never relax

I wonder if I’m ever on your mind, cause I can’t seem to get you off mine.
—  Tenari Ioapo
Harry Potter can’t sleep (and neither can Draco Malfoy)

prompt: pillow covers (thanks @miniemcgee)
<5k

Fuck this, Harry thinks, listening to the rustle of Malfoy’s sheets as the insufferable git rolls over for what has to be the fifth time in as many minutes. And fuck McGonagall for assigning Draco Malfoy, of all people, to be his roommate. No wait, Harry immediately takes this back. Even in his internal monologue he isn’t comfortable disrespecting McGonagall.

Still Malfoy is a nightmare to dorm with. Merlin, Harry would much rather be having a nightmare – at least then he’d actually be sleeping! Malfoy tosses and turns all night. He gets up and visits the bathroom two-three times every night. What, does he have a bladder the size of a peanut? It’s ridiculous.

All Harry wants is to sleep. All Malfoy seems to do every night is make as much noise as possible. Harry mentions it to Ron once at breakfast. Even though all the eight years have been given new shared “houseless” dorms, thankfully they’re still allowed to sit at their house tables. Harry is incredibly grateful for this. It’s bad enough staying awake all night listening to Malfoy, he’d hate to have to put up with him in the daylight as well.

“What the bloody hell are you talking about?” Ron asks.

“He makes noises, Ron, in his bed. All night!” Harry explains, desperate for someone to understand his frustration. It’s constant, night after night. Rustle rustle rustle.

Ron looks at Harry like he’s lost his mind, a faint blush on his cheeks. Harry doesn’t bring it up again.


Draco is tired. So very tired. He can’t remember ever not feeling tired. It’s been so long since he’s been able to really sleep. At least two years, maybe more. Probably more. He thought things would change after the Battle of Hogwarts. That Voldemort’s death would give him peace. But it hasn’t. Nothing seems to. He doubts anything ever will.

Every night it’s the same. He lies in bed desperately willing himself to sleep, for his body to give in and relax. But the relaxation never comes. Sure he gets bits of rest here and there but it’s always fleeting, never enough. The morning takes a lifetime to arrive and yet, somehow, it’s always too soon.

Tonight he studies late in the library. He pushes himself to remain for as long as possible. What’s the point in going to bed anyway? Finally the exhaustion becomes too much for him and he heads back to the dorm, all the while knowing the exhaustion isn’t enough to grant him sleep. It never is.

His dorm is dark. Potter must already be in bed. He is surprised by how early all the eighth years go to bed. In Slytherin lights out was always well after midnight. Unfortunately, not many others from Slytherin have returned to Hogwarts to back him up on this. So everyone seems to retire by 10pm every night.

He stumbles around the dark room, trying to be quiet, his arm reaching out in front of him searching for his bed pole to grasp, while his eyes adjust. There. Using the bed post as a guide, he lets himself fall into bed.

Ah. His body crumples inwards, pleased. It takes all Draco’s determination to keep his body upright throughout the day when all he wants to do is collapse. His body craves for sleep all day and then when he finally gets to bed, nothing. Yet another restless night.

Except today something feels different. His pillow is softer somehow, his blanket warmer. There’s something else too.  A strong, commanding scent he’s never noticed before. He breathes in deeply and lets it wash over him. Grapefruit. Honey. Ginger. It’s comforting. And familiar. He takes another breath. And another. His eyes close.

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2

nine in the afternoon // panic! at the disco

I think we all wish to only see the good in the people we love and sometimes we forget that they’re only human. Therefore they too will have flaws, doubts, traits we may not be in favour of. That some days they may not be at their best, they need you to be the supportive person in times of their struggles. We can so easily forget that people we love are not entirely perfect but they weren’t meant to be.
—  Tenari Ioapo // Expectation vs. Reality
Without 🛋️

A/N: This piece is very long and has taken me a long time to write for several reasons. But I hope this is what these lovely people hoped for when they sent in their requests (x x x)! Love you all and I hope you have a great day :)

Harry had always been in awe of you.  

From the moment he had you in his life, his heart had been filled with your gentle compassion. He had admired your instinctive kindness, personally witnessing the way you’d give a piece of your heart to everyone in your life. “Being kind is all that I can give” he’d hear you say and it breaks him just a little when he watches your smile falter for a fraction of a second, before you arch your eyes and nod your head slightly towards him in reassurance. You’re doing it again, he gathers, putting up a front to satisfy the people around you. Making sure they remained lost in their pursuit of happiness while you’re left alone to pick up your own shattered pieces.

Harry had regretted that night the most. The first, of many, where your heart felt particularly heavy as you smiled and whispered “I’m fine” to his concerned eyes. The silk of your dress clumped at your shoulders as you walked away from him then, away from a night of celebrating your recent promotion at work and into a cab to nurse your friend that had gulped too much tequila to shove away his own misfortunate thoughts.

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  • me, wrapped in nothing but lace, feeding myself grapes directly from the stem, reclining on an ornate, azure chaise longue beside a peacefully babbling brook: i've never been relaxed for even a fraction of a second in my entire life

Every inch of you is perfect from the 

to the