P. S I Love You

Any Male x Reader.

I've been feeling like complete shit lately, despite having graduated from school. I'm the only one of my friends to not have been kissed yet let alone date and it sucks so I turn to fanfiction. This is a result of me not being able to sleep and wishing for a Peter Parker, originally it was going to be paired with him but I felt like every single person feeling as shit and lonely as I do right now, even the ones that don't, deserve to have the feeling I'm hoping to convey in this. It's unedited and I'm rusty so I'm sorry if it's terrible.

Turning the door handle, he thanked god that you had left it unlocked for him, simultaneously planning to lecture you for it later in the back of his mind once he slept long enough for his eyes to stop burning. The door shut loudly behind him, moving forcefully under the pressure of his body weight. Shit. The TV was on. His brain was too stuffed with cotton wool to hear it's gentle buzz.

You were not the type of person to retire with the device still active. But were you the type of person to fall asleep once out of your caffeine induced haze lying on the couch half heartedly watching Ross saying Rachel's name at the alter for the thousandth and first time while scrolling through social media? Yes. Yes, you were.

He peered over at your sleeping on the lounge. No. Not peered. That sounded creepy. He was not being creepy. The lounge was on his way to his room. He just happened to glance at you. He couldn't help it; you were so beautiful.

You had forgone a blanket due to the summer's heat, your bare legs tucked up close to your chest. One of your hands, the one you weren't using as a pillow, rested near your face. How perfectly would it fit in his? In peace, you slept, your lips slightly parted in almost a pout, allowing for you to take breath. You were stunning. Without makeup. Without product. You looked so flawlessly gorgeous despite the blemishes you saw in the damned mirror. He was about to retreat to his room when his heart swelled. Illuminated in the changing lights off the TV he noticed it. The top you wore, too big on you, only slightly, only enough to reveal a generous amount of flesh below your collarbone and around your shoulder. It was his.

God, he was in love with you. He knew this, apart of him did surely. Because no matter how many times he insisted that the two of you were merely friends, there was no denying the overwhelming desire-no, need- he felt to hold you in his arms right now. For the longest time he feared what people would think of the two of you together, you deserved someone so much better than him, he was sure of that. This fear was still in his mind but couldn't be heard over the deafening drumming of his heart and the tidal wave of cute couple things he wanted to do with you, if only you would allow him. But he couldn't risk it. He couldn't lose you. He'd rather hold you as a friend when you cried over the deaths of characters in the books and TV shows that you treasured than sit by himself and wonder who was doing so and cursing himself for letting his heart fall from his chest.

He loved you so much. He was determined you know it. When you were happy, he would be there, basking in the light of your smile. When you were sad, he would be there, a box of tissue and bar of chocolate in hand, prepared to do anything to make you smile. On the days when the world was out to get you, he wouldn't know what to do, but he's be there...ready...waiting for any sign of what you needed him to do. For Christmas and your birthday he'd jump hurdles and fight any bargin shopper to ensure you got what you wanted, what you deserved. Every Valentine's Day, he'd hand you a single rose, if you were dating or not, so you would know how much he treasuresyou. How much he loves you. Even if it's hidden in post scripts.

Master list.

@punyparkerr

Calloused fingers strummed lightly at the brass strings of a guitar. The tune was childish, simple, constructed from the bored mind of a teen procrastinator lying on a bed of discarded papers, painted with an array of dotted lines and funny shapes. You turned your head to the side, Peter's soft pillow smelling of his shampoo. Peter sat away from you, at his desk hunched over, scribbling messes of formulas to improve his webs. When people considered the true identity of Spider-Man, even you before Peter had come clean, nobody thought that the mess of a teenager that was Peter Parker could be the web slinging crime stopper, old lady helper that watched over the streets of queens.

Knowing your boyfriend was not going to pay you any mind, you laid on you back, counting the marks on Peter's ceiling absent mindedly picking at the guitar's strings creating a simplistic melody. With a stupid grin on your face, you began to sing under your breath,

"Spiderman, Spiderman, does whatever spider can," Peter turned slowly, his chair squeaking slightly at the shift of weight. With amused eyes he looked at his boyfriend whose lyrics were normally more poetic than the words that escaped his perfect lips at the moment. Peter couldn't help but stare incredulously at you as your voice continued to fill the space of his room.

