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#earl grey draco
cluelesspigeons · 1 year
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This is written for the prompt “different” from @drarrymicrofic
Word count: 96
Drarry microfic: all the same
Scorpius and Albus were running around the garden, chasing each other playfully. Their laughter filled the air.
Draco was looking at them from his place at the kitchen island, a fresh cup of Earl Grey tea in his hand. He smiled when both boys started rolling around in the grass.
“They look happy to be back from Hogwarts,” Harry said when he entered the kitchen. He poured himself a cup of tea as well, adding a cube of sugar.
“Yeah,” Draco said, distracted. “I never knew twins could be so different, yet still be the same.”
Prompt from January 17th
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phoebe-delia · 28 days
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let me always be with you
Based on "Annie's Song" by John Denver. This song holds a lot of childhood nostalgia for me, and while I tried to stay true to the romance, I hope you feel the same tenderness reading this fic that I do when I listen to this song.
Draco rises easily and early these days. Long gone are the nights when the moon was his sun, and the daytime was slept away behind blackout curtains and a silk eye mask. Now, his body pulls him toward rest not long after the sun has set, and it brings him into the dawn with enough time to appreciate the pinkening sky over a cup of Earl Grey.
Harry is a heavier sleeper. Draco used to tease him about it a little before Harry confided in him about sleepless nights spent in a cramped, dark cupboard; after that, Draco stopped setting an alarm on the weekends and held Harry a little tighter when they went to bed each night.
Draco's favorite morning pastime, on days when he swears the sun rises a little slower, is to watch Harry sleep. To see him take his rest. Harry looks younger when he sleeps, despite the slight gray at his temples and his deepening laugh lines. Draco likes to think they're aging backward as well as forward; making up for lost time.
When Draco has stared his fill, he settles back into bed. Harry's arms reach for him, wanting Draco close even in his subconscious state, and it never fails to hit Draco's heart with a pang of tenderness.
Draco burrows his head against Harry's chest, letting that hard-earned, steady heartbeat lull him back to sleep. Outside, the sky invites a little more light to creep through the clouds.
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drarrily-we-row-along · 7 months
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It had been literal years since Harry had seen him, it shouldn’t still feel like this.
Looking at Draco Malfoy while he swanned around the gala, not even noticing Harry’s existence, felt like he’d been hit with a bombarda to the chest. The grief, the rage, the fear, the brokenness, everything came back like it was yesterday. Like he was twenty one and desperately in love, like his entire life was oriented around another person. And the devastation of being left without a word; the empty, expansive void that filled his entire body.
He couldn’t stop watching him. Couldn’t take his eyes off his lithe form, so similar and yet different. He walked taller now, he was self assured in a way he hadn’t been. Open, smiling, like he actually knew he was worthy and it changed how he viewed other people. But he was still himself; clever and funny, still a little bashful when someone praised him.
Harry wondered what else was the same. Wondered if his mouth still tasted the same, if his hands could still make Harry’s body go pliant and his mind go blank. He wondered if he still got giggly after sex. Wondered if earl grey was still his favorite type of tea. If he still hated tequila. Wondered what Harry’d done wrong and how he could have messed up badly enough that Draco left after three years together without a word.
It was inevitable that he found himself following Draco when he went to the men's room, a moth to a flame that would incinerate it and leave its charred smoking remains in a pile of ash. Locking the door behind him, he waited, leaning against the row of sinks until Draco emerged from the stall. There was barely a hitch in his step, barely a flash of recognition in those silver eyes when he looked at Harry.
"Not even a hello?" he asked, suddenly incensed at Draco for ignoring him, at himself for setting himself up for this.
"Hello, Potter," he said evenly. "Enjoying yourself at this fine Ministry Gala?"
"Fuck you," he hissed.
Draco turned and raised an irritatingly perfect eyebrow at him, "Was a hello not what you wanted?"
And Harry saw it, the flicker in his eyes that meant he knew he'd asked the wrong question. "Not what I wanted," he repeated, throat tight and eyes stinging. "Not what I wanted?" He shook his head, "when have you ever cared about what I wanted?"
