alice-intheunderworld - Tumblr blog

alice-intheunderworld · 1 day

Text

telepathy

“You never suspected?” Harry whispers into the curve of my shoulder. His skin is warm against my side, our legs tangled together in the cocoon of his sheets.

I know he’s thinking of the appointment I had earlier, of the diagrams I showed him that the healer drew for me, explaining that her scans showed my magic reaching out, touching her mind gently. How she said that that’s the basal state of my magical awareness, touching the minds of those around me whenever I choose, even unknowingly.

“That I’m a telepath? No. Legilimency always came easy to me, but I never suspected actual telepathy.” I close my eyes, lean closer so that his hair tickles my nose and I can smell the coconut scent of his shampoo, fresh and lovely. “Although … sometimes I did feel like I knew what you wanted, what you were thinking. In bed, specially”

He huffs a laugh against my skin, brushes his lips over a freckle on my neck that I only know is there because he mentions it all the time. “That actually explains a lot.”

A proud thrill shoots through my belly and I feel a smile threatening to spill into my face. It’s not that I didn’t know he wants me — he makes it so clear each time — but knowing for sure that he does and that I give him what he wants in turn makes me feel powerful in a way I’ve never experienced before. I reach out then, the path to his thoughts feeling easy now I know I’ve been treading it for years.

He’s running his fingers along my hip, the inside of my thigh, and his thoughts are simple, surrounded by lust and warmth.

All this beautiful milky skin.

I feel a blush rise to my cheeks hotly, and clear my throat. I’m helpless to the admission I want to make, feel it drawn out of me by the sheer glow of being in his presence. I say, “But sometimes I felt it after, too, whenever we finished. I just never thought … to tell you the truth, I just thought that’s how it is when you’re in —”

The embarrassment of saying it out loud feels unmanageable, but I would’ve pushed through if it weren’t for his green eyes widening, for the alarms blaring through my awareness of his thoughts. His lips cover mine swiftly in a pressing, achingly lovely kiss and he rests his forehead against mine.

He breathes out, “Shh. Don’t say it. Now we know why you always knew what I wanted.”

It stings for all of a minute, that he won’t let me, but then I realize that I can’t feel disgust or rejection in his thoughts, only fear. Simple, tangible fear. I huff, raise a hand up the back of his neck, tangling through his soft, beautiful curls. He relaxes once again, and I feel the soundless sigh against my lips before he kisses me again, close-mouthed and sweet.

He’s everything, nudges the edges of my consciousness. Then again, a golden thread of a helpless thought, Everything.

“Alright,” I whisper against his lips, and I can tell he loves that, loves the feel of my lips moving against his as I speak. I can tell he feels it all. So I venture, “That doesn’t mean it’s not true, alright?”

His guard has come back down as he occupies himself tracing my bottom lip with his tongue, following his own body down the path that will lead to desire very soon. Distractedly, he asks, “It doesn’t mean what isn’t true?”

“That I’m in love with you.”

Everything freezes, his arm where it was moving to embrace me, his breath, his mind. And in the center, red-hot fear once again. He pulls back a little, enough to run a hand down his face, pinching the bridge of his nose.

He’s wondering, Why is he doing this?

He’s picturing me running, turning away from us in fear of what it can become. I pull him closer again, cup a hand around his jaw and I know he can see it in my eyes: the truth. His eyes fall shut, his body in a vulnerable curl around mine.

“Jesus, Draco. You don’t even like me.”

“Of course I don’t like you,” I can barely recognize my voice, it’s gentler than I even knew I had in me. “But I am in love with you.”

God, me too. Me too, me too.

Our bodies are so close I can feel his heart pounding.

“Uh. I’m not sure I —,” he’s starting to say, but his mind keeps beating a stream of Me too, me too.

“You’re forgetting that I can quite literally read your mind, Harry.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.” There’s a laugh building up in my chest and I let it escape, catching what he feels when he hears it, the way his thoughts soften, the way he sees me aglow like this, in his arms, because of him.

A warm hand comes up to my chest, resting over my sternum. Where, even though he can’t read my mind, he can find beating proof that I feel this.

“Then you already know what I’m going to say.”

I love you.

I nod, basking in the way my heart races, in the way I know that his heart is racing too. It all felt so impossible only this morning. Years of sneaking around, years of sleeping together and not talking, not daring to hope. And it had always been as easy as me reaching out, trying to connect, without ever knowing I could. But there’s something else, and the lingering dregs of doubt rise up in me when I realize this only speaks for now, for this moment in time.

“I can read your mind, but … I can’t see the future. I don’t know what this means for us, or where it takes us.”

