. One would say they were an unstoppable force of nature.

But there was only one person who could pull you out of them.

“Sorry, sir, I haven’t got my book yet. Nor has Ron,” the voice stated, causing you to look up, straightening your posture as Slughorn mentioned the two Gryffindors could look through the cupboards.

The two Gryffindors consisted of Ron Weasley and Harry Potter. You knew them both, but Harry was the one you had eyes for.

Shamefully, you kept your eyes on Harry, hugging your Advanced Potions textbook tighter as your lips curled up at him and Ron fighting over something, Ron seeming to win as the brunette boy rolled his eyes, walking to the back of the classroom. You kept your gaze down as you did so, pressing your lips together again.

But you didn’t realise that Harry had stood next to you.

Here is a brief history of you and the supposed Chosen One. You have had a massive crush on Harry since third year after he asked you for help with his Charms homework. You complied, thinking he would forget about your existence the next day. That was what you were used to whenever a boy spoke to you, so if he did, you wouldn’t care.

But Harry didn’t forget about you.

“Hey, stranger,” he whispered as you glanced at him, a gorgeous smile on his face as you smiled back, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. Harry, who stood at 6’0”, towered over you as he spoke, “I haven’t spoken to you in ages.”

“You saw me on the train last night,” you murmured sheepishly. You couldn’t help but stare into his ethereal, evergreen eyes, feeling lost as you held onto reality.

“I did, but I couldn’t speak to you,” he countered, his friendly smile still lingering, “So I’m saying hello now.” You nodded, your cheeks warming as you chuckled.

“Ah, okay. Well, hello, Harry. How has your morning been?” you replied, greeting him correctly as he laughed softly.

“Utterly fantastic,” he muttered, looking at you intently. “And what about you, [Y/N]?”

Merlin, the way he says my name, you thought, smiling as you cursed yourself for thinking such things.

“Utterly fantastic,” you repeated as he nodded, the both of you falling into a comfortable silence. He was the first to look away, opening his textbook as he tuned into Hermione Granger’s explanation of Amortentia.

Despite him, you took longer to examine his features, watching his forehead crease as Hermione talked about the potion’s smell. You smiled subtly, pulling your eyes away as you looked down, squealing internally.

However, your friend, Hannah, turned towards Harry, her lips curling as she opened her mouth. “Hey, Harry. I thought you weren’t taking Potions?” Hannah asked, her voice soft as you looked at her. You glanced at Harry, noting his eyes were already on her as you deflated slightly.

“Oh, uh, yeah. Professor McGonagall insisted,” he shrugged, a polite smile on his face. His eyes momentarily lingered before he turned to Slughorn, taking in his words. Hannah leaned down, giggling into your ear.

“He looks extra delicious this year,” she commented as you nodded. Once she pulled away, you looked at your shoes, sighing softly as your mood dampened. You didn’t know why it had suddenly soured, but anyone could gather that you had become insecure because of your roommate. Once again, it was petty of you to think such things, but you couldn’t help it. When your eyes took a brief picture of the room, it was notable that many girls had/used to have eyes on Harry—Romilda Vane, Cho Chang, Parvati Patil, and others throughout the year.

They were all stunning.

What words could describe you?

As you unintentionally kept your head down for the rest of the lesson, your throat becoming raw as you gulped, Harry furrowed his eyebrows at your saddened mood, wanting to ask what had happened. But he couldn’t—Professor Slughorn had already set the task. And before he could ask you to sit at the same table as him, you’d already walked off to your friend Leanne, who waved you over in the first place.

Even though you didn’t notice, Harry’s eyes followed your every move as you smiled at Leanne. Anyone could easily say that you’re fine just by seeing the grin on your face.

Albeit, Harry had observed that your eyes didn’t smile like your lips.

He began to frown once he saw, wanting to pull you back, but he knew that would raise questions among his friends and be slightly inappropriate. You and Harry knew each other well but not sufficiently for hand-holding. He couldn’t have you being uncomfortable.