"Right," Draco said. "Terribly sorry that this Gala helps to fund my research and I had to be here tonight for my job." He said it calmly, devoid of any of the emotions that were racing under Harry's skin. "If you'll excuse me," he said, starting past Harry and moving toward the door, "I'll just get out of your way."
Harry's hands were on him before he even knew what he was doing, shoving him back against the door and pinning him there. "Seven years, Draco. Seven years and not a single word."
"Let me go," he said, voice still unerringly calm.
He shook his head, "No. Not until you-" he broke of, chest heaving as he fought for control, as he fought to get a breath.
"Until I what?" he asked.
"Not until you tell me why," Harry said, voice shaking. "Not until you give me the reason that you threw away three years together without a single. fucking. word."
He just stared at him, still not giving him a word.
"Tell me," he said, begged really, "just. Give me something. Give me some closure. Let me move on."
"Nothing is stopping you from moving on," he replied steadily.
He growled, "Fucking hell, Draco. Just tell me-"
"You're hurting me," the other man said, pressing a palm against Harry's chest.
Harry loosened his grip, "You hurt me," he whispered. "You tore out my entire heart when you fucked off and left. You left this giant, gaping sink hole of a wound in my chest that has never closed, never healed right. It always fucking hurts."
He shook his head, eyes suspiciously bright.
"Tell me," Harry demanded. "Tell me what I did. Tell me how you stopped loving me. Tell me why you left. I would have given you anything, I would have done anything, would hav-"
"I know!" Draco exploded, his voice sharp and furious, and Harry reveled in it, in his loss of composure. "I know that you would have and I didn't want you to."
"What?" he asked.
Draco shoved him off, "Let go of me." He tried to turn and get the door open but Harry grabbed him and spun him around again.
"What do you mean?"
"Let go!" he demanded, pushing roughly at him.
"No," he replied stubbornly. "You owe me this much, at least."
"I owe you nothing," Draco hissed, voice low.
Harry released his grip on the other man, body involuntarily taking a step back as he shrunk in on himself, curling away from him. "Fine," he whispered, wishing he could sink into the floor, wishing he could just disappear, wishing for anything that would take the pain away.
The other man sighed and Harry could hear him straightening his robes before he pulled open the door. "I owe you nothing because the cost of leaving was too high in the first place," he said.
And Harry's head filled with a thousand questions, he looked up but Draco had already left. Rushing out after him, Harry caught him just at the end of the hall. They were in plain sight of everyone at the Gala, if they cared to look their way, but Harry couldn't have cared less. "What?" he asked, maneuvering so that he was in front of the other man. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"Everyone can see you," Draco said, voice low so no one would hear, his face impassively blank in a way that Harry detested; it made something go funny in his chest, the desire to break him from that shell, to muss him up, to kiss him until he was breathless and smiling, color high on his cheeks.
"I don't care." He shook his head, "For fuck's sake Draco. I don't care what any of them think. Please," he whispered. "Please just," he let out a rush of air that he'd been holding too tight in his lungs. "Please."
"Not here," he said, glancing around the room very clearly trying to clock who'd noticed them talking.
He nodded eagerly, "tell me where and when."
Draco looked at him, actually looked at him, his eyes moving over Harry's face like a caress. "Mac's, 9:00 pm."
He spun off and left Harry standing there, staring at the wall. He hadn't been to Mac's in seven years, not since Draco'd left.
The rest of the Gala couldn't go quickly enough and Harry found himself leaving before he really needed to but he couldn't help it; he couldn't stand and talk to one more person that he had no interest in talking to. Not to mention the torment of watching Draco swan about, wooing donors; Harry's heart couldn't take it.
Flooing home to change into a green jumper and a pair of jeans before heading to the diner seemed like the only reasonable course of action.
The neon clock behind the counter revealed he was only ten minutes early and he mentally congratulated himself on taking up as much time as he had.
"Well bless my soul," the waitress, Barb if Harry remembered right, said. "I haven't seen you in ages. Look how you've grown."
"And you look just the same, lovely as ever," Harry replied, smiling at her. It was true, she wore the same blue dress and apron, hair pulled back in a bun, still had the same blue eye shadow.
"Flatterer," she accused, but she looked pleased. "Where's your young man?" she asked, leading him back to the corner booth that they'd always preferred and for a moment Harry's heart twisted painfully in his chest.
