what about us — draco malfoy

pairing:draco malfoy x female!reader

summary: to cast a patronus charm, you must recall the happiest moment of your life. for reader, the memory is something unexpected.

a/n:this is my first time writing in a while so i hope you guys like it !!! highkey inspired by the song “what about us” by p!nk so i recommend listening to the slowed version of that song on repeat. yes the slowed version bc it hits different :d 

When [Y/N] first says the words Expecto Patronum, nothing quite happens.

When she raises her wand, closes her eyes, and blocks everything else out, just like Harry had instructed her when he gingerly put one hand over her own and the other on her waist, guiding her stance—nothing happens.

When she searches through her memories for—what was it Harry had said?—the happiest moment of her life, her wand doesn’t even let out the faintest tendril of white smoke.

When she decides to think of when Harry had first told her that he fancied her, and all of their other moments, of their first kiss under the mistletoe, of how he always rushes to her after winning a Quidditch match with the biggest grin on his face, of his cheeky grins and his lame jokes..

When she thinks of Harry, her boyfriend of one year now—

Nothing happens.

Maybe she isn’t focusing hard enough.

Maybe she needs to think of something a little more profound, like the first time Harry had ever told her he loved her. Shy and hesitant but true, as they sat by the Black Lake, their hands shyly resting an inch or two apart.

Maybe she’s just not cut out for this kind of magic.

”It’s not—“ she huffs out, dropping her wand back at her side, evidently frustrated at herself as she turns to meet Harry’s gaze. “It’s not working.”

Harry gives her a half-amused, half-sympathetic smile. “It’s not going to happen right away,” he tells her, eyes silently surveying the rest of the Room of Requirement, watching as the other members of Dumbledore’s Army flick and jab their wands at the air helplessly, some able to produce tiny bursts of wispy white smoke and others having achieved absolutely no progress at all—just like [Y/N].

Turning his gaze back to [Y/N], Harry suggests sheepishly, “Sure you’ve got a happy enough memory?” His lips quirk up into a toothy grin. “It better not be eating pancakes—you need something far stronger than that.”

[Y/N] rolls her eyes, smiling despite herself. “I realize that, Harry, thanks.” She scrunches her nose at him, and revels in the way his eyes shine with fondness. Grin falling slightly, she looks down at her wand as she twirls it in her hand. “I thought it was a pretty strong memory. I thought of..“

She trails off, letting the rest of her words die down somewhere in her throat.

For some reason, [Y/N] lies. “My seventh birthday,” she continues, wondering if Harry had heard the waver in her voice. And then she wonders why it had wavered in the first place.

Or maybe she already knows why—wouldn’t it be slightly worrying for Harry to know that her memories with him weren’t enough to conjure a Patronus?

“Something stronger, maybe?” Harry suggests, pursing his lips, eyebrows raised. And then he wiggles his brows playfully, playing it off as casual, but [Y/N] hears the slight twinge of hopefulness in his voice when he suggests, “D’you wanna try thinking of your boyfriend, maybe?”

[Y/N] feels something akin to guilt pang at her chest. Despite it, she smiles at Harry—and lies. Again. “Maybe I should,” she says softly, not quite holding his eyes all the way, instead turning away to raise her wand in front of her once more.

Maybe she just needs to try harder. She raises her arm again, taking a deep breath through her nose.

The happiest one you can think of.

[Y/N] closes her eyes. She can feel Harry watching her, ready to sweep her into his arms the moment the wispy white tendrils coming from her wand starts to take even the vaguest of forms.

I can do this.

She blocks everything out: the echoed incantations of “Expecto Patronum” all around her, the delighted shrieks, the awed gasps, and even Harry, until all that she can sense is her and the memory inside her head that she knowsis there—she can feel it. All she has to do is concentrate.

Another deep breath, and she’s closer. And in her mind she sees it as a blinding glimmer of white light, and her fingers are outstretched..