So, he pocketed his thoughts for later.

For some unknown reason, you always found the Black Lake your safe space whenever you walked on the Hogwarts grounds. In all honesty, it was a calming oasis of sorts, entirely different to the everyday commotion surrounding the wondrous castle.

As you hummed to yourself, attracting a crossbill (a breed of bird) in the process, you took out your journal, writing down a few things you learned today as active recall.

The Draught of Living Death is impossible to make. But, the way of getting the juice of a Sopophorous bean was to crush the ingredient with a blade. I shouldn’t cut it.

The wand movement for the Aguamenti Charm was a smooth wave movement from right to left.

Harry James Potter was the definition of sarcasm.

Your quill almost stabbed the pages of your diary as you snapped out of your daze, wondering what in Merlin’s name you were writing. You leaned your head against the oak, your memory flitting to Harry and Professor Snape’s little interaction earlier today.

Today’s DADA lesson included the practice of non-verbal spells. In other words, this sort of magic was unsurprisingly complex—you could’ve sworn your brain nearly ripped apart when you attempted to disarm your friend, Cho Chang, today. Truth be told, you were never good at this subject. Professor Lupin was much more friendly in your case, and you’d improved massively during third year. Nonetheless, after he resigned, your grade dropped quite a few marks.

During DADA, when Ron and Harry attempted to disarm each other non-verbally, Snape interfered, telling Ron he was doing it all wrong. And to Harry’s dismay, Snape’s stance was a little aggressive to him.

So he used a Shield Charm.

Of course, Snape wasn’t happy.

“Do you remember me telling you we are practising non-verbal spells, Potter?”

“Yes,” said Harry stiffly.

“Yes, sir.”

“There’s no need to call me ‘sir’, Professor.”

You’d fought hard, trying not to laugh out loud during that moment. Thankfully, Snape didn’t catch your strange-looking expression.

You crossed out your third note in your journal, mumbling to yourself as you wondered why you would write such a thing. It wasn’t a rude thing—Harry was known for his sarcastic comments. Indeed, Harry took pride in his sarcasm.

So if Harry ever saw the comment you made, he’d take it as a compliment.

Still, you crossed it out.

“What are you writing?” A voice interrupted your movements as you looked up, your eyebrows raising when you saw Harry standing before you. You closed your journal, smiling, when you spotted the little smirk across his lips.

“Nothing. Just some notes from today,” you shrugged, putting your journal aside. Shoving your shyness away, you patted the spot beside you, welcoming Harry to sit down.

And he did.

“Hannah said you’d be here,” Harry said as you faced him. “She said you come here every other day.” You smiled as you glanced at the lake, stretching your legs.

“I like watching the lake from this angle,” you replied, “I don’t see much stuff in the water since every creature hides away, but the scenery is…” You paused, trying to find the right word. “Picturesque.”

“That’s a big word,” Harry joked, his lips grinning as you laughed softly.

“Well, you know me and my words,” you retorted, watching the water ripple before your eyes. You furrowed your eyebrows slightly, facing Harry again as you tilted your head. “Why’d you come down here? Were you looking for me?”

“Yeah… I wanted to talk to you about something.” Your lips parted in bewilderment, hugging your knees as you nodded slowly. As I narrated earlier, you and Harry were friends but not close. Though, Merlin only knew how much you wanted to know Harry better.

“What is it?” you asked softly. Harry hesitated, pressing his lips together as he glanced at the water.

“I noticed your mood in Potions earlier,” he began, confusing you.

“My mood?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah—I mean, you were happy and then… I dunno, you just became sad,” Harry responded, turning to look at you as he examined your features. Harry always knew you were pretty. Beautiful, even, now that he’s looking at you up close. Your persona only made you glow, making you everyone’s sun in their skies. It had him wondering why no one had realised that about you yet.

Were people truly so blind these days?

