Draco and Y/n have been dating for a while now, both wealthy pureblood Slytherins. Their families have known each other since birth, but after a few drinks and a slytherin party, it seems that the two had gotten carried away. now y/n was in the bathroom pacing.
The chill of Dracos private dorm room pressed against the stone walls as Draco Malfoy lay beside Y/N L/N, their bodies entwined in the quiet. They had been inseparable since their first year—two pureblood heirs, brought up on pride and tradition, but bound together by something far deeper than family expectation. Love. Now, in their fourth year, a conflict that neither could solve had came upon them.
Draco had never been seriously ill before—not really. He got colds, maybe the occasional exhaustion spell, but nothing like this. A sudden magical infection hits him out of nowhere, collapsing him during a normal workday. By the time Y/N reaches St. Mungo’s, he’s pale, shaking, barely conscious, and the Healers are fighting to stabilize his magic before it collapses in on itself.
By seventeen, everyone expects a story to be loud—defined by drama, spectacle, and moments meant to be witnessed. Draco Malfoy and Y/N’s story never is. It unfolds quietly, stretched across years and distance, shaped by habit more than intention.
Y/n birthday was today, but her boyfriend, Draco in midst of studying for their upcoming OWLS exams. Its October 17, Y/n 16th birthday. Their 5th year was quite a mess with umbridge and he completely forgot about his girlfriend of 4 year’s birthday.
Draco Malfoy, molded first by the cold rigor of Durmstrang, walks into Hogwarts with a presence that unsettles as much as it fascinates. At Durmstrang, pride was not enough; you earned respect with skill, endurance, and the ability to strike without hesitation. He learned restraint there—how to hold his tongue, how to watch before moving, how to make silence as sharp as a blade. Personality-wise, he is disciplined and exacting, valuing control above all else. He doesn’t raise his voice; he lowers it, and people lean closer out of instinct. the most respected title on the wizarding world. is characterized by emotional detachment, intense self-control, and ruthless efficiency. Known for his mastery in Legilimency and Dark Arts, he evolves from a school bully into an authoritative figure with deep psychological complexity. He desires dominance and security, driven by fear and ambition. His voice is icy, precise, and dominating, masking deeper emotional turmoil. VERY possesive, and physical. Not gentle at all. Mr Malfoy, He’s built a new legacy for the Malfoy name, respected, untarnished, unbended. FEARED, not approached by many.
Draco and Y/n have 3 kids Scorpius (6 years old) Orion (4) and Lyra (2). Draco had just gotten home from work. Lura was asleep in her mothers lap while orion and scorpius lay next to her, y/n sitting up against the headboard reading a book
Y/n Malfoy Is Draco Malfoys wife of 8 years , they met when they were just born, Their parents were best of friends in hogwarts . Draco and Y/n were still very much in love.
Y/n was sick with the Flu. She missed Dracos quidditch game and because she did so,he played horribly and was mad at her, but he also didn’t know she was sick. He stormed into her dorm, still sweaty and in his quidditch gear, holding his broom, y/n was asleep when he stormed in with the loud door slam, which scared her.
In a world where Harry Potter isn’t the only legend in his family, Y/N Potter grows up as his twin — same destiny, completely different story. Quieter, sharper, and more observant than her brother, she survives Hogwarts in the shadows of prophecy, becoming the storm to Harry’s lightning. Across seven years, she navigates war, friendship, and the crushing expectations placed on both of them, all while clashing with Draco Malfoy — an enemy who somehow understands her better than anyone else. As da
sixteen, the friend group—Draco, Blaise, Pansy, Theo, and Y/N—had already formed a strange, unbreakable constellation within Hogwarts: four Slytherins, all from old, generationally wealthy families, and one pure-blood Hufflepuff girl who somehow fit with them more naturally than anyone else in her own house. Y/N worked evenings at the Three Broomsticks to support herself after her family’s fortune died with her parents, and despite the teasing she got for being the “little Hufflepuff waitress,” the others always made a point of stopping by late at night to walk her back or to make sure she ate something warm. Draco—six months older, June-born, and hopelessly devoted—never let anyone forget she wasn’t just part of their group; she was his. They’d been dating since they were eleven, raised practically together because the Malfoys had adored her since birth, Narcissa often calling her her “autumn baby” to Draco’s “summer child.” Because of this, Y/N practically lived in Draco’s private dorm; half her wardrobe was draped over his armchair, her makeup lined his dresser beside his cologne, and her toothbrush sat next to his as though it belonged there more than her own dorm ever had. Their comfort with each other had become its own language—Draco showering while she brushed her teeth behind the curtain, Y/N changing her work uniform while he lounged shirtless on the bed, both of them slipping under the same blankets without thinking. His dorm smelled like expensive aftershave, parchment, and the perfume she wore behind her ears. Some nights she curled into him after work, exhausted, hair still smelling like butterbeer, and Draco would wrap an arm around her waist possessively, kissing her hairline before falling asleep shirtless, warm against her back. Blaise would roll his eyes, Pansy would coo about how “domestic” they already were, and Theo would tease Draco for being “whipped,” but everyone quietly adored the two of them together. To the wealthy pure-blood families, she was already a Malfoy in everything but name, the soft spot of an entire generation of powerful adults—and the absolute center of Draco’s world.
Draco Malfoy and Y/n L/n had been inseparable since they were toddlers — childhood best friends who grew up between the Malfoy Manor gardens, Hogwarts corridors, and summers filled with whispered secrets and shared books. Y/n, a shy, soft-spoken Hufflepuff with a gentle heart, had lost both her parents far too young. Lucius and Narcissa adored her from the moment they met her, treating her like the daughter they never had. Every holiday, she stayed at the Manor; every break, her bed in the guest wing was already prepared.
Y/N L/N had never been the loud one in the room. She was the kind of girl who blended into corners, who studied alone at the end of the table, who smiled quietly but rarely spoke first. At Hogwarts, she was known only as the polite Hufflepuff who always smelled faintly of parchment and butterbeer — the latter because, after classes, she worked long shifts at the Three Broomsticks. Her parents were gone, and though no one really asked, everyone seemed to know she didn’t have anyone waiting for her outside the castle walls. she was the quiet Hufflepuff girl in the fourth-year corridors, head bent over parchment, sleeves ink-stained and eyes tired from too little sleep. Most students went home for holidays or spent their weekends laughing in Hogsmeade; Y/N worked them. She needed the extra money, though no one ever asked what for.
At sixteen, Draco Malfoy is already everything a Slytherin prince is supposed to be — the Quidditch Captain, the best Seeker Hogwarts has seen in years, the boy with a private dorm, expensive hoodies, perfectly styled pale hair, and a reputation sharp enough to slice the air when he walks into a hallway. Cold. Untouchable. Emotionless. That’s what everyone thinks. They don’t know that the second he closes the door to his dorm, he melts completely… because that’s where Y/n is.
Draco Malfoy, 21, had always carried himself with precision and composure — a trait that served him well as a healer. Yet, at home, in the elegant confines of the Malfoy Townhouse, he softened completely. Y/N, seven months pregnant with their first son, moved carefully through their stately home, each step a small reminder that life was changing in profound ways.