And then it comes.

A memory.

But not of Harry.

The first thing she sees is a flash of platinum blond hair.

And then grey eyes. A mischievous smirk. Pale skin. The sound of laughter.

“Draco!”

She is eight years old, chasing a boy down a garden, watching as he disappears with a loud laugh behind a tall statue of his great great grandfather. [Y/N] can see his elbow poking out. a moment later—his eyes.

Grey. Glimmering with happiness.

“You’ll never catch me!” yells Draco, hopping out from behind the statue. He picks a stick up from the ground and brandishes it towards her, shouting, “Stupideus Maximus!”

[Y/N] feels a flare of challenge rear up inside her. She tries for a threatening scowl, but the grin tugging on her lips can’t be helped. “That’s not even a real spell, you dunderhead!” she yells, looking wildly around her for a stray branch. Once she’s managed to locate one a foot away, she hurriedly grabs it, and much like Draco, holds it aloft like a wand and points it towards him. “Ugleus Draconeus!” she barely gets the words out through her giggles. “Oh, wait, that won’t work, you’re already ugly!”

“Hey!” outraged, Draco drops his makeshift wand. In what seems like a half-second, he’s tackling her to the ground, sending the two of them crashing into the grass, a rolling, laughing mess of tangled limbs and delighted shrieks.

“Geroffme!” [Y/N] yelps, flailing about on the ground. “Your stench is killing me—”

“That’s rich, I know for a fact you haven’t showered in two days—”

“Hey!”

“Ow!”

And then everything is melting away, like paint dripping on canvas, like ice held over a flame, colors condensing into each other, moving up and down, sideways, breaking apart, morphing into something else, and suddenly the sound of childish laughter is replaced by the sound of someone humming, and beyond that, a fire crackling in a hearth.

There is a boy resting his head on her lap. His hair is platinum blond.

She is raking her fingers through his strands almost absentmindedly. Like this is nothing more than habit, this ridiculously comfortable dynamic; [Y/N] humming under her breath, Draco with his eyes half-closed, her playing with his hair, the rest of the Slytherins far too used to the sight to question why there’s a Gryffindor sitting in their common room.

The tune she’s humming is a familiar one. It doesn’t belong to a song; just a random bunch of notes, over and over again, the same one they have hummed to each other over the years.

She pauses to ask: “Are you staying here for Christmas?”

Draco makes a sound in the back of his throat. “I don’t know.” He shifts slightly, eyes still mostly closed. “Are you?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Bloody great. I’m going to have to put up with you singing carols all week at the manor again.” But [Y/N] sees the smile on the corners of his lips. He’s pleased.

Her hand remains carding gently through Draco’s hair. Like she’s already calming him down, even before she’s broken the news to him.

“Actually..” she begins softly, looking down at him, waiting for his eyes to blink open with disbelief. “The Weasleys..”

She feels him go just the slightest bit rigid, but she keeps going, huffing slightly at the shift in Draco’s mood. She’d been expecting this, but that doesn’t mean she has to like it. “They’ve asked me to spend Christmas with them,” she says quietly, hating the guilt that pinches at her. She has to remind herself, momentarily, that she has nothing to feel guilty about.

Draco keeps his eyes closed. [Y/N] sees the tight set of his lips.

“And you said yes,” he doesn’t phrase it like a question.

Another pinch of guilt. She hates this one even more. “I did.”

Her hand has stopped carding through his hair. Draco shifts on where he’s laying on the couch, and for a moment [Y/N] thinks he’s going to get up and leave.

But instead he nods and stays, and for some reason that is even worse.

“Okay.”

[Y/N]  lets out a sigh. “I know you don’t like them, but—”

“Will Potter be there?”

She closes her eyes briefly. When she opens them again, Draco’s are open, too, but he is staring into the fireplace. “Does it matter?”

[Y/N] reads the answer in his tense jaw, in his stiff shoulders, in his eyes:

Yes.