“Oh!” You didn’t know what to say. Firstly, the fact that Harry noticed your slight mood change was astounding. Hannah was your closest friend at the moment, and although she knew you better than most people, she hadn’t once pointed out your mood whenever it soured.

Hannah wasn’t your best friend. She had her friend group, and you were merely her roommate. You had friends, of course, but not a friend. No one truly cared about your feelings.

But, looking at Harry, it seemed he cared about yours.

“It was nothing,” you replied, giving a reassuring smile. “I just get like that sometimes. For example, I could get assigned extra homework for History of Magic. That makes me annoyed, and it looks like my face visibly shows that,” you rambled, giving a nervous chuckle before glimpsing at the lake again.

“You weren’t annoyed, [Y/N],” Harry corrected, frowning. “You were sad.” You pressed your lips together, looking down at your lap. Your hands landed on your thighs, your Doc Martens knocking against each other as you shrugged.

“It doesn’t matter,” you replied, standing up with your journal. You were about to walk away when Harry stopped you, seizing your hand abruptly and spinning you around. You glanced at his grip on your wrist, raising a questioning eyebrow.

“Sorry,” he quickly apologised, letting go of your hand. Your cheeks flushed considerably, and you prayed it wasn’t noticeable. “Look at me,” he pleaded, his tone gentle, glimpsing through his lenses as you sighed inwardly, looking up.

“Harry, I’m fine. It seriously doesn’t matter—”

“Why do you say things like that?” he interjected, his expression containing frustration as you became perplexed.

“Because it doesn’t matter? I—”

“But it does!” His exclamation had a hint of exasperation as you exhaled through your nose, your gaze softening as you crossed your arms. You weren’t uncomfortable. You were just in a state of conflict.

“I’m just saying,” he began, smiling encouragingly. “You can talk to me. You can always speak to me. About anything.” Annoyed, you sighed, shaking your head.

“I don’t understand—Where is this coming from?” you questioned. Harry stammered on his words, his brows furrowing. “I know what you’re getting at, but you’ve never cared about me like this.” Harry faltered for a moment, looking down at the green blades of grass as his feet shuffled, his face contorting with guilt as he spoke.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice gentle as he met your eyes. You didn’t know what to say, staying rooted to your spot as he continued. Yet, you suddenly opened your mouth.

“You don’t have to apologise for that. It’s not your fault that you’re saving this bloody castle and its people every year,” you quipped, giving him a fond smile as he shook his head.

“Yeah, but you’ve been here for me,” Harry retorted, his lips pressing together as he exhaled through his nose. “When Sirius… passed away,” Harry began, looking at the clouds in the grey skies, “You immediately came to my aid. You helped me, even if you stayed quiet and stood before me while I cried.” You pursued your lips, remembering the state of depression Harry used to be in after his godfather’s death. Being the wonderful person you are, you wrote to him every day during the summer, and he always wrote back as soon as possible.

“That is different,” you said cautiously, catching Harry’s attention. “You went through something unimaginable. Every year, you suffer the most at this school. Sirius’s death, Cedric’s death, that rat’s betrayal of your parents,” you listed all of these with your fingers as he kept an attentive eye. “Of course, you needed someone. I, however, shouldn’t need someone for having an insecurity that is stupid anyhow—”

“It’s not stupid—” Harry tried to interject, but you stopped him.

“No, Harry, it is,” you sighed, glancing at the lake as its soft ripples entered your ears as if it knew that you needed some brief comfort. “Day after day, I compare myself to my friends. They don’t deserve that. They shouldn’t have to deal with my stupendous thoughts. I am a terrible friend!” You frowned, your tone exasperated as your bottom lip quivered. Meeting his gaze, you found a sense of empathy in Harry’s eyes, who had stepped forward, rolling up his sleeves to reveal something.

You widened your eyes. You almost stopped breathing.

