thieves in the night.

pairings.theodore nott x fem!slytherin!reader, mattheo riddle x fem!slytherin!reader

part one of n/a.

about. in which a group of boys are in search for the one thing that keeps them from their death.

warnings.swearing, dark themes

ricky rocks. idk if you guys are going to dig this i hate it already

it happens at night.

minds are run through, memories are stolen, a version of brutality is placed upon a large amount of boys that come in the forms of bruises, cuts, gashes—that heal but never disappear from the back of their minds. they can never touch the thought—fully grasp what it is or why this has happened to them or even who, but it’s there and it hovers in high heights that they can’t reach.

all survival, that’s what they all think, the persecutors, the boys. and it is; for their survival.

especially theodore.

days got short and he barely felt the effect of professor snapes lessons now. he dreaded the night, but it seemed to come faster than anything else, but couldn’t move fast enough when it finally arrived.

the gift—the thing they were looking for, the thing that was key to all their survival—was the only thing he thought about now and he didn’t even know what it was.

the beginning of year six started not how expected, he was sure none of his friends expected to be initiated into a group that carried out the orders of the dark lord.

it made sense though. the moment mattheo riddle walked into his life, he knew it wasn’t just another friend, he’d be a fool to think that.

they were bound for life.

°•

potions with slughorn was always something theodore never looked forward to, ever. he felt like an asshole every time he sat in his seat and connected eyes with the man. it was like he knew; everything and it always threw theodore off, making him anxious.

and it didn’t help that he was late.

“awh, mr. nott,” he had his body tilted back as he seemed to be sizing up theodore from where he stood—almost deciding if he were friend or foe. “have a seat where you can.”

theodore looked to where all the students sat, looking back at him. it seemed they had all pulled their chairs to the center of the room instead behind desks where things usually were. it made him curse as their were no free seats in the back but rather in the near front.

“go on, no time to waste here.”

he shuffled through the rows before slowly sitting into the only empty seat next to you. neither of you thought much about it, he didn’t even see you.

“some of you have no sense of time,” slughorn scoffs, back to shifting across the floor in front of you all. “swear if the ministry knew what was best, they’d have nation wide curses put on our children to make them at least on time.”

“long live the rebellion, right?” you rolled your eyes in a frivolous way, shrugging, not watching your words carefully. “i swear we fight for something of rights and then someone goes and says something dumb like that.”

he doesn’t realize you’re even speaking to him. not until you finally really looked to him where he immediately looked slightly confused—not processing your words or not exactly understanding the meaning you were trying to put out. lost in translation, very lost in translation.

he thought you must have thought he was someone else but by the way you stared so surely at him and then reached your hand out, offering a soft smile but with an arched brow that also threw him off, introducing—

“y/n.”

he took it, after a long moment, “theodore.”

“i’ve seen you before,” you look him up, your eyes curving around the family ring he wore around his pinky and the scars the littered his fingers, “you’re a nott.”

“you get that from slughorn?” his brow arched and his eyes turned harsh of what looked like annoyance.

“no, you just look an awful lot like your father.”

his chest tightened. not only did he hate that supposed compliment more than anything, but he also found it strange. how would you know his father?

“and you?” his features twisted in suspicion, not knowing you, not even really recognizing you in the slightest like you did of him.

“y/l/n,” you speak, and the both of you finally release hands from the firm grasp, removing him from a trance and back to reality—a smack in the face. the name, he knew, he knew the fucking name and suddenly it made a lot of sense.

“i’m not sure i’m as familiar of you,” he lied, pulling his best face now that he was finally back into the game, but the skeptical look you gave him made him think his facade wasn’t working. “but i’m curious.”

“of what?”

“you.”

“why?”

“why wouldn’t i be?”

you didn’t say anything but your face screwed up instead playfully, adjusting yourself so you were facing slughorn once again, “maybe you should be more curious on slughorn’s lesson.”

°•

exhilarated.

theodore hadn’t felt like that ever and he never thought he would, but walking down the corridor to the slytherin common room, theodore felt exhilarated.

the common room was dim and filled with low chatter but was interrupted the minute he walked in with the aggressive buzz radiating off his body.

they all noticed it before he spoke, before they could even get a real good look at him.

“it’s not a man, and it’s not a younger year like we suspected,” he looked urgent, it caught all of them off guard—never having seen theodore so anxious and full of energy. “it was right under our fuckingnoses.”

mattheo raises his eyes now, looking at theodore like he was a prick, but it only urged him to keep speaking as he sat down before throwing a scrappy looking book on the coffee table where dust spilled into the air making all the boys wince with a cough.

“it’s a girl and she’s in our very own house.”

now they’re all looking at him like he’s prick, shaking their heads and frowning while theodore stared back, not fazed but itching to move. it was so hard to hold it in, he just had to say it all because he felt like a genius for the first time in months and that they’d finally came to a break through.

“the prophecy said-“

“the prophecy was wrong,” theodore looks between all the boys with his arm extended across the table, making sure his assertiveness reached each and every one of their eyes. “i don’t give a fuck what the prophecy said because it was wrong.”

he looks up to mattheo who stares back, his expression blank but holding a questioning look that’d make anyone back down, “it’s a y/l/n,” he knew mattheo would know the name just like he knew it. “she comes down from a death eater traitor of a grandfather and she’s nothing short of the old man because she spoke of a rebellion.”

it’s silent as they look between theodore and mattheo; who thinks and hates how he feels as if he’s being challenged right then.

“and what makes you think it’s her.”

“because we have no one else on the list,” his tone is nasty, “if it’s not her, fine, cross her off but she has to know something.”

he feels it in his bones that he is right.

“talk to your father, if anything it’ll give us time.”

talk to you father. mattheo rolls his eyes and he leans forward, now challenging the hard tone theodore held with a simple stare, “tell me about her.”

°•

“i didn’t think i’d see you,” theodore froze from right behind where you sat, studying a book from the looks of it, but he guessed you weren’t but rather him since he had entered the library over twenty minutes ago before finally coming up to you. “not for awhile, anyways.”

he took a seat next to you, leaning on his elbows while watching you straighten your posture and close the potions book you had been reading for the past hour, “you watching me, nott?”

“you know my father?” he brushes off your question, giving you a calm stare that made your chest tighten.

you didn’t know how to answer. i mean, it’s a simple answer, ‘yes’, and it’s a simple explanation, you just didn’t want to speak under his stare.

luckily, he didn’t care much for your answer in the first place.

“how come i’ve never seen you before,” he leans his head against his propping hand. he looks and seems bored but you can tell that he’s far from it. “you think i would have seen you at least once in the common room.”

“maybe you’re just not very observant, theo.”

god, the way you said his name.

no one called him theo. not for in a long time.

“i highly doubt that,” he narrows his brows but his lips twitch, taking your words lightly.

“you think highly of yourself, don’t you?”

not lately.

but he doesn’t say that, he doesn’t say anything.

“maybe you didn’t see me because i didn’t want to be seen.”

his lips curve, “i doubt that.”

you watch him. you watch his face carefully, surveying his face and in the way it seemed so completely run down even with that smile, “you should sleep more,” your thumb lightly dabs against his cheek, as if touching him reassuringly—no matter how quick the touch was and no matter the fact that you got up from your seat and left him—it was reassuring.

°•

“she’s pretty.”

“yeah, because that’s going to be valuable information mattheo will want to hear,” blaze rolled his eyes, continuing to read through the paper as lorenzo examined you from two tables away in the three broomsticks.

“you never know,” he shrugs, turning from his altered position that was made just to stare. “you can never tell with him.”

“which is exactly why we have to stay focus.”

ever since theo had made the proposition that the gift was held within you, mattheo had made it clear that everyone had to do everything they could to figure you out—which was kind of hard when theo was the only one who could talk to you without it being weird.

so at that moment, everyone else was staking it out.

“you think it’s her?”

blaise doesn’t answer for awhile and enzo thinks he doesn’t hear him at first until blaise lifts his head, sighing, and putting the paper down, “i hope so—for us and theodore’s sake.”

because if theodore was wrong, it’d be the end for him.

°•

“curiosity kills, you know that, right?”

“and i should be afraid?”

“maybe,” you shrugged, now leaning against one of the large rooted trees that bordered the forbidden forest, staring to theo who kept a good distance with his hands shoved in his dress pants pockets. “especially if you find out things you don’t exactly intend to find out.”

you simply shrug again, but he can tell there’s more meaning behind your words than you act. a ghost of a smirk curves on his lips as he tips back on his feet, watching you.

you look so innocent and small planted against the tree and it makes his stomach bubble up, “really?”

you hum, “but i have a feeling you don’t care.”