He pauses, and I can tell he’s giving it serious thought. I can see futures he’s picturing, trying on as though trying on new clothes, playing out the idea of making me central to the path he sees for his own life. I can tell the thought feels new and exciting. His green eyes meet mine, and it seems it only took him these few minutes, because the fear is gone, replaced by burgeoning joy. He’s always been the braver one. I pull my awareness back, overwhelmed by the strength of his sudden conviction, and I’m once again just me inside my own mind, looking into his eyes, not knowing what’s behind them.

“To tell you the truth, I never expected we’d come this far,” he says. The back of his fingers is tracing my cheek, and there’s an edge to his voice, a soft kind of adoration that only really comes out when we’re like this, bare to each other. “I mean, maybe that was daft of me, seeing as it’s been four years of … this, but it seemed to me you never wanted to talk about it, and so I didn’t think to consider we could be anything more than what we’ve been already.”

And it’s true. I didn’t think we could ever have more that we already had, so I never gave myself the space to want it. Now, knowing what I know, I discover that the want was always there, that I unknowingly let it build up behind closed doors in my head, and that now that I’ve inched it open, it’s all come barrelling out, a flood tearing the dam to bits.

I nod. “I understand. But now my cards are on the table, and … I already know your answer too, so why don’t we stop fooling ourselves?”

“It’s not that, it’s just … we’ve spent our entire lives driving each other insane.” Not reading his mind anymore, I can still read him with the knowledge of a lifetime. I know him, can tell that he means it, that this is something that’s been bothering him. “Last week you almost throttled me when I suggested we saw that Divination expert before you went actually insane.”

It’s true that I had felt something off in my own head for months, that I wasn’t able to hide it from him because at times it felt like the whole world was pushing its way into my brain and I couldn’t channel it back out. The notion that I might be going insane was not infrequent, and he worriedly suggested alternatives before I finally decided to visit the healer today. But him suggesting divination could nearly have been the last nail in the coffin. I’ve never been a pseudo-science kind of man.

“Oh, you know damn well I’ve never believed in those things.”

Frustration tinges his gaze, turns the corners of his lips downwards. “Well, now it turns out you’re a damn telepath, Draco, so you better fucking start believing.”

I’m so scandalized I lose the ability to speak for a few seconds, and he can tell. Which makes him double down, “I — Merlin, do you see? I drive you insane without even trying. You’re driving me insane too.”

“Okay, okay,” I force out, fighting down the annoyance that he can bring up in me quicker than anybody else. My eyes fall shut and I take a breath, letting myself feel his touch on my skin, the length of his body against mine, the night breeze sharing our bed, around our bodies where the sheets have slipped off. I open my eyes, feel the proud bubble of elation that courses through my veins when he looks at me. “I know we always drive each other insane, but we always end up here, don’t we? Curled up in your bedroom.”

His eyes soften. “That’s true. And in the end I — I mean I do really —“

He still can’t say it. But I know it. I’ve seen it, his doubts, his love.

So it’s easy to be the one to voice it. “I love you too. And I’m also terrified at the notion of being apart, and I’m also sometimes horrified and disgusted to realize I feel this way, and I wonder how I even ended up here when I genuinely despised you back in school.”

“Went both ways,” he huffs. I can’t help but smile.

“I know.”

“But then I’m just — God, Draco, if you’re reading my mind, then you know what I have in my drawer right now.”

Alarmed, I can’t help but let my magic reach out so hard I’m left reeling, and I get an image, front and center. His dresser, third drawer on the left, between a bottle of cologne and an inherited jacket: a black velvet box, no bigger than a snitch. I see him in his mind’s eye, stroking the box, thinking of me. Of us. I see him putting it back in. Taking it back out another time, another day, thinking of me. Months passing, him taking it out on sleepless nights after I slipped away following a tryst, see him stroking it, thinking of me. And I’m afraid. I am. But there’s a stronger, unnamable feeling overpowering the fear by the second, dusting it in a golden glow with the certainty and inevitability of a sunrise. I swallow.

“I do know. But I’m not sure I understand. Didn’t you just say you never expected we’d make it this far?”

“I think it’s more that I didn’t think you’d be willing to try. The thing is that … right here, together, when it’s just us? It just works, I feel like we get each other perfectly. I like that a lot. But none of our friends know we talk, much less that we see each other twice a week. When you see me in public you roll your eyes and look away, and Nev told me the other day that you told Pansy you still hate me.”

I’m still in his mind, and I feel how this hurts him. Has been hurting him. But it’s hypocritical as all hell, he’s never been the sole victim of this. Like everything else between us, it went both ways. My temper flares.

“Oh, don’t start. Nev always tells Pansy that you go on and on about how unbearable I am, and … and I saw you flirting with Hannah last week at The Brewery!”

