Draco Malfoy imagines

•What about us•

Hey guys this is a Tumblr imagine, credits to the creator:

https://wondernimbus.tumblr.com/post/633604518606782464/pairing-draco-malfoy-x-femalereader-summary-to
𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

When [Y/N] first says the words Expecto Patronum, nothing quite happens.

When she raises her wand, closes her eyes, and blocks everything else out, just like Harry had instructed her when he gingerly put one hand over her own and the other on her waist, guiding her stance—nothing happens.

When she searches through her memories for—what was it Harry had said?—the happiest moment of her life, her wand doesn’t even let out the faintest tendril of white smoke.

When she decides to think of when Harry had first told her that he fancied her, and all of their other moments, of their first kiss under the mistletoe, of how he always rushes to her after winning a Quidditch match with the biggest grin on his face, of his cheeky grins and his lame jokes..

When she thinks of Harry, her boyfriend of one year now—

Nothing happens.

Maybe she isn’t focusing hard enough.

Maybe she needs to think of something a little more profound, like the first time Harry had ever told her he loved her. Shy and hesitant but true, as they sat by the Black Lake, their hands shyly resting an inch or two apart.

Maybe she’s just not cut out for this kind of magic.

”It’s not—“ she huffs out, dropping her wand back at her side, evidently frustrated at herself as she turns to meet Harry’s gaze. “It’s not working.”

Harry gives her a half-amused, half-sympathetic smile. “It’s not going to happen right away,” he tells her, eyes silently surveying the rest of the Room of Requirement, watching as the other members of Dumbledore’s Army flick and jab their wands at the air helplessly, some able to produce tiny bursts of wispy white smoke and others having achieved absolutely no progress at all—just like [Y/N].

Turning his gaze back to [Y/N], Harry suggests sheepishly, “Sure you’ve got a happy enough memory?” His lips quirk up into a toothy grin. “It better not be eating pancakes—you need something far stronger than that.”

[Y/N] rolls her eyes, smiling despite herself. “I realize that, Harry, thanks.” She scrunches her nose at him, and revels in the way his eyes shine with fondness. Grin falling slightly, she looks down at her wand as she twirls it in her hand. “I thought it was a pretty strong memory. I thought of..“

She trails off, letting the rest of her words die down somewhere in her throat.

For some reason, [Y/N] lies. “My seventh birthday,” she continues, wondering if Harry had heard the waver in her voice. And then she wonders why it had wavered in the first place.

Or maybe she already knows why—wouldn’t it be slightly worrying for Harry to know that her memories with him weren’t enough to conjure a Patronus?

“Something stronger, maybe?” Harry suggests, pursing his lips, eyebrows raised. And then he wiggles his brows playfully, playing it off as casual, but [Y/N] hears the slight twinge of hopefulness in his voice when he suggests, “D’you wanna try thinking of your boyfriend, maybe?”

[Y/N] feels something akin to guilt pang at her chest. Despite it, she smiles at Harry—and lies. Again. “Maybe I should,” she says softly, not quite holding his eyes all the way, instead turning away to raise her wand in front of her once more.