But Draco is proud, and he would never admit it: that he feels like Harry is stealing her from him again, the same way he’s been doing for the past few years. He remembers all their cancelled Hogsmeade trips this year so that she could go with Harry and the Weasleys instead. All the times she told him she was busy, that she had somewhere else to be, somewhere with Harry.

Always with Harry, ever since she’d been sorted into Gryffindor. Draco knows both he and [Y/N] have been trying to keep whatever they have between each other alive, but it doesn’t help that she’s in a different house. All she has left with him are these moments: sneaking into the Slytherin common room so they can spend a few hours together, only to exchange the briefest of “hi"s the next day.

Draco can’t tell her how disappointed he feels. He’s far too proud for that. So instead he says, "No. It doesn’t,” even though both of them know otherwise.

[Y/N] grimaces, ignoring the twang in her chest as she moves her hand to poke his cheek. “You sure?”

She thinks Draco could have smiled. It certainly looked like he was close to it, despite everything.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah?” Another tentative poke.

Draco bites his lip like he’s trying to stay serious, but he ends up laughing anyway. Smiling in an almost resigned way, he rolls his eyes, reaching up to grab her wrist and pry her finger away from his cheek. “Yes, woman. I said yes.”

[Y/N]  grins, at ease now that she knows the tension has faded. “You sure?”

“Bloody—”

She knows as soon as Draco starts to sit up that he plans on tickling her, so she shoves him off instantly and makes a break for a random door in the corner of the common room.

Which, as it turns out, is the seventh year boys’ dorm.

When she dashes back out, blushing furiously, Draco is clutching his stomach in the spot where she’d left him, tears of laughter leaking out of his eyes.

[Y/N] blinks, and she is in the Malfoy manor.

She is rushing up the marble steps with her hand clutched in Draco’s. He’s tugging her along, through familiar hallways, through a familiar doorway, and stopping in front of a familiar window.

“I haven’t been up here in ages,” Draco says, sounding almost exhilarated. He’s rolling up his dress shirt sleeves, reaching up to unlock the window and let through a cold breeze.

[Y/N]  smirks. “Too scared to go up without me?”

Draco makes a face at her.

They can still hear the party downstairs; the orchestra and its repetitive clash of instruments, the clinking of wine glasses, rich pureblooded families talking over one another, fake laughter, her parents complimenting Draco’s for hosting such a fabulous party..

Draco and [Y/N] have always hated these parties, and they still do. And so now here they are—away from everything and everyone else but each other, because they can’t seem to stand anyone else.

[Y/N]  pulls off her heels, setting them on the floor for when she and Draco come back later. With practiced movements, she hoists herself up onto the windowsill, barely even registering the feeling of Draco’s hands on her waist as he guides her out of the window.

“You alright?”

Gripping the frame of the window for support, she steps into the cold night air.

“Yeah,” she exhales.

She knows her way up now, so there’s not as much panicking as there was the first time she and Draco had pulled this stunt. Instead, she hoists herself up to the roof with little to no hassle, Draco behind her all the way. What feels like mere moments later the two of them are seated next to each other on the edge of the roof, nothing but the vast expanse of sky above them.

It may be summer, but the night is still cold and brings with it a bitingly cold breeze. A few seconds is all it takes for [Y/N]  to start regretting not having brought a coat up with her.

“Blimey, I’ve missed this,” Draco is saying, looking down at the grounds below them. It’s dark and they can’t see much, but that makes the sight all the more magical. The garden is dimly lit by floating orbs, which waft around like faeries, casting an ethereal glow over the tall hedges. “I’ve been here a couple times, but it’s a lot lonelier when I’m just by myself, you know?”

“Really?” [Y/N] glances over at him, grinning despite the cold. She rubs her palms over her arms. “You mope here by yourself, Draco Malfoy?”

Draco rolls his eyes. “It’s a nice place to think. Are you cold?”