“What?” His volume rises, and he startles himself. He shakes his head and takes a deep breath. “I — Okay. Didn’t you read my mind then? All I wanted was for you to look at me, even though I knew you wouldn’t, because our friends were around. I’m tired of this, Draco, I’m tired of your walls coming up with me outside them whenever we’re not in bed.”

He’s thinking of that night, of me looking away when he tried to catch my eye, of me leaving early so he wouldn’t have the chance to ask if I wanted to go home with him. It’s too real, too revealing, I don’t know if I want to face having been part — or most — of the reason we didn’t have this earlier.

“I didn’t know I could read your mind back then, it was only last week. How was I supposed to know you felt any kind of serious way about me when —“

“What’s in my drawer, Draco?”

My heart pounds. “I know what’s in your fucking drawer.”

“And what are you going to answer? I can’t read your mind.”

I had been so calm, placing the ball in his side of the court at the beginning of the conversation, but he’s hit it right back at me, hard, and my heart is climbing up my throat. He’s asking, knowing I know everything inside his head, he’s asking because he doesn’t know anything inside mine, and he needs it out loud, needs it spelled out. I have to give it to him. It’s only fair. I swallow, try to force my heart back down.

“What do you think I’m going to answer, Harry? Look at me. You’ve ruined me completely, I’m — ”

“Is that a — ?”

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes”

83 notes · View notes

alice-intheunderworld · 3 days

Text

2024.05.08

Complete fics posted on AO3 this day

1. The Long Way Home by HeadWig [M, 5k]

►The sun sets over London, cotton-candy pink and blue against steel and glass. It belongs to everyone, and Harry watches it through floor to ceiling windows that never open.

2. Of Love And Betrayals by MDGR [E, 5k]

►Draco returns home after a horrible day at work, only to find his son in misery. Comforting him, however, brings pain of long gone past - pain that Draco tried his best to forget.

3. Tastes Like Commitment by Reloumi [E, 21k]

►Harry may have been a little listless and unsure of what he was doing with his life. He had more money than he ever needed, and he just made people angry when he tried to give them money to help out. He understood why, of course, but he felt like an asshole because he had the ability to help so many people. So he had to be sneaky with his help, and it started when he bought the bookshop, which seemed to snowball after that. […]

—

Fest/Exchange

1. Romancing the Dragon by Anonymous [E, 34k]

►Harry Potter writes romance novels from the comfort of his London townhouse with the assistance of his beloved cat, Juliet. He does not engage in rescue missions, talk to dragons, or develop feelings for Draco Malfoy. That would be absurd. ★ Lights Camera Drarry 2024 | @lcdrarry

55 notes · View notes

alice-intheunderworld · 4 days

Text

i hope the fences we mended fall down beneath their own weight

2K notes · View notes

alice-intheunderworld · 6 days

Text

HD longer fics recs : 80k to 90k words

Here are a few recs for fics ranging between 90k and 100k words.

You can see my recs for fics that have more than 200k here, between 150k and 200k here, between 125k and 150k here, between 100k and 125k here and between 90k and 100k here.

Azoth by @lol-zeitgeistic [88k]

Now that Harry is back at Hogwarts with Hermione for eighth year, he realises that something’s missing from his life, and it either has to do with Ron, his boggart, Snape, or Malfoy. Furthermore, what, exactly, does it mean when one’s life is defined by the desire to simultaneously impress and annoy a portrait? Harry has no idea; he’s too busy trying not to be in love with Malfoy to care.

the call of sweet things by @softlystarstruck [88k]

Draco’s happy with his quiet, lonely life in Woolbury, spending his days working at Pen Pals and keeping his already tidy flat spotless. But when Harry Potter shows up with pink hair and secrets about his magic, Draco’s carefully upheld balance falls apart. He doesn’t quite know how he ends up decorating Harry’s cottage, drinking unreasonable amounts of cocoa, and laughing more than he’s laughed in years, but it’s Christmas, after all– and he finally has a chance to set things right.

Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love by aibidil [80k]

In which a group of wizards’ rights activists goes on the offensive after a prohibition against love potions, forcing the magical world to confront the horror of magic’s role in sexual assault and the murky legal nature of consent. Ron, Hermione, Harry, and Draco are swept together to solve the case, and in the process they’re made to confront their own love and lust—with and without potions.

Criminal by @the-sinking-ship [83k]

Things were going just fine for Draco Malfoy. He successfully conned and counted cards across Europe and America, amassing a small fortune, along with a lengthy rap sheet. That was until he made the grave mistake of returning to England for a high stakes card game and got himself caught – by Harry Potter no less. Now, Draco is stuck in England under Auror Potter’s guard with no friends, no distractions, and no escape. How the hell will he pass the time? And since when did Potter get so bloody fit?