“These are scars,” Harry embarked as you looked up, your heart squeezing. You never knew about this. Of course, he shouldn’t have to tell you as it isn’t any of your business. You bit your tongue from speaking as you silently held his hand, waiting for him to continue. “I started doing it when… Well, after Voldemort killed Cedric, I had PTSD.” He couldn’t look at you. You noticed how his fingers shook in your grasp, Harry trying to steady himself as words escaped him again.

“I felt guilty for being the one to survive. Again,” Harry scoffed, his expression stoic as his jaw clenched. “No one believed the truth when I told them, except Ron and Hermione, but also you,” he sighed, finally meeting your eyes as you softened, squeezing his hand. “I stopped when you found me in the library. You sat next to me with an expression of solace. You just—You understood me, [Y/N].” His voice was breathless. Desperate. Thankful. “I never told you, but I stopped because someone finally knew how I felt.”

“Oh, Harry,” you almost sobbed, your eyes pricking with tears as he held your hands, squeezing your palms tightly.

“You are beautiful,” Harry whispered as you gasped quietly, your lips parting once you saw the timid smile on his lips. “I’ve always found you beautiful. You’ve always been the light whenever darkness consumes the room. Your assuring smile could always make someone feel better after a stressful day. And I can tell a smile of yours is sincere when your right dimple appears a few inches away from your lips.” Harry grinned, a little chuckle easing out of his mouth as you looked down, a warm blush crossing the apples of your cheeks.

“You aren’t a terrible friend. I’ve always thought of you as one,” his words caused you to deflate slightly. “But, there are times when I’ve wanted to be more,” Harry admitted, his calloused thumb running across the back of your hand as your breath hitched at his touch, trying not to shiver as your stomach swarmed with butterflies all of a sudden. You comprehended his words, your lips curling up at his confession as he gazed at you through his circular glasses, his pupils dilating.

“I… I, um, don’t know what to say,” you chuckled, your cheeks warming once more as Harry smiled at your loss of words.

“You don’t have to say anything—”

“OI, HARRY!” A sudden voice interrupted the two of you as you snapped your head to the source, seeing Ron with an incredulous expression. Hermione stood beside the ginger, an awkward smile on her face as she waved, you waving back appreciatively.

“Uh, sorry, Harry, but you’re going to be late for Quidditch practise and Ron was getting a bit antsy,” Hermione explained, throwing you an apologetic smile as she gave Ron an irritated look.

“I wasn’t getting antsy—” Ron scoffed.

“Yes, you were, Ronald—”

“You’re antsy 24/7 so I don’t know what you’re waffling about—!”

“I should go before Hermione tries to rip Ron’s head off again,” Harry said softly, acting like his best friends’ plans to murder each other was normal. You smiled, nodding as you stepped away, reluctantly letting go of his hands.

“Of course. I’ll, um, I’ll see you later,” you responded, becoming shy as Harry nodded, giving you another grin before steering Ron away from Hermione in hopes to stop them arguing before they reached the castle.

Facing the lake, you bit your bottom lip with a knowing smile, walking back to your beloved tree as you leaned against it, closing your eyes.

Harry has feelings for me.

Harry drank his pumpkin juice, his nerves strangling his throat as he looked around the Great Hall for a particular someone. His leg bounced against the bench, Hermione noticing as she furrowed her eyebrows, calling Harry’s name.

“You’re not nervous, are you?” The brunette asked with concern. “You rarely ever get nervous when it comes to Quidditch.” He sighed, shaking his head as he surveyed the Hufflepuff table again.

“It’s different this time—”

“It’s different because he’s expecting someone to be there,” Luna Lovegood interrupted, her dreamy voice attracting their attention as she ate her pudding. “But he doesn’t see them in the Hall at this moment in time.”

“He’s looking for [Y/L/N],” Ron grinned, stuffing his mouth with bacon as Hermione sighed at his table manners. “Me and ‘Mione saw the way they looked at each other by the Black Lake. I mean, honestly, I swore I could’ve seen literal hearts palpitating in their eyes,” the ginger continued to tease as Hermione tutted at him once again.