"Spins a web, any size, catches thieves just like flies. Look out! Here comes the Spiderman." Your smile turned into a smug grin, happy with the little song you created about your boyfriend, defeating the writers block that had you in its clutches for weeks now. Turning your head, your lips parted ready to call for Peter's attention only to find that you already had it. Your amusement grew at his facial expression, his forehead crinkled slightly as he attempted to fight his lip which twitched upward despite his best efforts.

"You are such a nerd." Peter couldn't help but laugh as you burst into laughter, body convulsing slightly on the bed.

"That's rich," You sit up and swing your legs off the bed as you speak, "coming from the king of the nerds." Twirling your hand above your head, you bent slightly, reenacting the bow you had seen in some cartoon. Peter rolled his eyes at the dramatics, picking up a pillow that had been discarded on his carpet floor and throwing it at you. It hit you on the back of the head and tumbled to the floor. The smile disappeared from your face as you rose, face depicting a seriousness that your eyes did not match. Without looking at your boyfriend, knowing your eyes would give away your true intentions, you walked towards the door and Peter felt his heart drop, pulling down the corners of his lips into a frown. Without hesitation, Peter stood, preparing to chase after you if needed. As quickly as you could, you picked up the pillow at your feet and threw it at Peter.

Grinning victoriously, you turned to him, hoping to see his face flabbergasted by your actions or crouched in an uncomfortable position in attempt to dodge the airborne object, but, much to your own dismay, Peter stood up straight, grin barely viable under the plush pillow which he held securely in his hands a fair distance from his face. Spider sense. Dammit.

Peter laughed at your confused face, dropping the pillow in favor of clutching his side. In a fit of childish anger, you launched yourself at the second pillow Peter kept on his bed, getting closer to Peter as you touched the fabric, swiftly swinging it at Peter, hitting him on the chest. With a sharp look at you, he bent down and picked up his own weapon, using it as a shield even as your strikes weakened from laughter. Peter's smile widened watching you. Those three words coming from the front of his mind to the tip of his tongue and unknowingly out of his lips.

"I love you too, my Spiderman."

Prompt List

Please send in a basic plot with a prompt or just send in a plot or headcannon. If I get too many requests for a certain prompt I’ll cross it off.

Angst.

Fluff.

Random.

Masterlist.

Regulas Black x Gender Neutral! Reader

(H/n)-House Name.

(B/t)- Blood Type.

Requests Open.

There was no such thing as a secret at Hogwarts. The second a student heard a juicy bit of gossip, it spread across the school like a horrible plague. By the time everyone sat down for the first feast of the year, every student, every teacher and, I’m sure, every house elf knew what happened.

Sirius Black had been disowned.

The news had been no true shock for anyone, since his first day at Hogwarts it became obvious he was the outlier of the family, leaving his little brother Regulas to fill the shoes of heir to the most noble house of Black.

As you entered the Great Hall, being pushed by the throng of snailish students, you searched the table under banners of silver and green for the raven haired boy, now in his 4th year. He was wedged between two students, both older, both purebloods. Malfoy and Avery whispered erratically, smirking at eachother as if their evil plan was just coming together. You rolled your eyes. They were obviously trying befriend Regulas, a task which was nearly impossible, especially for snot nosed purists like them. It had taken a lot of persistence and a whole year for you to do so, even if your relationship was secret, it was a strong one. Only a few steps away from the three did you stop, halted, as Regulas laughed at joke the albino made at a poor, first year's expense-something was wrong.

The boy's grins grew wider than a Cheshire's once they spotted you frozen in your place. They snickered at the mere sight of you, a (b/t) (h/n), you were dirt to them. With a pounding heart you looked towards Regulas, he would say something, you were sure of it- he always did. But words didn’t leave his mouth, a laugh did, chuckling at whatever stupid comment Avery had whispered under his breath.

---

Moonlight filtered through the abandoned halls of Hogwarts. To your knowledge, you were the only one to be walking through the castle so late at night, returning to your house after raiding the kitchens. Scurrying, as silently as you could, your stomach unknotted, getting closer and closer to the entrance to your common room.

"What are you doing out this late, (l/n)?" Snarked Regulas, his voice full of a previously nonexistent superiority. Turning around, arms crossed and eyebrow raised, you spoke.

"Since when have we been on a last name basis," after a short pause you continued, tongue tipped with a harmless venom, "Regulas?"

"Using a first name is a sign of companionship, of respect so why would i bother with filth like you?" Regulas bit his tongue when he saw you flinch.

"Is that what you're doing?" If a single pin had fallen when you spoke, Regulas would not have been able to hear you. His heart stopped- the calm before the storm. "You're trying to make me hate you? You should know better Regulas, it wont be that easy."

