Plz Tell Me That I Was Not The Only One Who Watched “The Land Before Time” And Thought That Eating

Plz tell me that I was not the only one who watched “The Land Before Time” and thought that eating vegetables hanging off the corners of my mouth like they did in the film made me a “long neck.” 🦕🍃

One Day - Part 11

A/N: Hello lovelies! I wanted to post this chapter on Saturday, but when I was about to do it, it just disappeared completely. I was so mad and frustrated I just gave up and watched LOTR lol So here we have chapter 11 and tomorrow it’s done! I want to know your thoughts on what happens next. How would you want it to end? Also, don’t kill me for the drama of it all. I hope you like it!

Draco x reader (she/her pronouns)

Word count: 1725 Summary: One day AU. Post-war. Since The Battle of Hogwarts, Draco and y/n meet one day a year.

Masterlist

Enjoy!

3 May, 2010

“How are you doing, Draco?” asked Harry as he sat by his side.

“Managing,” he managed to say with a small and tired voice.

Draco was absolutely distraught. He hadn’t properly slept in weeks and everything in his demeanour oozed fatigue and pain. St. Mungo’s had become his permanent residence, only this time he was not playing the part of the Healer.

“How about you?” he asked, more out of politeness than genuine interest.

“It’s chaotic. I feel like it’s 1999 all over again, you know? The paranoia, the panic attacks and the nightmares, all full-blown. The Ministry’s bodyguards aren’t helping either.”

Every time they had talked, Harry had tried not to exert too much of his own burden on Draco, but for some reason today he felt like blurting things out. Draco’s eyes were still glued on the bed in front of them. He really didn’t feel like partaking in that conversation, but his friend seemed to be in the mood to talk so he indulged him.

“Tell me about it. We have a whole team of aurors roaming the manor. I know it’s for the best, but I can’t even let my child go out and play. I fear something terrible might happen to him whenever he’s out of my sight. It’s…scary,” he admitted, realizing how much he actually needed to talk.

“Yeah, I get it. We don’t let the kids out either and we are all going crazy.”

Twelve years after Voldemort was defeated, some of his runaway death eaters were still trying to seek revenge. In the first few years after the war, Harry and Ron had led the operations to incarcerate as many as they could find. Their efforts had put most of them in Azkaban, but some others still loomed in the most unexpected places. Every once in a while, the death eaters on the loose would pop up. So far, they had tried – unsuccessfully – to harm Harry and Ron. The attempts were so poor it would ruffle everyone’s feathers for a while and then everything would go back to relative peace.

That was until (Y/N) moved to Paris. Even if her house was full of traps and charms to protect her, she was living alone, which made her an easy target. She was not difficult to track; her status as a literary celebrity and her connections to the magical French jet set made her appear in Le Monde Magique every other day. The network of dead eaters that were still active and underground followed her for three years before striking.

The night they did, Draco and (Y/N) had a date. That’s what saved her. (Y/N)’s plan was to relocate back to England, but as she managed to get everything in order both of them apparated back and forth. They saw each other every day, went out for dates and parties with their friends and even had family strolls and dinners with Scorpius. That night, they were going to take a roam through the Champs Élysées and eat on one of their favourite muggle restaurants.

Draco arrived to her flat, excited for the night to come, only to find a scene that could’ve easily come out of a Goya painting. (Y/N) laid on the floor, covered in blood and seemingly unconscious. A man – later identified as Rodolphus Lestrange – had his foot on her throat and was flicking his wand to perform the deadliest spell. Draco’s vision turned red. Without thinking, he immobilized his uncle in law, sent him flying to the other end of the house and beat him to a pulp. He could have killed him with his own two hands, hadn’t he been so worried about (Y/N)’s state.

With her in arms, he had called the French Ministry of Magic. Draco tried really hard to act professional, check her vitals and perform the right spells like a good Healer would, but he was paralyzed. He couldn’t imagine a life without (Y/N). Draco could only think about this as he held her tight to his chest. That’s how the aurors found him: trembling, covered in blood and sobbing, unable to let go of his benumbed girlfriend.

A month and a half after the assault, she was still unconscious. No signs of change and very weak vital signs. As soon as the Healers at the Sacre Coeur hospital in Paris had deemed her stable, Hermione had helped with the paperwork to take her back to England. Since the day they had put her in that bed on the fourth floor, Draco had barely ever left her side. Their friends and family would come and go. Even if they were all sad and grieving, they’d try to console him.

Seeing her like this, so pale and lifeless, the wounds that had taken so long to heal wide open again, haunted him. Whenever he tried to sleep, he had these nightmares of her being tortured by Rodolphus Lestrange and he couldn’t keep himself from staring at his fading mark and blaming himself for everything.