“[Y/N]’s been to your games before,” Hermione said softly as Harry pressed his lips together.

“But this time I know she’ll be watching, Hermione. What if I fumble the Snitch—?”

“If anyone’s going to fumble the Snitch, it’s that ruddy Harper,” Ginny remarked, making a disgusted face as she glanced at the Slytherin substitute Seeker from across the room. “He’s alright, but there’s a reason he was named a substitute. Trust me, the only thing you should look out for is his foul play,” Ginny shrugged, finishing her food before standing up, Ron following suit.

“Yeah… Yeah, you guys are right,” Harry mumbled to himself, still uneasy as he reached for his goblet again, only to stop his movements when someone tapped his shoulder. He turned his head, seeing you there in a long-sleeved yellow sundress, lighting up the rainy, dull atmosphere, which also accentuated your figure perfectly.

She looks bloody gorgeous, Harry thought, his pale skin turning scarlet as he admired your beauty, noticing how you glowed today. You smiled shyly as Harry’s eyes lit up almost immediately.

“May I sit?” You asked, Harry nodding as Ginny moved out of your way, giving you a knowing smile before glaring at Ron to walk with her. Hermione quickly excused herself, as well as Luna, leaving you both to talk amongst yourselves.

“Hey,” Harry smiled, his nerves settling considerably as he smiled at you. You reciprocated, fiddling with the sleeves of your dress.

“Hi,” you replied, your voice sweet as always as you placed a small bottle before him. You noticed his expression, and quickly explained yourself. “It’s a little tonic I made. Hermione came to me earlier and voiced her concerns about you playing today. I didn’t believe her at first, I mean, I’ve never known you to be the anxious type,” you added playfully, earning another grin from him as your heart practically melted in your chest.

Hermione, forever the matchmaker, Harry thought to himself.

“You make me extremely anxious, love,” he murmured, his eyes meeting yours as you tried not to blush to deeply at the nickname. Harry removed the cork from the tonic, putting it to his nose as he inhaled its contents’ scents. He smiled once more, giving you a knowing look.

“I added golden syrup,” you smiled, knowing the tonic would taste horrible without it. “You know, from the treacle tarts you really like? It’ll still work all the same,” you shrugged, trying to seem casual.

“You bloody miracle worker,” Harry sighed, drinking from the small bottle almost instantly as you laughed at his behaviour. He put the bottle down, standing up and rolling his shoulders, giving himself a nod.

“Okay, I’m ready,” he affirmed. You were about to wish him luck before he leaned down, kissing the corner of your lips as you raised your eyebrows, a little shocked. As he walked hastily backwards to the entrance of the Great Hall, he waved you off, yelling, “I’LL GIVE YOU A PROPER ONE LATER!”

You widened your eyes, smiling as you waved back, laughing to yourself as you ignored the stares being thrown in your direction.

He’s going to kiss me.

Gryffindor had won the match against Slytherin.

It was certainly a tough one with Ginny and Blaise Zabini constantly shoving each other (though, Ginny had a mutual respect for him because he was actually good), and Zacharias Smith, a Hufflepuff in your year, known for his extremely obnoxious behavioour, being an awful commentator, which evidently infuriated Harry beyond despair. This caused the Slytherin Seeker, Harper, to see the Snitch before Harry. However when it seemed that he was about to catch it, he was put off by Harry's desperate taunt, implying that Draco Malfoy, former Seeker for Slytherin, had paid Harper to play instead. Harper, in his distraction, fumbled the Snitch (as Ginny said prior), costing his team the game.

You waded through the roaring crowd of Gryffindor, stepping off the Quidditch stands as you looked around for Harry, desperately wanting to congratulate him. The rain had began pouring as you stood by the sides, finally seeing Harry approaching you with a blanket around him since he had flown high into the sky (Madame Hooch insisted he wore it even though he was boiling to the core).