“Nice to know my purposely exaggerated shivering has finally caught your attention.”

He throws his head back in a laugh. “If you wanted my jacket, you could have just said.”

[Y/N] flicks her eyebrows up at him. “And give up my pride?”

“Pride or hypothermia? Up to you.” Draco has shrugged off his suit jacket, but he’s holding it out in front of her, lips quirked into a teasing smirk.

“Oh, give me that,” [Y/N] mutters, snatching it off his hands to drape it across her shoulders. Grinning, Draco leans over to help her fit it over her form. “Thanks. I suppose chivalry might not be dead, after all.”

“It’ll be alive as long as I am.” Draco settles back down next to her, propping his elbows on his raised knees.

An amused scoff. [Y/N] jabs him on the side.

They fall quiet after that, until all that is left between them is silence—except it doesn’t feel quite as comfortable as it should.

That, [Y/N] supposes, is what happens when you leave too many things unsaid.

But it’s not like she has a choice, because what would Draco say if she lets loose everything that she has been holding back, knowing that he won’t take kindly to them?

What would Draco say if she tells him about how, after four years, she doesn’t regret being sorted into Gryffindor anymore?

What would he say if she tells him about how the “blood-traitor” Weasleys make her happy in a way that her own family has never done?

What would he say if she tells him that she is happy, even if they’re no longer spending as much time together as they used to?

What would Draco say if she tells him that Harry confessed to fancying her?

”Why are you looking at me like that?”

[Y/N]  blinks herself out of her reverie. She’d been staring at Draco.

She only realizes this now, and swallows, shaking her head. “Nothing.”

Draco fixes her with his gaze, something unreadable dancing just behind his eyes. [Y/N], who had been busying herself with the lapels of his suit jacket, glances at him out of the corner of her eye.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she mutters.

”Like what?”

“Like you want to kiss me or something, I don’t bloody know. It’s weird.“

Draco lets out a quick breath of laughter, but it only takes a second or two before it’s replaced by that same sort of taut silence, where the only sound between them is that of tree leaves rustling in the distance and the music from the hall below.

And then—“Would it really be that weird?”

[Y/N] waits for a lone, floating orb to disappear behind a garden hedge before she turns her head to look at Draco. “Would what be weird?” It’s dark and she can’t quite see him properly, only the side of his face that’s illuminated by the faintest traces of moonlight. She can make out his eyes, though, but they are as unreadable as ever.

Draco shifts on where he sits. His eyes move down and away from hers, almost hesitant, and then back up. [Y/N] blinks at him, waiting, oddly feeling like she’s edging closer and closer to the edge of a cliff with no idea what’s waiting for her down below.

When he speaks again, his voice is quiet. “If I kissed you.”

[Y/N] wonders how she may have looked at that moment. Her eyes would have widened by just the tiniest bit, lips falling open slightly in mild surprise.

Something about her expression must have jarred Draco, because he lets out another one of his quick laughs—more of a ragged exhale than a laugh, really—and shakes his head, quickly looking away. “Of course it would be weird,” he breathes out. “Forget I said that.”

Around Draco, she usually always knows what to say. Conversation with him flows easily, words bouncing back and forth without a hitch in their seemingly effortless rhythm. It’s been that way for as long as she can remember. But now [Y/N] finds herself struggling, mouth open but unable to say anything at all. All she can do is stare, watching as the forced smile on Draco’s face fades and his fingers curl in on themselves.

“I mean..” She mulls the question over and over in her head, but there is only one answer that she can think of.

[Y/N] lets out a huff-like breath through her nose. “Not really.”

Draco freezes.

If it were daytime, he would see the suddenly pink hue of her cheeks, but the midnight sky saves her from the humiliation.

