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joonkorre · 1 year

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@drarrymicrofic prompt: different

Can the same route lead to a different destination? Certainly. All he has to do is get off at another stop.

But the train keeps on going, the doors are locked, and Harry is glued to his seat. AO3

Harry wakes up, mist and absolute silence surrounding him. His feet lead the way.

****

One month after his twenty-fifth birthday, Harry marries the love of his life.

The wedding takes place on the Northumberland coastline, a compromise they reached after debating whether to conduct the ceremony on a Quidditch pitch halfway across the continent or the Hogwarts courtyard. It’s overall a grand affair, with long wooden tables and burgundy centrepieces and flora emerging after every step down the aisle. Ginny has splurged on a chiffon dress that she’d never wear normally but is perfect for the theme. Harry’s allowed paparazzi for once. A wedding like this belongs nowhere except on the front page.

The kids come soon after. Ginny leaves the naming to him, and naturally, he names all three of his angels after the people they should look up to. There’s never a peaceful day with them running around, especially not when the Granger-Weasley siblings come over. Even then, Harry has to duck his tear-stained face into his wife’s neck as their youngest, Lily, boards the Hogwarts Express for her First year. Like everyone else, they adjust to the too-empty house and fill their calendar.

The young grow taller and the old crouch lower. Charlie flies over to attend Harry’s retirement party, and they laugh about the kind of back pain that magic can’t cure. By that point, James has already found himself a fiance, Ginny has been years into her full-time gardening hobby, and they’ve moved places four times. Albus comes home for weekly dinners and Lily visits once in a while, bearing souvenirs and a grin.

Life goes on just like that for a few decades. When people ask, Harry always replies that as expected, he’s perfectly content.

At 125 years old, Harry passes away with his loved ones all around him.

****

“I like to think free will is the necessary condition of being human, yes.”

Harry nods, sure as can be. Sure as death and taxes, as the white of King’s Cross.

“You say that every time,” the train driver says.

“Do I?”

“Is there free will in this?” There are tickets in the train driver’s hand, all punched in the same incomprehensible shape.

The question is easy and Harry has an answer to it, but somehow it feels odd to say. His seat jolts a bit. Looking around, his eyes widened. He doesn’t remember getting on the train.

“Where’s your next stop?”

The train driver is gone, and Harry doesn’t need to leave his compartment to know that every other one is empty.

“Wherever I arrive,” he says to the white ceiling. That, too, is routine.

****

One month after his twenty-fifth birthday, Harry celebrates his and the love of his life’s anniversary.

Ginny doesn’t mind him being distracted throughout their date as she already talks enough for the both of them. Such a great girlfriend she is. Thus, it feels logical for him to ask for her hand in marriage by the end of the night. He never checked her ring size to buy a ring, and Ginny doesn’t mind either.

Their wedding is elegant. Held in the Italian restaurant they regularly dine in, they have just over 100 guests present. No paparazzi. When Harry reads his vows, he can’t help thinking about how quickly he finished drafting them the night before. Words flowed like the lines he wrote in detention. Some guests cry when he’s done, which isn’t all that surprising. If anything, the food is decent.

Harry and Ginny make the perfect couple. They don’t fight, they share responsibilities equally, and they respect each other’s personal space. Even then, Ginny gets her knickers in a twist on occasion about how easy-going Harry is, how he doesn’t have his own opinion on important life decisions and just agrees with her. His usual reply would be “Shouldn’t that make me the ideal husband?” It doesn’t improve the situation, but it does get Ginny to not talk to him for a day.

He’s promoted to Head Auror in due time. He gets to King’s Cross every September for his three children despite his busy career, even if watching the train disappear into the distance feels wrong somehow. He doesn’t know what to make of it. Ginny comments that it’s the only time he displays real emotion anymore. He’s uncertain about that as well.

Life goes on, as it does. There’s a throwaway fiasco with a Time-Turner, but it resolves itself out. Ginny switches from her Quidditch career to being a sports editor due to her injured legs. The children get over their teenage rebellion phases and grow to become capable adults. Both he and Ginny retire at some point. Hermione and Ron visit once in a while.

If anyone asks, Harry’d say he doesn’t remember much of the past few decades. He’s not sure if this is resignation or acceptance.

At 125 years old, Harry passes away in his sleep.

****

“I like to think free will is the necessary condition of being human, yes.”

“You say that every time,” the train driver says.

“Do I?”

The train driver closes the cabin door, and Harry’s reaction to suddenly being on the train is more instinctual than real.

“Where’s your next stop?”

Harry answers without thinking, staring at the lack of scenery outside. Suddenly, so powerfully it punches the breath from his lungs: dread.

****

One month after his twenty-fifth birthday, Harry asks the love of his life if they can get a divorce.

“No, we’ve only been married for two years,” Ginny argues, her eyes red. “Whatever’s wrong, let’s work this out together, okay?”

Harry genuinely has no idea why he was in such a hurry to propose years ago, as if he felt the edges were fraying and had to be fixed. He doesn’t have the heart to tell her. So he agrees. They work it out together. Neither of them mentions it to anyone else.

They have kids. Three, all named after proper role models. The children turn out okay, more or less, as they ought to. Since he’s a parent, Harry finds himself standing at King’s Cross every year, his wife quiet behind him, both waving at lingering black puffs of smoke as the Hogwarts Express gets farther and farther. Then they head home and clean and go to work. They fight a normal amount.

At some point, Hermione and Ron have gotten tired of him. It’s not an unexpected development, but it’d be a lie if he says it doesn’t sting. On Ginny’s part, he knows she works overtime most nights at the publication because Lavender fulfils her emotional needs. Harry cycles through being a Ministry worker, a floo technician, and a businessman, trying to find something new that he can feel accomplished about. None meets the criteria, and he’s toeing that line between frustration and apathy.

The kids pay their visit sometimes, during which he finally musters enough energy to face their resentment. He’d yell things just to yell and feel his breathing pick up and yank gravelly coughs out his sandpaper throat, and it’s then that he remembers he’s human again. In nanoseconds, he wants to ask himself why he “worked things out,” why Ginny hasn’t filed for a divorce, why everything is the same in only different packaging, why he even has these questions.

If anyone asks, Harry’d say he needs to go. Go where, he doesn’t know either.

At 125 years old, Harry dies alone in a motel room.

****

“I like to think free will is the necessary condition of being human, yes.”

“You say that every time,” the train driver says.

“Surely not,” Harry replies, and it feels like he’s wading in the deep end. “There must’ve been times when I say something else. Do something else.”

The train driver is silent.

“Right?”

Harry blinks, opening his eyes in time to spot the moment he steps over the threshold, one foot still on the station platform. The world tilts just a few degrees, and he turns his head right.

Whistling so high it’s comparable to a screech, the train barrels straight toward him.

****

One month after his twenty-fifth birthday, Harry responds to a joke from the love of his life.

“What, are you getting cold feet?” Ginny smirks, a slice of pizza halfway into her mouth.

Harry stares at her. “Yeah.”

She meets his gaze without anger and only sets her food down. When the first tears drip from their faces and splatter on the table, it’s deliverance.

“I guess you do seem different lately,” Ginny says hours later, curled up against him with her ankles brushing his. The world is dark outside their window and their canceled wedding is a week away. “After your birthday, you look agitated all the time and… I don’t know, but a part of me was preparing for it. My reaction earlier was way milder than it would’ve been otherwise.”

Harry combs his fingers through her silky hair, quiet.

“Do you regret your time with me?” He eventually asks. “I know what I did was unfair, being the one to ask for your hand in marriage just to…”

“Come on, sound it out,” Ginny pats his cheek. “I actually don’t regret it. Live and learn, y’know? And I’m glad to know that you’re a good boyfriend but a shite husband. Better now than years later, by which point I’d probably kill you for wasting years of my life. Or maybe not. That’s worse, probably.”

She shifts and yawns a bit. “How about you? Do you regret our relationship?”

His heart breaks. Harry’s never been honest with her about how he thinks he’s been playing out a script all this time, how he’s less the captain and more the ship, unable to do anything but let ocean waves steer him about. He doesn’t plan to tell her that tonight feels like a breakthrough for him either.

“Not at all,” he says. This, he can be honest about.

People don’t take the news lightly, least of all the Weasleys. Ron socks him in the jaw, hard, since he was the one helping Harry surprise Ginny with the proposal. Harry’s still seeing stars when Molly finishes digesting the news, her face turning to the shade of Weasley red and her wand clenched to the point of shaking. Amidst it all, Harry laughs. An exhilarated, visceral laugh that makes his entire body lock up, the kind he doesn’t even think he's capable of. Ginny stops her frantic explanation to gawk at him, then she laughs as well. Harry is only banned from the Burrow for two weeks.

Harry pivots from Auroring to entering college. Being a Ministry worker straight out of Eighth Year, Hermione admits to feeling shocked that he’d be the one to choose that route. But she helps him relearn how to study, cries at his graduation ceremony, and lets him borrow her owl to send his teaching certificate to McGonagall. It’s with a raised brow, but the Hogwarts headmaster shakes Harry’s hand with barely concealed pride after their interview.

The entire time spent in the Auror Department is insignificant compared to the joy he feels when a Sixth year finally smiles, watching her first Patronus bounce across the room.

September comes. Returning students greet him as they walk past on platform nine and three-quarters. Flipping through a muggle magazine, Harry looks up and scans the crowd periodically. His brows furrow. He checks the suitcase guarded between his calves to ensure that no student-led prank got through. Spotting none, he goes back to his magazine, forgetting about the passing thought that someone is absent. Shortly after, the train arrives.

A new school year starts, and starts and starts and starts, until fifty-something years have passed and he’s taught DADA in every way thought possible. He’s participated in a few studies for novel Dark spells, refined the construction for certain defense procedures, dealt with Howlers from parents, so on and so forth. He’s also dated throughout the years, but no one sticks by him for quite as long as the towering stacks of paperwork in his office. Even then, working with cranky, hormone-filled students has divorced him from the notion of having a family of his own and bringing that issue under his roof.

But he likes his career. He likes his career, and when he announces his retirement, students hug him with red, teary eyes. Shy First years come up to him and confess that they were going to pick his class as their siblings did. Current professors who used to sleep during his lectures now shake his hand and bow.

If it hasn’t been abundantly clear to him over the past decades, it's clear now: Harry Potter is more than a child soldier. He is a beloved teacher.

Retirement is spent around the Weasleys and other retired colleagues who have little left to do but cackle obnoxiously in a pub. That goes on until he’s had enough of charming his own joints to keep working each day, so he hires a private caregiver. Janet is Ginny and that Belgian fellow’s grandchild. She’s snide enough to make him feel less like a burden; she has this uncanny ability to procure any tome or scroll he wants, no matter how esoteric; and she makes excellent sandwiches.

One day, he wakes up with the distinct knowledge that time will stop for him soon. He says—or mutters—something of the kind to Janet, and she sits down with him.

“Didn’t eat much these days,” Harry sniffs. Janet fixes his blanket and doesn’t look surprised when he continues. “Been seeing these. These little children.”

“Do you now?”

“They’re good kids,” Harry pats her hand. Smacks his dry lips and coughs a bit. “Say, why don’t I...”

It’s how he starts every book request. Janet hums patiently.

“Why don’t I have one of those yearbooks? In ‘98.”

“1999, old man.”