“why would i?” he strolls toward you now, his curiosity placed in the core of his eye, it makes you bite back a smile.

he now stood close enough with the points of his shoes almost stepping over yours, teasing a step closer, teasing his body to be put against yours.

“answer the question.”

“i don’t think i need to.”

he laughs sarcastically, his head thrown to look at his feet as he lightly kicks at the dirt before looking back up at you. he was nervous, you couldn’t tell, but theo felt it in his heart that this whole thing could go wrong if you were speaking on what he thought you were speaking on.

he prayed you just loved a good chase and were just fucking with his head.

“you’re a strange girl.”

“you’re the one who followed me out here,” you tipped back and forth on your feet, “i’d say you’re the strange one, theo.”

“maybe, i just wanted to see your pretty face.”

you scoffed, “liar.”

he raised a brow, “you’re so pretty, i wish i never said anything,” he examines your face closely, as if really looking at it this time; for a last time. his hand reaches out and is gentle and seems to be barely there as he runs it down the side of your face. “it’s a fucking shame.”

you couldn’t tell if he was sincere about whatever it was he was talking about—but it seemed so by how distraught his demeanor seemed to suddenly turn.

“what’d you say, theo,” you were calm, confused on what he was on about.

his eyes flick to yours, and he leans, meeting his lips with yours for a just a second, wanting to savor you for just a second before you’d be tainted, “you have a gift.”

navigation.

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in which y/n is in the same situation as draco

Summary: Like Draco, Y/N is forced to become a young Death-Eater and the Dark Lord gives her a job to do. Sixth year, slow burn, kinda enemies to lovers.

Word count: 1k

Warnings:TRIGGER WARNING!! alludes to non-consensual sex (i know that’s not what its called but i’m calling it that to avoid using the r word), selling for ‘sex’, only briefly mentioned and in very little detail but it is referred to, be careful pls 

It didn’t take Y/N long to compose herself. Draco, however, was reluctant to let go of her. Begrudgingly, he released her as she dried her face on the sleeve of her sweater.

“Sorry,” she mumbled.

Draco shook his head. “Don’t be.”

“What else do I not know?” She asked, her eyes desperately searching Draco’s for answers.

“There’s something, something I haven’t been told. I overheard it this summer. I should’ve told you by now…”

This is what had been eating at Draco’s mind ever since the two had become close.

“It’s okay that you didn’t tell me, just tell me now.” Y/N reassured.

“Your father was visiting. He and my father were in the office. They didn’t know I could hear them. They were talking about you and me. They made a deal.”

Y/N wasn’t sure where this was going. “What deal?”

“Marriage.”

Y/N was stunned into silence. Of course, the Malfoy’s were a very prestigious pure-blood family, as was Y/N’s family. It would make sense that they would want to keep the bloodlines pure. But arranged marriage? They were only seventeen.

“What’s the deal?” Y/N asked.

“When we’re both 18, we’re to be married,” Draco admitted. “It’s why I was so awful to you at first. I wanted to hate you. But…”

“Just…hang on,” Y/N interrupted. “I need a minute.”

Draco nodded and stepped away from Y/N, giving her silence and space to think. He knew it was a lot to take in, and so far she was taking it very well. If he were in her position, he’d have a much different reaction.

Y/N paced back and forth slowly, mulling over the information in her head. “Okay, my turn.” She stood facing away from Draco as if she couldn’t bear to face him. “This summer, after my father tortured me into becoming a Death-Eater, he decided to punish me even more.”

“Punish you for what?” Draco asked.

“For what my mother did.”

“But that makes no-”

“I know it makes no sense,” Y/N interrupted. “Just bear with me. My father’s friends, other Death-Eaters, would come over and they would pay him. Then he’d lock me in a room with them.”

Draco felt sick. He couldn’t bear to say anything, in case he lost his temper.

“One day, it was your father.”

“Did he..?” Draco began to ask, stopping himself when he realised he didn’t really want to know the answer.

“No,” Y/N explained. “Instead, he examined me. I didn’t understand at the time, but I do now, I guess.”

The two of them stood there, Y/N still facing away from Draco. Moving towards her, he gently reaching out to caress her arm. He made sure to keep his movements soft and kind.

“I won’t let anyone hurt you like that again.” He whispered.

Y/N took ahold of his hand, brought it to her mouth and kissed the back of it lightly. “I know.”

She turned around slowly, tilting her head back as she pushed up on her toes to kiss him. Just a delicate, gentle kiss.

“What have you done to me, Y/N?” Draco’s deep voice whispered, his breath hot on Y/N’s lips.

Y/N pulled away from Draco, looking into his eyes. “I mean what I said. I’m going to help Harry, and I’m asking you to join me.”

Draco shook his head. “We can’t, love. It’s too risky. I don’t want you to put yourself in danger.”

“We’re already in so much danger Draco, what’s a little more? I want to fight for the right thing.”

“I know you do,” Draco said, stroking her cheek. “I can’t stop you. But, Y/N, I’m not like you. They won’t accept me. You’re good and I’m bad.”

Y/N was disappointed, even borderline irritated. “We already talked about this! You are not bad.”

“But I’m not good though, am I?”

“You are, but I’m the only one you let see that. This is your chance to show everyone else.” Y/N was desperate at this point.

“Baby, I can’t,” Draco said, eyes widening when he realised what he said.

Baby. The word replayed in Y/N’s head a couple of times. He was trying to be nice and stay calm, but she was pushing her luck now. She got the message; it was a ‘no’, and nothing she could say would change that.

“Alright,” Y/N sighed. She hated giving up.

-

“Harry.” Y/N cleared her throat as she approached Harry Potter, standing in a corridor with Ron and Hermione. “Could I…talk to you? It’s important.”

Harry exchanged a glance with his friends. “Uh, sure.” He replied, clearly confused as to why Y/N, a Slytherin who had never spoken to him before, suddenly wanted to tell him something important.

“Not now.” Y/N explained. “Tonight, when everyone is in the Great Hall. Meet me outside the Hall and we’ll walk.”

Harry nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

-

Draco was sat in his usual spot in the Great Hall, doing his usual routine of looking for Y/N. She wasn’t at the table yet, which meant he got to watch her walk across the hall and take a seat. He could barely take his eyes off the entrance to the Great Hall. He didn’t want to miss her but he also didn’t want to be too obvious.

When his eyes briefly flitted to the entrance and there she was. Lingering in the entryway, peering into the Hall and scanning the sea of students. She was looking for someone, but it wasn’t Draco. His stomach tightened.

After a minute or two, Y/N was joined by Harry Potter. The two were talking. Draco had never seen them speak before, seeing Y/N talk to the boy he hates made him so angry. At least, he thought, it would be over when they came into the Hall and went to separate tables.

Much to Draco’s dismay, the two never came into the Hall. Instead, they walked away, out of sight, and Draco didn’t see them for the rest of the feast. He had lost his appetite.

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in which y/n is in the same situation as draco

Summary: Like Draco, Y/N is forced to become a young Death-Eater and the Dark Lord gives her a job to do. Sixth year, slow burn, kinda enemies to lovers.

Word count: 1k

Warning: use of force and non-consensual things (not of a sexual nature)

Midnight.

Y/N slipped out of bed, dressed still in her school uniform, and crept out of her dormitory. Padding down the dark corridor, she remembered the way to the Room of Requirement from her Common Room.

She waited outside the Room of Requirement where they had agreed to meet. Draco wasn’t here yet, so Y/N assumed she was early. Minutes passed, but he still didn’t show. If only she had a watch.

“Y/L/N.” Snape’s voice broke the silence.

Y/N jumped. Snape had seemed to come out of nowhere, scaring her. Oh shit, she thought, I’m in trouble now.

“I believe you are waiting for Mr Malfoy, no?” Y/N nodded. “He’s already gone.”

“Gone?” Y/N repeated, her voice urgent. “Gone where?”

“Malfoy Manor. We’ve been summoned for a meeting.” Snape explained. “Come with me.”

-

Y/N and Snape arrived at the Manor. When they entered the drawing-room, it already had occupants. Draco, like Snape had said, Draco’s mother and father, Bellatrix Lestrange, Fenrir Greyback, Y/N’s father and of course, Voldemort himself.

“Ah, Y/N.” Voldemort greeted. “Thank you for joining us. Take a seat.”

It wasn’t an offer, it was an order. Y/N’s heart pounded as she took a seat in a chair pressed up against the wall. On either side of her stood her father and Greyback, as though on guard.

Across the room stood Draco, beside his parents. He looked equally as terrified as Y/N, but only for a split second, after which he looked ahead stoically, avoiding Y/N’s gaze.