She swallows, ignoring the almost constricting sensation in her chest that feels like several hundred butterflies have come to life and are now fluttering around inside of her ribcage. “We’ve done weirder things together, haven’t we?” she mutters, face turned to him but not able to look at him straight in the eye, either. “Like that one time we danced the hokey pokey with one of your house-elves when we were—what, like, six? And that other time w—”

Draco moves, an infinitesimal shift, and suddenly his lips are pressed against hers, and [Y/N] feels her limbs seize up with surprise. She can feel him, taste him, the soft swell of his mouth and the faint hint of dessert left behind on his lips. And then, along with it, something warm flaring up inside of her chest, leaving her leaning in, relaxing into him, wanting more and more and more, as much of him as she could possibly get.

The strength and suddenness of her desire is what startles her back to herself. She flinches and pulls back, eyes blinking open. Draco’s face is mere inches away from hers. She has a split-second, only a split-second, to see his face framed in the moonlight: his tousled blond hair and the swell of his lips, which are still half-forming a kiss.

Draco recoils, looking just as surprised at his own actions as [Y/N] is. “I—” he begins, the very same moment [Y/N] opens her mouth and tries to say, “Do—”

They pause. Stare at each other, as though properly drinking the events of the past few seconds in.

[Y/N] isn’t sure which one of them starts laughing first, but before she knows it their shoulders are shaking, lips breaking out into wide grins, their laughter filling the night air, echoing across the garden. It isn’t hysterical laughter—not the kind two people share after a particularly funny joke—instead it’s the kind of quiet, exhilarated laughter that comes after doing something particularly daring, the kind that sounds like I cannot believe I just did that.

The good kind.

The happiest moments of [Y/N]’s life.

At the end of her wand bursts the blinding, dazzling figure of a silvery-white animal. A magnificent eagle, soaring over the heads of the members of Dumbledore’s Army, its wings spread wide in free flight as it glides elegantly around the Room of Requirement.

Harry has swept her into his arms, grinning. He’s saying something—words of praise; “You did it, I knew you could do it"—and [Y/N] is smiling back, nodding, but there is an ache in her chest that wasn’t there before, and memories lingering in her head that she thought she’d set aside for the better. But now that they’ve been let back loose, it seems there is no getting rid of them.

Of platinum blond hair and grey eyes and laughter on quiet rooftops. Of stolen kisses amidst parties that neither of them enjoy. Of Draco Malfoy, a boy she once adored.

There are tears in her eyes, she realizes, but she plays them off as tears of happiness even though they are anything but. Harry laughs at her apparent mawkishness.

[Y/N] is quiet during dinner that night. She can’t bring herself to eat much, nor to join in on the conversation at the Gryffindor table. Harry has caught on to her change in mood, and he keeps squeezing her hand underneath the table to make sure she’s okay, but [Y/N] can’t offer him much beyond a halfhearted smile of reassurance.

She can’t stop thinking about earlier. About how her memories with Harry weren’t happy enough, whereas Draco’s..

[Y/N] hates to admit it, but she isn’t as surprised at this as she should be. Part of her, she realizes, has always known that Draco brought her a kind of happiness nothing and no one ever could.

Not even her bloody boyfriend.

But there’s a reason why she and Draco have been distant this year. His hatred for her friends, his jealousy for Harry, his refusal to understand that they’re good people, Draco, why should blood status matter?

There’s a reason why their first kiss had been their last.

There’s a reason why [Y/N] chose Harry over him.

She senses someone’s gaze on her, but she knows who it belongs to even before she looks up.

When she raises her head, their eyes meet from all the way across the Great Hall, reaching across the hundreds of students between them, across the distance that feels so much larger than it really is.

There was a reason, Draco, [Y/N] thinks.

His grey eyes are unreadable. She wonders if he can see the silent apology in her own.