Harry grunts in annoyance, but she’s right. When she returns an hour later, poking out of her bag is a purple-bound book with silver embossments.

“You sure there’s nothing else you want to get?” Janet questions as she prepares afternoon tea. The other Weasley kids will visit soon along with Hermione, now wheelchair-bound and prone to napping. He ought to show them the yearbook.

“Eh,” Harry croaks, and Janet nods.

His knobbly hand slowly flips through the pages, feeling the slightest texture of yellowed years beneath his fingertips. Faces that might as well be anonymous as they are familiar, names that are no more than black-inked words, events and titles that are now footnotes in time. He sees himself and his friends repeatedly throughout the yearbook, mouthing the same words every ten seconds or walking across the frame in a loop. How these pictures were taken without him noticing, he has no idea. Or perhaps he’s forgotten. Anywho.

He skips to the index at the end, where everyone in his year (all forty of them, if one can believe it) is crowded into four pages, each dedicated to a House. The students who were absent in Eighth Year were included using their photos from years prior, lest the four pages reduce to two. Such youthful faces. If it’s not for the statues and books about him littering wizarding Britain, Harry would be more surprised at his appearance at eighteen. Sullen, angry, wounds all licked up but far from healed. He shakes his head. That boy would rather use that copper badge to hex anyone he thought was a criminal than meet a shrink.

Everyone else seemed just about what he expected. It does feel nice to put a face to hazy memories though, so he flips to the Slytherins. In front of the camera, they shed their signature smirks, and what remains is a veneer of bored arrogance he reckons only old money can don. His eyes shift to the centre of the page. They stay.

How curious.

“Jan.”

“Hm?”

“Y’know a… a Draco Malfoy?”

What makes Janet Gillard one of Hermione’s favorites is that she co-edited every new Hogwarts: A History edition until about thirty years ago. To this day, she can recite the names of every student and staff present at Hogwarts during the Final Battle.

“A who?” She speaks over the boiling kettle. “Malfoy? That line died out in the 1980s, why?”

He closes the yearbook. The doorbell rings and Janet strolls over to open the front door. When his guests come in, they bring gifts and stories to entertain him with, brightening instantly when they spot the yearbook on his lap.

He doesn’t say much as he watches them read through it, showing him and a smiling Hermione whatever they find interesting. Eventually, they reach the index, saying something about whether the Longbottom child was anything like her great-grandfather, or if the Patils have all moved to the States. When they get to the Slytherins, the chatter lessens, albeit out of respect for their elders who have dealt with these students in the past. Their gaze doesn’t gravitate to that one specific spot, their breath doesn’t stutter. Like nothing is amiss.

If anyone asks, he'd say, "That's not right." But no one does. His eyes slip to the ceiling, throat dried. He gasps.

At 125 years old, Harry dies along with the white, fleshy void of Draco Malfoy's face behind his lids.

****

“I like to think free will is the necessary condition of being human, yes.”

Harry opens his eyes to an empty corridor, the train floor rumbling beneath his feet.

“Don’t I?” He asks himself, curious.

A rattle nearly sends him bumping into a compartment, and his limbs finally move, carrying him forward. His footsteps echo in waves. Dust motes float about, the ancient air too stark a contrast to the white, almost sterilized environment of the Hogwarts Express.

The train car is too long, and Harry doesn’t know how long he’s been running. There’s no sweat on his body despite the strenuous activity, his heart rate remains nonexistent, and once he realizes this, he forces his breath to quicken. Green eyes strain, flicking every which way. This is how it’s supposed to be, but it’s wrong. It’s all wrong.

Far ahead, the minuscule vanishing point that the train corridor converges to eventually widens. His chest heaves in relief. Ever closer, the door has a window big enough for him to see into the cab beyond—and the driver. Harry pushes his legs to go faster. Something flares in his chest, stabbing and red-hot, sounding like fabric shifting and air whipping when he wrenches the driver around by his blue-clad shoulder, makes him look Harry in the face. But he's still running, and his hand grabs air.

Sensing something, the driver’s head turns to the side. Then he stands, leaving his seat and striding toward the door. Harry is two, three paces away. The driver’s gloved hand lifts to hook a finger on the blinds, on the verge of pulling it. One more step. Harry’s hands slam against the metal—body shuddering through the shock—and his eyes lift to stare through the window.

The pulled-low cap shifts a fraction of an inch, but Harry sees it. Wrinkled brows, a panicked glance. The rest of his face is covered behind the uniform’s overly high collar. Snap, and the blinds are down.

“Stop derailing it,” the train driver’s voice surrounds Harry.

His body sags against the door, eyes shutting no matter how much he tries to do otherwise. But he sees it anyway.

Pure silver.

****

One month into his twenty-fifth birthday, Harry stares down at the contract on his lap.

“Thursday next week, we’ll—Harry?” Robards snaps his fingers. Harry doesn’t jolt, and his head lifts to face the frowning Head Auror. “Training hasn’t even started and we’re getting distracted already? Focus.”

“I,” Harry starts. He says nothing more, just now registering the quill against his palm, smooth and waiting. Beneath it is the empty space where his signature goes.

At Harry’s silence, Robards shoots him a warning glance before continuing the speech. Something about schedules, benefits, duties, important missions that need someone full of potential like Harry to come and solve. Didn’t know why Harry was dithering about instead of joining the Aurors immediately after Eighth Year, seeing as the department offers mind counselling as well, but one can’t fault a young man for enjoying his prime while it lasts. Harry will get back on track soon enough.

The floor rumbles below Harry’s soles. He looks up from the contract, but Robards is still leaning against his cherry wood desk, unaffected, and nothing trembles. Shifting his gaze to the large artificial window behind that desk, Harry scans the manufactured blue sky and the looping white clouds. Realistic they may be, but he can never forget that he’s underground.

The white of those clouds feels too much. Almost clinical. Harry blinks at the thought, eyes aching, and it turns out he hasn’t blinked in a while. Robards has moved on to anecdotes, Harry can vaguely tell. Staring at the clouds for this long does something odd to his sight. A sheen of static-like specks fills his vision like every other time Harry stares at something until it becomes incomprehensible. But it’s different now. Why, he doesn’t know, but something changes.

Harry inhales. Stale air that didn’t exist before in this office fills his lungs, and a section of his brain sparks. He exhales. Metal heaves in his ears, ageless machines pumping a way through the fog. Always one designated way.

The air is back to its scentless quality. Harry tries to remember how it was earlier when something else floated through his nose and into his system, but memories slip past him. Maybe it’s not even a memory. Brows knitting together, Harry clenches his eyes shut and forces himself to read through the contract once more.

Words stop making sense. As his eyes flit across the parchment, Harry thinks of death, of lingering, of a tattered veil swaying in windless space, of whispers from the depth. The contract feels heavy in his hand, the quill too rough. Cold sweat dripping down the back of his nape, Harry’s head whips up so fast Robards stops talking. He doesn’t look at the Head Auror but at the clouds.

Pure silver is all he can see.

“Harry, what’s going on with you—”

“Sir, I’m sorry,” he starts. This time, he keeps going. “But I don’t think the Auror Department is right for me.”

Meeting Robards’s eyes, Harry smiles.

“Before I stop wasting your time, do you know the process of applying for the Department of Mysteries? Particularly the Death Chamber?”

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dracolizardlars · 6 months

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general stress / anxiety leading to me not falling asleep: this kinda sucks but alright

anxiety then also majorly triggering my (vague, undiagnosed) chronic pain condition so now I not only can't sleep but also am in physical pain about it: Why Are We Here? Just To Suffer?

#draco speaks #This is actually useful because this is the first extremely clear cut example of short term anxiety triggering the pain I've ever had #I've suspected it's vaguely linked to stress for ages but never been sure #now I'm pretty fucking sure #and also pain and suffering and misery and agony (the pain really isn't that bad I'm just sadge)

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the-goodkhush · 1 year

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help guys my roommate has decided to make chatgpt generated fan fiction and i am scared help she’s already made draco and harry fanfiction apparently guys pls send help immediately for both me and my roommate what has life come to that ai can produce such scary things i want to bleach my eyes

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lancelitttle · 4 months

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Missing my dog so much I might actually cry

#both of them #but this is specifically about my baby most beloved Kai #i love Draco my bestest boy in the whole world #but Kai is my baby fr #i am drowning in misery rn actually #he looks perfectly fine #she does not #like a minor inconvenience away from a breakdown except i cannot have a breakdown #asra talks #personal.txt

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maraudersmyloves · 3 months

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Hey, I was wondering if you could do a really fluffy Mattheo Riddle always cuddling and touching you (especially late nights in the slytherin common room), I love all your posts, especially the Mattheo riddle content

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆｡ﾟ. ───

Pairing: touchy!Mattheo riddle x reader

Warnings: Mattheo whining about you not being glued to him, a mention of Y/N

Word count: 853

Disclaimer 1: Everything on this Blog is fiction!!!

Disclaimer 2: Made this by listening to the smiths

"2:35 AM". :☆｡ﾟ. ───

You love quiet moments like this. The whole group was just sitting around, everyone doing their own thing in each other's company. Pansy is coloring her nails while sitting on the floor, Theo is reading Dead poets society in the big armchair across from you, Enzo is laying on the floor in front of the couch you're sitting on, twirling his wand and staring at the ceiling, Blaise is making a mixtape next to the fireplace, Draco is studying for potions at the small table your feet are laid on, Tom is scheming about how to ruin some poor souls life and Mattheo is turning a feather into all sorts of things (currently a pigeon) whilst annoying draco. You are just watching your friends and humming along to the earworm in your head, while trying not to fall asleep.

Your heavy eyes fixate on Mattheo and the way he pokes his tongue into his cheek in focus. A singular curl falls into his face and you have the urge to stand up, walk over and move it away as if he couldn't do it himself. He doesn't seem to notice you're staring at him. Pansy does.

"God, Y/N this is disgusting. We get it you have a boyfriend," she says while fake gagging. You startle out of your staring and instead fumble with an answer that won't get more annoyed groans from the boys around you. "I wasn't even doing anything!"

Draco perks up from the corner to give his just lovely input "Just making love eyes at our local idiot over there." You roll your eyes. "Shut up and study"

And if this wasn't already uncomfortable of course Mattheo has something to say too "Why so embarrassed, love? I don't mind" He smirks and swiftly gets hit in the head with Theo's book causing you to snort out a laugh and the others to join in while Mattheo's staring daggers at a smirking Theo. "You know what, for that i'm going to flirt even harder."

Pansy laughs at theo's misery when suddenly she realizes she's going to have to witness you two being all lovey dovey, "What have we gotten ourselfs into"

You watch Mattheo stand up, step over Enzo on the ground and settle down next to you. You smile and let out a small giggle as he kisses you. As your lips connect a warm and fuzzy feeling washes over your body. It's comfortable and familiar. You can hear enzo gag and for some reason that is the funniest thing you've heard all day. You break the kiss by breaking into a fit of giggles that only get stronger when you see Mattheo's amused look.

Chuckling, he pulls you into his lap while you keep laughing. "Love, are you high?" You look up in shock, "No!"

"Then what is happening right now?"