Dear Cousin, Love Regulus by @xx-thedarklord-xx [86k]

As the sole Malfoy heir, Draco understood that his path was set long before his birth; who to be, how to act and what his choices should be. What he had not counted on was the power of outside influences. Letters from his deceased cousin caused him to realize that he did have choices, starting with the choice to be someone else, to be who he wanted to be. The road to self-discovery was difficult and navigating that path in the shadow of Harry Potter was its own challenge but maybe, just maybe, his friends would help him along the way. And he would owe it all to Regulus Black.

Heaven Through a Window by JocundaSykes [81k]

Life is going swimmingly for Draco: he’s a respected Healer, his son is excellent in every way, and none of his patients have died recently. Then he gets landed with Perfect Potter and his hordes of stupid friends. It’s intolerable. But the more time Draco spends with the lonely boy from Surrey, the more he believes that there might be a hero within us all.

If the Fates Allow by Saras_Girl [80k]

What’s that crackling in the walls? Harry has no clue at all. He’ll eat some cake and drink some wine Because he is completely FINE. –A story about life’s disregard for our plans. [2017 advent story]

In Free Fall by @kbrick [81k]

Draco Malfoy is a serious university student whose idea of a good time is translating Ancient Greek texts and having game night with his small circle of friends. Harry Potter is a hard-partying adrenaline junkie who’s happiest when he’s leaping from an airplane or hurtling over a waterfall in a kayak. They have nothing in common. But when they reconnect in the Muggle world, curiosity prompts them to strike up a deal. Draco will show Harry what it’s like to be a swotty overachiever and Harry will show Draco what it’s like to live life dangerously. It’ll be fun, and really, what’s the worst that could happen? It’s not like Draco’s going to fall in love with the guy or anything.

In Pieces by @dysonrules [85k]

Harry returns to Hogwarts as the new DADA instructor, only to find his teaching efforts thwarted by a very familiar ghost.

Knead by laughingd0g [83k]

This is not a story about Harry renovating Grimmauld Place. This is a story about coffee shops and brewpubs, about Ginny and Luna on a farm with creatures, about magical Oregon, coastal road trips, flying, friendship, and Draco Malfoy’s lean arms.

The Light More Beautiful by @firethesound [81k]

Thirteen years after Draco accepts Potter’s help escaping the horror of his sixth year, he returns to England where he makes the unfortunate discovery that Potter is still as obnoxious as ever. And worse, more than a decade overseas hasn’t been enough to dim Draco’s obsession with him.

Loverboys by @corvuscrowned [84k]

As post-war violence and tensions rise, it seems as if there’s no hope to unify the wizarding world. Except, maybe, a manufactured relationship between resident Saviour Harry Potter and known purveyor of the Dark Arts Draco Malfoy. (The fact that they detest each other is beside the point.) But as Draco’s unrelenting mind games begin to wear him down, Harry has to remind himself that it’s all fake. The relationship is fake. The affection is fake. The pet names, the romance — even the engagement photos are fake. But there’s something in Draco’s kiss that might just be real.

Martyred by @doingthechachaslide [82k]

Harry Potter only wants one thing: to take care of the people he loves. After Teddy’s abrupt departure from his role as Andromeda’s caretaker, Harry decides it’s finally time to step up and handle the job himself. Castoff Manor, an old Black family estate, has never seemed as sinister as the stories make it sound, but it’s there that Harry stumbles upon ghosts, haunting family secrets, and a familiar, snarky blond gardener hell-bent on chasing him out. Maybe if Harry sticks around long enough, he’ll finally learn why all of Andromeda’s previous caretakers have fled without looking back.

Merlin, Give Me Strength by Aelys_Althea [86k]

Draco retreated after the war. Despite the Wizarding world turning a smiling, forgiving face to any and all with a black name and stained reputation, he wanted none of it. All Draco wanted was to be left alone. Unfortunately for him, Harry Potter doesn’t want to leave him alone. And more than that, he finds himself with the most unlikely of house guests that he just can’t seem to rid himself of. Why is life never simple?

Merlin Works in Mysterious Ways by @lordhellebore [82k]

When Harry is forced to form a Blood Bond with Draco Malfoy under threat of death, he thinks his future will consist of a cold home and sexual frustration. But when a group of left-over Death Eaters decides to stir trouble, their lives change completely – and it takes them both some years to figure out whether it’s for better or for worse.

The Nightmare Club by Elle Gray [85k]

Hermione and Ron are going back to Hogwarts to do N.E.W.T.s, Ginny isn’t. Harry hasn’t decided, until he has, in front of the Wizengamot and now he’s responsible for Malfoy as well. A tale of enemies who learn to get along, get it wrong and get it on. Everything is purple, some things are on fire and no-one is sleeping properly. But don’t worry, there’s tea!