As your speech grew louder you moved closer to Regulas, whom had grown as stiff as a tree; unmoving and silent. "You want to hang around idiots like Malfoy, fine. You wanna make fun of people, Im not going to support it but it doest make a damn difference becuase I love you."

You said it, the words you had long ago decided never to admitt to Regulas. He seemed as stunned as you. His lips parted slightly, eyes softening, visibly swollowing whatever retort his crafty mind had concieved. He couldnt do this. Turning on his heel, he left.

---

For the next three weeks, Regulas was a ghost, to you at least. His lips were sown shut in class, unless he answered a teacher or made a snide comment to one of his housemates. His eyes saw right through you when you walked pass him in the halls, his attention kept watching first years and muggle born getting terrorised by older Slytherins. The smile that would once grace his lips in your presence was replaced by a smirk or a sneer depending on the time of day. Not a word was exchanged between the two of you and yet, you knew how he was suffering in silence.

It was the Saturday after Summer turned to Autumn, dragonflies hovered over the black lake, barely dodging the rocks that some hufflepuff boys threw across the water. The slight breeze, which carried laughter across field, made the pristine green leaves above waver, soon enough they would turn golden brown and the wind that made them dance now would knock them to the ground. The thought made you smile. A hoard of Slytherins stood near by, surrounding a Hufflepuff girl; vultires and prey. They laughed at her, for a reason as unmemorable as it was stupid. Rising to your feet, you prepared to charge but before you could leave the cool shade a harsh voice called out, taunting the Slytherins with another form of entertainment. It was Regulas. So much is lost during autumn, but you knew soon enough the world would be reguvinated, like a phoenix from its ashes- it gave you hope.

Requests Are Open.

Hey guys. I know I’ve been MIA for a while now, school and family have been keeping me busy. I’ve got 3 weeks off, starting next week so I’ve decided to open requests. I’m also going to try male character x male! Reader. I’ve never done malexmale so you’ll have to bear with me. Ill be posting a prompt list later this week. Thanks guys.

For anyone of my followers who have not protected themselves from infinity war spoilers, here is how you do it. I won’t post anything about infinity war for a few weeks and if I do I’ll tag it with infinity war spoilers. I’ll be watching it on Monday, wish me luck.

In honour of my favourite twins on April Fools Day, Happy Birthday Fred & George Weasley. @dramatic-and-young

Hogwarts wasn’t a school, it was a labyrinth, a death trap. So was it really your fault that you were caught wondering around the castle after curfew during your first week at Hogwarts? No, it wasn’t but Filch thought differently, giving you a detention on your third day of school.

And so you sat, cross legged on the floor, polishing fancy candle holders. Across from you were two other first years, twins. They laughed and made jokes with eachother, half heartedly polishing a candelabra whenever Filch gave them a glare. The task was torturous, no matter how many you polished, there was always dozen more to do, and the twins certainly didnt care to help, having only polished seven candle sticks between them. After an hour or so, Filch left you alone, grumbling about pesky students as he hobbled out of the classroom, his ginger cat, Mrs Norris, following behind him.

Even in Filch’s absence you still worked, watching as each candle shone brighter the more you scrubbed at its surface. The boys across from you continued with their work ethic, chattering like two old ladies, seeemngly getting louder and louder. The louder they got, the harder you scrubbed, anger bubbling at their enjoyment. It was only a few minutes after Filch left that you get as if you would snap, but before a word could leave your mouth, the boys across from you spoke.

“Hey, what’s your name?”

Incredulously, you looked up at them. These were the first words they had spoken directly to you. Shyness suddenly controlling you, you mumbled your name, earning a grin from both boys.

“I’m George,” the one on the left spoke, “and this is Fred.” The one on the right nodded to you, raising his hand in a slight wave. “We’re twins.” That time they spoke in unison, surprising you. You couldnt help but laugh at the statement, one so obvious it didnt need to be said.

“So, we’re planning on pranking Filch, you in?”

The next hour was spent brainstorming ideas that would make Filch freak the most. Eventually the three of you decided on a prank you had heard from a friend back home. You, Fred and George snuck out of the classroom, the old door creaking as you opened in. You walked in a single file, keeping to the walls as you creeped down to Filch’s office.

Filch’s office was small and simple, a single oil lamp hanging above was the only source of light. It smelt vaguely like fried fish. Filing cabinets lined the left wall, a desk in the centre of the room and a sheet separating the room on the far side of the room. Fred closed the door slightly, staying nearby to keep watch. We looked at each other, uncontrollable grins on our faces.