You shrug and hide your face in his shoulder, enjoying the warmth of his body. Your limps start to relax and you let yourself melt into him. Humming in comfort when he gives you a little kiss on the crown of your head you let yourself fall asleep.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆｡ﾟ. ───

When you open your eyes again, they're a bit tacky and you have to blink a few times to realize where you are. Mattheo has apparently carried you up to his dorm and is now cuddling you in his bed. Your whole body feels mushy as you stretch and turn in Mattheo's arms making him grumble in his sleep. You look at the cherry red, heart-shaped clock on his bedside table. You bought it for him at a little market in your hometown, seeing as red's his favorite color and the clock was just too cute not to buy. You were kinda scared to give it to him, thinking it was too 'girly' but he was so happy that you even thought of him over the holidays that he (in his words) was forced to kiss the living shit out of you. It's currently reading at 2:35 AM.

You try to wiggle out of his arms to get your wand to charm yourself some water into the empty glass next to the clock. But Mattheo's strong arms only grip your waist tighter when he realizes you're trying to get out. He kisses your neck and whispers "Stay, love," into your skin. "Téo, darling, I need some water." He whines and pulls you impossibly closer. "You can get water in the morning." He keeps leaving light kisses all over your neck and shoulder to try and coax you into staying and any other day it would've worked but your mouth is feeling more disgusting by the second. "Where's my wand?"

"Left it downstairs," he mumbles, his breath tickling your neck and making you giggle lightly. "Watcha laughing 'bout?" You squirm in his hold as his hands start traveling up your sides, knowing how ticklish you are. "Téo! Téo, stop it, you're tickling me." You breathe out between laughs. He kisses your neck, "That's kinda the point."

You end up forgetting about the water.

#fluff #headcanon #writing #slytherin boys #slytherin #slytherin boys x reader #mattheo x you #mattheo x y/n #mattheo riddle fluff #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle

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slytherinslut0 · 1 month

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theodore nott • may i have this dance?

info: smallish blurb for @thatdammchickennugget’s hogmarch challenge. prompt four. (i know im a day late lol sorry mari ily)

summary: theodore told everyone that dances weren’t his thing and decided he wasn’t going to attend the yule ball. when you agreed to go with cormac, he realized that he’d made a big mistake, and was there for you when you needed him most.

tags: soft and fluffy. shitty cormac per usual.

You should have seen it coming.

You should have damn well known that accepting Cormac's half-assed invitation to the Yule Ball was practically signing up for one thing and one thing only:

a one-way ticket to misery.

The sting of his abandonment wasn’t even the worst of it--though it did occur almost immediately, sneaky bloke somehow managing to slither off before Dumbledore even had the chance to make it to the podium to give the opening fucking speech.

Truthfully, you probably could have gotten over that. With enough drinks, that is.

The real kicker came after the bewildering manner in which he vanished into the ether. The moment he reappeared all the same, as if nothing had even happened, accompanied now by your ex-best friend, clinging to his arm like a fucking lifeline.

His smirk, so brazenly triumphant, seemed to stretch wider than the chasm between you, swallowing up his entire face in a painfully irritating display of mockery and betrayal as he shot you an infuriating wink from across the room, leading your friend through the crowd and into position for the first slow dance.

That was it. There was no goddamn way you were staying in that cursed room for even a millisecond longer.

If not for your ironclad resolve, you were fully convinced you would have set the entire room ablaze in a whirlwind of rage as you stormed out.

Yet, as you downed nearly half the flask of firewhiskey you had concealed beneath your flowing emerald green gown, a profound epiphany struck you: that wretched excuse for a human being didn't merit even a fraction of your emotional investment.

What he truly warranted, from the depths of your seething soul, was a resounding void of utter insignificance.

And with that realization burning in your chest, you pivoted on your heels and pushed your way through the throng, feigning ignorance to Pansy's concerned calls and Mattheo's mocking gaze as he reached out to grasp your arm, undoubtedly ready to ridicule you for being left high and dry before the first damn dance.

Your friends had warned you of this inevitable outcome, but your stubbornness had clouded your ears to their warnings.

You live and you learn, right?

"Wrong," Mattheo, Theodore, Enzo, Blaise, and Draco would have most definitely retorted in unison.

You could practically hear it in the recesses of your mind as you pushed through the large double doors and out into the warm spring breeze flowing through the corridor. They would have reminded you that sometimes it pays to heed the advice of someone who's walked the same path, that perhaps they were genuinely trying to watch out for you for once.

Of course, you would have simply scowled and rolled your eyes in response. You didn't need advice from anyone, definitely not them. Although…it certainly would have paid off to listen just this once…

Just then, in that fleeting moment of mental pondering, an intriguing thought popped into your mind;

Perhaps, just perhaps; you were the problem here.

…..No. Nope. Not even close.

You forcefully dismissed that nagging notion the very second it dared to intrude. No, you couldn’t, and simply wouldn’t entertain the idea that you were at fault here.

The reason you were making a hasty exit from the Yule Ball before the first dance had even commenced, the reason the echo of your black heels striking the cobblestones beneath them reverberated throughout the damp and desolate corridor, was solely because of Cormac.

If you were the problem, you’d be the one in there dancing with whomever you pleased, paying no mind to the feelings of others. Your Yule Ball evening was over. And not even the combined efforts of Godric Gryffindor, Professor Snape, Salazar Slytherin and Filch's bloody cat could have kept you from fleeing.

But in truth, if you were being completely real with yourself, you weren’t even all that bummed. A very large part of you didn’t even want to partake tonight.

Perhaps that was due to the fact that the man you longed to accompany the dance with had adamantly declared his aversion to such festivities, and simply decided not to attend.

But that’s neither here nor there at this point.

As you reached the threshold of the courtyard, your gaze fell upon the breathtaking scene unfolding before you: a moonlit evening enveloped in a torrential downpour, each raindrop hammering against the emerald expanse of grass with relentless force.

It was as tragically beautiful as it was suiting.

And as you were lost in the beauty of nature's fury, you were startled by a husky voice slicing through the stillness, calling out your name from down the hall. Nearly leaping out of your own damn skin, your head snapped to the side, your eyes meeting those of a tall, strikingly handsome Italian man striding purposefully towards you.

"Hey," Theodore called out, his voice gentle yet determined, "Wait up."

You rolled your eyes before you could even stop yourself. Force of habit.

“I saw you leaving,” he continued, his steps quickening as he closed the distance between you. “Are you okay?”

You met his concerned gaze with a raised eyebrow, a hint of sass colouring your reply, "don’t I look okay to you?"

Theodore's gaze caressed you, hunger evident in his half-lidded eyes as they roamed over your form with a blend of admiration and concern. Barely audible, a curse slipped from his lips in Italian before he locked eyes with you once more, a palpable shift in the intensity of his gaze.

"You look more than okay, Bella," he murmured, taking a single step closer. “Doesn’t mean you feel it.”

Your breath caught in your throat, your heart quickening its pace in response to his proximity. As Theodore’s words washed over you, a shiver ran down your spine, your skin tingling with the heat of his gaze.

This was the man you’d longed to attend the dance with tonight. The one who swore he’d never take part in such idiocy. Standing before you, clad in an all black suit.

You didn’t even have a thought to question it—to question him—on what the hell he was doing here, dressed like that—because as you stood there, your temperature rising, you met his eyes, a mixture of vulnerability and longing swirling within your own.

“Maybe not,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath, “but somehow…you make it hard to feel anything else.”

Theodore's lips curved into a knowing smile, and his tongue darted out to wet them, his eyes locking with yours in silent understanding.

"Then maybe," he murmured, his voice low and intimate, "we should find a way to make you feel everything."

Your entire body froze in place as Theodore slowly extended his hand towards you, the world around you fading into insignificance as if time itself had paused, as if someone had cast a spell on the clock. Almost entirely speechless, you found yourself unable to tear your gaze away from his, the anticipation thick in the air as the distant strains of a slow dance song filtered through the corridor, emanating from the Yule Ball.

With a gentle smile, Theodore broke the silence, his voice barely above a whisper, "may I have this dance?"

As your lips parted to respond, a whirlwind of emotions danced across your face, your eyes flickering between his outstretched hand and the captivating depths of his gaze. A mischievous grin tugged at the corners of your mouth, your usually sassy self left utterly speechless, and with deliberate slowness, you surrendered your hand to his, relishing in the warmth that flooded your senses as he drawed you closer and into his embrace.

Theodore’s hands found their place on your waist with a gentle yet firm grip, pulling you closer to him as if to reassure you of his presence. You reciprocated by resting your palms on his shoulders, feeling the heat emanating from his body, its intensity seeping through the fabric of his suit jacket, igniting a tingling sensation in your fingertips.

You let your eyes trace a path up his strong chest, taking in the subtle rise and fall of his breath beneath the fabric of his shirt. It was then that you noticed the emerald silk tie adorning his neck, its colour mirroring the rich hue of your dress almost perfectly.

Utterly mesmerized, you couldn’t comprehend the way this man had rendered you so bloody speechless. You’d never have expected any of this in a million years.

Finally, you managed to exhale, your voice barely above a whisper, “you…you matched my dress…”

Theodore’s eyes softened as he looked down at you, a tender smile playing on his lips.

“Only because I knew you’d be wearing it,” he replied, his voice warm, a soft caress against your skin. “Cormac is a fucking idiot.”

A breathy laugh escaped your lips, mingling with the soothing melody of the rain and the gentle hum of the slow dance tune. You blinked, looking up at him through your lashes, finding yourself lost in the depth within the ocean of his eyes.

“You knew he’d ditch me,” you whispered, the words barely audible over the soft cadence of the music. As you watched Theodore’s eyes trace the curve of your lips, a flicker of realization dawned upon you. “You were betting on it.”

“I knew you deserved better,” he murmured, a soft swallow rippling through his throat as he spoke, his eyes shimmering beneath the dim glow of the moonlight filtering through the rain-soaked courtyard. “And I was hoping you’d see it too.”

“Why didn’t you try to stop me?” you whispered, your voice tinged with a hint of vulnerability.

You thought back on the advice from the others. All those times Theo was quiet, just watching. Listening.

Theodore’s expression softened, a rueful smile gracing his lips as he reached out to brush a stray strand of hair from your face. “Would you have listened, Bella?”

You could feel the subtle tension dissipate as Theodore's touch lingered on your cheek, and with a gentle swallow, you met his gaze, a playful glint dancing in your eyes as you considered his question.

"Perhaps not," you replied, your voice as teasing as the grin gracing your lips. “I am quite stubborn, aren’t I?”

Theo chuckled, and you were going to leave it at that, remain silent and enjoy the moment for what it was, but as your eyes found his once more, a surge of honesty flooded your senses, rendering you momentarily breathless. The subtle rise and fall of his chest, the way his lips curved up while donning that devilish smirk of his, the sensation of his thumb brushing against your cheek—it was simply all too much to ignore.

"But, you should know,” you confessed softly, "I truly only wanted to go with you."

Theodore blinked, his gaze flickering with surprise at your admission, as if he hadn't expected you to voice your feelings so openly. But there was no denying the electricity crackling in the air between you, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken desires that had lingered beneath the surface for far too long. His fingers threaded gently through your hair, coaxing your face closer to his, and you couldn’t help but lean into his touch, feeling the warmth of his breath against your skin.

"Dances have never really been my thing, Bella..." his voice, a mere whisper, sent your limbs shuddering with nerves. Your fingers trembled slightly against his shoulders, the only anchor keeping you grounded in the intensity of the moment. "But I'd slow dance across the entire castle with you if you asked..."

Leaning closer, Theodore's breath mingled with yours, the warmth of his words sending a shiver down your spine. As he leaned closer, you could hear the subtle hitch in his breath, the tremor in his exhale.