There was a reason.

general taglist: @dancing-in-the-moonlight3@kalimagik@alittletoomanyobsessions@hariosborn@obsessedwithrandomthings@emcchi@sxrensxngwrites@enjoying-fantasyland21@masterofthedarkness@siriusly-addicted-to-writing@bforbroadway@hufflefluff-writer@summer-writes-words@chaotic-fae-queen@firewhisky-kisses@dracosvftie@heloisedaphnebrightmore@idont-knowrn@dreamer821@decalcomanei​ @slytherinprincess03@chocfrogaddict@nebulablakemurphy@lumielikesbooks​@teheharrypotter​@susceptible-but-siriusexual​@chaoticgirl04​@imboredandneedalife​@mytreecko​@starryskins​@mariah-can-dream​@inglourious-imagines​@xxinvisiblexx​@kpopgirlbtssvt​ 

nerves

summary: harry finally builds up the courage to ask you out.

warnings: gender neutral reader!, nervous harry, one curse word, fluff

word count: 1,206

ever since harry’s first year at hogwarts, a certain somebody had his attention.

y/n y/l/n.

they were sorted into gryffindor just like harry. but never really made an effort to get to know the boy, just like everyone else at hogwarts.

harry was practically swarmed by everyone from all four houses—not much from slytherin but you get the point. he jumped from just arriving to hogwarts, to being the most popular kid at school.

all the attention was nice of course, at least he didn’t feel alone or excluded like he did at the dursley’s, but none of the attention came from you—no matter how arrogant he sounded, it was true.

“staring at y/n again?” hermione asked, the book in her hands coming to shut as she tapped his shoulder.

“huh?”

“he’s whipped” ron said, shaking his head as harry’s eyebrows furrowed together.

“whipped?”

“in love” ron clarified, his best friend letting out a scoff before turning his attention back to you, but you were gone.

you must’ve left the library during the golden trios conversation, harry cursing quietly under his breath as hermione frowned—“harry.”

“yeah?”

“don’t you think…this little crush of yours ha-”

“little?” ron cut off, looking at hermione like she had three heads, “more like major. he’s been head over heels for y/n since first year—not to mention its now our sixth.”

“whatever it is…” hermione said, narrowing her eyes at the red head before turning back to harry, “…you should ask them out…before someone else does.”

“someone else?” harry asked, worry laced in his words as he thought about what the curly haired girl had just said.

of course you’ve had relationships before in the past, but they were nothing serious.

at least that’s what harry was trying to tell himself.

“i heard cedric was going to ask her out sometime this week, but i’m not positive. it could’ve been a rumor—”

“i need to go” harry abruptly said, excusing himself from the small table they sat at and exiting the quiet library.

harry had thought about asking you out for a while now, even thinking of scenarios and what could possibly happen.

but hermione was right, if he kept stalling and thinking of the worse, someone would beat him too it, and it would overall be too late.

he turned the corner in a rush, thankful that not many students were in the corridors due to it being break, and made his way to the common room.

you usually spent your time in the common room either sitting in front of the fire with a book or playing wizards chest with your friends, and when you weren’t, you were in the library studying.

he was about to turn the next corner but stopped when he heard a familiar voice along with another.

that familiar voice was yours.

“hi cedric! so nice to see you today” your friendly voice rang out, harry’s stomach twisting into knots as he pressed himself further along the wall, trying not to make noise.

“hello, y/n. looking lovely as usual” cedric said, a giggle erupting from y/n as harry’s heart dropped.

hermione was right.

“i just wanted to ask you something.”

“what is it, cedric?”

“can i take you to hogsmeade tomorrow? after classes?”

there it was, the one sentence harry dreaded to hear.

he leaned against the wall and let his head fall back, wincing slightly before letting his eyelids flutter shut.

he felt so hopeless, stupid—he should’ve asked you out earlier. but now it was too late, and he had to accept that.

“oh” you finally breathed out, your eyes dropping from cedrics to look around the empty corridor, “like a date?”

you were friends with cedric and didn’t want to decline his offer if he was only being nice—but if it was a date…

“yeah, a date.”

it was quiet for a good 10 seconds, harry’s heart practically beating a million miles an hour, almost feeling like it was about to jump out.