“Wingardium leviosa.”

With a swish and flick of your wand, Filch’s desk rose into the air. Turning the desk over, proved to be more difficult, bending your arm at an awkward angle to do so. Ink splattered on the carpet floor, quills and papers floating to met it. George laughed.

“Nice one, (y/n).”

Turning, you glared at the red head, sticking out your toungue. George chuckled again, a light blush dusting his cheeks. Pointing his wand at the upturned desk, he muttered a sticking spell, allowing you to release the your spell and the desk remained above your head. Smiling at eachother, you and George moved on to the cabinets along the wall. George lifted his wand, ready to recite the levitation spell but something caught your eye. Placing your hand over George’s, you opened the cabinet marked “Confiscated and Highly Dangerous”.

At first, the contents of the drawer looked highly underwhelming. A few gadgets and gizmos, a sheet of paper haphazrdedly thrown on top. You picked up a small cube, colourful as a black and white movie with a large button on the side. Looking at George for confirmation, he nodded at you, encouraging you to press the button. With a small click, the cube opened, releasing a small figurine wearing the armour of a knight. It jumped from your hand and scrambled across the floor, hiding itself under the fallen sheets of paper. Sighing, you walked over to the centre of the room, rustling through the pile of papers, looking for the escaped toy. You were only there a moment when you heard Fred.

“Filch is coming.”

Paralysed where you stood, you watched as Fred ran out the door, George looking between you and his brother, deciding which way to go.

“Please dont leave me.”

George sent you an apologetic glance, running out of the room behind his twin. Sighing in frustration, you ran behind the curtain, Filch entering the room only seconds later. Filch’s shouts and curses sounded loudly in your ears, he jumped back and forth on each leg, cursing the students who had put his desk on the roof of his office. He quickly left the office, calling out for Dumbledore.

Only when he left could you allow yourself to breath again. Your instincts told you to run, to get out before Filch could return and give you yet another dention but your curiosity got the best of you. You strided to the open cabinet, grabbing a handful of things and shoved them in your bag, leaving the room quickly after.

You found the Weasley twins sitting in the courtyard outside, whispering to each other, a look of guilt on both thier faces, George most of all. With wild hand gestures he spoke, his voice hushed, sparing glances at the people around them, looking for your face. When he saw you approaching them, your hands clutching the strap of your bag, he rose from his seat and hurried towards yours, mouth open, ready to make excuses for him abandoning you. The words that he spoke to you next were not the ones he had been preparing.

“Did you just slap me?”

“Did you just leave me in Filch’s office to get caught?”

George’s mouth opened and closed, Fred’s laughter in the background. Clasping George’s wrist, you dragged him back towards his brother, sitting down beside them, you poured out the contents of your bag. Identical mischievous grins formed on the boys faces.

Most of the things you had snagged from Filch’s office were small toys that had been enchanted. Just as you were about to give up, you picked up a folded piece of parchment. Spreading it out on the bench, a note wa revealed, it said;

“To the next generation of pranksters.

We, the marauders, have left behind this map to help you navigate the caste. This map is the product of several years and exploring and magic. It reveals tunnels and passage ways that not even teacher know of as well as the location of everybody on the castle grounds. To reveal the map simple say ‘I somenly swear that i am up to no good’. When your finshed, tap it with your wand and say ‘mischief managed’ or else anybody can read it. We wish you luck.

-Messers Monny, Wormtail, Padfoot & Prongs.”

The map was everything that the marauders had promised. Once the words were said, ink swirled across the map, coming together and breaking apart to form the lay out of the castle. Footsteps with the owner’s name marked every person in and outside of the castle. Filch was currently in Dumblore’s office, complaining no doubt. Fred snatched the map, running off to the twins room, yelling back that he would hide it. You and George laughed as you gathered the stolen items and put them once more into your bag.

“Listen, (y/n), im really sorry for-“

You kissed his red cheek, feeling bad for slapping him in the first place. He looked at you, surprise written all over his face.

“It’s fine George, really, I slapped you, so lets call it even.”

Unable to talk, George nodded his head vigorously, eye wide and mouth still open. You giggled lightly at his expression, moving off the bench, you walked back into the castle. Swinging around as you reached the door, you saw George still sat on the bench, his hand gently holding the cheek you had slapped and kissed. Smiling to yourself, you entered the castle with a new vigor.

This would be the beginning of a wonderful relationship.