“I…I have never seen somebody lit up the way (Y/N) would whenever she saw you. Merlin, just mentioning your name made her a happier person. Since we all became friends, I thought you two belonged together,” Harry commented after a prolonged silence.

Draco really wanted to feel soothed by Harry’s comment. He tried. But as he turned it around in his head, everything about it made him feel disheartened and enraged: the quivering voice, the profound sadness and the past tense. He felt just like when he was younger and didn’t know how to deal with his emotions. So, Draco just snapped.

“Why are you talking about her as though she was dead, Potter?” he sneered. His tone and accompanying glare remined Harry of their schooldays. The difference was that now he knew that the former Slytherin was suffering and that sorrow encircled his every breath.

“Draco…”

“She’s not dead!” he screeched.

“She is not dead.” This time, he murmured so softly Harry knew it was not meant for him.

Draco leaned forward and buried his face in (Y/N)’s hair. His suppressed sobs broke Harry’s heart. Never in a million years he would’ve imagined that this is how things would turn out, but he soon found himself hugging Draco as he wept on his shoulder.

“She can’t die, Harry. She cannot leave me.”

He was desperate. Why couldn’t they be happy? So much time wasted with life’s twists and turns, time they could’ve spent together lost because of hushed feelings and unspoken words. So much time living like two parallel lines, always in tandem and never intersecting. And when they finally connected and they lived some of the most blissful and placid months of their lives, she was snatched away. Their happiness crushed.

As it downed on him that maybe she would never wake up, Draco’s mind focused on the conversation they had a few weeks before the assault. They had just arrived in Malfoy Manor from a party at the Potter’s. (Y/N) changed into one of Draco’s shirts and was sitting on the sofa in Draco’s humongous bathroom as he unbuttoned his shirt.

“You know, Dray,” (Y/N) said as she crossed her legs.

“Yes, darling?” he asked. Draco looked at her through the mirror and smiled.

“This is going to sound extremely rushed and weird coming from me,” her voice was timid, yet it held an underlying dreaminess to it that lured him.

Immediately, he stopped his task, turned around and knelt in front of her. (Y/N) smirked, pleased to have his full attention now. “What is it, love?”

“I want to have children. I want a quidditch team worth of kids with the love of my life.” As she said this, Draco couldn’t help but smile wholeheartedly.

He had thought about that as well. Having a proper family with (Y/N) sounded like a dream. They were already a quaint little family, she, Scorpius and him. They were so happy, at times the thought of having children together was almost automatic. He knew even contemplating it was a long shot; they had been dating for a little less than a year. But those were some of the most wonderful months of his entire life and he wanted more. As in “till death do us part” kind of more. As weird as he thought it was, Draco concluded that their lives had been intertwined forever that day after the Battle, so time counted differently for them.

“And if the love of my life is not available, then there’s you,” she added cheekily. Draco chuckled, feeling his heart fuller than ever.

Draco thought it was funny how they never had this conversation before. In all of their years of friendship, they had never asked each other what they thought about having a family. Paternity had just happened to him and he received it as one of the most important tasks in his life. Regardless of the circumstances, it was indeed the best gift life could’ve ever given him.

(Y/N) was good with children. Since James was born, she had become the next generation’s preferred babysitter. Draco always thought she seemed to understand the language of children more than any other adult he knew. Maybe that was an effect of being a writer? He didn’t really know. As much as she loved her godson and her little nephews and nieces, (Y/N) never showed a desire of having kids of her own. She always seemed so focused on other things, so passionate about healing and reconciling with life that having children didn’t seem like something she wanted.

And yet.

“I’d love for us to have our own quidditch team, my love,” he said, gently uncrossing her legs and caressing her tights, “on one condition”.

She raised an eyebrow playfully. “Let me remind you I’ll be the one going through pregnancy.”

Draco was all smiles now. “Marry me, (Y/N),” he said almost too casually. That was the essence of their relationship; a flamboyant proposal didn’t fit in the language they had created for themselves as they watched that sunrise on that windowsill. His hands on her tights, the glint in his eyes, that feeling that pulled them to each other said more than words could.

(Y/N) had said yes.

That’s all Draco could think of as he sobbed on Harry’s shoulder.

tags: @fandomscombine @oldfashionedlovergirlsblog @cleopatera @naomi02hook @okaydraco @iliketoast23 @winnsmills @happycomb @xtrashmouthxtozierx @hopplessdreamer

@animelover09556 (your blog disappeared and I couldn’t tag you, honey, but if you ever get to read this I hope you’re doing well).

91 notes View Post

obiwallskenobi

6 years ago