On the Last Day of Our World by Sansa [84k]

During a detention, Harry and Draco get locked in a strange room together overnight. When they escape the next morning, they discover they are alone. Love, angst and adventure abound as they struggle to survive in an empty world.

red and green are complimentary colours by ace_0fhearts [88k]

After the war Hermione manages to convince Harry to go back to Hogwarts for his eighth year. Expecting an uneventful year of classes and rooming with the other Gryffindor boys, he’s surprised when McGonagall tells him he’ll be sharing a room with Draco Malfoy. Now Harry has to get through a year of arguments and awkward silences. Or he would, if Malfoy would stop ignoring him and moping around the castle alone. Or: Draco and Harry fall in love through sleepless nights and late night quidditch games

Reparo by amalin [84k]

Voldemort’s final defeat does not mean Harry Potter’s troubles are over; far from it. In the aftermath of war, he returns to a Hogwarts that is fractured and divided, but this is no break that can be fixed with a spell. New owls, fading scars, surprising alliances—and along the way, the hardest task of all, to live with it.

The Stars Have Courage by @fantalf [85k]

Draco can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t move. He can’t hear anything besides the buzzing in his ears. The walls are closing in. The world becomes smaller, narrowing itself to the pain in his chest, and it becomes the only thing that makes sense. He tries to cry. Maybe he is crying, but there are no tears anymore. Luna’s words echo endlessly in his brain. Harry doesn’t remember. Harry doesn’t love Draco. Repeating ceaselessly. Infinite, Harry used to say. No. No. No. Draco can’t lose him again. But he doesn’t know who you are now. He doesn’t love you. He hates you. You are no one. His world turns into an overwhelming pain. And that pain is all that he is. — Draco waited five long years to watch his husband wake up from a coma. He’s not ready to meet a Harry with no memory of anything that happened after he died at The Battle of Hogwarts, twelve years ago.

Things That Change by eutichydes [84k]

After Hogwarts, everything changes.

This Year’s Love by trishjames [84k]

This year’s love had better last, heaven knows it’s high time when you try to make lovers from friends. But Harry Potter realises time and time again that it’s simply not possible for him. And then along comes Draco Malfoy— the ultimate foe on the mend. Whatever will become of them? A story about love.

Variation by @lower-east-side [87k]

After suffering enormous losses, Draco Malfoy must now struggle to define his place in the post-war world. Through dashed hopes and changing fortunes, Draco carves out a new niche for himself. But adapting to life with Harry Potter may be the biggest challenge of all.

I hope you enjoy these stories as much as I did!

253 notes · View notes

alice-intheunderworld · 6 days

Text

Animation I did for an school assigment😋 I'm really proud of this one

551 notes · View notes

alice-intheunderworld · 6 days

Text

The madness continues ...

489 notes · View notes

alice-intheunderworld · 8 days

Text

but with him there, everything else fades away

drarry doodles below the cut <333

721 notes · View notes

alice-intheunderworld · 8 days

Text

Them ❤️

(follies)

665 notes · View notes

alice-intheunderworld · 17 days

Text

shopping day

a little drarry doodle inspired by a kiss i shared last night

491 notes · View notes

alice-intheunderworld · 18 days

Text

been reading drarry fic again recently... here’s some doodles from twitter

1K notes · View notes

alice-intheunderworld · 20 days

Text

HD Being on the run fic recs

Here are a few Harry/Draco recs where Harry and Draco are on the run. Listed in alphabetical order, as always.

9 ½ Days by @magpiefngrl [69k]

After the events at the Manor, Harry and Draco find themselves stranded in the countryside with a broken wand and Death Eaters on their tail. This is the story of an uneasy truce, featuring faerie forests, seaside caves, Romani camps, kind old ladies, and a shared bed in an attic. Or how two boys fell in love in the midst of a bloody coup.

Crown Witness by @slytherco [70k]

After the war, wizarding society is oppressed by a new kind of plague—an organised crime group calling itself the Family. When Harry Potter goes to interrogate a potential witness, he doesn’t expect to end up on the run again, trying to keep Draco Malfoy alive, while a manhunt follows in their footsteps, adamant on eliminating the one witness that could ruin everything. In which Harry and Draco learn that the way to each other might just have to go through the dingiest hotels in Britain.

Eclipse by Mijan [287k]

"You're dead, Potter... I'm going to make you pay..." Draco swore his revenge on Harry for Lucius's imprisonment, and Harry all but laughed at him. But Draco is planning more than schoolyard pranks this time. The old rivalry turns deadly when Draco abducts Harry for Voldemort. It's the perfect plan, guaranteeing revenge, power, and prestige, all in one blow. But when Draco's world turns upside down, the fight to save himself and Harry begins, and the battle will take them both through hell and back. If they come back.