"Coming, I hope," he said.
She nodded, eyes full of understanding, "Now, don't tell me," she said. "You're a strawberry shake and he's-" she broke off, brow furrowing in concentration.
"A chocolate malt," he said at the same time as another voice behind her.
Both he and Barb looked up to find Draco standing behind her, hands shoved into the pockets of his impeccably tailored trousers, top button on his black dress shirt unbuttoned. He looked like he'd stepped straight out of a muggle magazine, hair just a little disheveled but devastatingly handsome. Harry could barely breathe around how fucking gorgeous he was, how badly he wanted him.
"But if I'm being honest," he said, "I haven't had that much sugar in ages. I should probably-"
"Nonsense," she said, shooing him into the booth across from Harry. "Reunions always require something of the old to mix with the new."
Before either of them could respond to that, she bustled off to the kitchen, leaving the two of them staring awkwardly at one another.
"Draco-" he started just as the other man began with "Look-"
Harry shook his head and gave a little chuckle, running his fingers through his curls and tucking them behind his ear, "Go ahead," he offered.
Squaring his shoulders, Draco began again, "Agreeing to come here with you was a moment of weakness."
"A moment of weakness?" Harry interrupted.
Draco glared at him, "Yes. I'm really not interested in having this conversation. I'm not interested in rehashing everything that happened."
He took a slow breath, "I deserved a good bye," he said eyes stinging.
"Excuse me?" he asked, sounding a bit taken aback.
Barb came over and deposited their shakes and a platter of nachos between them. "I'll just be tidying up," she said. "Over there," she added pointedly. "Don't be shy if you boys need anything."
Harry waited until she was a reasonable distance away from their table before he said, "Listen, I don't need to know why you left. You're right, you don't owe me that. So even though I'd like to know, even though it kills me not to know what happened, what I did wrong," he broke off, shaking his head. "You can have your own reasons and I don't have to know them. But I deserved a good bye."
Those grey eyes, the ones he'd spent countless hours staring into, the ones he'd dreamt of more times than he could count, stared at him like he couldn't comprehend what he was saying.
"I loved you, Draco," he said softly, the truth splitting the wounds in his heart open wide. "I loved you more than anything, I would have done anything, I would have given you anything. If you'd told me you needed to leave, I would have been heartbroken, but I would have let you." He took a deep shuddering breath, "but I deserved a good bye."
"I couldn't," Draco said simply. He started to slide toward the edge of his bench but Harry reached out.
"Damn it, Draco," he said. "Sit down. Please. If you ever loved me-"
"If I ever loved you?" he asked and finally his exterior cracked. "If I ever loved you?" he repeated incredulously. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"
"What the fuck is wrong with me?" he repeated, blood pressure rising.
"Yes, you fucking idiot! What do you mean 'if I ever loved you'?" He shook his head, "How can you possibly imagine that my leaving wasn't out of love for you?"
"Because it wasn't!" he exclaimed.
"Yes it was."
He shook his head, "There's no way in hell," he said. "It wasn't for me because you leaving completely destroyed me. You leaving left me in a state of depression that made me wish I was dead. For fucking months. I went to therapy; I still go to therapy, you leaving still comes up. Regularly. There was nothing about that choice that was good for me.”
“How do you imagine that relationship would have ended?”
Harry shook his head, “I don’t know. I’ve been too preoccupied with dealing with the fall out of how it actually ended to wonder how it might have ended otherwise.”
He sighed, rubbing his forehead in a gesture that Harry had seen enough to know that he was getting a tension headache. He wondered if scratching his fingers through the hair at the back of his head still helped, wondered if rubbing his neck still eased the pain. "That relationship would have ended with you hating me."
"Right," he said. "So glad we avoided that outcome."
"Do you hate me?" he asked, looking at Harry like the answer mattered to him.
He let out a breath, "I wanted to. It would have been easier if I could have."
Draco nodded, "And I wouldn't blame you if you did, but I didn't want to stick around for that." He sighed, "Look, we couldn't have kept living in the shadows. Coming out to muggle restaurants, sharing a bed, living on the edge of the world and hoping that we didn't get caught."
"Draco, I would have come out with you. If you'd wanted to tell people, I would have. Godric. How little can you possibly think of me that-?"