“Thank you all for coming tonight,” Voldemort said. No one dared to say anything. “We’re all here to check on young Draco and Y/N. To make sure they are getting on with their respective tasks.”

Voldemort moved towards Draco. Y/N saw Draco’s mother squeeze his hand in reassurance. Draco bowed his head in respect to the Dark Lord.

“Draco,” Voldemort leered. “How have you been finding your task?”

Draco kept his eyes averted, staring at the floor instead. “Challenging, my Lord. I’ve been working to repair a Vanishing Cabinet in the Room of Requirement. It’s difficult, but every day I make progress.”

“And how does this Cabinet help with your task?”

Draco swallowed. “It has a sister, at Borgin and Burkes. It means, once I’ve fixed it, you can enter Hogwarts without apparating.”

Bellatrix gasped and laughed menacingly. Draco’s father, Lucius, looked proud of his son for once. Voldemort looked pleased. He nodded, moving away from Draco.

“Y/N,” said the Dark Lord, turning to look at her. “I trust he is telling the truth.”

Y/N nodded. Then her father jabbed her with his elbow, prompting her to speak up. “Yes, my Lord.” She replied.

“Tell me, Y/N, does Draco know of your task?”

Y/N’s shoulders tensed. Something wasn’t quite right. “Yes.” She admitted, knowing the consequences if she lied.

“And, do you know of Draco’s?”

“No, my Lord.”

This answer did not seem to please the Dark Lord. He thought she was lying. A looked to Fenrir Greyback.

A large pair of hands grabbed Y/N’s shoulders, pulling her up. She flinched at the shock and the dull pain from Greyback’s claws grazing her skin. Y/N willed herself to not show her fear or look to Draco for help. He wouldn’t help her here.

“Severus,” Voldemort commanded. “The Veritiserum.”

Snape pulled a vial of Veritaserum out of his robes, placing it in Voldemort’s outstretched hand. Y/N’s father took the vial, unstoppered it and forced the liquid down Y/N’s throat while Greyback restrained her.

Y/N’s heart pounded and she could barely keep her breathing under control. She had known something wasn’t right, but she didn’t know what.

“I hope you don’t mind, Y/N,” Voldemort sneered. “I just want to ask you a few questions.”

Y/N knew she couldn’t lie, so she kept her mouth shut. She had no choice but to answer the questions.

“Would you say you and Draco are friends?” Voldemort asked.

The less Y/N said, the better. “Yes, my Lord.”

“Perhaps more than friends?” Voldemort persisted.

“Getting involved in teenager’s love lives, are we?”

Y/N was struck across the face. The sound of her slap echoed through the drawing-room. She’d been hit enough times to know exactly who hit her. The only person whose ever hit her was her father.

“Don’t you dare talk back to the Dark Lord!” Her father bellowed.

Y/N’s cheek stung, filling her eyes with tears that she fought to keep down.

“Volkan,” Voldemort warned. “I’ll make this quick, shall I? Have you and Draco talked about running away together?”

At the mention of his name, Draco looked up from the floor for the first time since Y/N had arrived. Y/N had no idea how Voldemort knew this. But Draco did.

“Yes,” Y/N said.

“Is that so?” asked Voldemort.

Lucius glowered at Y/N. It was clear to him that she was tainting his precious son. Y/N ignored his glare.

“We talked about running away from Hogwarts. To join you permanently, my Lord.” Y/N blurted. “We are afraid that after we have completed the task, we will no longer be of use to you and therefore left behind.”

Voldemort stepped towards Y/N. “My dear Y/N, we would never leave you behind. Did we not welcome you with open arms when you joined us this summer?”

“Of course, my Lord. But we worry that. because we’re just children, we aren’t of as much use to you as others.”

“I can assure you, that is not the case. But you will not be running from Hogwarts. That is the only place where you are more powerful than I.”

Snape stepped forward. “My Lord, if you are finished, may I return to Hogwarts with Malfoy and Y/L/N before someone notices they are missing?”

The Dark Lord signalled to Greyback to release Y/N. “Very well, Severus. Draco, keep us updated on your progress with the Cabinet.”

With her face throbbing and her shoulders aching, Y/N obediently bowed before the Dark Lord and followed behind Snape who was leading the way back to Hogwarts.

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Healing Heart ✧ Draco x Reader Mini-Series PART 10 - FINAL (a yr later)

PART 1|PART 2|PART 3|PART 4|PART 5|PART 6|PART 7|PART 8|PART 9

Summary: PART 10 ! of Draco accidentally falling in love with reader during his sixth year (HBP) and going into the start of the battle of Hogwarts hoping to have reader by his side at the end of it now that it’s all over.

Warnings: ANGST, crying, mentions of; blood, torture, abuse, war, death, murder, trauma basically everything violent :(

Words: 10.8K i apologize for any mistakes !

A/N: surprise :)

“It’s in Carrow’s office?” He asked, his nose instinctively scrunching when he said his name as if it disgusted him to even mention the man. You nodded as a wordless response in fear that Draco would be able to hear the slight tremble in your voice after a lump at the back of your throat had begun growing at the thought of going back to that awful place. It clouded your mind with darkness and echoing screams of pain as Bellatrix sat over you with her nails piercing into your skin while she demanded answers from you that you refused to give her.

You were silent as you trailed behind him, eyes trained on the top of his muddy silver hair with him nearly pulling you by your hand from how sluggishly you were dragging your feet up the stairs to the floor where everything truly went up in flames. It was almost as if he could sense your distress when you finally reached the undesired floor because as soon as you stepped foot onto the gravel and dirt-filled stone, his arm was wrapping itself snugly around your waist as he leaned over you to press a soft kiss into your temple.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters quietly while his mouth was still beside your ear.

“For what?” You respond just as faintly.

“For what they did to you.” He stops you in the middle of the corridor, his eyes darting towards the end of it where the office was just around the corner. “If I knew, Merlin I’d-“

"You didn’t know,” you frown, interrupting him as soon as you noticed his brow starting to furrow. “And it’s done with now. Besides, I finished what he couldn’t.”

“Yes, you did.” He answers with a fleeting small smile, a hidden proudness behind his words even though he half-heartedly tried to hide it. “But that still doesn’t make it alright. Are you sure you’re okay being here?”

You let out a deep breath before nodding up at him, forcing on a brave face so that this would be over with and you’d be reunited with your wand and on to face the next challenge that was waiting for you on the main floor.

“I’m fine, let’s go,” you say quickly. You grab onto the sleeve of his dress shirt and continue down the hall with him, entirely oblivious to the large statue standing tall at the far end of the way, right outside the entrance to the Ravenclaw common room. Hanging upside down from the top of the statue by a thick piece of rope was Amycus, bloodied and bruised and very obviously frustrated. You didn’t see him, but Draco did, and before you could notice the presence of the man who has shaken your reality with desolation and agony, you were being moved hastily towards the door of the room where your wand was lost in.

“I’ll meet you inside, give me a second,” he urged as he opened the door for you and continued to gently try to shove you inside. You turned to give him a questioning look, wondering why he unexpectedly was becoming so antsy in getting you inside. He stared back at you with a feeble pout and his eyebrows creased, a clear sign that whatever he was up to; he didn’t want you to be around for it.

“Fine,” you mumbled, forcing yourself into the poorly lit room to begin your search.

It felt sickening and nauseating being in the room again. Images of the painful night passed by in your head like a nightmare that you were made to relive as soon as you walked in. You wanted to reach out for Draco again, looking back towards the doorway where you thought he would be standing but he wasn’t and the room felt emptier than it did before. You walked towards the door, holding on to the stone wall to keep you from collapsing and peeking out from behind it to see if you could spot the waves of silver hair nearby doing whatever it was that he was so adamant about keeping hidden from you.

You watched as he walked down the corridor briskly, wholly focused on something or rather someone as he moved like he was on a mission with his wand gripped tightly in his right hand.

Draco swore he was seeing red blind his vision, rage coursing through his veins as he came closer to the hanged man. He squatted down in front of him when he finally reached him, his forearms resting over his knees and twiddling around his wand in his hands with the utmost feeling of satisfaction from the sight in front of him.

The man who constantly berated and belittled him and his family, the man who made it his goal to make his life a living hell inside and out of Hogwarts, and worst of all, he was the same man who tortured and kidnapped his lover on multiple occasions now. The man who went out of his way to ruin people.

He was nothing but a fragment of what he was only hours ago, defeated and physically almost unrecognizable if it wasn’t for his murderous beady eyes and permanently scowling mouth.

“What? Are you going to kill me now, boy?” Amycus questioned sarcastically. “Everyone knows you’re too weak. Go ahead, prove them wrong.”

