Multi-Fandom Imagines, X-Readers, & One-Shots

BAD BLOOD - DRACO MALFOY {4}

How, of all the things to miss, did Draco not get the fact that you happened to be the first cousin of Ron Weasley? How, admidst all the conversations that he leaned into listen in on, did he not once hear that simple little detail? Draco's eyebrows furrowed as Ron spoke, his vision slightly blurry as afterall, he was just punched in the face.

Harry was silent, though if his eyes could curse, Draco would be withering in pain on the floor. The boy with glasses only watched as Malfoy stood back up and straightened up his shoulders. Malfoy was well aware how much he did actually deserve that punch, and what would fighting back do, really? He could, if he wanted too, pull out his wand right now and send Harry and Ron flying a couple feet across the hall, but what could would it do? He knew in the end, in all ways, that he was the one in the wrong.

Draco yawned. "I don't have the time nor the patience to deal with either of you right now, so if you value your mouth not being full of slugs, then I'd advise you to leave me alone." He spoke with a quivering confidence, it was so fake that it was thick like it was trying to dissolve on his tongue like a lodgend.

Once again, he turned to walk back into the common room, to cover his head under his covers and potentially scream into his pillow until his throat was hoarse, but just as he considered how he would spend his night tonight, a hand on his shoulder turned him around.

Although far less gentle, it reminded him of the hand that was moments ago on his bicep, her hand- your hand. His heart began to thump. He whipped around toward it. "What part of leave me alone do you not understand, Potter!? And it's typical for you Weasley's to be so bloody perservere, I promise I can put a stop to that!" He lashed out.

Harry and Ron said nothing, but Potter's head shook slowly. Malfoy scoffed and finally walked off, to his common room.

~

Delicately, Hermione applied a rag onto your face in soft strokes, wiping away the make-up that you had been wearing. You kept expecting her to say something, get angry, or defensive. To ask you, "What the bloody hell were you thinking?", or to trash Malfoy's very name and everything he stood for.

But she didn't, because she knew that wasn't what you needed in this moment.

You had stopped crying, for right now, as you sat up feeling the warm, moist cloth against your face. You were so thankful for her, for Hermione. She was truly your best friend, just as Harry and Ron were.

You were afraid, for them, for what they were doing at the moment, what was going on, and why they had not returned to the common room. Or maybe they had, and they were just furious with you. Your eyes were clouding up again.

"How mad are Ron and Harry? I bet they'll never look at me the same..." You asked her, her lips pursed and she shook her head.

"Ronald and Harry aren't mad at you. But.. Well, I tried to convince them not too.." She trailed off.

Your heart sank below sea level. "Convince them not to what, Hermione?"

"I'll give that bloody bastard a piece of my mind if he even looks at her again, I don't care if I get detention." A loud, angry voice entered the room, another grunted in agreeance.

"What happened?" Hermione asked. You looked down and quickly covered your bottom half with a blanket.

"I socked him in the mouth, just like he deserved. Coward, didn't even fight back." Ron rubbed his knuckles. "Are you alright, (Y/N)?" Harry asked you.

"Did he seem...sad?" You asked. Ron rolled his eyes.

"Bloody-"

Hermione shot him a glare. He silenced himself.