Wisps of Smoke (Draco Malfoy x Reader)

Part One: Monday

To say that Draco Malfoy was your friend was a bit of an exaggeration.

The two of you tolerated each other at most.

Having grown up in the same friend circle that consisted of Theo, Blaise, Pansy, you'd both learned how to remain perfectly civil.

Of course, it wasn't always that easy.Sometimes the blonde git got on your last nerve.

Just last week, Theo had to pull him back by his robe and Pansy had to clutch tightly onto your arm because you and Draco were this close to hexing each other's faces off.

And today Blaise looked anything but pleased about his choice of seat at your Potions class. The boy who donned a calm, cool and collected—almost condescending expression on most days leaned against the table in a bracing position while you and Draco yelled at each other from his left and right.

"You have to stir it twice. Clockwise." Draco scoffed rolling his eyes as he watched you stir your Draught of Living Death potion.

"Clockwise y/n—No! no! No— y/n you are doing it all wrong. That's anti-clockwise! Can you get any more stupid?! Merlin!"

"Why don't you do it yourself instead of sitting over there, crossing your fucking arms and barking out instructions." You shot back getting angrier by the minute.

"You should be glad I'm here to give you instructions. If it were up to you, the whole classroom would be up in flames by now." He said icily, picking up a Sopophorous bean and observing it.

"In case you haven't noticed already, I never asked for your help Malfoy!"

"And I did not ask to work with you and Zabini on this stupid potion y/l/n."

"And I most certainly did not ask to be put in between two bickering children but here I am. Life isn't fair now is it?!" Blaise snapped causing you both to retreat back into your seats.

That's how your days usually went by.

And your nights...well your nights weren't particularly any better. In fact, it was always the same old routine.

You stared up at the ceiling and focused on the creaking sound your bed made while your long time boyfriend Adrian Pucey chased his release on top of you.

He was always a blubbering, sweaty mess and you lightly stroked his hair and closed your eyes wondering why you felt nothing at all.

You were devoid of all emotion and pleasure—wondering if you were broken.

There was no pleasure and no pain.

And after Adrian's quick departure, your room reeked of sex and sweat and your pillow would sometimes be wet with tears.

Sex with Adrian felt like nothing at all even though you loved him.

Adrian was gentle, almost too gentle and you had come to a conclusion that orgasms and passionate sex that left you wanting for more was nothing but a myth.

You channeled all the energy you had left into slipping your clothes back on. You lethargically wiped at your mascara stained cheeks with the sleeve of your sweater before slamming your door shut behind you.

Discreetly, you exited the dungeons and let your feet guide you all the way towards an empty and abandoned classroom with a huge window and a windowsill wide enough for sitting.

Nobody really paid much attention to the classroom and going there felt like hiding in plain sight. Going there in the middle of the night had somewhat become a night time ritual for you.

You quickly got comfortable on the moonlit windowsill and took deep calming breaths—filling your lungs up with the air around you.

The air had a stench of nicotine these past few weeks and It hurt your head at first. But now, you'd learned to ignore it.

Everything felt silent and tranquil for a brief moment until you started to hear moans and groans coming from the other side of the classroom door.

The sounds made your blood freeze and you closed your eyes, mumbling an inaudible prayer to the universe. The last thing you needed was an awkward encounter with the people making out on the other side of the door.

It didn't take very long before the door started to creak and shake violently.

The creaking only got louder and louder. As did the moaning and groaning and cursing.

Soon, the shaking of the door came to an abrupt halt followed by a shrill post-coital giggle.

You closed your eyes and finally heaved a huge sigh of relief when you heard the pitter patter footsteps walking away from the room.

"What the fuck are you doing here y/l/n?" A familiar voice startled you and you held your breath hoping it wasn't who you thought it was.

You opened only one eye and looked at the door that had been flung open.

Draco Malfoy stood on the other side of the now open door with the buckle of his belt still undone, his shirt all disheveled and his silver hair in a state of disarray from being yanked on.

"I would ask you the same question but it's best if you don't tell me." You gagged.

The corners of his lips twisted into a typical Malfoy-esque smirk as he used his thumb to wipe his bottom lip.

"Well, would you like me to show you instead?"

"Smooth." You muttered, letting out a sarcastic chuckle at his words while he sat down next to you on the windowsill.

Malfoy was the last person you wanted to see that night. Especially after Potions class.

Even though you were looking out the window, you felt his eyes linger on you through your peripheral vision. He was drenched in the moonlight seeping in through the large window giving his place skin a pearlescent glow.

Although Malfoy had maintained an unreadable expression on his face, his prying eyes gave everything away.

"Pucey?" He finally said.

"Excuse me?"

"You've been crying haven't you?" He asked, lifting your chin up with his index finger and observing the redness around your nose and the puffiness around your eyes.

"Since when do you care?" You jeered, eyeing him suspiciously.

"I don't." He shrugged abruptly pulling his hand back—letting your face fall.

He turned towards the window, put a cigarette between his lips and lit it up. After taking a long drag, he tilted his head around to look at you again. "I just don't think Pucey is worth crying over. If you're crying over hi—"

"Merlin's beard Malfoy! It's you. You've been smoking your stupid cigarettes here haven't you?" You cut him off with your eyes widening in realisation.

"I have."

"And all this time I thought I was hallucinating the smell of smoke."

"Sorry to break it to you y/l/n but I've been coming here since the fourth year."

Wisps of smoke came out of his mouth and drifted all the way to the tip of your nose when he exhaled.

"I come here all the time." He continued. "Sometimes alone and sometimes—"

"You bring a poor naive girl here for a quickie." you finished his sentence coughing and swatting the air around you. "Who were you shagging outside anyway?" You asked, arching your eyebrows.

"Since when do you care?" He retorted.

"Touché."