:readmore:

He gave in to the itching to press his wand against Carrow’s throat, letting the hawthorn tip dig harshly into his artery. The killing curse was ready to roll off his tongue and put an infinite end to the destruction Amycus brought. He wanted it more than anything, to be the one who took him out, but as the idea became more realistic with each passing millisecond and with his hand starting to tremble, he knew he couldn’t do it. It didn’t matter how much he wanted to, how much he deserved it; he couldn’t.

“I knew you couldn’t,” Amycus croaked once Draco’s wand moved away from his throat.

“I’m not like you,” he mutters bitterly. “I’m not a murderer.”

“You’re right,” Carrow responds coldly. “You’re nothing. You’re a blood traitor, you’re weak.“

Amycus’ words were a broken record to him, the same phrases being repeating over and over again like a never-ending torturous cycle of all his biggest insecurities enlaced within a few remarks. If it was a year ago, maybe even a few months ago, or weeks - he would have believed his insults. Just like he always did when they were fired at him, he doubted himself and his character, his strength and skills. But he was growing tired of giving in to his struggles, of giving in to false beliefs.

"Is blood traitor the only insult anyone’s got?” The classic sneer on Draco’s face was one he always used to wear, his blood boiling even further as he stared down at Amycus’ careless expression. Even if he was hung upside down, body battered and bruised, his evil spirits never left him.

“It’s the only one that matters,” he replied. “You think you got yourself all sorted out now? You think those people down there would welcome you with open arms knowing where your family’s loyalties lie? You’re looking for someone to blame for your troubles, blame that foul muggle-loving darling of yours. I was only ever trying to help you.”

“Help?” He let out a disbelieving scoff mixed with a short chuckle, “is that what you call threatening the lives of the people I love?”

As you watched from afar, gnawing at your bottom lip anxiously while grasping the doorway in fear that in any second the script could flip and it would be Draco who was in danger. You wanted to intervene, you could see Carrow’s eyes darting around the corridor, switching gazes between you and the blond raging over him and you were scared that evil would conquer and he’d somehow find a way to hurt the two of you without either of you expecting it.

“It doesn’t matter what I tell you anymore, you’re lost.”

It was Carrow’s sheer tone of confidence that pushed Draco over the edge he was teetering off of. He stood up from his kneeling position without wasting another breath. Amycus Carrow was purely wicked and there was no point in trying to make conversation with him.

The interaction just solidified Draco’s wrath, and though he refused to kill him, he wasn’t past causing him pain and he wasn’t above using the Death Eater’s body as a receiving end to his crucio. His time with the enemies did increase his power and his effectiveness. He didn’t even have to say the spell or force his will to do it, it just flowed from the tip of his wand and seeped itself deep within Carrow’s body. He made sure to wordlessly use the ‘oscausi’ spell before his torment as well, glad to see Amycus’ mouth disappearing and shutting him up before his agonizing screams met your ears, something he didn’t want you to hear no matter how much this monster deserved it.

He continued his torture until he was pleased; until he saw tears of blood escaping beady eyes and defeat completely wash over the man. Draco lowered his wand, letting out a breath of relief and eyeing the disaster in front of him again. Amycus thrashed around, his momentary defeat fading away as his swinging body attempted to break free but the younger Death Eater wasn’t finished either.

He lifted his knee, the Italian leather shoes he wore were the last thing Amycus saw that day before Draco slammed his foot down onto his face with a powerful kick, knocking him out cold and fast. He checked for a pulse, found a weak one, and nodded to himself with satisfaction.

That was enough for him.

When he turned back on his heels to rush down the hall, he wasn’t expecting to see you standing at the end of it where he purposefully hadn’t left you. He briefly stopped in his steps, watching you cautiously to see if what you caught had bothered you, but it didn’t. You briskly began walking towards him, his body still in a bubbling rise of fear until you were in front of him wrapping your arms tightly around his middle. You felt him relax in your touch, his hands smoothing over your lower back and encircling around your hips.

“I’m sorry you had to witness me like that,” he apologizes with pained eyes. “I just had to make him hurt.”

“I understand, Draco,” you sympathize with his revenge. Although you didn’t particularly enjoy seeing your lover so violent, Amycus was someone whose downfall had been long overdue.

Draco walked with you into the dingy office, the stone floor covered in hundreds and thousands of tiny gravel particles that shook from the ceilings with each hit the castle took from the outside. You heard a muttered 'Lumos’ coming from the blond, the majority of the room now all of a sudden glowing with a cold white light, flashes of your last moments in there flickering across your mind like a nightmare you couldn’t escape now that everything was becoming visible. You took a deep breath, moving forward hesitantly in short scuffles around the area you saw your wand discarded when it was taken from you.

It was hard to look around, the flood of emotions almost running completely through you as tears pooled in your eyes faster than you could try to blink them away. You were positive Draco couldn’t see you or hear the small sniffles you were trying to play off by talking about how dusty it was, but he was too observant and never dumb when it came to you.

He sighed to himself, his heart dropping to his stomach slightly when he saw how your gaze shifted around the room and the floor anxiously as though you were reliving whatever you had gone through in those moments when he couldn’t save you. He reached out for your hand, his cold fingertips brushing against your palm and snapping you out of the daze you were in with a small almost inaudible gasp. He gently tugged you behind him, lowering his wand towards the ground and kicking around some of the debris until he finally saw the familiar wand he loved to see in your hands.

“There,” he announces quietly, bending down to pick it up and dust it off on his dress shirt as if dirt had never bothered him in his life. “Back where it belongs.” He places it into your palm carefully, your hand encircling around the wand tightly and holding it against your chest lovingly as if it was alive. He smiled down at you, his hand reaching up to rest on the back of your hair while he gingerly pressed a kiss onto your forehead.

“Thank you.”

“Nothing to thank me for, darling,” he responds softly.

He took your hand again in the direction of the exit, hurrying you out of the room in quick strides until you were out into the corridor and around the corner leading you to the grand staircases.

He hesitated at the first step that would begin the descent to the first floor where the entirety of Hogwarts was gathered in the Great Hall all injured, dead, or alive. He was getting a sudden rush of fear, the same unease repeating in his head that you had already tried to hush away but it still stayed. He didn’t want to be turned away and he didn’t want to feel outcasted anywhere anymore.

“They’re never going to forgive me. They’ll probably cast me outside directly into the line of fire themselves.”

“Draco,” you say softly, placing a gentle palm on his cheek while your fingers brush away the wavy strands hanging over his red-tinged eyes. “In all honesty, it doesn’t matter what they think. They don’t know you or understand you, just what you’ve done and that’s all most of them will ever be able to see. But as long as you know and the people you love know who you are, that’s all that matters. Besides, you’re not alone anymore. You’re stuck with me.”

An amused airy sort of half-laugh escaped his lips, a small smile on his face as he eyed you, the sight in front of him allowing another exhale of relief from his worries.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” You feel his fingers graze against your open hand, his pinky absentmindedly linking around yours like you were children making a silent promise to be 'best friends forever.’ “You’re clever, Y/L/N, I’ll give you that. Always knowing what to say to make me feel like I’m on top of the world.”

“It’s because I’ve bewitched you,” you smile stupidly while the blond rolled his eyes.

“So you admit it? Are you slipping me amortentia too?” He searched your playful features, the glint of amusement in your eyes he loved and missed to see that always left him feeling breathless.

“Definitely,” you answer sarcastically. “But enough stalling, let’s go.”

He let you lead him down the stairs, his hand held tightly in yours while his gaze stayed stuck on his feet shuffling slowly down the steps.

Your conversation was rattling around in his head for some reason, his heart a little lighter after the impromptu banter even if it wasn’t the most appropriate time to joke around. But your words brought him back to the times when you weren’t with him; when you were forced to separate. The days and the nights he’d be worried sick with his thoughts in a twist and his chest pounding with worry over your safety.

Sometimes through those thoughts, he would have a very odd and unworldly recurring one now and then that made him wish that really, you were just a smart witch who managed to slip him amortentia every day and that those concerns over you and your life weren’t real. He sometimes felt so deeply that it scared him, feelings so raw that he couldn’t possibly understand and that tore him apart if he wasn’t distracting himself with something else. He couldn’t help but seldom wonder if maybe the non-existent love potion you had on him faded away; so would his fears and feelings. But they never did, they only grew both more pitiful and meaningful in a whirlwind of others.

And though he often hated to admit just how deeply he felt and the vulnerability that came with it, he has no regrets about letting you in. Without you, his world would just be a dark storm of chaos and pain, but with you; there’s a light at the end of a tunnel. You’re the sun, the moon, and all the stars to him that light up his darkest days and help guide him and teach him in more ways than he could ever fathom.

