Everlasting (Draco Malfoy x Reader)

Slytherin Battle

Slowly, the door to the girls' dorm room opened, and through it peeked Blaise.

"You alright, Potter?"

"Fuck off," you cried out quietly, holding in your sobs. However, Blaise allowed himself inside, closed the door behind himself, and then headed to your bed and sat down beside you on it.

"Why're you crying?"

"Doesn't matter."

Blaise cleared his throat, then spoke in a much softer and quieter manner as he said: "Draco's worried about you, out there. He's too much of a pussy to admit it and come in here, though."

"He doesn't care. Stop trying to make him seem like a good person. He's a terrible person and you know it, like the rest of those dickheads."

"Calm down, [F/n]," Blaise sighed. "Did something happen for you to cry? Very unusual for [F/n] Potter to cry."

"Can't always be perfect."

"And who says your crying is not perfect?" He smiled, and you turned to look at him. "Come on, cheer up."

"Everywhere. He's everywhere, Blaise."

"Who?"

"That dickhead," you whispered, crying.

"Draco?"

"All my memories, even. Snape saw it all - and Voldemort will too."

"What are you talking about?" Blaise asked, slightly more panicked with Voldemort's mention.

"Goodness!" You groaned, sobbing aloud. "I want to punch him so much."

"Who!?"

"That fucktard!"

"Potter, slow down! I'm confused as to who we're talking about."

"Him," you cried out, refusing to say the name, but gesturing towards the door. "Him, him, him!"

"Draco?"

You did not answer; merely cried into your hands and refused to look back up at Blaise. The door opened again, wide enough to expose the dorm room to those sitting outside. At the door stood Pansy. However, looking up, you looked past her and into the common room and saw Draco Malfoy sitting at the sofa, his head turned to the door, also looking past Pansy, watching your eyes with a stoic expression, but eyes of melancholy. Your eyes, however, remained clouded by the tears which fell rapidly.

"Come on, Blaise, you've been too kind to our puppet."

"I'm not a fucking puppet," you furrowed your brows, turning to Pansy with an expression of vehement fury.

"Oh, don't cry about it too much, my puppet."

"I'm not your fucking puppet," you growled, rising from your bed.

"Are you going to cry again? Admit it, Potter, you're no good. You're an amusement to us. As I said, our little puppet."

Blaise had already squinted his eyes, expecting everything that followed.

"Expulso!" You called out, aiming your wand directly at Pansy. What followed proved drastic; a small explosion stood in her place, and Pansy had been forced through the air, out of the door and through the entire common room, hitting the floor harshly, and falling unconscious. All her friends shot up from their seats, dashing towards her fallen body, except for Blaise and Draco, who stood in their positions and stared in horror at the after-effects of your anger.

"[F/n], you're screwed," Blaise whispered, staring at Pansy's body.

You, also, stared in horror at your own work. A punch was a punch, a kick was a kick, and a push was a push, but you felt yourself far less under control than any time before. You used a spell.

"I've never seen that spell be used with such power," Blaise continued, still in awe, speaking in a whisper. "The most I've seen it do was push someone away. Not throw them across the room."

Tears now poured themselves; no sobs, no lip trembling, but pure, raw, empty tears slowly curled down your cheeks. No control.

"I'm not a puppet" was the final thing you whispered out. Blaise turned to you and watched you slowly as you did so, and, without another word, you grabbed your wand and charged off and out of the dorm room. However, it proved harder when you realised who Slytherins were. Slytherins were loyal to their friends. They were ambitious. They were cunning. Sly.

Goyle, standing by Pansy's unconscious body, turned to you and slashed his wand in the air, sending off a purple beam towards you. Realising fast enough that this was bound to happen, you thought ahead and, slashing your wand in the same manner he did, bounced the spell away from yourself. Draco, now, to avoid getting caught up in your spells, ducked and moved himself away quickly towards Blaise, who stood at the door.

"Goyle! You insane?" Blaise called out.

"You saw what she did!"

"Pansy provoked her!"

"Provoked!" Goyle scoffed. Turning to you again, another wand slash, walking towards you. Quickly, you bounced the spell off, until he began to repeatedly send spells at you, causing you to use all your remaining energy to bounce them off, to the left, to the right.

"Goyle, stop it!" Blaise groaned out, getting his wand out and aiming it at Goyle.

"You protecting your girlfriend?" Goyle laughed.

"Just leave her alone, man."

Goyle ignored Blaise, turning back to you, sending spells faster. Now, with little energy left, you were forced to bounce back the last few and dash out of the doors out of the Slytherin common room. You quickly closed the door behind yourself, avoiding any of the other spells flying through.

"Expelliarmus!" Blaise finally cast out onto Goyle, sending his wand far away. "I told you - leave her alone." And with this, Blaise flashed Draco one last final look and set off out the Slytherin common room, heading to catch up with you. Draco, now, looked back and forth.

To stay with his girlfriend was his duty, for she lay unconscious upon the cold ground, having been attacked. Yet, with the underlying wish of following the very attacker of his girlfriend; to chase that one, and seek comfort in the despair of the one crying and casting irrational spells. What was one to do, oh what was one to do? But, rules were rules. Rules stated that he ought to stay, to seek help for his girlfriend, and care for her, battling his own individuality with no motivation to do any of his duties. And, for a moment, he questioned if that really was what a relationship consisted of. Duties. Was that all available? Were relationships solely on duty? Forcing oneself to complete their relationship duties. He frowned at the thought and, sighing, made his way over to Pansy and the crowd around her. She had already woken up, and was a mixture of confused, angry, and tired.