"I was a fool...” as he hovered inches from your lips, you could feel the heat of his breath against your skin, the tension between you reaching its breaking point. “…for not mustering the courage to ask you myself.”

You wet your lips, your eyes bouncing all over his face, your entire body trembling with urgency, with need, with hunger. You’d hardly even heard his words at this point.

“Tell me, Bella…." he breathed, the words longing for an absolution only you could grant him. “Will you ever manage to forgive me?”

With a mischievous glint in your eyes, you leaned as close as you could possibly get, your lips just barely grazing against his, savouring the moment for every bloody second it had.

"Kiss me," you murmured through a grin, your voice barely above a whisper, "and perhaps…just perhaps, I'll find it in my heart to forgive you."

With that, he dipped low, two strong hands finding your face, capturing your lips with his, and you sighed, lids closing, reaching to forage into his hair. A soft exhale escaped him, the kiss deepening, and he cradled your head, holding you closer, his other hand falling to support your neck, thumb skimming your jaw.

You whined, joy glowing in your chest, and you eased against his body, the both of you melting into each other, melting into the moment, the sound of the rain and the rhythmic tune of the slowdance fading away in the foreground.

And as he slowly pulled away from the kiss, Theodore's eyes met yours again, blue orbs shimmering brighter than the moon.

"I’d spend a lifetime making it up to you," he vowed softly, urging your head to rest gently against his chest. "Starting with this dance."

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papercorgiworld · 4 months

Text

Christmas saviours

Blaise, Draco, Enzo, Theo and Mattheo

A bit of an angsty beginning because of some Christmas loneliness, but you need not worry our most handsome Slytherins will save Christmas Eve with fluff and kisses.

Warning: only kisses and maybe some suggestiveness

Not proofread, feedback always welcome.

I planned on finishing another fic, but ended up writing Christmas fluff. I hope you enjoy it! I wish you all a wonderful Christmas and for those who don’t celebrate Christmas, I wish you a most wonderful day.

Christmas, you loved it! Every year you celebrated with your family and created some lovely memories. Although you knew this year would be different, you were confident that also this year you would manage to create wonderful memories.

You had only recently moved to the UK and this was your first year at Hogwarts. You were definitely the odd one out. Everyone in your year already knew each other for years and then there was you: new and permanently lost in the castle. You had made some friends, but also weren’t gonna win any popularity contests any time soon.

The news that your parents had to work this Christmas made your stomach turn and your heart physically hurt. However, you were already in the Christmas spirit so you were hopeful that you could still figure something out. You consoled your parents by telling them that it would be good to spend Christmas at Hogwarts to make friends.

And that was the plan. You invited everyone you had ever talked to at Hogwarts and also everyone from your year. And you learned a lot, like some people really need to learn how to say no in a polite way and most people go home for Christmas. Now Christmas eve was only a day away, two people had confirmed they were coming and there were two people left on your list who hadn’t responded. Possibly four people would show up, worst case scenario two.

Being hopeful and in full Christmas spirit you did your shopping, preparing everything for an unforgettable Christmas eve. On your way from Hogsmeade one of your invitees came running towards you. “Hey (y/n), so glad to catch.” You smiled brightly. “Here to help me with the groceries?” Your friend smiled. “Uhm, no, but I’ll help.” You’re pleased you can let go of some of the heavy bags. “I was actually looking for you, because I got great news, my parents made it back in time after all. So, me and my brother are leaving in half an hour. I'm really sorry we gotta miss out on your Christmas dinner.” Your smile fades, but you immediately force a fake one onto your lips.

Walking into the room of requirement you finally fall apart. You watch as Hogwarts conjures the most picturesque Christmas scene you’ve ever seen. Tears softly make their way down your cheeks, but you don’t sob, you try to ignore your misery. With shaky hands you put everything you bought in its designated spot. When you kneel down to set the four small Christmas gifts you bought under the tree you finally admit to yourself that you’ll be spending tomorrow evening alone, unwrapping your own gifts. After your moment of self pity you make your way down to your dorm.

The next morning you decide that there is still hope! Though the chances are slim, there’s still a chance one of the two who haven’t responded yet will show up or maybe both. You try and find them throughout the day, but fail. Around 5 you start dressing up. Around 6 you light the candles for your grand Christmas eve party.

Your heart twists and turns as it's hurting terribly, like it would rather stop beating than suffer another minute of agonizing loneliness. You stuff your face with delicious snacks. “What was I thinking? Like someone was gonna show up. I watched too many mushy Christmas movies. Christmas is overrated anyway! I’m turning into the grinch! Uh, I’m talking to myself! I’m going insane, might as well steal everyone’s Christmas next year.” You stop ranting and grab a plate, ready to start cleaning up and go to bed at 7.

Blaise

Suddenly the door opens and you stare in disbelief as Blaise Zabini walks in. “I was in the neighborhood, though I would stop by.” Like a deer caught in headlights you stand still. “Early? Aren’t I?” He looks around the empty room and continues. “If you want I can help you prepare.” You look down at your feet wondering what to say. “You look absolutely stunning, by the way.” “Thanks.” You put down the plate you were holding and manage to gather enough courage to be honest. “Everything is ready. And you’re not early. No one showed up.”

Blaise seems shocked by the news and makes his way around the table to you. “What? That’s horrible. All your effort.” His hands rest on your arms, giving you comfort. “I’ll live.” You say playing it down, but your glassy eyes betray you. “But why are you here? I expected everyone to be at their respective parties.” Blaise’s lips formed a line and you could see he was in deep thought for a second. “I am.” You looked confused at the Slytherin in front of you. “I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.” You frowned and smiled at the same time. Happy with the news but not quite sure what to think about it.

“So… what’s for dinner?” You wanna question everything he’s doing, but his excitement distracts you and you start telling him about all that you had prepared. You two have a lovely dinner together. Blaise is his most charming self as he wants nothing more than to make you forget that no one else showed up. To any outsider it would look as if you two had planned to spend Christmas together. But you kept wondering why he was here. You had to ask. “Why were you in the neighborhood?” A lot of stutters escaped a normally always easy talker, which made you question whether he was in the neighborhood at all. “There was no reason for you to be here, was there?” Realizing it was pointless to come up with excuses, he confessed. “I know I told you I wasn’t coming to your party but I have a little something and that’s why I stopped by.”

You found his choice of words odd. “A little something? Like a gift?” Blaise thought for a moment. “No, not really. Stand up for me will ya?” He got up and you did the same as he requested. He signaled you to come closer and when you still stood too far away he gently tugged your hand until your chest almost met his. He smiled a little goofy and only after a moment did you realize he was nervous. Blaise reached for something in the inner pocket of his jacket. You watch him carefully pull out a branch of mistletoe. He held in between the two of you. “I brought mistletoe.” You laughed as he stated the obvious. “Isn’t it supposed to be above the person you wish to kiss?” He nodded and reached for his wand.

Casting Levioso made the branch float above the both of you. Blaise reached for both your hands and you in return took a step closer. You were now pressed against one another. “Merry Christmas, (y/n).” He leaned in. “Merry Christmas, Blaise.” You whispered against his lips before kissing him.

Draco

The door slams open and you’re shocked to see Draco Malfoy of all people. Is he lost? He looks around smugly, one hand in his pocket and a smirk on his face. “Quiet the party, new girl.” Gesturing towards the empty room. “Trust me the atmosfeer was great until you came in.” You immediately snapped back. He simply huffed and walked towards the table examining all the different dishes. “So where are you guests?” He asked sincerely but without looking up from the food. “I guess everyone had other parties to attend. Understandable.” Your voice was so soft and defeated it made Draco look up at you worried that you might start crying any moment.

He wasn’t really good at situations like these so he quickly made his way over to the drinks. “May I?” He asked politely, gesturing to a bottle of champagne. You nodded. “But it’s probably too cheap for your taste.” Draco gave the bottle one look, shrugged, and opened it anyway. “I’ve already had expensive champagne and cheap company today. Got bored. So I decided to come here for cheap champagne and better people.” You take the glass he offers you. “I’m sorry, it’s a ‘cheap champagne and no people’ kinda party.” He takes a rather large swing from the glass and looks at you with a softness you’ve never seen before. “I’ll take you and your cheap champagne over my family’s horrible Christmas party anytime. So, will you have me as your guest?” You nod with glittering eyes. You quickly explain all the different options your table offers.

He tastes everything and overflows you with compliments. His table manners are exquisite and he even teaches you some little details of fancy dining. But most of all you spent your time laughing at all the ridiculous parties his family organizes. It helps him vent and your laugh makes him heal, like it’s all alright now that you agree it’s just as absurd as he thinks it is. After you’ve finished dining you turn to the tree and the gifts underneath. “If you still have time I’ve got four gifts under the tree. It’s just little trinkets, but to leave them unopened just feels horrible.” The Slytherin stares at you with wide eyes as you make your way to the tree to pick up one of the gifts. When you turn around with a gift in your hands he gets up from his seat in a hurry. “I can’t stay.” Is all he says as he picks up his scarf.

“Just one gift.” Your voice is almost a whisper and Draco closes his eyes for a moment. “It’s just, I have nothing for you. I come barging in, eating all the food and now gifts, while I have nothing to give-“ “You showed up! You saved my Christmas. You’re like my hero.” Draco feels like he’s going to burst with emotion at your words. He… a hero, it made him feel like a whole different person. “Truth is, (y/n) you saved me and not just my Christmas, all of me.” Only now you realize how close together you are with only the gift between you two. He looks so fragile and that’s probably why you suddenly felt the courage and need to go in for a soft kiss. He was shocked for a moment with eyes wide, but surrendered to your warmth and kissed back, his hand reaching for the back of your head to deepen the kiss.

“Will you now open a gift?” You ask again when you break the kiss. He smiles sheepishly. “Yes, anything for my princess.”

Enzo

“I’m here!” You stare at energetic Berkshire as he comes through the door announcing his presence. “Might have nicked something fancy that might just save your Christmas.” He holds a bottle of expensive firewhisky up. “What are you doing here?” You asked, confused by his presence and enthusiasm. His smile softens and he puts the bottle down on the table. “I had a suspicion that the new girl’s Christmas party wasn’t going to be a great success.” You felt horrible hearing him say the obvious. He walked around the table towards you.

“I’m here to keep you company.” You huff at his offer. “I don’t need your pity. I’m sure you have plenty of other places to be.” Enzo grabs your hand as you try to turn away from him in an attempt to hide your misery. “You need my pity, this is a pitiful party.” You try to force your hand out of his grip but he has a surprisingly tight hold of you and you end up closer to him. “And also, there’s nothing for me at the other parties, because the cute new girl isn’t there.”

You look in his gentle eyes wondering if he really means it. “You want to spend Christmas eve with me?” You ask, almost afraid of the answer. He nods and an adorable smile tugs at your lips as you no longer can contain your happiness. During dinner Enzo catches you up on all the latest gossip. But after a while you get worried if people gossip this much at Hogwarts then for sure they will talk about your lame party. It’s this concern that leads you to ask for a favor. “Uhm. Enzo, about my party… could you not tell anybody. Like I can just say that I canceled it. I mean.. I really don’t want people figuring out about my lame Christmas party.”