Before he knew it, he was stepping over and maneuvering around debris from the battle, the hand holding yours feeling more clammy as you both witnessed for the first time the aftermath of what just happened in and outside the castle’s walls not too long ago.

The sky was a blackened gray, a thunderous cover still sitting over the night with lingering clouds of smoke that looked like they came from fireworks but had instead been hexes and curses streaming through the air with the build-up of dust from the destruction.

It was painful, seeing people searching around still and calling out for whoever they were looking for. Bodies of Death Eaters and Scattered wands and ends of them that seemed to be snapped in half and dumped randomly. Giant holes blasted in the middle of the walls and so high up towards the tall ceilings that it looked like half the room was gone. It was silent, but mournful cries were ringing throughout the air and groans of pain coming from those who were injured. Everyone you had seen so far looked just like you and Draco did; dirty, disheveled, anxious, and dazed in a numb state.

You felt him get closer to you when you walked towards the wide-open doors of the Great Hall that sounded busier as you approached. You could feel the turmoil inside, the grief and the pain. Emotions were running high and strongly enough so that anyone who entered the room would feel it.

Draco swallowed thickly as he looked around, his stomach churning with shame as if it were his fault why everything and everyone was in anguish.

You looked up at him almost knowingly, your thumb soothingly running back and forth over the back of his hand while you gently squeezed it. You knew him well enough that he would start blaming himself, just like he always did much to your dismay.

You continued to lead him through the masses, both of you ignoring the furious glances in your direction as you trailed through with the very prominent silver-haired Slytherin who everyone now knew was associated with the Dark Lord and his servants. You heard a couple of hateful mutters, but it was relatively quiet as you ignored those too and kept your search for Madam Pomfrey with trembling and careful steps. Draco kept his eyes downcast, some of the spots of blood on the ground made him feel dizzy but it was better than anything else in his surroundings that he refused to acknowledge any more than he already had.

Madam Pomfrey was scurrying around a back corner when you finally found her, sweat dripping down her face and her uniform stained with grime and scarlet marks. The second she saw you, her hands flew up in surprise on either side of her head, the motion being followed by her hands suddenly clamping over her mouth as a shocked and visibly grateful expression crossed her face.

“Y/N!” She wailed quietly, her hands bunching up at her skirt while she moved around the area to meet you halfway. You weren’t expecting her to pull you into a hug, her hand smoothing over the back of your hair as she pulled away and seemingly inspecting you for any injuries. “I’m so glad you’re okay, dear. I overheard someone saying they saw you and Professor Carrow on one of the top floors and they weren’t sure if you made it out alive before they left. I’ve been worried sick, I don’t know how much more loss I can take.”

You blinked hard, trying to register her impromptu vent and concern over you as if you were the most important person to her in the room. “You worried about me, Madam Pomfrey?”

“Why, of course!” She exclaimed as if it was the most obvious fact in the world. “I didn’t watch you grow up, mend your injuries, and help you learn the beauty of healing without growing a soft spot for you. I sometimes feel like you’re the daughter I never had.”

You gave her a warm smile, her random confession making your chest feel a little less heavy. You were sure she was riddled with feeling the need to speak her mind and telling people how she truly felt about them after seeing all the deceased, all the people who she didn’t get a chance to talk to, or whose loved ones didn’t get a chance to either.

“While I have you here, a lot of people need tending and it’s only a few others and myself, would you-”

“No need to ask,” you quickly agreed, it was a no-brainer. Your hands were itching with the need to help, it was the main reason why you chose to come down. “Where do you need me?”

“Anyone you see who needs it.”

She gave a curt nod to Draco who she may or may not have ignored just the slightest and gave you a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder before she rushed over to someone behind you who had been calling for help.

You turn slowly to scan the room, cot-ridden people some covered in bandages and some holding onto their wounds while they waited for Pomfrey or anyone. You decided to focus on those first, Draco trailing closely behind you as you began making a beeline towards the people who looked to be in the worst shape.

Your wand was now held tightly in your shaking hand, the stress of doing real Healer work being something more common than you could have imagined now being right in front of you. You were still learning, still strengthening your skills but they were still sufficient, a natural gift you carried with you.

The first person you helped was a sixth-year boy, one you remember seeing on the Gryffindor Quidditch team as soon as he was in his second year as one of their more skilled Chasers. You remember seeing him play, so determined and full of rough excitement especially when he would be in a match against Slytherin. But now he was here, bleeding out on a cot with his hands held tightly over a spot on his waist and the light gone from his eyes. He was barely alive, nearly defeated and it made you want to scream out of sadness and frustration.

“Draco, I need your help,” you said quickly as you observed the wound, pulling the boy’s hands away from his side. “I need you to lift him up while I check him from the back.”

“What?” He wished he heard you wrong, but he knew what you were asking him to do.

“I need you to lift him, please, hurry,” you say to him again and this time he hastily moved to lower himself to the ground beside you and timidly began trying to prop the boy up. When he finally was able to, he watched you carefully as you worked diligently. He watched your hands feel around for any more bodily harm, your eyebrows knitted together in deep thought and worry, your bottom lip stressfully caught in between your teeth. You were muttering hopeful remarks to the boy that he would be okay, and as you dragged your wand across the deep gashes with your magical contact and intense care; Draco had realized just how talented you were. You were in your prime, your element, in full force.

After you bandaged the boy up with a quick spell, you allowed Draco to set him back down and began moving to the next without missing a beat.

It was like that for a while, moving around like a robot with one job where nothing else mattered except the saving of a life. You helped every single person you were able to, all the while Draco was admiring your skills with deep respect even while you were ordering him around to help you.

Hours passed, it seemed like. The only indication that time had indeed passed was the brightening of the dull gray sky now welcoming dawn. You had been working relentlessly, so much so, that for a while you forgot where you were and what you were doing there. If it wasn’t for Draco pointing out the new change of day and what everyone was anxiously waiting for - you would have kept healing until you couldn’t.

A flurry of hushed whispers fell amongst the desolated crowd packed inside the Great Hall. People were beginning to stand up and look outwards towards the collapsed gaping hole in the wall that faced the main courtyard where an army of dark-cloaked figures was approaching from the castle’s bridge. Voldemort was returning, and you weren’t sure if it was going to be a fight or the surrender he had promised. You weren’t even sure if Harry went to him, you were clueless about everything and so was Draco.

A mob of students and adults had hesitantly but willfully moved outside through the large hole exposing the outside. They had an air of almost guardianship surrounding them, shoulders squared and hands gripping their wands tightly as they blocked off the opening. Those who wanted to see what was coming had also begun making their way outside, leaving only the injured and the terrified inside.

Draco looked at you expectantly, silently telling you that he needed to be outside too. You knew he’d want to search for his parents and there wasn’t any protest from you as you trailed behind him to the main yard. You stopped beside him on the steps where the majority of the people stood, allowing the two of you to blend in somewhat.

It was quiet but the sound of several footsteps, stopping suddenly with their leader where he wanted and then suddenly all that echoed throughout the courtyard was, “Harry Potter… is dead!”

You held your breath and at the same time felt Draco stiffen next to you. You saw his eyes land first on his parents, they were clear as day just as frightened as he was as they filled out into the courtyard. They stood at the front of the crowd with the rest of the inner circle they were no longer a part of, standing off to the side with sullen and exhausted expressions or terrified, you couldn’t quite tell.

You couldn’t process what vile words were being thrown out into the air by the creature and creator of evil himself, nor could you process the eerie silence that fell upon what seemed like the whole world. There was not a bird in the sky, not a shimmer of sunlight, no butterflies or pixies fluttering around. It was like the Earth was dying alongside everyone. The darkness was devouring the wizarding world, but it was also seeping into the muggle world.

You hadn’t even noticed what was going on, Voldemort’s unsettling speech fading in your ears until you felt Draco’s grip around your hand tighten almost painfully as if he was petrified by something. He felt statuesque beside you, his skin feeling cold and clammy and after a few seconds of a complete dead quietness, you understood why.

“Draco!” Lucius called out loudly in a quavering voice. Your head snapped in his direction, and then towards Draco, his eyes were shifting around him nervously at everyone who had turned to stare at him. He was analyzing them too, wondering if any of them would ask him to stay or to leave. His adam’s apple was bobbing up and down as if he wanted to cry, a trembling breath falling from his lips as his father called for him one more time to come to him.

Your heart was beating through your chest now, your body turning slightly towards his as you wrapped your free hand around his wrist softly. He was being tested and in the worst way possible with a whole expecting audience. The fight between wanting to be good or being with his family was visibly eating him alive; even if it meant betraying himself, he loved his parents and being with them even if it was in awful, wicked circumstances.

