draco does things


Harry Potter Lockscreens (set of 8)
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Cooking lessons with the Saviour!! 

anonymous asked:

You make very good points! My only issue was that while Draco is a very expressive person, I personally feel like he would have trouble expressing his love to scorpius himself. While everyone around Draco would be able to recite the exact colour of scorpius' eyes in the morning, I feel like it would be more difficult for Draco to tell scorpius to his face "hey I love you" even though scorpius already has no doubt about it. It might just be me who feels that though lol!

I personally see Scorpius as the only person Draco feels completely open with actually! I feel like Draco’d have reservations with other people and have trouble opening up to them, but with Scorpius it’d come as easy as breathing. This is his kid, the most precious and important person to him, the best part of him even. Draco knows what it feels like to be disappointed by a parent, and to believe that your parent’s love is conditional. I think he’d do everything in his power to make sure Scorpius never feels like that, and the best way to do that is telling Scorpius clearly and repeteadly that he’s loved, he’s cherished and he’s important. He’s also grown up emotionally closed off, and knows how damaging that could be, so i imagine him always encouraging Scorpius to express his feelings and returning the favor without hesitation. The worlds already going to be hard on Scorpius, i think Draco would do his best to raise him as self-assured and supported as possible.
It’s okay to have different opinions though, it’s fanfiction is transformative for a reason, we get to transform it however we like! I’m just very emotional and passionate about dad Draco, i can’t imagine him doing less than his best because i feel like that’s what he’d strive for.

anonymous asked:

Harry what are the hottest things Draco does when he head one or two too many glasses of wine?

Draco: *quickly* I fall asleep.

Harry: Oh, he does a lot more than that.

Draco: *sullen glaring*

Harry: Oh come on, you’re pretty hot when you’re tipsy and can’t keep your hands off me!

Draco: *trying to decide if he’s flattered or not*

Harry: So you know how he’s usually not into PDA?

Draco: *groans*

Harry: *grins* Well, he’s really into PDA when he’s had too much wine.

Draco: Please stop.

Harry: I’m talking snogging me in front of everyone present, climbing into my lap–

Draco: You snog me in public all the time anyway!

Harry: Whispering absolute filth into my ear–

Draco: *choked squeak*

Harry: Feeling me up not so discreetly, and in extreme cases, he does this incredibly sexy grinding thing against me–

Draco: *blushing furiously* Why you enjoy publicly humiliating me like this is beyond–

Harry: And even if I’m not drunk, it is nearly impossible for me to resist dragging him to the nearest convenient spot and fucking him right there.

Draco: *screaming into a cushion*

I was tagged by @utopia9000​~ Thank you :D
Rules: Answer the questions and tag nine people you want to get to know better

Relationship status: I love my chickens and my chickens love me, so all is good in the world~
Lipstick or chapstick: Chapstick. I only own like one lipstick and that’s only because my mum bought it and then immediately decided she didn’t like the colour anymore and gave it to me .-.
Last song listened to: SEAGULLS! (Stop It Now) XD Lol, only because my bro and I were discussing it earlier today :P
Last movie watched: Uhhh, ‘The Road to El Dorado’ and ‘Atlantis: The Lost Empire’ ^ ^ I was at my neighbour’s place for a movie night and she and her friends hadn’t seen either. If you haven’t seen ‘The Road to El Dorado’ you are seriously missing out!! My bro and I love it so much we could probably do a two-man reenactment of the entire thing. Go watch it now!!
Top three fav TV shows: Hmmm, three random picks from many: ‘Shadow Raiders’‘Doctor Who’ and ‘Westworld’
Top three fav characters: Again, three random picks from many: Naru Kotoishi (Barakamon), Draco Malfoy (HP) and Yuri Katsuki (YoI).
Top three ships: Again, again, three random picks from many: Hakona (AnY), Kyo x Tohru (Fruits Basket) and Anna x Cas (Anna Dressed in Blood).
Book I’m currently reading: *glances at the 10+ books on her nightstand* Yeah, a lot ( .__.)