“Can’t.” You stare at him as he swallows a bite of his desert. “If your party didn’t happen then where was I. I can’t have people thinking I was alone.” “But telling people you were at the new girl’s lame party won’t do your reputation any good either.” Enzo shakes his head and gets up from his seat opposite of you to take a seat next to you. “Darling, this is not a lame party. It’s a lovely party. We’ve got amazing decorations, delicious food, firewhisky, gifts under the tree and each other. Are you not happy?” You turn to him, feeling a bit embarrassed that you were so caught up with what people would think rather than when you think. “Of course, I was being stupid. This is a lovely Christmas, thank you Enzo.”

His smile turns cheeky. “Yeah, I kind of saved your Christmas eve. Didn’t I?” You nod and give him a kiss on the cheek. “Yes, yes you definitely saved my evening.” Enzo licks his lips in a mischievous way. “A kiss on the cheek?! That's all a guy gets for saving Christmas?” You laugh at his dramatics. You fake a scoff and get up from your seat. “Enzo, have you no shame.” Suddenly he grabs you pulling you into his lap, a giggle escaping your lips. “No.” He states and wiggles his eyebrows. “Fine.” You kiss him softly and bite his lip softly while purposely pressing your chest against his, giving him more than he bargained for. The kiss deepens and his hand slips to your thighs resting there and gently squeezing. “I definitely know some guys who’re going to be jealous when they hear about this party.” “Shut up, Enzo.” You say playfully before kissing him again.

Theo

Theodore Nott? Unbelievable? To avoid any snarky comments you decide to diss yourself before he gets the chance. “Welcome to the most boring Christmas party ever.” Theodore simply snorts at your fake enthusiasm. “Pretty sure, I just came from the world’s most boring Christmas party.” You huff. “Wow, I suck even in organising lame parties.” Theo looks around. “Pretty sure this doesn’t qualify as a party.” You narrow your eyes, how does he manage to always have the last word.

“What are you doing here, Nott?” You ask as your frustration with Theo beats the sadness over your party. “If I remember correctly you said my Christmas enthusiasm was as overrated as my academic skills.” Theodore can’t help but roll his eyes. women and their need to remember every stupid thing he says. “Sounds like me, probably was me. But clearly I’m desperate… so, do you take in strays?” Your attitude disappears as you look at him, he was in his way sincerely asking if he could stay.

“Of course. You’re very welcome.” Your voice comes out with a little more doubt than planned, but Theo takes your welcome anyway. You both sit opposite of one another. “You must be really desperate if you came to my party?” You ask softly, no snarkiness in your tone. “You must be really desperate for a guest if you let me in, after all I’ve not been my kindest self around you.” You look at the food on your plate. “I’m really desperate, since obviously no one bothered to show up aside from you. But also I can see the humor in most of the insults you throw at me.” A warm smile appears on the slytherin’s face, feeling understood and a little less bad.

For the most part your evening is filled with humorous insults and snarky comments, but as time passes your rivalry ebbs away. The conversations get more serious and Theo almost exclusively has words of endearment for you. His softness envelopes you and your Christmas joy finds its way to Theodore. After lounging on the couch for a while you pull yourself back up. “Gifts? I’ve got four and they’re all for you.” He growls gutturally. “I don’t like gifts, plus I don’t have one for you.” You frown. “Who doesn’t like gifts? You absolute weirdo.” Theo laughs at your unfiltered opinion of him. He pushes himself to sit straight and watches you pick out the first gift. You don’t see how fragile he looks as he watches your gentleness.

When you go sit next to him and joyfully present him the gift he looks in your eyes. “Come on.” You urge like an impatient child. “Fine, but me first.” You frown and purse your lips. “You said you didn’t have anything.” Out of his pocket a fumbled piece of paper appears. “It’s not something I wanted to share, but it’s Christmas right, so why not.” He nonchalantly pushes it to you, waving the paper impatiently, like he wants to be rid of it. When you take it he looks away avoiding your confused gaze. You ignore his bizarre behavior and gently unfold the paper, revealing a sketch of you: you paying attention during class, probably transfigurations.

Theo’s still looking at anything but you. You shuffle closer to him and cup his cheek, turning his face to meet yours. “You drew this? I love it. Thank you.” “You’re a bit of a distraction during class. Probably why I’ve been picking on you.” A soft laugh rolls over your lips when you hear his confession. “And how do I distract you? As you can see all I do is pay attention like a good student.” You hold the sketch up to him as proof. “You do a lot more than that, (y/n). You get me thinking.” You can’t contain your smile. “I get you thinking? How awful of me.” He hisses at your mockery, but when he closes what little space there was between the two of you, your confidence fades. “You have me thinking about doing this” His lips catch yours, he kisses you with so much passion your whole body goes crazy for him in an instant. When he finally releases you, your head feels hazy. “What’s that all about?” Theo grins, enjoying the obvious effect he has on you. “This is my Christmas spirit, I’m feeling generous.” Is all he says before he pushes you to lay on the couch and continues to kiss you with unrelenting passion.

Mattheo

You hear noise at the door and turn to look at it slowly open. You hold your breath, still holding the plate as Mattheo Riddle walks in. Holding flowers in one hand and a gift bag in the other. He looks at you, but you just stare quietly and then he looks around the room. “Oh, I’m too late. I’m so sorry.”

Mattheo Riddle, Slyhterin bad boy, Slytherin trouble maker, son of the dark lord, most handsome guy in your year - maybe even all of Hogwarts - show up to your lame Christmas party with flowers and apologies. Weird. You had indeed invited him, when you announced that everyone was welcome during potions class but you were pretty sure he was among the people making fun of you.

You snapped out of your thoughts, someone was here, you were in no position to be picky about who it was. “No, you’re not late.” He looks confused at the empty seats. “Then where is everyone?” You look around feeling exposed, but look back up at his questioning face. You bite your lip, trying to think of a lame excuse but finding none. “Uhm, no one showed up, except for you.” You eventually manage to say, eyes getting glassy. Mattheo makes a soft ‘oh’ sound and you quickly try to get rid of the awkward situation.

“There’s plenty of food if you wanna stay. And also four gifts for you, since you know no one showed up.” Mattheo stays silent for a few seconds. “But you don’t have to stay, this probably isn’t your ideal Christmas eve.” The slytherin simply shrugs. “It’s not like I have anything better to do and the food looks divine.” You can’t help but chuckle as the awkwardness ebbs away. “Flowers for the hostess.” He offers you the lovely winter bouquet he had been holding. A blush creeps up to your cheeks as you take them and conjure a vase.

Dining together has you feeling like you’ve known Mattheo your whole life. You’re surprised by so many things he tells you, but most of all by how easy it is to talk to him. After the desert you make your way to the couch near the Christmas tree. With the table between the two of you gone things feel different and you both fall silent. “You were actually the last person I thought would show up and yet here we are. I hope you’ve enjoyed yourself so far. Because I definitely have.”

Mattheo stares at you fondly but doesn’t say anything. “Anyways let’s start with the gifts.” As you stand up to reach for one of the gifts Mattheo pulls you down. You now sit so close that your hips are touching and he’s still holding on to your wrist. “This whole evening has been wonderful. You’re wonderful, (y/n).” It sounds like a love confession and you hold your breath. “And at the risk of ruining this evening, I would like to kiss you. Is that okay with you?” Your heart melts, you can’t believe this and no one at Hogwarts will ever believe this. You nod softly, insecure about what you’re getting yourself into.

His hand holds your cheek and you lean in as his lips reach yours, light as a feather his lips brush yours. Ever so slowly Mattheo deepens the kiss, making you go crazy with desire for more. When you lay your hand on his leg for support he sees it as a signal that you are comfortable with him and snakes an arm behind you to pull you closer. Only when the kiss ends do you realize you’re laying in his arms. “When I said let's start with the gifts I didn’t know one of the gifts was wrapped up with a tie and good looks.” You joke as you undo his already loose tie. He smirks as he watches you all comfortable and confident in his arms.

His free hand reaches for your leg urging you come sit on his lap with your legs on either side of him. He pulls you in for another tender kiss. “I did actually bring a gift for you. So if you really want to unwrap-“ You cut him off by slamming your lips into his with passion and eagerness. He complies and pulls you closer into him until there’s no space left. “And here I thought you were all innocent and cute.” Mattheo says, clearly entertained by your enthusiasm. “I’m, I’m just being a good hostess by making sure my one and only guest is having a good time.” Mattheo’s face lights up with genuine happiness. “No doubt you’re a good hostess, pretty sure you would make a wonderful girlfriend as well.”

#slytherin #theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #blaise zabini x reader #blaise zabini #enzo berkshire x reader #enzo berkshire #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle imagine #blaise zabini imagine #draco malfoy imagine #theodore nott imagine #enzo berkshire imagine #mattheo riddle #papercorgiworldwritings

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myfictionaldreams · 6 months

Note

Hey :) i would love to ask for a spicy Lucius Malfoy x Reader ☺️ something like Reader is a young Teacher in Hogwarts and Lucius and her are having an (very serious) affair (takes Place in the chamber of secrets).

The School Governor //Lucius Malfoy x Fem!Reader

A/N: Thank you so much for the request! I've never written Lucius before, but hopefully, you'll enjoy it!

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, infidelity/cheating, secret relationship, rough sex, creampie, fingering, squirting, tension, praise kink, size difference, Narcissa bashing (sorry!), kissing, fluff/angst

Words: 2.8k

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AO3 Link

“Are you sure you’re supposed to be here at this time of day, Mr Malfoy?”

The corner of the man’s lip twitched up like he was trying to smile but attempting to conceal it by remaining stoic. You were then faced with his signature sneer, those piercing grey eyes wandering over your appearance as if he was assessing whether he even wanted to waste his time. “It seems I’ve become lost on my travels around Hogwarts. Might you show me the way out?” Lucius asked with disdain thick in his voice

“Of course, Sir. Just this way”, you pointed in the direction you’d just walked from. No one even blinked an eye in either of your directions as you led him away from the grouping of students who were all on their way to bed as the night drew closer to curfew.

Your head remained forward, not once looking over your shoulder to check if he was following as you knew that he would be. You thanked Merlin for having an office so far away from students and other professors as the main offices were already lived in. You were new to the school, recently hired to assist Madam Pomfrey with Herbology, as she was too busy trying to attend to the Mandrakes.

The job may have been due to the recommendations of the man following closely behind you, his cane clicking against the stone floor and billowing close, switching the dust in whichever direction he turned.

As you both approached further towards the greenhouses and, thus, your office, there was a blossoming of heat and anticipation spreading from the centre of your chest to the tip of your toes. This was always something that your body seemed to do whenever within arms reach of the school’s governor. Moreover, he always seemed to be at the school nowadays, stating that he was there on school business, especially with the latest attacks on the students.

This is just an excuse, however, pretending to look around the school to catch the Headmaster in a scheme, but really, he would be sneaking to your classroom, office or meeting in the Forbidden Forest.

It was wrong. More than wrong. He had a wife, whom he was incredibly unhappy with, having been forced into a marriage as soon as he’d finished his time as a student at Hogwarts. All to abide by the pure blood status and traditions without any sort of say in the matter. Forced to live a life of misery, reproduce and have heirs and then die in a loveless marriage.

This was the only reason you had continued to meet with him. The ache in your heart quickly succumbs to his negative life. You knew he was manipulative, quick-tempered and had questionable ideologies on the dark arts. But when it came to Lucius Malfoy, it was as if your mind purposefully ignored these warning signs, mainly because he never discussed or acted in a horrible way around you.