He shook his head, "That's my point. You would have come out, you would have told the world, and we would have lived under the proverbial shit storm that rained down on us. Constant harassment, we'd be the front page of every newspaper. I had to leave the country to get accepted into a training program that would accept me as it was."
"And?" Harry asked, "I'm not new to the media shit-show."
Draco looked at him, eyes sad like he could see something that Harry couldn't. "You're not, that's the point. Harry," he said, and the way that he said his name felt like Harry's heart was being ripped open, "you deserved time to heal. You deserved a shot at a normal life. You deserved to be happy. You deserved so much-"
"That wasn't your choice to make!" Harry exclaimed. "What I deserved, what would make me happy; it wasn't your decision. Not without me at least. Because it didn't make me happy. You made me happy."
"But I wouldn't have," he said. "It was the only way. For both of us. I needed to get my life together. I'm brilliant," he said, and somehow it didn't sound cocky, it was just a statement of fact. "Harry, I'm so good at my job. I'm so good at developing potions and magic that is helping people in ways we couldn't have imagined even five years ago."
"I know," Harry replied. "I've followed your career. I've read your articles."
The little smile that curved Draco's mouth shouldn't have felt like that still, it shouldn't have made him feel like his heart expanded four sizes. "And you needed to find your life outside of me. It felt like you hated everything, like you wanted to burn the entire world, everything outside of our bed. And I was never going to be enough to fill that need."
"You were," he said, throat burning. "Draco, I would have supported you. I would have given you anything-"
"I know. And I couldn't let you." He shook his head, "Leaving you," Draco looked down at his hands where they were clenched on the table. "Circe, Harry, it nearly killed me. It was the hardest thing I've ever done. I meant what I said about the cost of leaving being too high. I wanted to give you the life you deserved.”
“All I wanted was you,” he replied.
“I know. And don’t you see why that is a problem? Harry, if all you wanted was me, how could I ever be enough? When all of your dreams, or goals, or aspirations revolve around me,” he shook his head. “I wanted more for you.”
“I didn’t mean to put pressure on you-”
He nodded, “I know. But by the end, neither of us even knew how to be a complete person on our own.”
“Three years of shared life will do that to a person,” he replied blandly.
“I’m sorry I hurt you,” he said, and Harry couldn’t count the number of times that he’d wished to hear those words. “I am. But I would do it again.”
The dried, brittle remains of his heart crumbled in his chest. “Right.”
Draco’s hand reached across the table and covered Harry’s, and Harry stopped breathing. “You might be right,” he said. “You probably deserved a good bye. But if I’d given one to you, if I’d even tried, I never would have been able to leave you.”
He opened his mouth to reply but Draco continued.
“I’m not a brave man, I’ve never been well versed in denying myself what I wanted. But I had to give us a chance. I had to give us both the chance to grow into the men we needed to become. I had to give you the chance to be happy.”
“Is that what you think I am?” Harry asked. “Happy?”
Draco blinked, “Well, yes.” His eyebrows furrowed, “you run multiple successful charities that are doing immeasurable good. You’re always in the Prophet with some new witch or wizard gazing adoringly at you-”
“I haven’t slept with anyone since you,” he said bluntly. “Some events require a plus one, so,” he shrugged. “But I still sleep on the left side of the bed. I still unconsciously check to make sure the covers aren’t bunched under me when I roll over because my body got used to not wanting to take them from you.
“Yes, I run my charities,” he continued. “I attend ministry functions. I visit my godchildren and hang out with friends. Yes. I do the duties set before me in my life and I make time for people I love.” He shook his head, “but no one who knows me would say that I am happy.”
Draco stared at him uncertainly.
“It never made sense,��� Harry continued. “I couldn’t figure out what I’d done wrong, how I’d fucked up so badly. I loved you so much, I wanted what was good for you, and I came to terms with that not being me. But for you to tell me it was for me,” he blew out a breath and shook his head. “Whatever you may think, that wasn’t what was good for me.”
No words came out of the other man’s mouth, and Harry decided he’d probably tortured him long enough.
He rapped his knuckles on the table and stood, dropping some money for the bill before murmuring, “good bye, Draco. I hope your life is everything that you wanted.”