Hermione Granger's Hogwarts Crammer for Delinquents on the Run by @waspabi [93k]

'You're a wizard, Harry' is easier to hear from a half-giant when you're eleven, rather than from some kids on a tube platform when you're seventeen and late for work.

Oh, Sinnerman by @lou-isfake and @babooshkart [40k]

“I’m serious, Potter,” Malfoy said quietly. “That was some real bad luck you had, being there last night. They will come after you, and they will kill you—after torturing you for information on my whereabouts.” He pocketed Harry’s wand, but held on to his knife, twirling it between his fingers. Harry was distracted by its movement, the reflections of the bright, dawning sun on polished silver. “I’m not happy about it, either, but you’re stuck with me for the foreseeable future.” He watched Malfoy’s face for a long time, in a staring contest he wasn’t sure he’d signed up for. Stuck with Malfoy, for the foreseeable future, on the run from a massive crime syndicate that had infiltrated the Ministry and was out for their blood. It was all very familiar, except for the Malfoy part.

REVOLVEVLOVER by @firethesound and @lol-zeitgeistic [88k]

The work Harry does is justifiable. It’s justice. He works for his country, and his country is a republic—the magical side, anyway. It’s not laudable work, it’s not work he’s proud of, but it’s necessary work. Harry has always taken the necessary jobs that no one else has the stomach for. It’s just that he’s never deciphered a kill sheet and seen Draco Malfoy’s name on it.

A Sword Laid Aside by @korlaena [128k]

When Draco’s cover is blown during a deep undercover operation and the Ministry is compromised, Ron takes Draco to the only safe place he can think of—Harry. Hiding out with Harry Potter, who has been missing from the Wizarding World for almost two decades after a shocking fall from grace, is nothing like Draco thought it would be.

I hope you enjoy these stories as much as I did!

169 notes · View notes

alice-intheunderworld · 28 days

Text

Draco is a racist in the most literal sense. (Well, former – reformed? – racist, that is. He wouldn't identify as one anymore.)

But he'd nonetheless been a racist – literally. He'd subscribed to the Pureblood notion that Wixen and Man are two separate creatures, made distinct by the inherent magic to one and the lack thereof in the other, which made the latter inferior. It'd taken no less than a week of critical thought to rid himself of the philosophy.

Indeed, his stint in Azkaban between his arrest and trial had been rather enlightening. It'd given him the perfect amount of time to grapple with himself, his identity, and the very fiber of the world as he knew it.

In preparation for his hearing, he attempted to shift the blame for his racism from himself. He'd been a child after all. A child very susceptible to the whims and fancies of his parents, as many children are. So, really, it's his parents' faults for impressing upon him their obsession with blood purity, and no one could fault him – sweet, innocent, young Draco – for taking up family business of slur-hurling and the mild torture of innocents.

Yes, he'd be a free man, for sure.

But then he'd unfortunately remembered that his parents had once been children, too. And at what point did the blame shift from them to their own parents, and then the generation before them?

At what point did Draco become responsible for his actions? Was it between second and third year, the transition into teenager-hood? Or was it when he got the mark? Could he blame his parents – his mother who'd begged him not to – for that decision?

What about the cabinet?

What about Dumbledore?

He'd stared at his cell wall for hours, wracking his mind for an answer other than the one he had. None came.

The day of his trial, he resigned himself to a guilty sentence.

But then, of course, Harry Potter had to muck everything up, as he always did – does. Within hours, Draco was not returning to his cell, but standing in front of the Ministry with all of his worldly possessions cradled between his arms.

Well, then.

The next five years were rather boring, full of strife and struggle. He knew poverty for the first time in his life, an experience he never wished to repeat, and despite the horror that was ages 15 through 18, he learned that it had not been rock bottom.

No, rock bottom was much, much worse.

On the bright side, his Wizard upbringing had been good for a few things. For one, his complete ignorance of the concept of sexuality meant that his open homosexuality made him "cutting edge" and "interesting." Secondly, his impeccable aesthetic taste made him hireable.

At 25, he's the most popular stylist at a bougie London salon, and he's made quite the name for himself among the rich housewives of South Kensington. Gone were the days of dumpster diving and petty theft.

Draco Malfoy is, once again, a god among mortals.

And like any god, he is a master of keeping up a facade, which is why he's able to not visibly react when the last person on Earth he wants to see walks through the salon doors.

Harry sodding Potter.

Draco should have anticipated this. Of course, Potter would show up the moment Draco's life was going well – the prick was justice incarnate. He must have a sixth sense for undeserving people experiencing happiness, and like a good hero, he sweeps in to strip the perpetrator of the feeling.

Draco refocuses on the appointment he's in the middle of, thinking invisible thoughts in hopes that it would prevent Potter from spotting him.

As anyone could've predicted, it doesn't work.