This went down hill but I thought you all deserved something. I’m working on a second part to my Elijah Mikaelson series but I’m not making promises it’ll be posted soon. School holidays are coming up in 2 weeks and I’ll try and get more down than. Happy Easter.

To the people of London, today was inconsequential. When the barista at your favourite coffee shop gave you your drink, there was no pity in his practiced smile. When a woman ran into you on the street, there was no sorrow in her eyes. When your coworkers greeted you, there was no hatred in their voices, to them it was just another day, another day of work, another day to mark off their calendars when they arrived home to their families that night. Nobody thought much of today, it was just another Wednesday. But you knew if you went to the little pub on Charing Cross road, the one with the wooden cauldron hanging above the door, if you went out the back and tapped the right bricks in the right order than you would find another world, a world with funny dressed people, all of which wore somber expressions on their faces, becuase today wasn’t another day to them.

Today was May 2nd, and nobody in London cared, except you.

Your heart was torn in two. A part of you wanted to continue, act like this day held no meaning, as if lives weren’t lost and destroyed today because of the monster you shared blood with, that it was all a horrible dream that you had during your youth. That was why you were here, not there. Here, the name Riddle didnt earn you heated glares, it held no more importance than the name Potter, it was nothing. You needed the normalacy of a muggle life, and that is what you got, a job you didnt have to deceive people for, friends who didnt fear you, neighbours who waved at you each morning as you left your nice house. You were free from your father, nobody cowered away from you here, nor did they obey your every command. But there was one thing missing, one thing you could not easily replace, him.

Placing you under the protection of Draco Malfoy was the single good thing your father had ever done for you. He believed sending you to Hogwarts would make you a bigger asset, so he sent you to the school with a single mission; help him destroy Harry Potter. Of course, him being sorted into the house of his father and you being sorted into the house of yours did not help you become close to the boy who lived, in fact he quite hated you, even though you weren’t using your father’s name. You didnt hate Potter, you pitted him for all he had to go through and such a young age, but he hatred for all Slytherins, even if they had done nothing towards him or his friends, caused a dislike for him to grow. This brought you and Draco closer.

Draco knew who you were, of course. At first he acted respectful, partially due to the fear of the Dark Lord his father had instilled in him, but soon enough the two of you became friends, the Prince and Princess of Slyhterin (nicknames you never let your father hear).

Voldemort was back, Cedric Diggory killed by his faithful man servant, Peter Pettigrew, Harry Potter was right but ignorant minds marked him as a liar. This was the year of Umbridge, the sickly pink toad that even Slytherins hated, Dumbledore’s Army had been created, the few who believed in Harry’s story followed him, as he taught in the absence of a real defense against the dark arts teacher. This was the time i hated being me the most, a Slytherin, hated by Potter therefore stuck learning form the cat lady, and Voldemort’s child, now that he was back, he was more vocal than ever, constantly reminding me of what i had to do; help him destroy Harry Potter. It most certainly didnt help that my so called protector/ best friend was wondering the halls, looking for Potter under the command of a toad.

“Tell me what’s wrong.”

Turning away from the underwater veiw of the Slytherin common room, i looked at Draco. His white hair, usually slicked back was now in soft waves, shirt untucked, silver and green tie hanging loosely around his neck, normally smug lips downturned in a frown as his grey eyes swam with concern and exhaustion, he had probably just finshed his rounds.

“What ever could be wrong Draco? My life is just unicorns on rainbows pooping candy.”

Draco smiled slightly at your sarcastic tone, shaking his head in amusement as he sat down next to you. His arms wrapped around your waist, a gesture that wasn’t uncommon between the two of you, and he pulled your cold body into his warm one.

“Why are you always so sarcastic?’

“Sarcasm is the body’s defence against stupidity.”

Draco sat straight, pulling you completely on his lap. His chin nuzzled into your neck, smelling the perfume he had chosen and given to you last year on your birthday. He smiled.

“Are you calling me stupid?”

His tone was light hearted, barely containing a laugh, so you knew he didn’t take offence. Grinning, you decided to play along. This was the side of the Slytherin Prince that so few got to see, a side that, not to your knowledge, only came out when you are in his presence.

“You are by far the stupidest person i have ever met, and I know Crabbe and Goyle.”

"Are you trying to make me hate you?"

He couldnt hold back his laugh this time. A hearty laugh. The two of you laughed together, so long for something so stupid, but neither of you cared. Whipping a tear from your eye, you leant back into Draco’s chest, giving into the peace it provided you. Draco’s laugh died down to a few chuckles, a grin plastered on his face. You looked back at him.

