KISSES ─ h.p. imagines.

𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐎

|| 3rd Year ||

He's a bully.

He's a cute bully.

But he's a bad influence.

A hot bad influence.

My parents would never support me.

Since when did you start to care about their opinions?

You're right. I don't care what they think.

I'm always right.

We're the same person. I'm literally talking to myself.

Yep. I talk to myself. People usually avoid me because they think I'm weird. They say I've lost my mind, because I talk to myself. The only living being who actually seems to like me is the Whomping Willow. The teachers find my relationship with the tree peculiar, but they don't question it.

That's where I am now. I'm sitting under the branches of the Whomping Willow, doodling in my sketchbook. The amount of drawings I have drawn of Draco is ridiculous. I have a separate sketchbook especially for his drawings. But I can only daydream about him loving me. I doubt he even acknowledges my existence.

I flipped through the pages of my sketchbook. Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Professor McGonagall, Professor Dumbledore, Draco Malfoy, Draco Malfoy, Draco Malfoy- Oh Merlin, there's about ten drawings of Draco in here.

I swear to God, if Draco ever sees these drawings I'll move to Beauxbatons. I sighed, letting Willow wrap one of his branches around my shoulders in a friendly tree hug. "At least I have you, Willow," I mumbled, sketching out the face of Draco once more on a blank page. Willow patted my shoulder comfortingly. I could feel people staring at me from a distance, probably thinking how pathetic I must be to have a tree for a friend. I leaned back against his bark, concentrating hard on getting Draco's eye colour correct.

"How are you doing that?"

My head snapped up. I wasn't used to being spoken to. I scanned my surroundings before my eyes rested on a pair of broken grey eyes. 𝒟𝓇𝒶𝒸𝑜. He was standing a safe distance away from Willow, but was still close enough to talk to me.

"Doing what?" I asked softly. I don't talk much, so my voice is usually quiet. But he heard.

"What I mean is, how are you not getting attacked by the Whomping Willow?" he asked, staring at the tree warily. I smiled sadly.

"Just like me, people judge him by looks alone. He feels my pain. He knows what it's like to feel unwanted. He knows what it's like to be 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞," I told him, closing my sketchbook and placing it in my bag. He looked at me with an unreadable expression on his face. He took a hesitant step forward, but Willow rustled his branches menacingly, stopping Draco in his tracks.

"Willow, it's okay. Let him come over here," I said, resting my hand on one of his large roots reassuringly. Willow let Draco pass. He sat down next to me.

"I noticed you were drawing," he said. I nodded, twirling a strand of hair around my finger nervously. "Can I see them?" he asked. I nodded again, making sure to take out my sketchbook with everybody's drawings in it, and not "The Draco Book."

I let him flick through the pages, and he stared at each one in amazement, even the ones of The Golden Trio. Finally, he came upon the drawing of him. I don't think he expected his portrait to be in there, but he looked pleased.

"(Y/N)...these are amazing," he said, looking at me in astonishment. I smiled proudly. "Thanks Draco, it means a lot," I replied, taking the sketchbook from him and putting it in my bag again.