Everlasting 2 (Draco Malfoy x Reader)

My Childhood Room

Looking upon the photos, he could trace back each photo to a memory, only he never realised that you'd taken all these photos. And, when you weren't watching, he grabbed one of the photos off the wall in which you and him were smiling at the camera, his head against yours. He shoved it into his pocket and hoped you would not see that he'd taken it, which he covered with an innocent smile when you turned back around to him.

"So ... this is your room, huh?"

"It's quite disappointing. Especially compared to yours."

"Disappointing?" He scoffed. "I was going to say it's beautiful. Almost as beautiful as its owner," he smiled sheepishly at you, his cheeks glowing red.

"Oh, shut up," you laughed out, crossing to your bed upon which you sat. Draco soon followed you and sat down beside you, looking at you with his great smile.

"I'm serious," said he, "it is. It's so ... warm."

"Warm? It's pretty chilly - "

"I don't mean that kind of warm. It just has something ... warm about it ... something comforting. I mean - it tells of your personality. There are photos of your memories, there are bookshelves, quills ... ink all over your desk. It tells your story, [F/n]."

"That ink won't come off."

"Of course," he laughed, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into himself. "Of course it won't come off ... " he proceeded in a whisper, examining your face closely before his, speaking partially to himself as he fell into your gaze, "your darling ink ... it won't come off."

"You sound poetic," you grinned, running your finger along the side of his face, succumbing to the sight of his features.

"Well ... I am dating the world's most fanatic poet and writer, alongside reader and psycho ... those qualities do attach themselves to you when you're around them all day everyday."

"I'm so glad that you're here," you whispered out, feeling tears arise in the corners of your eyes as you held onto Draco's face, holding him still so that you could bathe in the sight of his face, so blissful in the yellow, dim light of your room, alongside the daring light of the moon. "He stepped down, trying not to look long at her, as if she were the sun, yet he saw her, like the sun, even without looking." You whispered out against Draco, continuously running your finger along the side of his face as he melted into the feeling of your soft palm.

"A quote?"

"Anna Karenina ... Anna Karenina, my darling Draco!"

"And who is that?"

"It is a book. A Russian one at that, and so lovely but so heart-breaking."

"Then do not quote it, my dearest [F/n]."

"But it is so beautiful."

"And so tragic, I believe. Do not say it to me," he exclaimed, fitting the voice of a poet to himself as he spoke passionately to you, holding your back and digging his fingertips into the softness of your skin, "if you wish to utter quotes to me, let them be ones of an everlasting happiness, such as you and I are due."

"Oh, but a happy love is so rare!"

"Then allow us to make our own quotes," he continued, pressing his forehead against yours, "if no literature can truly describe our love, it is time that we resume our story with our own quotes of passion, rather than repeating ones."

"New quotes!" You exclaimed, laughing. "Mr Malfoy ... you speak absolute nonsense, yet one which I am falling for so dangerously."

"My quote is ... I love you, [F/n] Potter, with my whole heart. My joy and hope is reliant on you, therefore the day you cease to live, the day you exhale for the last time, is the very day I depart from this world."