“I hate you.”

“No, you dont. You love me."

Something inside Draco snapped. He loved you, he knew he did and seeing you in his arms, a happy glowsurrounding you, his heart rose to his throat and he finally got the courage to speak the three words stuck on the tip of his tongue since the day he met you.

“(Y/n), I do lo-“

“Don’t say you love me.”

Those words echoed in his mind. His grey eyes instantly turned cold, his heart building walls around itself. You could see his pain, you had known him longer enough to know his tells and your heart broke at the pain he was feeling in that moment. Turning yourself around, you clasped his hand tightly in your own. Draco looked away, feeling the tears beginning to burn his eyes. He couldn’t let you see. Cupping his check softly, you turned his face to yours, tears reflecting in each others eyes.

“I’m not somebody you should fall in love with Draco. I cant protect you. If my father were ever to find out-“

"He won’t find out."

Draco’s voice was loud, making you grateful that you were alone in the common room. Passion blazed behinds as he took your cheeks in his hands. His heart was beating through his chest. He was afraid of your father, but he refused to live another day that he could not call you his own.

“I love you (y/n). Just say it back, we can find a way to make this work. Please”

Your mouth opened. How could you say it? Telling Draco you loved him would seal his fate, if your father ever found out he wouldn’t kill Draco, he would destroy him. He had no idea what your father was truly capable of. But staring at the boy you loved, seeing him so raw, pleading for you to say those three simple words, how could you not?

It didnt last. Your love was doomed from the beginning, you knew this. Draco and you spent two years together, filled with bliss and hardships. It all ended five years ago today. The battle had be won, your father was dead and everybody knew who you were. Some people protected you, but most wanted you to pay for your father’s crimes.

You ran that day, into the forbidden forest until you could run anymore. Harry found you on the ground, sobbing and covered in scratches and bruises. He walked towards you slowly, cautious of the wand you had pointed at him. With his hands held above his head, he made you an offer. Leave. If you left the wizarding world, he would do his best to secure your safety. You agreed.

Five years had past and not a single day went by when Draco didn’t cross your mind. Leaving him that day had been your biggest regret. You sat at home, watching the rain fall, the burning wood in your fireplace keeping you warm. If you closed you eyes you could almost image Draco's arms around you as you both sat in the Slytherin common room that night. Draco was alive, and yet everyday you mourned him, your heart yearned to see him just one more time. Your gaze drifted to the fire.

In Malfoy Manor Draco sat alone. The leather chair in which he sat was uncomfortable but Draco couldn’t bring himself to move, not even to relight the fire, the only source of light and heat in the dark house, a house too big for one man. Every day since you had died he felt numb. He wouldn’t let himself feel happy without you, not even his beloved mother could get him to smile. Now he mourns her as he mourns you. He couldn’t even bring himself to cry.

The sudden source of light burned his eyes. People rarely visited Draco. Sometimes Harry and the other members of the golden trio would visit, out of guilt more than anything else he assumed. But they wouldn’t be here tonight, Draco liked to mourn alone, and they should be mourning their losses with their families. Beleiving the worse, Draco sent a curse in the direction of his fireplace, not noticing the female figure the emerged from the flames.

"Have you lost your damn mind? Lumos."

The light from your wand illuminated the room. It took a few seconds for Draco's eyes to adjust but he knew that voice. Draco’s wand dropped to the floor. He couldn’t take your eyes from you, afraid to blink. You looked so real but Draco refused to believe it was truly you.

"Draco."

You moved towards him slowly, worried. Your hands touch his shoulder lightly once you met him, sliding them up to cup his cheeks. He puts his hand over yours, pressing firmly against it, feeling your skin on his. You were real and for the first time in years, Draco cried.

"I thought you were dead."

Draco pulled away from you, keeping his arms around your waist, not willing to let go. He looked pale, thin. It was obvious that he hadn’t been taking care of himself. Your thumb rubbed his cheek slowly.

"I know. I made a mistake but I can promise you, I’m never leaving again."

~Ron Seeing You In His Christmas Jumper.~

~Kai Missing You At Christmas.~

~Repetitively Taking Sirius Out Of Grimmauld Place For Christmas.~

~Forcing Kol To Help You Put Up Christmas Decorations~

~Spending Christmas With Hermione At Your Family’s Cabin.~

~Magically Gluing A Santa Hat To Klaus’ Head And Calling Him “Santa Klaus”.~

~Teaching Loki How To Build A Snowman.~