You were always his peace and tranquillity, his little saviour in the dark before the world's realities came crumbling down around him. There you were, gifted with the raw, passionate, and incredibly loving man who held your hand when walking past, stroking your cheek to catch any slipped tears when it was time to say goodbye for a few more weeks.

It was a complex relationship to have and made even more so when you were now having to teach his son, Draco, who seemed to be a smaller copy of his Father, to be even more arrogant at his young age. It meant that you could give him additional help to boost his grades and, therefore, please his father, which, in turn, helped bring positivity into the secret relationship.

As you were greeted with the view of the long corridor that led to your office, your steps slowed as Lucius snapped, “Dobby. Check the area is clear for any prying eyes”.

With a flash out of the corner of your eyes, Dobby appeared and disappeared, apparating further down the corridor in multiple positions to check if the two of you were truly alone.

“The area is clear, Master”, Dobby approached before disappearing completely. You and Lucius rushed the remaining way to the office. You opened the door wide enough for him to follow through and slammed closed. As your wand waved in front of the handle, thoroughly locking the two of you in, a hand gripped your hip, turning your body so that your back met the door's wood.

A leathery gloved hand then cupped your jaw, tilting your face back so that Lucius could kiss you with as much desperation and urgency as you felt in the centre of your chest. It almost hurt with how much pressure his face was applying to yours, his warm breath fanning across the apple of your cheeks with where his nose was pressing. Your hands lifted to grab any part of him and ended up clinging onto the opening of his cloak, harshly tugging him even closer until there wasn’t a gap between your bodies.

Releasing a soft moan from your throat, this seemed to begin moving further, both gloved hands now cupping both of your cheeks in a safe cocoon as his thumbs caressed careful circles against your skin.

The coldness of the material wasn’t enough to satisfy your need for him as you dipped your head to free your mouth. “Off! I need your clothes off!”

Lucius’s baritone laugh burst across your face as he stepped back to give the two of you some room. “Such a demanding little thing, aren’t you?”

“I am when you’re wearing so many layers! Take them off!”

He chuckles at your reaction once more but finally begins to remove the cloak from his shoulders and gloves from his hands, next attempting to undo the luxurious vest jacket that he wore. The buttons running down the middle were taking too long for him to undo, so you quickly gripped either side of the best and pulled hard, surprised by your strength as the buttons began to pop off and tumble.

“Do you know how expensive this was?” he asked incredulously, but humour still danced behind his bright eyes.

“I’ll fix it at the end”, you say breathlessly, wrapping both arms around his neck and pulling him in for another heated kiss. A perfect mix of lips, teeth and tongue, all moving together, nipping, licking and sucking. Neither mouth pulled apart from the other, making the actions more frantic and chaotic with the attempts to remove more of the clothing articles. Soon, you both became frustrated by the barriers and settled for the basics.

Leaving your jumper and skirt on, you kicked off the shows, tights and underwear you’d been wearing as Lucuius kept his white shirt on but undid his leather belt to loosen his trousers and boxers until they were around his knees.

Lucius pulled back from the heated kiss first, but only so he could turn you around and push you face-first against the door. You huffed at the impact but soon were groaning in pleasure as he lifted your skirt and began to rock his dick against your folds, teasing you with gentle pressure before finding its home in your warm cunt.

“Silenco”, Lucius whispers, waving his hand as the atmosphere becomes dense as the spell renders the area soundproof. With the safety of the spell, your mouth fell open, and a barrel of dirty moans left your lips as you didn’t hold back from telling him how good it felt to be stretched by his cock once more.

Lucius dipped his height so that his forehead could rest against your cheek, breathing heavily as he thrust hard and deep. The pace was bruising to the side of your face, resting against the door, but nothing in the world would get you to stop at that moment. To be able to feel his thick length fucking hard into your pussy was something you craved every day.

As your hand reached the back of his head, gripping his silky white-blond hair, you gasped, “I’ve missed you”.

Lucuius groans as he nuzzles into your neck, biting the skin just below your ear as his arm moves around your waist, angling your hips so your arse is sticking out slightly so he can deepen the thrusts.

“I’ve missed you too, little witch. So much more than you could ever know”. Your heart could have stopped at his words, falling even more in love with him than you had before, which tightened your drenched walls even further around him. “I know you’re close. I want to feel you cum around my cock Darling, cum for me like the good witch I know you are”.

As he praises you, the arm around your waist slips beneath the front of your skirt so that he can roll your clit in circles, matching the pace of his hips. Your thighs tremble, fingers clenching his hair until it hurt, but Lucius didn’t stop until you were crying out in pleasure, cunt clamping in spasms around his length, and he, too, joined you through his own orgasm.

Lucius didn’t stop rolling his hips until you were sated and calm from cumming, and his seed had soaked as deep as he possible, caressing your cervix and then dripping out down your thighs. The two of you sighed in contentment, staying together, pushed against the wall, and just appreciating the moment you had tangled against one another.

“I didn’t expect to see you for at least another week. Have you come because of the attacks?”

“I feel as a good Govenor; my answer should be yes”, he whispered against the shell of your ear, nipping the lobe with his teeth, causing goosebumps to rise down your arms. “I can’t deny, however, that it was you that brought me here. I meant it when I said I missed you”.

Even with his softening cock still inside of you, he knew how to make your knees tremble as you blew out a long breath as you asked, “Can you please stay?”

You could feel his shoulders dropping and knew his answer before he’d even begun to speak, and sadness spread through your body, replacing the euphoric sensation. Lucius gently kissed the back of your head as he carefully eased himself away from you, “I’m sorry, my love, you know I can’t”.

Smiling to hide the upset, you turned to him, “I know. I’m sorry I always ask; I just hope that one day you’ll be able to say yes”.

His warm hands cup your cheeks delicately as you do the same for him, carefully moving some of the messy strands behind his ears. “I’m sorry”, he says earnestly.

“Could you stay for a drink at least?”

“I would never say no to a drink with you”. Lucius began to dress, looking significantly more chaotic than before but always looking crisp before leaving. All you managed to do was pick up your discarded clothes and shows, straighten your jumper and wait for him to wave his wand between your legs, cleaning up the mess he had created with a smile.

Walking further into the office, you entered through the hidden door at the back of the room leading directly into your living area. The fire sparked to life as soon as you stepped onto the roof, instantly filling the vast space with heat and an orange hue. Pouring the both of you a hefty glass of dark liquid, you both cheered the glasses together, taking a deep swig of the alcohol that burned your throat deliciously and then settled into the sofa.

You sat remarkably relaxed with him, leaving your bare legs thrown over his lip as his arm settled around your shoulders to keep you close as you watched the fire lights dancing with the flickers of the flames.

“He’s nearly top of the class, but I think he’d have a hard time trying to best both Longbottom or Granger”, you explained sometime later as Lucius asked how Draco was fairing in your class. The man scoffs, only earning him a slap to his chest, “Hey! They’re my students; stop that”. Thankfully, he held his tongue and didn’t prattle on his biased opinions on pure-bloods or traitors, which he had quickly learnt was nothing you were particularly focused on. “Could I ask about what the governors are going to do about the attacks? I don’t want them to close the school, but it feels so dangerous now that students are being attacked”.

Lucius’ arm tightens around your shoulder as his lips press against your temple. “Nothing will harm you, Darling, and I’ve told you this already: I can’t speak of the Governor meetings. We’re sworn to secrecy”.

“It’s not me I’m worried for. It’s the children. It means - aren’t you worried about Draco?”

Your head tilts back on his arm so you can look up into his effortlessly handsome face, expecting him to be worried. However, he only appeared to be as calm and in control as ever, his grey eyes dancing with yours and the bottom lip you’d tucked between your teeth.

“Not at all. He’s in the safest house with the safest blood. I have no worries for my son”. His answer confused you, but you’d just put it down to his many prejudices and superiority complex. Reach up to stroke the smooth sin of his jaw, and you can’t resist the temptation to lean closer and kiss him deeply, tasting the alcohol on his tongue that matched your own.

“What’s it like?” you ask between kisses, unable to stop yourself from asking. “At home, I mean, what’s it like? Do you have any happiness at all?”

“You know I’m not happy and never will be with her”, he answers abruptly, to look at you with a questioning gaze.

“I didn’t mean it like that. I know you hate her”. You refuse to say her name both from shame and jealousy. “Do you have anything else that brings you joy? I hate the thought of you being alone in a big house with no one to give you any positivity”.

The hand lazily resting across your calves begins to draw circles into the skin as he contemplates his answer. “Without Draco there, I have no one. Narcissa and I may eat meals together, but that’s as far as it goes. We never talk; we even sleep in separate rooms. Everything is always for show, which is why these moments with you, where I get to be with someone I genuinely love, mean the most to me”.

You shake at his words, feeling the edges of your eyes water as you cling to him with even more desperation. What's more, the hand on your calf was beginning to slowly creep up the sensitive area of your inner thigh, distracting you from continuing the conversation as your legs automatically parted, giving him more room.

“Lucius”, you pleaded, eyes following his long fingers, the thick silver ring with the ‘M’ wrapped around his thumb adding extra sensitivity with the coolness of it against your skin.

“Shh, I’ve got you, little witch. Just relax for me”, he whispered against your temple as his fingers finally reached their goal. Your head tipped onto his shoulder as your back arched. All of your thoughts were centred on the skillfully trained fingers as he explored your dampening folds, spreading them with ease to give his middle finger the path to your eagerly awaiting hole.

You were a mewling mess as he eased two fingers into your cunt, coating the digits in your juices and rocking them in and out carefully. Lucius began to move the arm around your shoulders, relaxing his hold so he could lie you down on the sofa as he leaned over you, his mouth hovering just above yours.

“Are you going to be good for me, my Darling?” he asks, his warm breath teasing you once more as your legs try to clamp his hand in place.

“Yes!” Your shout was abrasive, but only because he’d already caused you to become a pathetic mess. Lucius smiled against your lips but didn’t move to kiss you properly as he applied more pressure with his fingers and thumb and stroked your clit.

You could feel his soft hair falling around your face as he began to curl his fingers inside of you, pounding that one spot within you that had you seeing stars. You weren’t able to say a coherent word as moisture squirted from your cunt, coating his fingers and wrist as he continued the action at a hard and fast pace.

The sloshing noise was obscene to your ears as he made you squirt over your thighs, sofa and his black trousers. You weren’t even sure you’d came as everything went from 0-100 with how intense his fingers had made you feel.

When he slowed his curling digits, you were a gooey mess in his arms. A grin erupted across your face as he sighed into the cushions, leaning further into his chest as he kissed your temple, allowing you to catch your breath.

“I must go; it’s getting late. You know I love you, my little witch”.

“I love you too, Mr Malfoy”.

#lucius malfoy #lucius malfoy smut #lucius malfoy x reader #lucius malfoy one shot #harry potter smut #hp smut #mine*

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milk2641 · 7 months

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Here’s a preemptive sketch for 16

The lyrics are a bit out of order, but here’s the song they’re from:

#inktober #inktober 2023 #cringetober 2023 #except i’m following 2022 because i’m dumb #ocs #oc ship #Miseri Draco #Kanamo #Spotify

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yanxidarlings · 3 months

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what's this? for once i am listening to a poll and not getting distracted by something entirely different?

fair warning this is probably my darkest yandere hp writing, reader goes through some shit (said shit being the slytherins shit) it's mostly just angst and misery with a hint of fluff (if you squint) honestly not that crazy about this, but i hereby present

YANDERE SLYTHERIN BOYS: NOT SLYTHERIN, AYE?