“Harry!” you waved as he ran towards you, scooping you up into his arms as you squealed, demanding him to put you down. He laughed, wrapping his blanket around you as the rain began soaking your hair.

“I won,” he commenced, throwing you a cocky grin as you playfully rolled your eyes.

“I know, you cheeky git. That’s why I wanted to congratulate you—”

Harry kissed you.

His soft lips captured yours in a searing kiss as your closed your eyes, kissing back almost immediately as his right hand held the back of your head, pushing you closer towards him. You heard the instantaneous cheers from the Gryffindor team as others joined the pitch, grinning at their captain.

“GO ON, HARRY!” Ron boomed as Harry pulled away from you, receiving a clap on the shoulder as you became flustered, parting your lips in surprise. Harry waited for your reaction, a smug smirk across his mouth as you stammered embarrassingly.

“Wow. That was… Wow.” You cleared your throat, looking down as your cheeks turned a crimson red. Harry tilted your chin up, smiling at your behaviour before kissing your forehead, his hand falling to your waist.

“Come on, sweetheart. It’s mandatory for the Gryffindor Captain and his girlfriend to be at the afterparty.”

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#〔 ❦ 〕 ─── 𝐏𝐂𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐖𝐏𝐑𝐋𝐃 #〔 ও 〕 ─── 𝐋𝐔𝐍𝐀'𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐒 #harry james potter #harry potter #hp fanfic #hp fandom #harry potter x you #harry potter imagine #harry potter fluff #harry potter x reader #harry potter angst #hbp

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twitterpated

pairing: james potter x muggleborn!animagus!fem!reader

request: Hi! How are you doing? If it’s alright, can I please request a female muggleborn Gryffindor reader watching Bambi with James Potter? ~ anon

word count: 1,686 words

warnings: FLUFF, set during the christmas holidays of sixth year, mentions of bambi's mother's death (honestly so heartbreaking even if we didn't see it)...

author's note: before reading this request, i hadn't watched bambi EVER (i know, it's a literal crime), so i watched it because i didn't want to get anything wrong with this request and i imagined james being completely distraught after the death of bambi's mother because he imagined the reader as her whilst watching so YEAH. also, i'm not fully in the marauders fandom (i've read atyd and art heist baby - both fics are utterly heart wrenching but so good), so i don't know if james knows what a tv is, but pretend he doesn't! btw, i'm literally so happy someone requested for a marauder, i hope you like it, anon! 💘

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JAMES FLEAMONT POTTER was twitterpated, but he didn't know that yet. He had plucked up the courage to meet your parents during Christmas break. Your parents were Muggles, meaning he would have to do more than be his charming self. You loved your parents dearly, and you’d do anything for them. So when they asked to meet your Quidditch-obsessed Wizard boyfriend, you just couldn’t say no.

And, for once in his life, James Potter was nervous. He stood outside your door for at least twenty minutes, wondering how he would greet your parents. He spoke with his friends, Sirius, Remus, and Peter, before he Disapparated to Bristol, where you resided. However, James ignored Sirius’s protests, knowing that his idea would be too much of an exaggeration.

So, he took Peter’s advice, which was simple, but it made the most sense.

“Just be yourself!” Peter sighed, shrugging. “You’ve charmed everyone you’ve ever met. It won’t be different with [Y/N]’s parents.”

James sucked it up, knocked on the door, and was welcomed into your humble abode by your father (unfortunately, your father didn’t let James in properly until he ensured your boyfriend had the right intentions).

James also had to compose himself after seeing you in a ruby red dress, which flowed above your knees. He didn’t know how he did it, but he achieved it.

An hour later, he had won the hearts of your parents gallantly. James had enjoyed your mother’s pot roast and vowed he’d come over often (if your father allowed him).

Currently, James sat on your comfy bed, tilting his head at the massive cube you were meddling with. He crossed his arms, pushing his glasses up as he gave up, muttering under his breath.

