ixds

anonymous asked:

could you pleaaaaase write a nice angsty thing for me that involves post-war, 8th year draco being all quiet and getting bullied all the time and harry notices but never says anything then bullies do something really bad to draco (maybe sectumsepra, and harry has flashbacks) so harry intervenes and yeah please write it even though it will kill me i need it in my life thank you so much -h (p.s. marching band rocks!)

ixD these are getting really specific. Probably calm down on that


With his head held high, Draco walked the halls of the school, its halls echoing with the cries of events that had just happened in the year prior. In all honesty, he was surprised he was even allowed back into the school to hear such cries..But it could have also been torment for him as well as any of the other children dragged into the war. 

There was no longer a sneer on his face - instead it was either a permanent frown or a blank expression. At this point, he couldn’t even afford to show emotion. One wrong step and he was out - out for good.  

But that didn’t mean he could still uphold himself like the proper Malfoy that he was. His name might’ve been tarnished, broken, and stepped on, but he himself did not have to fall with it. His name labelled him, but he himself defined no one but himself. 

Unfortunately, it wasn’t that easy. It really never was. Whenever Draco approached a corner, he braced himself because he never knew who would be rounding the other side. Walking into a room was equally as nervewracking because he never knew who’d be walking out. He tried being early to class to avoid walking in and having people watch him. Or blatantly stare at him. He wasn’t stupid, and he wasn’t an idiot. He knew that wherever he went, there were eyes watching. The ministry, the aurors, the headmistress, the professors, and especially the students. 

In fact, out of all of them, it was the students that never left him alone. 

A Malfoy never flinched. But Draco undoubtedly was the first in the books. When a person drew their wand while looking at him, Draco immediately tensed. When they turned to him with even the slightest aggravated expression, Draco was ready. There was even an instance when the person next to him shot their hand up in the air to instantly answer…he had flinched away. 

So it was no surprise to him that when he turned the corner, there was a group of angry looking Ravenclaw younger years that looked finally ready. Draco mentally sighed, because he knew it would come some day. But Ravenclaws? Really? He continued to walk, as if it didn’t bother him, but one of the sixth years stepped out, blocking his path.

“Where are you headed, Malfoy?” The boy said, talking overconfidently. Draco simply looked at him blankly. 

“To the library, if you’d let me pass.”

“Oh wow,” said the boy. “Is Malfoy asking for something?” He sneered, and his cronies laughed. Draco wanted to deadpan. He didn’t actually ask for anything, and had given a suggestion. Surprising how this boy made it this far into Ravenclaw. He stayed silent, however, until it pissed off the boy. “Well? Aren’t you going to say something? Aren’t you going to stick up for your little family? Your proud little army?” 

Draco felt his eyes start to narrow slightly. This was getting unnecessarily out of hand.

“-your fault. My little brother did nothing to you.” The sixth year hissed. “And you know what i learned? Apparently some stupid third year found a book in the room of requirement that helped him ace potions. And he learned something pretty sick.” The sixth year grinned as Draco blinked, puzzled. Room of Requirement? Book? What did this have anything to do with-

“Sectum-”

Fuck. Fuck. No, no, no, not again. 

Draco’s eyes widened. “Shit-” he breathed at the boy’s first syllable. He moved back as fast as possible but ended up stumbling over his own foot as he fell into a firm chest behind him. His head snapped up and he saw an arm extended over his shoulder, a wand aimed straight at the sixth year. “What the-”

“Sempr-”

“Stupefy.”

The voice was cold, commanding, firm, and at that moment, Draco’s salvation. 

He didn’t even need to guess who had cast the spell.