"remember, m/n, you have to do everything to be put into slytherin, no matter how it is the sorting works" draco levelled with m/n l/n, holding an uncomfortable amount of eye contact.

breaking away from the blond's gaze, m/n let out a snicker "i don't know what you're so worried about, draco, i'm the most slytherin person i know!" internally, everyone who wasn't m/n sighed. it was no secret m/n wasn't exactly.. slytherin material. but neither was enzo, or goyle and crabbe for that matter. but they'd all end up in slytherin together anyway, right?.

swinging an arm over the other male's shoulder, enzo pulled m/n in close "we just have to act as slytherin as possible, it'll be a lap around the quidditch pitch getting sorted if we just think things like.. how wicked snakes are- especially green ones! and.." the brunet furrowed his brows as he paused to think. "and just say mudblood over and over again as well! that'll convince them for sure"

m/n laughed, wiggling out of enzo's grip. if only he had actually taken the advice, maybe he wouldn't be where he was now.

"ravenclaw" "hufflepuff" "gryffindor"

what did the hat even yell out? all m/n knows is that it wasn't slytherin. he sat motionless on the stool, gripping the edges, waiting to hear 'slytherin' yelled out.

"mr l/n, please make your way to the ravenclaw table" a stern voice spoke.

he looked up to see professor mcgonagall staring at him, indicating towards the ravenclaw table. "what, why?" he gave the old woman a confuddled look "that's you're house, mr l/n" the look of confuddlement had turned into pure shock "the.. over there?" when mcgonagall quickly confirmed yes his mouth went agape "are you sure? i.." he pointed towards the slytherin table, where the rest of his childhood friends had been sorted "whilst i'm not entirely convinced, the sorting hat is, move along child" ushering him off the stool and towards the ravenclaw table, mcgonagall quickly went to call out the next name as soon as he was down the steps.

taking a seat at the very edge of the table, m/n ignored the greeting from the boy sat next to him to stare over at the slytherin table. only lorenzo was looking over at him, the rest avoided his gaze.

the boy pinched his forearm, leaving a red mark. but he didn't wake up in his bed nor the slytherin dormitory.

looking down, he saw his robes had taken on the blue and bronze colours associated with the eagle house. his stomach dropped, the reality of the situation coming crashing down. m/n l/n's life was effectively over

• the next day at herbology, the ravenclaw first class that day with the slytherins, none of them acknowledged him. it stung. sure, the reader had heard of purebloods not getting sorted into slytherin and being alienated from their family and circle, but it was never supposed to happen to him!

• the invisible treatment, alongside the howler he received from his guardian was enough to make him cry in the owlery after curfew. where else was there to cry? his new dormmates were mudbloods out for his magic! and the prefects patrolled the halls at night. imagine the humiliation if weaslebee or whatever the ravenclaw prefect's name was saw him balling his eyes out?

• lorenzo spoke to him, for a little while. but he knew the boy's parents would nip that behaviour in the bud eventually. the prestigious heir of the berkshire family? associating with a blood traitor? m/n knew none of them wanted to be dragged down with him.

• for a little while, he thought they just needed time to adjust to him being in a different house. it was just a house? the day after ravenclaw beat the slytherin team in first year, all hopes of that came crashing down.

"draco!" m/n smiled as he came past malfoy in the halls, "can you believe wattle stole the snitch? she must have knocked it out of higgs hands, i swear he had it" quidditch was safe, right? m/n had never given a hoot about quidditch in the past, but if it meant getting back in draco and his gang's good books, call him a connoiseur.

malfoy shot m/n a glare "let's see you do any better then" he spat. crabbe and goyle had their arms folded, as if they were the blond's bodyguards.

the ravenclaw went agape before puffing his cheeks out, trying to think of something to say "i- i was just chatting" he folded his arms, not in the intimidating way crabbe and goyle were, as if to make himself smaller.

"you're pathetic, l/n, you think i'd want to be friends with a disgusting blood traitor. know what? i'm glad you got sorted into ravenclaw so i didn't have to find out the hard way, you would have taken us all down with you, wouldn't you?" draco sneered out, eyes narrowing.

m/n looked down, his face painted with shock "draco.. i swear i'm not a blood traitor, the hat got it all wrong!" there was no reasoning with someone like draco, who had been raised with the strict pureblood beliefs shoved down his throat.

oi!, a voice rang out from behind him, turning halfway, m/n saw a boy in slytherin robes that he had never met before "who's this" "who are you" m/n said in near unison with the stranger "he's no one, riddle, nothing but a worthless blood traitor"

with that, malfoy, crabbe and goyle pushed past m/n, and began chatting with the other boy- riddle.

• to say the first few years at hogwarts are hell for m/n is an understatement. it wouldn't be a surprise if he developed anxiety, depression and paranoia from the constant ridicule and bullying. every corner he turned, one of them was there, calling him foul names, telling him he's a disgrace to his family name.

• who would want to stick around and become a victim as well? no one. that's who m/n had, no one. they brought anyone who he spent time with the same hell. it wasn't even just insults, it was physical, from getting into petty fights with mattheo, to theodore using the levicorpus charm to give him a concussion.

• if he so much as looks one of the greengrass girls way, elio would pour one of snape's potions over m/n's head and then tell the professor that m/n had stolen the potion. if he got the best grade in any class, enzo would accuse the reader of stealing his work, although tom always seemed to be the mastermind behind it.

• there was this one time when a girl a year below him, luna lovegood, began hanging around him, declaring that they were now friends. but m/n knew better than to get used to it, and he was right. within a few weeks of the friendship, a rumour started spreading that m/n was sleeping with rita skeeter and shit talking the quibbler. lovegood never looked at him the same.

• not to mention, the situation at home only got worse. the house was no longer a home, if it ever was. everything he apparently 'did' at hogwarts got reported back to his parents, who disowned him in fifth year.

• m/n didn't return to hogwarts after the winter break when his name was burnt off the family tree.

the great hall was bustling with students, catching up with friends after the yuletide season. the 'best spot' on the slytherin table (where the roasted turkeys were) was dominated by what was best known as the 'slytherin gang'.

blaise was quiet, but when wasn't he? he only spoke when something needed to be said. eyeing the ravenclaw table for his favourite person to lovingly stare (glare) at, he saw no familiar face.

darting his eyes back and forth between the entry and the table, a solemn look crossed his dark features. "what's got you so pissed, mate?" theo leaned over, following zabini's gaze. blaise briefly made eye contact with theo before taking a bite of roasted potato

"i don't see him either" riddle, tom, to be exact, remarked. theo made an 'o' face, the name didn't have to be said for everyone to know who they were talking about. they spent their days thinking of ways to torment him, who else would they notice the absence of?

• nobody explicitly said they missed the reader, but actions speak louder than words.

• tom was the first to notice something was amiss. you couldn't waterboard the information out of him, but he couldn't stand not to know where l/n was. he honestly thought the bullying was a bit ridiculous, but as long as he was isolating the reader, he didn't care how it was done.

• he takes action the quickest, stalking the long halls, trying to determine whether or not m/n was just avoiding them.

• it became something of a group mission find out where m/n is. before, they were just possessive, but now, now they were becoming obsessed.

• when the darling finally returned to hogwarts after weeks of being MIA, all the torment, all the bullying, it just stopped. they were being nice which only scared m/n even more. five, even four years ago he would have eaten this up. but he knew better than to trust people now- no, he was straight up paranoid.

BLAISE ZABINI

• blaise was one of the only ones who truly believed m/n was a blood traitor. but he never gave up on him. in blaise's mind, the years of 'torment' was him helping show the reader the importance of blood purity and status.

• blaise won't apologise for what he did, not sincerely. it'll be more of a 'i'm sorry it took you this long to understand the point'. he truly thinks he was just molding the reader into the perfect future spouse for him.

• the reader has simply traded one hell for another with blaise. refuse to agree to the arranged marriage? won't spend time with him? then the reader truly must be a blood traitor.

• blaise has his softer moments with the reader, where he'll reassure them that he never actually hated them, that he didn't mean any of what he would say to them. but the damage is done.

• when it's his night with m/n, sometimes he'll be awoken at 2am to the sound of m/n getting ready for the next day. when he tried to open the door to the bathroom, he had never heard such a panicked "don't!" when he asked m/n why, "i'm not presentable yet" it broke his heart.

DRACO MALFOY

• draco had been encouraged by his parents- no, by his father, to put m/n in his place. now that he looks back at it, it had nothing to do with m/n, it was about making sure draco never even considered betraying his blood status.

• he engulfed the reader in a hug when he finally saw him on the way to class. whispering apologies, holding back tears. "i thought- i thought you had done something stup-" but he was quickly shoved off, m/n even mocked him for the tears.

• for the first time in his life, he understood what it felt like to be in the readers position. merlin, he was a git, wasn't he? he'll spend his entire life trying to make up for it if he has to.

• what he couldn't handle was m/n rejecting his attempts at friendship. gosh fucking damn it just love him already, draco makes it clear that the bullying might be over, and he's really sorry it ever happened, but the reader is never allowed a life outside of the slytherins.

• people who interact with the reader are still targeted, leaving him as isolated as ever. at some point he might accept draco's offer of friendship, but he'd never be stupid enough to actually buy into that bollocks.

LORENZO BERKSHIRE

• lorenzo was kind of like the readers guardian angel throughout his years of torment. he might have been a bystander, but he never directly took part in foul 'pranks' they'd pull on him. it hurt his heart to see m/n so misrable, but he had a reputation to uphold and parents to keep happy.

• whenever the chance would present itself, enzo would try and make m/n's day a bit better. he sent anonymous chocolates from hogsmede for a good while, until pollux and draco started calling m/n a pig when he'd eat them at dinner.

• but it was the thought that counts! and that's what enzo tries to tell m/n in fifth year. he got punched. m/n told him to get lost in the forbidden forest and to take the rest of them with him.

• time heals all wounds, enzo probably has one of the best chances of developing an actual friendship with the reader. but they all want more, especially enzo. who believes he has some sort of precedence over the others for being 'so good' to the reader when everyone else wasn't.

• he thought he was being slick, discussing the possibility of an arranged marriage with his parents. but blaise has made plans a while back, and tom had taken the dark mark with the promise that his father would oneday have m/n marry him.

MATTHEO RIDDLE

• mattheo is by far, by a long mile, the worst of them all. he used to cruciatus curse on more than once on m/n whenever he was in a particularly jealous or bad mood. objectified him based on his looks "i'd bash your face in but then i'd ruin the only thing you have going for you."

• he didn't even know the reader before hogwarts, he just saw the way draco treated m/n, felt a funny warm feeling, and decided that meant he hated the reader.

• but god forbid anybody else does what he does, mattheo sometimes even tells off the other slytherins, the ones he doesn't like (draco lmao) to back off. maybe if he took his own advice m/n wouldn't be as traumatised as he is.

• lost his shit when m/n didn't return in fifth year. felt like he was dying, it was then he realised that maybe m/n is more important to him than he thought.

• babies the shit out of m/n when he comes back- he tries to at least. offers to carry his bags, trys to sleep in his bed with him, patches up even a small paper cut. it's a startling contrast, m/n probably feels like he has to go along with it, or risk becoming mattheo's target again.