“Did you say something, my love?” you asked, glancing at him as you pressed several buttons on what James perceived as an even longer cube.

“I was just wondering what in Merlin’s name is that?” he replied, his tone exasperated as he stood beside you with crumpled eyebrows. “Why is it glowing?” Your lips curled at his confusion, refraining from the urge to giggle as you cleared your throat, putting the remote down once you found the right channel.

“It’s called a television, darling,” you smiled, taking his hand and sitting him against the headboard. You made yourself comfortable, your eyes lighting up once you saw that the movie was beginning. As you laid your head on James’s chest, he remained adorably confused.

“[Y/N/N], love, I still don’t understand what you’re on about,” he sighed, looking down at you as you laughed, taking his hand.

“A television is an incredible invention where you can watch movies,” you answered, your eyes lighting up once you saw the movie title arrive on the screen, “And, right now, we’re watching Bambi!”

“What’s a Bambi?” James replied, his tone innocent as you shook your head. The opening theme began playing as your smile grew.

“It’s a name for a fawn. Trust me, you’ll like it!”

“Fawn?” he muttered, “Like a younger version of a stag?” You nodded, seeing a grin form across his lips as he turned his head towards the television. You looked at James, smiling to yourself before beginning to pay attention to the movie, relaxing in his warmth.

Forty minutes into the film, you and James approached the scene where Man shot Bambi’s mother after being caught eating a bit of grass in the snowy meadow. So far, he enjoyed the film thoroughly, making jokes about your Animagi (his Animagus was a stag, while yours was a doe), which were incredibly awful, but you laughed nonetheless.

Unbeknownst to you, James had imagined you as Bambi’s mother and him as Bambi’s father (he gathered that the Great Prince was Bambi’s dad since the fawn was named ‘The Young Prince’), which, for some reason, made the film more entertaining. The thought of beginning a family with you was always music to James’s ears. 

As the monstrous scene unravelled before you, you scratched your neck, noticing a crease in James’s forehead as the fawn and the doe sprinted towards the woods after the first gunshot.

James was a courageous person who wasn’t afraid of anything, yet you were slightly cautious of him breaking down after seeing this scene.

“[Y/N]…” James began, uncertainty lacing his tone as he leaned forward. “Do not tell me that Man is going to—”

Gunshot.

As Bambi continued running for his life, his mother didn’t follow. Slowly, your eyes met James’s expression, deflating when you saw his distraught countenance.

“James…?”

“This is just absurd—”

“I know—”

“Man could’ve shot any other doe in the forest, and he chose Bambi’s mother?”

“Let’s not say things like that, shall we—?”

“This makes no bloody sense. Why is Man so cruel—?”

“Well, that’s just what poachers do—”

“Shouldn’t he be sent to Azkaban for this—?”

“JAMES!” You exclaimed, James’s eyes snapping towards you with raised eyebrows as he looked back at the television, frowning slightly before turning to you.

“Promise me you won’t get shot by whatever poachers are,” he muttered, his hands on your shoulders as you furrowed your eyebrows, beginning to laugh.

“What—?”

“Promise me—”

“Why would bloody poachers shoot me?” You guffawed, confusion etching your face as he tutted loudly, shaking your shoulders.

“As an Animagus! You are a fricking doe—”

“James, that will never happen. Never in a million years—”

“PROMISE ME—”

“OH MY GOD, FINE!” you yelled, leaning against the headboard as you sighed frustratingly at your boyfriend’s dramatic antics. “I promise I won’t get shot by poachers as an Animagus…” Your voice trailed off as you saw James’s expression. “And as a human.” You watched James ponder for a moment as you crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow at his thoughtful expression.

“I’m not satisfied.”

“Why did I decide to go out with you—?”

“Swear in Amora’s name.” Your jaw dropped at his sudden statement, your hand aching to grab the pillow behind James so you could suffocate him.

“You want me to swear on my dead cat’s life?” You gasped, starstruck, as he shrugged hesitatingly, leaning away from you. “What’s next, an Unbreakable Vow?”