Then he all but fled the diner, desperate to be anywhere that wasn’t there. His heart couldn’t take it. Maybe Draco has been right and a conversation only made things worse.
Before he could get to the alley down the street, the one he and Draco had stood in more times than Harry could count to snog until one of them got too horny and apparated them back to Harry’s bed, he heard the sound of footsteps chasing him down the sidewalk. And he would have recognized those footsteps anywhere, could have picked out Draco’s gait out of any line up. “What-” he began, turning toward him.
But he was interrupted by Draco cupping his face and kissing him, his body surging against Harry’s.
Harry didn’t waste this moment, he grabbed onto the other man and pulled him in, kissing him back with all of the heart ache, all of the desire and love that he hadn’t been able to give him when he’d left.
Draco pressed him back against the wall, caging Harry in and making him feel kept and held. “I’m sorry,” Draco managed into the kiss. “I’m so sorry.”
He shook his head, trying to just draw him back into the kiss, he didn’t want to think about it, didn’t want anything but this moment; Draco in his arms, bodies pressed together, not a space between them.
But he pulled back and Harry felt bereft. “Forgive me,” he pleaded. “I really believed I was doing the right thing-”
“Draco-”
He shook his head, pressing a trembling finger to Harry’s lips, “there hasn’t been anyone else for me but you either,” he confessed. “Harry,” he broke off, a tear sliding down his cheek, “you are the love of my life. I wanted you to be happy.” He broke, tears spilling down his face. “I’m so sorry. I’m such an idiot.”
“You’re brilliant,” Harry echoed back to him.
“Forgive me,” he whispered. “If you meant it, when you said you weren’t happy here,” he started, “come with me. Salazar, I know it sounds crazy.” He shook his head, “but I’ve hated every single moment of not being with you. I love you.” He pressed his forehead to Harry’s, “I love you so much. Come back to France with me. We can start a new life there. I know it sounds crazy-”
“Yes,” he interrupted him. “Godric, yes. Let me come with you. Let me stay with you.”
“You don’t know anything about me,” Draco cried, tears still pouring down his face. “You don’t know-”
“I know you,” he replied, holding Draco’s face in his hands to kiss him. “Yes, this is fast and sudden, and I’m sure we’ll have more than one fight about it. But I love you too. I have spent the last seven years wishing you’d walk back into my life, I’m not about to waste that opportunity now.”
“Come back to my hotel with me?”
He shook his head, “come back to our flat?” he whispered. “Come sleep in our bed?”
“You stayed?”
He nodded, “it was ours. I didn’t want to leave behind all I had left of you. And if you ever decided to come back,” he broke off. “Well, I wanted to be there.”
Draco wrapped his arms around Harry’s neck, “take me home,” he whispered.
“Home is anywhere, as long as I’m with you.”
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As the Sun Sets // Dreams // Part Four
TW: Physical abuse
Part Five
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Theodores POV:
“It is not me. Trust me Scarlet. Besides, I would be a horrible boyfriend.” I chuckled lightly. Ever since I was pulled off of Adrian while he was getting ready to leave the train last year, Pansy has known it’s Scarlet, who I love. 
Scarlet was nestled beside me to fight the cold. I can feel the warmth of her blanket through my robes. 
“Any girl would be lucky to call you their boyfriend, you're a great guy. Even if you don't think so. I have met a lot of terrible guys. You, Theodore Nott, are not one of them. You're one of the good ones.” she says grabbing my hand. 
Fuck are her hands soft. Don’t stop touching me please. I can't stop the blush that creep to my face. Gods, the scent of Honey, Earl Grey and Vanilla are overflowing my scenes. When she lets go, my hand immediately gets cold from the loss of contact.  
All of a sudden she is leaning over me. Fuck. Her breasts are grazing over my cock. All of my blood rushes to my dick, I'm starting to feel myself strain in my pants. Keep it cool Theo. I tell myself, casually wrapping my cloak around myself. 
As soon as she sits back up, she’s smiling at me and I feel as though cold water is dumped on me. 
Burn marks all over her arm. Some older, some newer. Cuts riddled her long honey toned legs. Is that the word ‘pathetic’ scared over the top of her thigh? 
Occluding just like she taught me, I turn away quickly and look out at the water. 