You started to feel more frantic when Narcissa stepped forward, her facial expression was like stone, but the emotion swimming behind her eyes was vivid. You saw the same appearance on her the last time you were at the Manor, strong on the outside but troubled on the inside - much like her son. A pale manicured hand was placed on her husband’s shoulder, her lips set in a thin line as she observed Draco and then you. You held your breath, knowing that if she called him to her, he would go. You felt like preparing yourself for the blow that was about to come, for the goodbye, for the letting go again, but nothing ever came.

She waited until Voldemort had his back to her, her eyes locking with yours suddenly and then over to Draco while she smiled ever so slightly, you almost missing it completely before she nodded just as faintly and mouthed, “it’s okay.”

The hold on your hand lessened almost immediately only for him to stiffen again when Voldemort looked back between him and then his parents. You sensed Draco about to lurch forward, but someone else did first.

Neville stepped forward, the attention falling on him now as Voldemort focused his unbelieving stare on him now. But what he thought was a new devoter was actually the complete opposite.

The speech he gave inspired the atmosphere again and gave strength to the people still willing to fight. You held onto Draco’s hand tightly, his head turning to face you with worry at the death-like grip and the tremors shooting down your arms. He was about to take you away, about to run somewhere far away with you in his arms and ready to fight for his life to escape the next fight about to take place. He didn’t want you to bear witness to any more pain and just as he opened his mouth to speak - everyone in the courtyard had audibly and roughly gasped in surprise.

He turned hastily, his gaze following everyone else’s to where Harry now stood, wand in his hand and shooting a spell at the Dark Lord’s snake companion. He saw Voldemort staring back in horror, throwing spells back at Harry’s retreating figure while some of the Death Eaters began to apparate into the air in their signature black mists. That is when Draco found his footing again, his heart dropping to the pit of his stomach as he damn near pulled you away with all his might.

You cried out in fear, the blasts being sent through the air and screams of spells like repeats of the night before were enough to have your courage muddled once again. This time, though, Draco was going to make it his mission to keep you out of harm’s way.

He ran inside the castle with you, sprinting down the corridors with your hand grasped tightly in his as you passed piles of rubble and the empty portraits that were once alive. He stopped at a random door, forgetting about his wand and rather following his primal instincts to kick at its wooden planks until it swung open to reveal a dark classroom. He kept your hand in his as he maneuvered around the desks with you in the dark, his destination being the small storage room at the very back of the class where it was hidden by some tall display shelves.

The storage closet was cramped and empty, a couple of unlabeled and old dusty bottles of who knows what was left on the shelves above. He moved you inside - but he didn’t follow this time.

“Draco,” you warn. “Where are you going?”

He opened his mouth to answer but he quickly shut it, his head turning around rapidly at the sound of someone running outside the class. That’s when you saw it, a dark mist unexpectedly showed up at the door, a harsh “Malfoy brat!” escaping his mouth as he started running towards Draco with his wand in his hand.

“I love you,” Draco hastily said before slamming the door shut in your face. A clicking sound rang in the little room, your hand reaching for the doorknob he just locked on you to try and rattle it open.

Struggling grunts, loud bangs, and finally a shattering window echoed in your ears despite you being locked in the storage room. You were paralyzed with fear, keeping deathly silent to try and hear if they were still in the room or if someone had been killed. You prayed it wasn’t the latter, increasingly growing angry with Draco for not allowing you to help him. Though you’d complained to him about him not letting you fight beside him, and saved him from being killed by the Death Eater the night before, you understood why he always flees to hide you.

It wasn’t because he thought you were weak, he told you time and time again it wasn’t your skills he was worried about - but his.

You fished out your wand with shaky hands and blurred vision, pointing towards the doorknob with a fervent 'alohomora.’ It slowly opened, your foot kicking it forward only slightly as you cautiously stepped back out into the open. There was no one and nothing there but stained glass window shards on the ground near the middle of the room where the fight between the two undoubtedly happened. You ran towards the mess, leaping up onto a ledge and looking outside the window where Draco was nowhere to be found.

A dry mouth accompanied your fears, a coldness enveloping you with an unwelcome hug as you stepped back onto the ground and made a beeline towards the door of the classroom. You rushed through the hallway, ducking and hiding from Death Eaters as you ran with all your might towards the Great Hall.

It was still packed with people, more injured people than there was the last time you were in there less than an hour ago. Everything moved so fast, your feet carrying you forward without another thought as you bolted through the Great Hall and towards the courtyard.

You almost made it to the opening, your eyes suddenly spotting three heads of bright platinum hair in the distance hiding behind a large fallen pillar before you were met with the cold stone beneath you.

Someone had grabbed your leg as you were running, your body colliding with the floor as you ripped yourself away almost instantly once you realized you had fallen. You looked back with your wand on defense as you prepared to face your attacker, but there was no one.

A pale and almost green-looking older man stared at you with wide fearful irises, pupils blown out and mouth hanging open and moaning in pain. He gestured weakly to his wounded body and the sight nearly made you want to collapse all over again.

You glanced back towards Draco and then again towards the man, the decision in your head already being made with the innate need to want to heal the man before you as you scurried over quickly to tend to him. You used your wand to try and heal some of his more major wounds but some of them wouldn’t close fast enough and you were left with the man falling deeper into pain as he lost more blood.

He started grabbing at your hands, forcefully pushing your wand hand towards his lacerations while you struggled to focus between him and the battlefield where Draco was standing with his parents.

“Please, heal me, please miss,” he begged, pulling your arm again. You were forced to turn away, worry eating away at you as you struggled to center your mind for the spell to close up his wounds. He finally stopped clawing at you, sitting back in defeat as you croaked out the bandaging spell with a shaky hand over the area, and finally saw most of his gashes closing up while you did.

Your momentary focus was cut short when a loud boom roared throughout the area, some of the windows breaking from the frequency of it and your eardrums suddenly pulsing with a high-pitched ringing. You fell back on your hands, your blood running cold as you hastily turned around to look outside. You couldn’t see anything, just a thick unpenetrable cloud of smoke and more chunks of the castle falling. You could feel the ground shake as they connected with the stone pavement, more dust flying up into the air as they did.

You felt like screaming, maybe you were, you couldn’t hear a thing besides the ringing and distant explosions. Hot tears were falling down your face as you pushed yourself up from the ground, stumbling over your feet from how fast you were moving yet feeling so heavy at the same time. You couldn’t stop yourself from trying to run blindly into the cloud of smoke, desperately trying to look for Draco all while praying that you didn’t and instead he moved out of the way.

Your hearing was slowly returning to you; the sound of nothing yet everything was unnerving. Cries and spell incantations and destruction - but also panicked dead silence. You could feel and faintly hear yourself screaming out for Draco, his name echoing brokenly in the darkened air.

It felt like everything was moving in slow-motion, a feeling you don’t think you’d ever get used to no matter how often it happened. It always ensued in the most unanticipated and painful moments, your adrenaline sky-rocketing and your mind moving rapidly, but everything else seemed to move like a stop-motion film.

People had started running out of the smoke and towards the opening in the wall to retreat into the Great Hall. They were coughing violently, some hobbling over and grabbing at themselves from wherever they were in pain. Some brushed past you, some bumped into you as if you weren’t there, some gripped onto your arms and pleaded for you to go inside either because they needed help or were just trying to protect you from moving out of a danger zone. You felt dumb still calling out for Draco, no answer, no speck of white dirtied hair, no one hearing or seeing a thing about him.

The sob stuck in your throat finally tore itself through, your heart dropping to your stomach as Madam Pomfrey appeared near the wall to call out for you to come inside to help again. You didn’t want to leave your spot in the sheer and blind hope that the love of your life would stumble through the area safe and okay. Even when the smoke cleared up and Harry Potter and Voldemort became clear in the courtyard again with their wands fighting against each other, you still didn’t see any sign of Draco.

“Y/N!” Madam Pomfrey called for you again desperately as she ushered people inside. You were sick to your stomach, your vision hazy and your legs weak. You couldn’t stop crying or shaking, all of your worst nightmares abruptly feeling too real for you to handle. Your name was called for again, your heart breaking even further as your feet unwillingly dragged you back inside only to be thrown back into healing people which was ironically the last thing you wanted to do at this moment.

Your tears didn’t stop when you were kneeled and tending to someone’s broken ankle, your whole body trembling still even as you tried to focus and still yourself enough to give them what they needed. All you could think about was Draco and how you might never see him alive again, never feel him, or experience life with him in the way you dreamed of. Every moment you spent with him felt like it was slowly going down the drain; everything you went through - all were just going to be agonizing memories. The recurring nightmarish flush of emotions that felt like they ran through you every other day when you thought Draco was dead was on the forefront now. You swore you were about to empty dry-heave over the person underneath you, forcing down the need to gag even if it was painfully bubbling in your throat.