“It couldn’t hurt—”

“JAMES FLEAMONT POTTER—”

“OKAY!” He pressed his back against the headboard as you held the pillow above him, slowly lowering it when he put his hands up in mock surrender. You pressed your lips together, putting the cushion down, satisfied with James’s relieved sigh.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he frowned at your offended expression as he pulled you onto his lap, causing you to sigh. “I’m just very protective of you.”

“Hm, I’ve noticed,” you hummed, remembering when James and the other Marauders hexed a group of Slytherins after they called you various vile names (you can guess what the most evident insult was). “But I will not get shot up by a group of poachers. And how do I know you aren’t going to get hunted by them in your Animagus form as a stag?” You countered, your lips curling as you awaited his response.

“Because I’m profoundly intelligent—” You dramatically gasped at his statement, your mouth falling open.

“Did you just call me dumb—?”

“I would never do that, darling—”

“You just did—”

“I didn’t mean it like that—”

“I will kick you out of this house right now,” you threatened, pointing an accusing finger at him as he grinned lazily, glancing at your lips before looking into your eyes.

“Your mother wouldn’t allow that,” James winked as you gasped again. You grabbed the pillow, climbing off of him before bashing his torso, causing the brunette boy to laugh as he lay on the bed, shoving him repeatedly.

“Wait until I tell my dad you’re flirting with my mum,” you teased, causing James to immediately sit up, widening his eyes as he smiled nervously.

“You wouldn’t—” You gave him a pointed look as he nodded, looking down before peppering your face with kisses, making you squeal as you giggled, attempting to push him off you.

“You slick bastard,” you guffawed, sitting up again, “We’ve missed most of the movie now,” you joked, not noticing his shocked expression.

“Go back, please,” he pleaded, grabbing your hands while kissing your knuckles. You smiled at his behaviour, taking the remote as you rewind to the scene you were on, allowing James to lay his head in your lap. His eyes were glued to the television as you bit your bottom lip, running your hands through his curls as he sighed contently, peeking at you through his glasses.

“We’ll have our own Bambi one day,” James grinned cheesily as a faint blush appeared on your cheeks, leaning down to whisper in his ear.

“We could try right now,” you whispered teasingly, snickering as his cheeks flushed, his eyes flitting to your bedroom door.

“Your parents are downstairs,” he replied in a hushed voice as you covered your mouth, practically dying with laughter.

However, as you laughed away with the subtle tunes of Bambi playing in the background, James couldn’t help but admire the wide smile written on your face, smiling with you, regardless of your mocking.

James was, as Friend Owl just stated, twitterpated. The term was practically the definition of your and James’s relationship. During fifth year, in the middle of spring, he was minding his own business, walking under the cherry blossom trees on the Hogwarts grounds, when he saw you sat against one, scribbling away on a piece of parchment. You suddenly looked up, noticing he was staring at you and only you, so you smiled, blushing before you waved him over to the spot next to you. 

The rest was history. Day after day, he became weak in the knees after catching a brief glimpse of you. Day after day, his head was constantly whirling just by hearing your voice. Day after day, he felt light as a feather as he trailed after you, walking on literal air as you did your own thing.

You had knocked James for a loop.

He’d completely lost his head.

And he was not ashamed.

James Fleamont Potter was proud of himself. After all, who wouldn’t want to be twitterpated?

fun fact! amora (the reader's dead cat 😔) is the name of my oc for the hp book i'm writing :)

#〔 ❦ 〕 ─── 𝐏𝐂𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐖𝐏𝐑𝐋𝐃 #〔 ও 〕 ─── 𝐋𝐔𝐍𝐀'𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐒 #hp fandom #marauders #the marauders #james fleamont potter #james potter #james potter x reader #james potter x y/n #james potter fluff #james potter imagine #muggleborn #gryffindor #animagus #moony wormtail padfoot and prongs #marauders era