“i’m sorry, cedric. i really am” you started, harry finally opening his eyes as his mouth went slightly ajar, “but i like you as a friend, and want to keep it like that.”

“no worries, y/n” cedric said, giving them a half smile before sputtering out words harry couldn’t quite hear.

“i’ll see you around?”

“of course” you smiled, nodding as he then walked off in the opposite direction.

harry let out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding, going to rub at his eyes but failing as he accidentally knocked off his glasses.

the thin spectacles hit the ground with a “clink,” harry silently cursing at himself as he prayed to merlin you had left.

his vision was now blurred, now bending down to try and find his glasses.

he patted the cold floor from under him but froze as he touched a hand, y/n’s hand.

“looking for these?” you asked, harry quickly standing up as you laughed quietly to yourself.

you placed them on harry’s nose and pushed them back up, harry absolutely melting from the action as his legs started to feel like jelly.

“s-sorry—knocked them off” he quickly said, his face red as a tomato as you smiled sweetly at him.

‘their even more (gorgeous/handsome) in person’ he thought to himself, still completely baffled that you were right in front of him—nevermind talking to him.

“i’m guessing you heard my conversation with cedric then?” y/n asked, his eyes widening as he quickly shook his head—“no-n-no i didn’t. i-i just got here-”

“harry—” you cut off, laughing at his slight panic, “i could hear you from around the corner, you’re not the quietest, y’know.”

harry gulped down what felt like a rock in his throat, only nodding before breaking eye contact, deeply wishing he could disappear.

“but you- y-you said no” harry couldn’t help but finally choke out, watching you nod slowly before sighing quietly.

“he’s good looking, yeah. and he doesn’t have an ugly personality…” you trailed off, almost like you were trying to find the right words, “but, i’m into someone else.”

‘someone else?’ harry thought, heart breaking as his eyes dropped to the ground.

his face was hot and his palms with sweaty, his glasses slowly sliding down his nose as you quickly pushed them back up.

your fingers gripped harry’s chin lightly, your touch sending sparks to the boy as he looked up slowly.

“are you really that daft, harry?”

“daft?” harry asked, eyebrows furrowed at your choice of words.

considering how fast his heart was beating, it wouldn’t be impossible for y/n to hear it, just knowing how nervous he was.

“that someone is you.”

“m-me?”

“shut up and kiss me.”

harry wasted no time in capturing your lips with his, your fingers leaving his chin to now run through his soft hair that you’ve thought about touching way more than you should’ve.

harry wasn’t experienced, far from it. but he was doing a pretty good fucking job at kissing the person he’s been in love with for almost six years.

“go to hogsmeade with me?” harry asked, only pulling away for a second before pulling you into another kiss, the two of you smiling into one another.

“id love too.”

-

a/n: i thought of this imagine idea in the doctors office

tag list// @mrssarahmalfoy@bbeauttyybbx@gfweasley@ochrythum@anistaetic@audreythehufflepuff@arossebyanyothername@recreatiun@mariah-can-dream@xoxohollands@trickylittlewitch@lonelysoul029@msmimimerton@gypsystuf@imonlyherecauseimbored@perspectiive@beiahadid@thehumanistsdiary@pxroxide-prinxcesss@jinnbie@sincerelymalfoy@asthmax@y0urlocallos3r@wh0recrux@dracomalfoyswifeee@plutosdelacour@iani-duh@leydileyla@cherie-draco@evermoredraco@amourtentiaa@wholebigboxofyikes@recreatiun@dracosbaibe@dracowars@berriemalfoy@fredsgrey@dracosathenaeum@dlmmdl@miraclesoflove@lostaurorax@dracosaccount@petalsofjr@inglourious-imagines@fjorelaant@anchoeritic@turn-to-page-394-please@malfoybws @Sateen222 @hufflepuff-araceli @sweeterthansammy@cyliamarti