It was panic all around you, and panic, and more panic - until there wasn’t. You hadn’t even noticed that all the rushing and commotion in the room stopped until you realized you were able to hear your faint weeping and then scattered shocked gasps and a disappearing howl of the wind.

You hastily stood up from your kneeled position over the person you were finished tending, your sight bouncing from every corner of the courtyard where the only visible person in your vision was Harry, his head following the movement of a long whirl of black ashes that were disappearing into the gray and polluted sky from the aftermath of the battle.

The realization hit you a million times over in the few seconds that you watched the ashes vanish into thin air.

Voldemort was gone.

The only thing on Earth that was standing between you and Draco from giving in to each other freely and thoughtlessly. It felt like all your fears had dissipated into the gray hub with the speckled ashes of the Dark Lord, no more worry for the future that no longer looked so bleak - but unknowing again. You couldn’t find Draco anywhere and just as fast as your dread had left you; it came rushing back with a nauseating flood of terror. You were never sure whether to trust your intuition that always sparkled with faith that tried to wash away your worries or your mind that was racing with doubts and pessimistic thoughts telling the rest of your being to relax and lose the blind hope.

You almost tripped over yourself trying to scurry out towards the gathering crowd near the exit, your heartbeat feeling hollow and legs weak and feeling like you were sinking into quicksand. You brought up your elbow to try and maneuver yourself through the growing group of people, but someone with a swift grasp around your arm had stopped you and spun you around directly into their embrace.

Draco was no stranger to you. There was nothing about him that you wouldn’t be able to recognize. You knew it was him the moment your nose brushed against the cool skin of his throat where it still smelled faintly of his cologne. You felt his disheveled hair tickle your cheeks and the soft thankful string of whispers that felt like a warm kiss going past your ear lobes. Your arms were tight around his neck, not caring about the possibility that you might be choking him but he was holding onto your waist just as hard and unknowingly spinning you both around in a slow and dazed way that felt like gravity was pulling you both together as he rocked you carefully back and forth in his hold. Your endless hot tears were falling onto his collarbones and soaking the neckline of his shirt, his physical presence almost being too much for you after you had accidentally convinced yourself of his death.

“I thought you died,” you mumble out muffledly into his chest. “I saw you and then there was a blast and-”

“You forget I can apparate, Y/L/N?” He whispers the question.

When you finally opened your eyes, you were still tightly held in Draco’s arms, propping your chin on his shoulder as you held your breath from the beauty that was unveiling itself right in front of you. You were facing the opening to the courtyard, the dense gray thunderous clouds in the orange and blue sky were quickly disappearing as if they were being magically blown away like they didn’t belong there.

The sun was beaming down on you, the rays kissing every inch of your face with a warmth that filled you with peace. You hadn’t seen the sun in so long, bright and shimmering in all its glory like it was the first day of summer. Birds and other small flying creatures were soaring through the air again, the chirps and songs of dawn that began the new day were beautifully loud as if they were alarms that were waking everyone up from a nightmare.

It felt like the morning of a day you were yearning so long for, a day that felt like the equivalent of events that you were just so thrilled for and couldn’t wait for, where you spent the night before wide-awake with adrenaline and couldn’t sleep because of how excited you were for what lied ahead; like the day before you began your first-year at Hogwarts. Otherworldly and full of awe and wondrous hope for a future that was now infinite.

You weren’t sure how long it took you to tear your stare away from the scene. You leaned back, his hands still resting on your hips to hold you in place as you gazed into his waiting eyes but it was enough to make you feel speechless again. You wanted to kiss him with every fiber in your being, feel his touch from head to toe.

You took a look around you and saw everyone in a mix of joyous tears, celebratory hugs, and kisses.

“Are you alright?” He asked you quietly, soft concern entangled between his words, eyebrows furrowed and eyes focused on yours attentively. “I’m sorry I left you in the storage closet. I was going to go in with you, I swear, but I heard someone coming and-”

“It’s okay, Draco,” you cut him off, releasing a huff of air, “I’m alright and I understand. Thank you.” You gave him a teary smile. He returned the grin half-heartedly, one of his hands coming up from behind your back and carefully moving a flyaway out of your face.

“Good.” He let out breathily. “Now let’s get out of here for a minute.”

His fingers interlocked with yours, his arm tugging you slightly in the direction he wanted to take you in as he turned on his heel and began towards the Great Hall’s main doors. It felt foreign now that it was riddled with every awful thing that just happened, stained and etched into the stone walls for the rest of Hogwarts history.

Everything was different now, it looked and felt like so in the clearest way.

You were walking through the large meadows blossoming throughout the outside of the school now that the sun was out and all its beings that came with its bright renewing light. Tall blades of grass brushed across your ankles, flowers, and weeds latching themselves onto your calves slightly as if they were hugging your lower limbs like they were old friends.

He was taking you towards your tree, its lively branches twirling around in the whistling gales flowing through it. It snowed white and pink wispy petals and bright green leaves, the pieces of nature flying excitedly in the air as they fell all around you or disappeared into the passing breeze.

There was a pause when you both stopped in your steps in front of the sentient’s trunk, right underneath all its shaking twigs. Your hands stayed in each other’s grasp, but no words were said yet. No reactions or outbursts, just blankness written on his perfect face if you ignored the wrinkle in his brow you were sure was permanent now as it was always there.

“How do you feel?” You ask almost hesitantly, the thickness in the air growing by the second from his silence.

“I don’t know.” He sounds far away. His head was in a million other places than where he was. “It’s odd, I thought I’d-” He stopped himself. You caught the disappointment that flashed across his icy eyes.

“What is it?” You waited. You hoped you didn’t sound too eager, however the innate need you felt now to ease away all his worries always had you ready at your feet to bring him some sort of peace.

“I thought it would feel happier,” he mumbles, looking up at you with vast watery eyes. “He’s gone, but he left me with nothing.”

You frown at his reveal. You could sense the uneasiness inside him as the adrenaline from watching the Dark Lord disappear into thin air had rapidly passed for him. He was realizing now that his problem was no longer Voldemort, but his life that got thrown off its track in the process.

“And the worst of it all,” he mutters bitterly, his tears now rushing angrily down his face in muddy streaks. You felt him roughly pull his left sleeve up, pitiful sniffles emitting from him as he struggled helplessly to fold the fabric up his arm.

You placed a careful hand over his trembling ones, stopping his wild movements as you tried your best to hush him into comfort. It seemed like the simplest things work for him when they come from you, centering all his anger and sadness so abruptly it almost feels like he gets brought back down to Earth after being launched into space. He was still livid and ashamed, but for your sake only, he kept himself from moving recklessly and calmed his haphazardness.

“It’s still there,” he let out defeatedly, dragging his fingers across the faded black ink on his skin. You could still make out the skull and the snake, its form still clear as day, just significantly less opaque on his arm.

Draco felt let down almost. He built up the excitement of thinking he would be able to get rid of that horrible mark one day if Voldemort ever got defeated, but the day was finally here and yet it still stained him as a reminder of the worst years of his life that he wanted to do everything in his power to forget.

“I seem to remember telling you the night you first showed it to me,” you trailed off as you replaced the hand over his mark with yours. “That, while I know you hate it and I know it hurts to see it. It’s not you. And one day, forth from today, it’s going to be so faint that it’ll just be a reminder of how you survived and got through the most difficult point of your life. I know you want to forget, but this won’t ever be something you can just ignore. It’s going to be with you forever and the only thing you can do is move forward and try towards the future you dreamed of when you thought it was impossible. I believe in your future, Draco. You can still be who you want to be.”

He would never be able to fully explain to you how appreciative he was for you; for your entire existence and your presence in his life. He couldn’t fathom how much the flurry of emotions that ran through his body affected him due to your reassuring words dripping from your lips like honey. Simple skin-to-skin contact from you, or even just a look - could send his mind into a hurricane like that. He doesn’t think he’ll get over it, ever.

The feeling of you.

Draco took a shuddering breath, allowing the unexpected warm air to fill his lungs and hopefully rid his body of its anxious random quivering. He didn’t want to cry anymore in front of you, nor did he want to sadden you on what was supposed to be a relieving day.

Unfortunately for him, you were able to read him instantly. You finally cracked the code of Draco Malfoy and what he looked like when he was withholding words or sentiments from you. When he was genuinely troubled with his thoughts. Or any other beautiful or haunting expression that settled itself onto his porcelain features. Your speech to him had touched the deepest depths in his heart and eased his worries tremendously, but he couldn’t shake the anxiety gnawing at him.