"Draco?"

He spares half a glance toward Potter, who stands only a few feet away now, having bypassed the front desk girl. He refocuses on the foil in front of him, checking the color.

"Potter."

"What are you doing here?"

He pauses, gives Potter a flat look, and then continues working.

"Oh," Potter says dumbly, "right. But, I mean, um, what are you doing here, like, in, um, this side of London."

It's a lame and fumbled attempt to ask why Draco was in Muggle London, in a Muggle salon, doing a Muggle's hair, and Draco latches on to the opportunity to turn the conversation around.

"What – you think I don't deserve to be here?"

Potter's brow furrows in that familiar way that says he understands that he's just dug himself into a hole, but he hasn't a clue how to un-dig it.

"No," he denies too aggressively. "You know what I mean. I just didn't expect you to work at a place like this."

He winces at his words, and Draco doesn't bother hiding his triumphant smile.

"I'll have you know," Draco's client, a middle aged woman named Siobhan who has that eccentric look that only works on the uber rich, says with a pointed finger at Potter, "that Draco is a very talented young man, and we here are lucky to have his skill. I'm not sure how you two know each other, but I won't stand to have Draco's talents diminished in my presence."

Potter's face turns bright red, and his shoulders shoot up to his ears. "No– I, I– I wasn't trying to–"

"It's all right, dear," Draco says to Siobhan with a hand on her shoulder. "This just shows how far I've come, the success that I've achieved; I won't let others' prejudice stop me."

"Prejudice?!" Ah, there's the outrage that Draco coveted so much when he was younger. It remains unfairly amusing.

Biting back a smirk, he gives Potter a stern look. "If you'll excuse us."

He doesn't wait to for Potter to leave to guide Siobhan to the back wall where the sinks are. Behind him, he can hear Potter awkwardly shuffle out of the salon, and the tin bell above the door announces his departure.

Draco asks one of his coworkers to take over while he has a quick smoke break. Once outside, he allows himself exactly three minutes to panic before straightening his shirt, wiping his tears and heading back inside with his head held high.

If he knows Potter as well as he think he does, this won't be the last time they meet. Potter's horribly stubborn like that. So all Draco can do is prepare and hope that the next time Potter shows up, it'll satisfy whatever morbid curiosity he has.

And maybe next time, Draco won't notice how handsome he is.

41 notes · View notes

alice-intheunderworld · 1 month

Text

And then the dragon and the knight become good friends. The king keeps sending more knights to slay the dragon, who also ends up befriending the dragon. And finally all the knights and the dragon go and kick the king's ass (right off the throne).

Aka: A knight is sent to slay a dragon. It does not go as expected.

(or: this seemed like a better idea in my head, please bear with me)

8K notes · View notes

alice-intheunderworld · 1 month

Text

For what it’s worth, Draco tries not to be in love with him.

Once the war ends, the world is dim and hazy and wild. For two months, it rains incessantly in Wiltshire. Draco watches his mother’s rose garden flag and flutter, run amok with weeds and ivy from his bedroom window. He spends May and June not doing much of anything but staring— out the window, at his ceiling, at his parents when they try to coax him to dinner. House arrest is not a death sentence, but Draco is empty and vacant and a little dead anyway.

He thinks of Harry sometimes. Harry, limned in fire on a broom, reaching for him, Harry, dead, not dead, clambering to his feet, wand raised, calling the Dark Lord Tom, Harry, who had met his eyes over the Aurors’ shoulders as they handcuffed him to accompany him to the Manor until the Wizengamot had the time to figure out what to do with the Malfoys. Harry, and the world winces into sharper focus, bleak and dull and unbearable. Draco tries, for all he’s worth, not that it’s much, to stop thinking of Harry when that happens.

There’s the trial. Harry Potter is in a suit, his hair damp and brushed and unfamiliar. He speaks for Draco and his mother. Draco recognises the image of Narcissa emerging in Harry’s testimony— haughty and determined and fearful and loving, a mass of contradictions worthy of exoneration after the payment of some hefty fines. His own image he recognises in snapshots and flashes— scared, yes, Merlin, yes, indoctrinated from a young age, that too, in the grip of something bigger than himself, yes, he’s never felt so small. There are other things Harry says, new, like an ill-fitted outfit hanging off him— brave when it mattered, really? and never killed anyone, technically true but the intent was there all through sixth year, doesn’t he deserve to be punished for that? and helped in bringing down the fall of Tom Riddle at great personal risk, a tall order at best, an embellished lie at worst.

Harry believes in a man Draco isn’t sure he ever was. The Wizengamot seems to believe him, and he’s exonerated too, with a magic-monitoring charm on his wand for eighteen months.