I tag: Anyone who feels like doing this ^ ^

Water Stains

Requested by @potter-at-the-disco

Based on the phrase “She’s everywhere”

[She’s nowhere]

They’re second years when it happens:

A girl dies in the second floor bathroom, locks eyes with the basilisk and only has time to manage a bloodcurdling scream – She isn’t saved and she isn’t mourned, but black is draped throughout the castle and knots of teary eyed girls who’d said maybe a word to her in passing hold tissues to their noses in class and a funeral is held beneath the weighty boughs of the trees on a sweltering summer day.

The world doesn’t change. There is no grand reconfiguration of the star’s alignment or the tilt of the axis or the bones of their skeletons and Draco –

Draco forgets.


It’s noon, and ghosts are swarming in the autumn damp walls of the castle, all voices and no bodies, all clinging to Draco’s skin.

And he’s running. Down the hallway and towards the bathroom, tugging at the tie tight like a noose around his neck because he’s shot down an albatross and nothing has seemed to go right since.

There’s a mark on his arm. A task on his shoulders. A reflection in the mirror that he can’t quite bear to look at, not when there’s blood on his hands that no one else can see yet – a prophecy and a foretelling and a waking nightmare.

He stops in the second floor bathroom, shoes sloshing against puddles mottling the tile floor. A faucet is leaking in time to his heartbeats. Thump. Drip. Thump. Drip. Sobs that are torn at the edges and hanging in tatters around Draco’s ribs. He’s sixteen and he’s a ghost that can’t quite escape the things that are haunting him.

“Are you all right?” a voice – honeyed and soft – echoes against the chipped wall tiles.

Draco whirls around. Claps an instinctive hand over his forearm and stares at the girl, at the voice, at the ghost.

She doesn’t look twelve, no, not at all like the last time he’d seen her; all gap toothed smiles and bouncing pigtails. He’d never said a word to her. She’s sixteen, now, wide bright eyes and an inquisitive smile and hands that fluttered like wings as she stepped closer. She’s insubstantial, wispy, a pearlescent memory that’s managed to make itself real.

“I’m-” he shakes his head, is unsure of just what to say.

“Not fine, clearly,” the girl informs him. Folds her fingers over her hips. She’s still wearing the school uniform. “I know you,” she says, then steps closer. Till he can see the flickering film of her body and – oh why do people insist on breathing life into dead things?

And Draco does the only thing he can think to do –

Draco runs.


Some facts:

1.      Draco Malfoy is a ghost town

2.      It’s a coin to pass the river Styx

3.      They can’t quite see through the stones on their eyes

It’s a week before Draco goes back again, before he’s mustered up enough courage to do precisely what he wants to. And what he wants

Blood simmers beneath his fingerprints. Secrets lurk in his eyes. There are so many things he wants to say only his molars are super glued together and he can’t, he can’t, he can’t.

And he’s not quite sure why he feels the need to return to that bathroom and talk to that girl – ghost – only knows that she’s lurked in the fuzzy corners of his dreams and coiled herself tight around his lungs.

It’s nearly midnight the next time he goes back to the bathroom. Shadows are dancing against the walls and gossamer has festooned itself across the window panes. The skin around Draco’s bones is inordinately tight as he peers into the dim puddles and empty stalls, calls out, tentatively and wavering, “Hello? Anybody there?”

There’s a moment of static silence. A dripping faucet. Winds that shudder as they grip the stall doors.

And then –

“You’re back,” she says, curling in like a summer wind. Strawberry stains like blood oaths against her fingers and vines tangling around her ankles. “I didn’t think I’d see you again.”

Draco smiles. Takes a moment to scrutinize the way that he can almost ache her into realism, forget for a moment that she’s dead. “I should really be the one saying that, don’t you think?”