THEODORE NOTT

• theo wouldn't have gotten in on the bullying if it weren't for his father and the others encouraging him. he didn't do nearly as much as draco or mattheo, but was still considerably worse than blaise or enzo.

• he would always hover around m/n, using his robes, sometimes skin as an ashtray. always making some sort of sarcastic or witty remark. and he always had a glare that would sink though m/n's skull, leaving him constantly on the edge.

• even during the earlier years of hogwarts, theo would have moments of softness, where he dropped the hateful act. which is why he was the one m/n trusted the least when the torment finally stopped.

• m/n keeping his distance, emotionally at least, is what drives theo over the edge. instead of saying something demeaning when he gets like that, theo now has outbursts where he demands closeness: mattheo will often have to drag him out of the room.

• there's always an over the top apology, only for it to go horribly wrong when the reader doesn't eat it up. he drowns in self hatred and anger, wouldn't it be great it time turners could go back years and none of this happened?

TOM RIDDLE

• tom honestly thought the reader deserved the treatment they got at first. to be born with pure blood and to throw away the privileges that came with it so easily? absolutely disgusting.

• he used to mastermind the bigger plans, until he came to respect m/n's intelligence and strength. anybody else would have ended themselves by now, and he had never met anyone as intelligent as himself. of course at first he developed his own hatred towards the ravenclaw whenever he'd get the same or a higher score on a test than him.

• his attraction to m/n causes him to pull out of partaking in the bullying by around third year. he's got better things to do, like being the top of the class over the likes of an ungrateful blood traitor.

• his main motivation in helping his father resurrect was the power it would give him over m/n. once he became a loyal death eater, he would be rewarded with m/n. the readers feelings be damned, tom wasn't above the imperius curse, amortentia or the cruciatus curse.

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iamnmbr3 · 2 months

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Draco's Motivations in the Book 7 Room of Requirement Confrontation

I just reread the Fiendfyre sequence and based on a close reading Draco's motivations and actions are a lot more complex and sympathetic than I remembered. Not to mention, once again, here there be drarry.

First, the context:

After the incident at Malfoy Manor, we know from Harry's psychic connection to Voldemort and from the Carrows' overheard discussion that Voldemort's wrath was exceptionally terrible. The Malfoy family became virtual prisoners in their own homes for months and were subjected to especially brutal (even by Voldemort's standards) torture that was also likely quite protracted. Lucius has visible marks on him months later - which, given what we know about magic in that world, really speaks to the level of what has been going on. While he probably got the worst of it, it's certain that none of his family members escaped unscathed. After their other failings they have at this point probably permanently fallen out of favor and have nothing but a (likely short) life of misery to look forward to.

Draco bears a lot of responsibility for this state of affairs since it was he who chose not to identify Harry. This likely adds to his sense of conflict as his conscience tells him one thing and everything he has ever been taught tells him something else. He presumably feels responsible for the suffering his family (we know from book 6 that he does genuinely care about them) has to endure.

Not to mention that he himself is suffering along with them. It would be unsurprising therefore if he felt tempted to "rectify" his earlier moment of what he probably perceived as weakness and made a last ditch attempt to save his parents' (and his own) lives and prestige. While Harry has been taught that love and mercy are noble and valuable impulses, Draco has not. In his world love and mercy are called weakness.

Quite possibly as he suffered and faced death alongside his family, part of him must have felt ashamed of the impulses that led to his choices when Harry was a prisoner at the Manor. Everything he has been taught tells him that Voldemort's victory is inevitable and that his moment of shameful weakness has accomplished nothing except to fail his own family and condemn them (and himself) to a likely short life filled with suffering.

At most what we see in the Room of Requirement is a replay of what we saw on the Astronomy Tower - where Draco is deeply conflicted and when confronted with the reality of violence in support of Voldemort cannot go through with it even under tremendous pressure and even though his failure to carry out these acts of violence will inflict danger and suffering on himself and his loved ones.

But, is that even what actually happens? In my opinion, the answer is "no."

The scene in question:

If we actually look at the text it's not even clear that's what's going on at all. Draco's motives are ambiguous at best here. The scene starts when Harry is stretching out his hand to take the diadem. Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle come up behind him and he is completely unaware of them. Draco then announces their presence, alerting Harry that he is being watched. He could've very easy simply stunned Harry or attempted to put the Imperius Curse on him (or killed him) while his back was turned. But he didn't do any of those things. Instead he talks, thereby ruining the element of surprise.

And that's not typical of Draco at all when he actually wants to attack Harry. He's never beaten Harry in a face-to-face confrontation. (In fact, the last time he tried - in 6th year - he almost ended up dead.) The two times he has managed to incapacitate Harry - when he petrified him on the train in 6th year and when he hid and caught Harry for Umbridge with a tripping jinx in 5th year - he did so by using the element of surprise to his advantage.

Given that Draco knows that Harry is a very formidable opponent (AND that Harry's friends are nearby) if he truly simply wanted to capture or kill him, announcing his presence is the last thing he would ever do. Then he says "That's my wand you're holding." He still doesn't cast any spells - not even to try to disarm Harry. He also doesn't say he wants to hand him over to Voldemort. He doesn't even tell Harry to drop his own wand, attempt to take him prisoner, or even threaten him.

It is Crabbe, not Draco who says "We're gonna be rewarded...We decided to bring you to 'im." Draco doesn't say anything about his own intentions other than that he wants his wand back - and we certainly know that even in 6th year he didn't trust Crabbe and Goyle, much less now, and thus is unlikely to speak openly in front of them.

At this point Ron comes to investigate and Crabbe tries to use magic to cause a mountain of debris to fall on Ron and crush him. Harry counters the spell and Draco then grabs Crabbe's arm when he tries to repeat the spell. He gives as his justification the need to avoid the diadem being crushed but since we know he doesn't trust Crabbe it's likely this isn't truthful. Especially since Voldemort has not said anything about wanting the diadem (and even if it wasn't a Horcrux it likely wouldn't be damaged in any case).

Crabbe points out this very thing and Draco argues with him at which point Crabbe says "Who cares what you think? I don't take your orders no more, Draco. You an' your dad are finished." So arguably he was not even including Draco in the "We" he imagined would be rewarded. Crabbe then tries to use Crucio on Harry.

Draco then again intervenes and tries to stop him.

"STOP" Malfoy shouted at Crabbe, his voice echoing through the enormous room. "The Dark Lord wants him alive--"

He doesn't even just say it. He shouts. We rarely see Draco shout. He is someone who generally keeps his deeper emotions hidden - it's why he's so naturally gifted at Occlumency to the point that he is powerful enough at a young age to lie to both Snape and Voldemort.

What he says here doesn't really even make sense because Goyle isn't even trying to kill Harry; he's just trying to hurt him. However Draco is so distressed by this that he actually starts yelling, something we NEVER see him do at ANY other point in the book. "The Dark Lord wants him alive" is also exactly what Snape says to Bellatrix as they flee in book 6, and we know that Snape's real intent was to protect Harry with a believable excuse. It's the only thing Draco could reasonably say in that moment as a justification.

Crabbe (rather sensibly) points out that 1) he didn't even try to kill Harry and 2) Voldemort ultimately wants Harry dead so it probably doesn't matter that much. This makes perfect sense. And yet Draco is inordinately concerned with preventing harm to Harry & Co rather than with taking any action to capture or even disarm any of them.

Clearly he did not expect to lose control of Crabbe and Goyle like this and as a result is now losing control of the situation (and himself). (Unlike Harry, Draco is more of a planner and is not as good at reacting in the moment.) Also the possibility that Harry could be killed seems to drive him nearly to the point of hysteria - rather like how Ron reacted to Hermione being in mortal peril at the Manor. This is not just a general aversion to killing. This is something more. He finds the idea of Harry dying truly unbearable. (I don't need my ships to be canon; this one just happens to be.)

At this point they start fighting and Draco loses Narcissa's wand. Wandless, he STILL tries to intervene. Crabbe and Goyle are both aiming their wands at Harry and Draco once again starts yelling - "Don't kill him! DON'T KILL HIM!" and is obviously in significant distress and is not at all happy with what is going on.

After that the Fiendfyre gets loose and the rest of the scene goes down without much dialogue.

At NO POINT does Draco 1) actually say he wants to hand Harry to Voldemort OR 2) attempt to attack Harry or Ron or Hermione at all OR 3) use his Dark Mark to call Voldemort OR 4) tell anyone he's seen Harry after they get out of the Room of Requirement - even in a later scene when he's been cornered by a Death Eater who is considering killing him he doesn't reveal this information even though that probably would've proven his loyalty or at the very least distracted the Death Eater.

Conclusions about Draco's motivations:

So, where does that leave us? What went down there and what was Draco trying to do?

We really have 3 options.

Option 1: Draco tried to hand Harry over to Voldemort in order to save himself and his family, got cold feet and couldn't really go through with it, and then lost control of the situation due to Crabbe and Goyle's changing loyalties.

Verdict: Possible but unlikely given the remarkably bad job he does of it and how inconsistent his approach is with his usual MO. Even if we assume his heart wasn't in it you'd think he'd at least have got as far as disarming Harry before announcing his presence. Especially since Harry almost killed him last time they fought (and Draco probably doesn't know Harry didn't know what the Sectum Sempra curse would do.)

And if his heart WAS in it then then this makes even less sense since he not only didn't attack Harry while his back was turned but also didn't call Voldemort or even inform anyone that he'd seen Harry.

Option 2: Draco wanted to get himself captured in a way that looked convincing so that he could take the chance Dumbledore offered in 6th year, only it went quite badly wrong.

Verdict: This would be an interesting possibility but I think it's also unlikely as it's simply too risky. He doesn't know Harry was there on the astronomy tower or that Harry would make the same offer. His family would also likely be murdered if Voldemort realized this had happened.

Option 3: Draco wanted to cut a deal in order to improve his family's situation without actually handing Harry over - perhaps he hoped for some kind of exchange where he could get his wand back and bring Voldemort the diadem as some kind of consolation prize - but overestimated his control over his cronies and lost control of the situation.

Verdict: I actually think this works best given his behavior during the scene. He initiates a conversation because he wants information about what and where the diadem is (and what value it would have to Voldemort) and because he wants to make some offer along the lines of 'give me my wand and the diadem and we'll let you go.' This could get him what he wants and help his family without actually harming anyone.

Also it hedges his bets a bit because if Harry wins he will owe Draco. The problem of course is that Crabbe and Goyle aren't happy to just take orders anymore and have their own goals. At that point, instead of caving and going along with what Crabbe and Goyle want to do instead, Draco actually tries to intervene, albeit in a way that doesn't actually expose him as questioning Voldemort.

Draco made his choice at the Manor. If he wanted to hand Harry over he would have. But he couldn't. He cares about him too much. But he also feels tremendous guilt and fear over the price he and his family are still paying for that decision. This is his attempt to try to fix things - to try to find a middle ground between the conflicting imperatives that are tearing him apart. The reality though, as he shortly discovers, is that there is no middle ground. And when he sees that, once again he chooses Harry.

#hp reread #meta #my meta #Harry Potter meta #Draco Malfoy meta #drarry meta #Harry Potter #harry potter and the deathly hallows #hpdm #h/d #harry x draco #draco x harry #harry/draco #draco/harry #harco #drarry in canon #Draco Malfoy #drarry #my post

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