Right now, he was looking spooked and pained. His expression wasn’t as harsh as it had been for the last many months you’ve known him now, but it was still clear he was disturbed. You knew nothing you said or did for him would be able to completely erase the events that transpired and changed not only his world but the whole wizarding world - and yours. Everyone had overextended their body, minds, powers, and efforts for the sake of a bright future with the endless possibilities that no one would ever take for granted again.

All you were able to do for him right now was gently tug his arm to wordlessly ask him to sit in the grass with you, to which he complied, and you embraced him with every intention of never letting go. Something about the way you wrapped your whole self around him made him feel grateful all over again and most of all, safe. Your hands ran up and down his back soothingly, every once in a while one snaked up his neck and played with the hair on the back of his head, nails grazing soft circles onto his scalp. Your chest was flush against his and he couldn’t help moving you onto his lap to wrap his arms around you tighter and bring you impossibly closer.

This was the first time, he realized, that when he closed his eyes and saw the darkness surrounding his vision - it wasn’t bleak. It wasn’t hopeless as it had been just over an hour ago. It was like a huge iron weight had been lifted off his chest, the figurative anchor tugging him to the bottom of his despair was cut free and he felt himself slowly but surely coming back up to the surface. The drowning feeling in him wasn’t overwhelming anymore.

Draco was unsure of whether or not his steady breathing was because he had automatically begun matching his inhales and exhales to the rise and fall of your chest against him, or if it was because of the continuous realization that the Devil looming over his fate was gone, but he was grateful.

Merlin, he was so grateful.

He was fine for a second. But then something much worse came to mind.

The thoughts of what would happen after Voldemort’s death quickly changed from him wondering how can he move forward with his life and now tainted past, to realizing what he and his family did was a crime. An extremely unforgiving crime in his world and one punishable by an eternity of imprisonment in the worst place imaginable. A place that if he didn’t have the soul sucked out of him physically, he would lose it himself with time as he rotted away.

Draco felt his breathing switch from steady to ragged almost instantaneously again. His hands were suddenly on your hips, carefully sliding you off of him and scooting away from you so that he could gather himself. He couldn’t look at you right now, feeling insanely guilty for who he was and how you didn’t deserve to deal with his mess. You didn’t deserve to keep getting put through hell for him and he hated knowing that everything awful that had happened to you has been directly linked to him, caused by him indirectly.

"Draco,” you call out to him gently. You saw the panic in his eyes, his cheeks growing red with dread, and his fingers pulling at his white strands. You feared for him, his heart, and his mind. You wanted to cry with him, understanding that he wasn’t going to be okay for a while.

“I’m so pathetic, I’m sorry,” he expressed to you meekly.

“What’s wrong, love?” You try again. You crawled over to him, stopping in front of him where he was hugging his knees to his chest and sobbing into the fabric of his pants. His cries broke your heart like they did every time, the pain always evident in his wavering voice. “Maybe I can help?”

“No, Y/N,” he muttered weakly. “You can’t help me on this one.”

“How do you know that if you won’t tell me what it is.” You frown at his stubbornness. You noticed his attempt at trying to take a deep breath to answer you and the way his head slightly shook from side to side.

“Unless you can stop the ministry from banishing me to Azkaban,” he finally spits out with a

food for thought | draco malfoy

summary;after spending the night of the yule ball with renowned slytherin, draco malfoy, you catch his eye at breakfast. the boy seems to be hell-bent on seeing into your thoughts, and so you let him — but now you think he might’ve seen too much.

tagged;@partr1dge<3

word count; 1kgive or take a few words maybe like exactly 23 idk i don’t have specifics

content;use of legilimency and occlumency, sexual themes, choking if you use a magnifying glass, i really came for draco’s childhood trauma + mental issues… my apologies, mentions of love (gross but also will they,won’t they?).

a/n; this is a rewrite of “last night”, something shitty i made ages ago !! anyway absolutely brilliant title god my mind is so powerful ugh </3 food ??? breakfast. for ??? thought??? occlumency, legilimency !!! i’m so sorry, i rewrote pretty much every word(including this authors note, is it that obvious?) at 5:30 am, it’s not amazing, but i’m sleep deprived and on my period so safe to say i did tear up for absolutely no reason.

you and draco both said that you’d never speak of what ensued in his dormitory the night of the yule ball. and you obliged. and you both swore it would never happen again. and you nodded your head. it was a mutual, meaningful agreement, and post-orgasm, it had seemed like a brilliant idea. no consequences, no ties between you two, being from different houses.

but it was extremely difficult to stick to your word when your legs still ached from the night before.

and his breathy groans, hot air fanning over your ear as he railed into you senselessly, wouldn’t push out of your mind.

and the bruises trailing down from your neck to your waistline were constant reminders of his tongue tracing over them, blowing on them, teasing you to all hell.

every time you blinked, the images flashed beneath your eyelids.

every time you inhaled, you missed his hand squeezing over your throat, restricting air.

and merlin, any slight brush against your own skin made you jump, thinking of his body on yours, skin on skin, sweat, clammy hands, your arched back, the veins in his hands, his jaw, his collarbones.

in the great hall, you made your way to your table for breakfast alone, and gnawed at your bottom lip while playing around with the food on your plate, famished, yet still so full of racing thoughts and fresh memories. his hands on your thighs, the way he sighed your name, your nails digging into his back, leaving little crescent moons over it, and his shoulders, and his hips, too. again and again and again.

looking up from your plate to scan the empty room, your eyes met draco’s ones, his irises a stormy grey, pupils dilated, and you inhaled sharply, looking away. you’d gotten up early, as if it would stop suspicion rising if you seemed like you hadn’t had a long night. it seemed as if he’d done that too, sat alone just the same.

merlin, you could feel the burn of his gaze, it made your body freeze and your cheeks heat up. he was looking right at you, right into you. you could feel it, the thumping at your temple that wouldn’t cease, the throbbing behind your eyelids. he was attempting to penetrate into your thoughts.

as if he hadn’t penetrated enough of you within the twenty-four hours, for fucks sake.

in need of a distraction, you turned your attention to the fork still lazily dancing across your plate, the cold handle twirling beneath your fingertips. it didn’t feel fair, what he’d done to you. turning you into a mess, mind hazy. giving you a taste, then taking it away immediately, albeit that being exactly what you’d agreed on. and although he really had given you absolutely everything the night before (or rather, this morning), it still felt like a neverending tease, with all that need careening through your veins.

swallowing harshly, you straightened up in your seat, pulling at the hem of your skirt, playing with a loose, dark thread. christ, he was still trying. the headache never seemed to stop, so persistent, so demanding, a feeling you knew well through conversations with dumbledore. but this headache clouded your mind, unforgiving, begging to be let through. it wasn’t asking for permission.

looking up once again, keeping your body still and your breath steady, you stared right back. taught ruthlessly by your grandmother, you’d always kept your mind shut from peering intruders. yet he was so fearlessly determined that you could feel it through his magic, snaking its way right through you, searching for any slight weaknesses in your armour. a strand of white hair fell over his forehead as he tilted his head slightly, jaw clenching. he wasn’t giving up.

draco malfoy always had something to prove. he was always so sure of his own success, so much to the point of insecurity, of doubt. it was a troubling mix of brashness, arrogance, and cowardice sprouting from the child rooted deep inside him, desperate for assurance and acceptance.

but it wasn’t your pity that led you to allow him to break through.

it was your need for him to know something you weren’t so sure you could admit verbally. you were thinking of him. that was all.

so, you stared straight into the silver of his eyes and let him right in.

his hands digging into your hips. the sheen of sweat over his entire body, glistening. the faint bruises he left on your wrists. you begging him to go harder.

him obliging.

his eyes were clouded over, as if in a trance, flitting through your memories.

but using legilimency was as much a curse as it was a blessing. because he could feel everything you felt too. the lust, the want, the pain filtering through the pleasure. and he could feel every little thing you’d noticed about him; the mole above his left knee, and the other on his waist, and the few freckles beneath his eyes, and the scar he had just above his eyebrow that you’d never really noticed until you’d tipsily placed wet kisses over his hairline.

for what felt like hours, you let him in, until he decided he’d had enough.

he was blinking quickly, brows furrowed, pale cheeks now flushed pink. he clumsily stood up from the slytherin table, pushing aside his plate of food, and stormed, flustered, out of the room, much like the boy who’d kissed you the night before. all tongue and teeth, all desperation, all emotion. but it was just for the one night. that was all.

and you felt foolish.

because you realised, he’d felt everything.

that in those moments, you thought you might’ve even loved him.

the boy, all tongue, and teeth, and hands, all pale skin, all desperation. it was certainly something entirely worthy of love.

~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡

golden trio

marauders