She giggles. A wind chime sound that echoes in his ears and plucks at his heart strings. He doesn’t remember her giggling while alive, doesn’t remember much, actually. “It’s not as though ghosts are unusual around here.” He thinks he can detect the peach ripe tinge of an accent. “And besides, you’re the one who ran away the other day.”

“I know,” he says, collar brushing against his jaw, starch stiff.

“You’re the one who was in here crying the other day,” she says, softer this time.

He thinks he might have taken offense, had it been anyone else. But it’s her and for some reason – one he can’t quite dig up out of his gut – she’s a better option than sullen Blaise and smothering Pansy, indifferent Theo and dull Crabbe. And the word stuffed parchments that he quietly rips up and tosses into the fire don’t seem to help, anymore.

“Which, of course begs the question, why are you here?”

He doesn’t know quite how to answer.


[She’s everywhere]

It becomes a habit. The nicotine stab of addiction in his lungs and the alcohol swirl of need against his teeth.

He visits the bathroom numerous times a week, sneaks out of the common room when the grandfather clock has struck midnight or in the suffocating haze of late afternoon, finds himself telling her things he’d resolved to keep under lock and key.

He rolls up his sleeve the day before term ends, feels guilt pool bitter sweet/ bitter sour in his mouth as he thinks about Katie Bell and Ronald Weasley and the list of victims that was supposed to have been only one.

And Y/N only blinks at him. Crosses her legs and offers a smile that wilts at the corners.

Her toenails are still painted a shimmering green.

“We all make mistakes,” she says, soft as a lullaby. Draco’s never been more awake. “It’s never too late to make things better.”

He wishes that he could hold her hand.


He reads Hamlet over Christmas break in the damask curtained dark of the library and traces his fingers over the wailing hymn, rosary clutched words of Ophelia; thinks about ghosts and haunted houses and things that can never quite be bleached out of your bones.


She tells him who killed her the day he comes back to school. Light is popping like soap bubbles against the wall as he watches lazy wisps of light imbue the end of his wand, murmurs incantations while trying to ignore the dull throbbing in his ears.

Because Tom Riddle had set the basilisk on her, was the beginning and the end of everything.

Because he can’t quite untangle himself from the spider web stick of the mess that he’s made.

“I think I made a mistake,” he tells her. Hands shaking and jaw aching and magic trembling in his bloodstream.

Her fingers linger over his. “I can help you,” she says.


She’s the one that he doesn’t have to die for.

When Panic Comes To Rise |Draco x Reader|

Request:  Can you do a draco x reader where the reader has a lot of anxiety and seems to always be stressed out (though she wasn’t always that bad), on the verge of breaking, and she cries at the littlest thing draco does because she’s so stressed? or like cries when he asks her whats wrong? It could be because of exams, because of something at home, or she had it all along but was bottling it up- its up to you! I just ask that you make draco really sweet and loving, with fluff xx thank you babeeee

A/N: I changed a few things and I didn’t make Draco as fluffy as I could’ve but I like where it went. Italics = memories/flashbacks. 

Warnings: panic attacks, anxiety. 

Keep reading

Puzzle Pieces

“Amortentia,” Slughorn says, gestures to the pearlescent sheen emanating from the cauldron beside him and twirls his moustache as the class whispers in awe.

But Draco –

Draco stiffens and Draco scowls and Draco spares a glance across the classroom, to where Y/N is studiously avoiding his gaze, twirling a silver ring around her finger.

He’s fairly certain that he knows just what the potion will smell like.

Knows and dreads in equal measure. Wonders whether or not it’ll be him that she smells, once it’s all said and done.


At the end of his fifth year, Draco Malfoy’s father is imprisoned.

The sudden weight of responsibility is near crushing on his shoulders as he watches his mother slowly fall apart, sees the Malfoy name plastered across the top of the Daily Prophet and does his best to slather glue over the cracks in his life, to mend and to repair and to fix.