No one testifies for Lucius. He goes to Azkaban. Draco watches, dispassionate, as the Aurors handcuff his father again. Lucius watches him back, equally dispassionate. “Take care of your mother,” he says before he’s pulled away, and Draco manages a short, tight nod. That’s that.

Love, or the situation about Harry Potter as Draco takes to calling it, begins two more months after the trials.

“Malfoy,” says Harry, the picture of wide-eyed surprise. They’re in a bar on Knockturn. Pansy, Blaise and Theo finally dragged him here, Draco you need to leave that stuffy old Manor for your own good.

“Harry Potter,” Draco says, because he can’t bring himself to call him Potter anymore, and Harry sounds awkward outside his head.

“It’s good to see you,” says Harry, a sudden grin stretching across his face. Draco has to blink the light of it out of his eyes. “You’re looking better.”

It starts then, in the bar. The stirrings of life in a dead man. It’s annoying and brutal and the kind of thing that keeps Draco waking up and getting himself out of bed every morning and the nightmares occasionally at bay.

They run into each other at the bar, over and over, and each time, Harry begins conversation. Each time, it lasts a few minutes longer, until they’re spending half an hour or more chatting over drinks at the counter. Or, rather— Harry chats, Draco listens and tries not to let his heart spring out of his chest. Each time, Pansy looks considering, Blaise rolls his eyes and Theo peers studiously into his drink when he comes back. Draco wonders if Harry’s friends have their own set of patented reactions and if they’re half as lenient as his friends’.

Draco starts sleeping with Theo about it, eventually. Which is to say Draco starts sleeping with Theo hoping the sex will take his mind off dark hair and green eyes and that rapid, quicksilver smile. It doesn’t help that Theo has dark hair and blue eyes, and smiles at Draco like the sun. It makes him ache with want and loss, and the sex is great, but Draco has to end it within a few weeks.

“It’s Potter, isn’t it,” Theo says when Draco tells him.

There’s no point denying it, so Draco doesn’t. “It’s not you,” he says, and Theo’s lightly amused baleful glare is enough for their friendship to remain stable, if a little stilted.

Blaise takes him shopping and Pansy brings him alcohol and when Greg starts stepping out of his house again, he tells Draco awkwardly, “Well, Potter’s missing out, isn’t he?” Millicent, who starts coming to pub nights gives Draco a once-over and tells him he needs to get a job. Daphne tries to set him up with her sister, and takes it astonishingly terribly when Draco tells her he’s sure Astoria’s lovely, but has an entirely wrong set of bits.

“You should be more open minded,” she tells him, sniffing. “Astoria‘s open minded!”

Draco can only think to blink at her.

Harry’s in the papers almost every day. Sometimes because he gives speeches, but mostly because The Prophet’s society section can’t think to write anything better than “Harry Potter spotted in Diagon’s Sunday Market, with turnips! Turn to page 6 for seven delicious recipes that make fresh and inventive use of the Chosen One’s Chosen Veg!”

It’s all well and good except for the part where the accompanying photos of Harry, scowling or blank or frustrated or very occasionally, smiling at children, sends Draco’s body into overdrive. He finds himself tracing the line of Harry’s mouth, the tops of his cheekbones, his hairline. He thinks his mother notices, but she doesn’t say anything.

“Would you like to get a drink sometime?” Harry asks.

They’re not at the bar. They’re in a cafe and Draco is reading a horrible romance novel at the window.

“We get drinks all the time,” Draco says. He wants to step on his own toes.

“Yeah,” Harry says, laughing. He runs his fingers through his hair. “Yeah, course, just— I was wondering if you maybe wanted to. You know. Just us.”

“Just us?”

“Forget it,” Harry says, and sighs. He turns away and turns back. “It was good seeing you, Malfoy.” He turns away again.

“Harry,” Draco says. The look on Harry’s face when he turns back again is wide-eyed surprise again, like that first time in the bar. “I— a drink sounds lovely.”

Harry looks uncertainly pleased.

“Just not on Knockturn,” Draco says.

“We could go to Hogsmeade,” Harry says. He’s— the ridiculous man— bouncing on the balls of his feet, fidgety and buoyant and beautiful. “Or London. The Muggle bit. Or Diagon, really, but the reporters—” He grimaces.

I’ll go anywhere with you, Draco wants to say. “Anywhere,” he says instead, hacked short and inadequate.

But Harry smiles at him like he’s the sun. The persistent ache throbbing through Draco abates for a moment.

So this is peace, Draco thinks. Meets Harry’s smile with his own, wonders how Harry thinks it looks. There you are.

for the @drarrymicrofic prompt, “cranes in the sky”. this is a little all over the place and i’m not particularly happy with it, but here’s a decidedly-not-microfic about failing at not being in love with harry james potter. oh draco, you’re exactly like me.

574 notes · View notes