Malfoy | [Draco Malfoy x Reader]

T H I R T Y-S E V E N

A/N: This short chapter is inspired by 2017's Beauty and the Beast live action remake; the songs Evermore by Dan Stevens and Days In The Sun by the Beauty and the Beast cast. (Y/N)'s characteristics inspo by Belle, also Cinderella. Just so you knoooow!

DISCLAIMER: Mentions of Physiological Theory A/B, OCD and CBT. If you are a very sensitive reader, such as myself too, I advise you to skip this chapter, it was quite rough for me to write, too. ❤️❤️ Grab yourself a hot beverage, might I suggest, a cuppa?☕🥀 You are in for wild, rollercoaster of a ride.

Heads Up: High key Stranger Things vibes, no jokes. Whilst on that note, who is your favourite ST character? Mine is Billy, cause he is handsome, Eleven, duh, Will and of course, Robin, Steve, Max. Erica, Lucas. Dustin, Mike...let's just say almost everyone!

Anyhow...

Enjoy (hopefully) if you had decided to read! If not - well I have another Disney ft. Harry Potter Remixed chappie coming up soooooon!!!

Your Author
Mikayla

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(Y/N) (Y/L/N) felt temporary. Like she was dead, when she was actually perfectly alive, or maybe she was not. Perhaps it was all a part of her profound imagination, inside of her head. Her mind, creating scenarios that did not even exist. Or...did it? She ceased to wonder day by day, hour by hour, minute by minute, second by second.

The study of Theory A and Theory B was what boggled (Y/N)'s brain the most:

Human beings actively tried to understand their World, and what happened to them, however, those understandings could be either, rather inaccurate, or unhelpful. Worse, unhelpful beliefs, often times drive unhelpful behaviours that could serve to inadvertently reinforce the original belief. Was the life you were living, a figment of your imagination, an alternative World, a universe you created by yourself? Or was it your true, legitimate reality? Was (Y/N) (Y/L/N) real, or was she part of an artist's creation, an illustration of delicate brushstrokes or drags of grey and black pencils on paper, charcoal? A French girl by Jack Dawson? A German writer's poetry? Perhaps even a tragic art work of Leonardo DaVinci, or even a thin sheet of Shakespearian Literature? A character in one of Jane Austen's, or Emily Bronte's, fine works?

She was not quite sure.

Her imagination ran wild, where her mind differed completely from reality. She painted rainbows and flowers onto bare walls, and watched as plants grew in their pots, sitting next to the window sill, butterflies dancing around her, joining her stuffed animal friends at a false Royal Tea Party. Glitter. Smiles. Happiness. Woodland creatures. Family. Friends. Love.

Unconditional love.

But, she could also envisage the most darkest, gruesome side of things, the truth of living in Reality and not in the Fictional World; dark clouds. Rain. Snow. Lightning. Flashes of red. Blood. Tears. Torturous screams, wails of pain. Bleeding. Burned to crisp skin. Endless darkness. Sharks. Demons. Monsters. Fatal crashes. Wounds. Dead bodies. Ships sinking. Drowning. War. Gunshots. Bombs. Fire.

Evil. Pure...evil.

That was when her first panic attack begun, and it became a somewhat regular occurrence in her life, when she turned ten years old. Eventually, she would have worked herself into such a state of just thinking, always over-thinking, that she was only left feeling a large amount of distress. Overwhelming amounts of distress. Like a schedule, a cycle. Wondering the meaning behind a thought, the fundamental ways, behaviours, compulsions, tactics, emotions, colours, vocabulary. Others might touch things, wash, repeat things, look for reassurance, there's a whole variety of different ways in which they experience compulsion. (Y/N) (Y/L/N) - she just... thought, wondered, analysed. Curious, so so curious.