But the tides have changed and the waters are uneven and he doesn’t quite have a choice, no, not when Voldemort is asking him to roll up his shirt sleeve and bare his arm and –

The summer before his sixth year, Draco Malfoy gets a mark.


There’s a pervasive cloying in Draco’s stomach as he gathers his materials, looks again to where Y/N has sat beside a Gryffindor, shoulders set in a rigid line.

There’s ink smeared along the tips of her fingers, a sparse smattering of freckles along the back of her neck that Draco can see only when she ties up her hair and bends over the cauldron stationed in front of her.

She’s familiar. A spell that Draco has memorized. She’s the blood churning in the roadmap of veins beneath his skin; an itch that he doesn’t quite know how to scratch. And he’s sure that the hold she has over him must be magic, something beyond control and something beyond reason.

Because he can’t manage to justify how badly he misses her.


Trusting Y/N had been a mistake. A storm that he should have seen coming and a red flag in his plans.

Because she had never quite agreed with his parent’s philosophies, no, hadn’t ever bought stock in pure blood ideals or values, had aligned herself with Potter and his lot and told Draco in no uncertain terms what she thought of Death Eaters.

He hadn’t listened.

Had rolled back his sleeve and crumbled when she walked away from him –

From the mark so solidly emblazoned on his arm.


A single bead of sweat trickles down the back of Draco’s neck as he watches the potion bubble and fizz, a cotton candy mist replacing the din of the dungeon air.

He smells tell-tale perfume, sticky sweet treacle tart and spring rain.

He smells a fucking heartbreak; a needle stitched through the heart left to bleed on his elbow bend.

He smells a last chance and a redemption arc and someone who doesn’t want him.

He can see Y/N stiffen as she leans over her own potion, whirs around to look at him with an expression that borders on accusing. He blinks at her. Holds her gaze for one second, two, three –

She turns back around and it’s like a kick to the teeth. Nails twisting and cards shuffling until, until –

A note. Folded into sixths and smeared with ink at the corners. Slipped onto the corner of his desk as she walks by to return her materials to the back of the class.

Meet me in the Room of Requirement.


An eerie, foreboding mood hangs in the dark air of the Room of Requirement as Draco slips in, glances about at the space that Y/N had asked for.

A broom closet, enclosed and tight and too small to afford room enough for both of them to be comfortable. He wonders, briefly, if that was intentional.

But then the door is opening again and Y/N is staring at him with wide eyes and an expression that he can’t quite decipher, not when she’s practically flush against him and he can see the flutter of her eyelashes, the flush suffusing her cheeks as she opens her mouth, closes it, then opens it again.

“I smelled you,” she says. Confesses. There’s a tremor in her voice as she goes on, “I didn’t want to and I don’t know what it means but I smelled you, right? And I just-” She squeezes her eyes shut. “I-”

She’s not going to apologize.

He wouldn’t have expected her to.

Not when there’s no right answer to the question that she’s asking.

So Draco does the only thing he can think of –

He stoops down, fits his lips to hers and twines his fingers in her hair. It’s fitting a key into a lock, footprints fitted neatly against the snow. He can feel the beat, skip, pulse of the veins along her neck. Can feel the wet of her cheeks and the cool of her tongue as she folds into him.

There isn’t an apology, no. Not when Draco was the one who made all the wrong choices and Y/N was the one without a choice.

Butterflies (Draco Malfoy imagine)

About you: You have been dating Draco for some weeks now and still haven’t discovered all of his different sides. Y/N Pov: I was sitting in class, totally bored, I mean come this stuff the teacher is saying is nothing but boring. I was nearly to fall asleep but then suddenly a Butterfly/ Bird made out of paper was landing on my desk. Confused I looked up seing my boyfriend sending me those. He smiled cutely. Since when dies THE Draco does cute things like that? I smirked he is too cute and every day I see new sides and things of him.And every time he amazes me. Imagine him doing that during class:

Originally posted by imagineseverywhere