DracoxY/n Imagines

The Prince and the Princess (3)

Before you start reading and finally complete all the parts of The Prince and The Princess, I would like to inform you I've changed the book cover! (If you haven't already noticed.)

I was scrolling through safari and found this photo! In my opinion, he looks rather dashing ;)

Enjoy!

Year 6:

(Y/N) sat next to Blaise. He was the only Slytherin friend she had, ever since she and Draco stopped talking.

She told herself it wasn't her fault, that what she was doing was the right thing. But pain, it was disgraceful. Her insides twisted at the sight of him, looking dashing in his black jacket, looking so cold and closed-off as she once thought he never could be. He never held eye contact with her for any longer than a second, and kept his distance. Whenever she gazed into his blue eyes, the ocean in them was calm, with gentle waves crashing against the shore. She used to see excitement in them, some sort of liveliness, but these eyes; she didn't know them. They were dead. They looked like as if he didn't have control over his life anymore.

She didn't want to converse in Blaise's and Draco's conversation, so therefore her attention wasn't settled on it. She could hear the voice switch, but she couldn't interpret the words. She didn't want to be caught up in Draco's bullshit, and consistently told herself to move on, but how could she? How could she leave him when he needed her the most?

Fuck you, Draco, she thought bitterly, leaning her head against the window. Thanks for fucking stealing my heart. And then daring to break it!

Fuck you, (Y/N), Draco thought, staring at her look through the window, doing her best to ignore Blaise's and his conversation. I hate that you made me love you so easily and now because it's time for me to leave you, I can't.

Ever since Voldemort found out that (Y/N) helped Harry form Dumbledore's Army, he had declared her a traitor and banished her from setting foot into the Malfoy Manor, and made sure everyone cut ties off with her; her parents are loyal death eaters, so with no denial, they called (Y/N) their daughter no more. Draco's parents forced him to promise he'd never talk to her again, and he found himself wanting to break it more and more each day. He cried to himself one night, begging for fate to loosen its rope and let him roam freely...

(Y/N) was glad she was no longer a death eater. Perhaps she still had the mark on her arm, and perhaps she still belonged to a Death Eater family, but she felt, for once, free! She felt alive, she felt like she had control of herself and she finally felt that she was finally a part of the good guys.

Only if Draco could develop a sense like hers... he truly was a coward.

"(Y/N), what do you think about Muggle studies?" Blaise asked her, breaking her from her thought stance.

She looked at him before meeting Draco's eyes. His gaze didn't waver this time; he seemed to hold his position and he slightly pushed his chest out. (Y/N) felt agitated and didn't break eye contact either. "I rather enjoy them. Especially since how Malfoy here hates it to his core."

His mouth parted in shock, a huff slipping past.

Blaise's eyes narrowed, but he didn't comment on it. Things between (Y/N) and Draco were always complicated, in his opinion, and he didn't not want to be caught up in trying to clean up the mess. "Muggle studies are interesting," he murmured. "In my opinion."

"No one asked for your opinion, Zabini," Draco snapped.

"Show him some respect if you have any left," (Y/N) replied, exasperated. "Unless it's all wasted on Voldemort, the bastard you worship but still fear."