I can hear her talking but I can’t stop thinking about who would do this to her? Did she do it to herself? “I have heard that you fancy someone as well. Are you gonna tell me who this time? You must know they need my approval to date my Theodore.” She bumps into my shoulder prayerfully.
I wondered if she would hurt herself like this. Intentionally write that into herself… But she wouldn't do that… My scarlet would never hurt herself intentionally. So who would? My jaw and fits clenching at the thought that maybe it was because of Adrian. 
“Hey, I’m sorry Theo. I was just joking. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to.” Her words snap me out of my thoughts. Oh bloody hell Theo you're making her apologize. She doesn’t need to apologize for anything. You’re making her sad. She was trying to joke around and you're freezing up.
I need to leave. I have to figure out who did this. I have to leave before I start getting angry. Who is making her feel this way?
Getting up I wipe the grass off my trousers and start to leave. But before I leave she has to kno
“You’re not pathetic Scarlet.” I whisper so quietly that hopefully she didn’t hear me. Looking at her beautiful face then down to the scars that riddle her body, instantly I see her eyes change from the cloudy green to fully foggy. 
Of course she would occuled. She has covered herself in disillusionment charms for ceric knows how long. The barley there sheen has always caught my eye but I know better than to ask about it. 
Fuck. I feel my heart pounding in my ears as I make my way back to my dorm. Why did I leave her there? She obviously went there to be alone. She didn’t want you there. Stop. She didn’t want you to see her. Stop. She thinks you’re disgusted by what you saw. 
I could never be disgusted by her. She’s beautiful. The way her green eyes sparkle when all her doors are open. The way her blonde hair shines in the sunlight. How when she laughs it's the most contagious laugh I have ever heard. She is perfect to me, and I have loved her since I first met her when we were 11 years old at kings cross. 
Pansy. I have to talk to Pansy. Maybe she will tell me. She can also hopefully get this ridiculous idea out of Scarlet's head that I fancy her. Why would I fancy anyone other than Scarlet? She’s perfect. What if Pansy doesn't know? I mean she has always been disillusioned. Draco? We are best friends, but that is his family.. He wouldn't betray her like that… If he even knew.
Fuck.
——————————————————————————————————
I couldn't sleep at all once I got back to the dorm. Visions of her being tortured in my head. Everytime I close my eyes all I can see is her in pain. Why was that carved into her leg? Where did those burns and cuts come from? Were those the only ones on her? Are there more words carved into her beautiful honey skin? 
I have many matching scars as I saw on her arm all over my body from my father as well. Thankfully I learned healing spells at a young age and was able to heal them all before they were scared. 
But why hadn't Scarlet. If she was scared, how come she didn't heal them? Why let them stay? Maybe she couldn't heal them. Maybe she was forced to keep them. Stop. I need to talk to Pansy.
Walking to breakfast I spot her just a few feet ahead of me. She looks better than last night. Not that she didn't look good last night. Just that she looks lighter, happier. Arm in arm with Pansy. Scars clearly disillusioned. 
Breakfast was the same as always. Pansy doing her nails, talking about the upcoming halloween dance with Scarlet. Draco and Blaise doing a mediocre job at acting friendly while including Adrian in their conversation about quidditch practice last night. 
Then I see Adrian’s hand go under the table to rest on Scarlet’s thigh. My jaw clenches. The thigh with that word carved into her. I see her face flinch at the contact but just for a moment before she occludes a little more and settles back into smiling and chatting with Pansy.
Picking at my eggs and toast I hear Pansy is trying to get my attention 
“Who are you taking to the dance Theo?” Everyone is looking at me now. Snapping back on my classic Theo personality. I drawl “Maybe I’ll ask patil to go.” Looking for the twin across a sea of people eating breakfast. Patil and I have been friends for about a year now. Hooking up occasionally but nothing serious.
“I haven’t thought about the dance too much actually.” And if I'm being honest. I was going to ask Scarlet but now that she is with Adrian again I don’t know. “Well Scarlet and I are going to be an Angle and a Devil.” Pansy exclaims grinning wildly. 
“Well obviously you will be a Devil Pans because you’re such a bit-“ Blaise was cut short with what I assume to be a kick to the shin from under the table. “Point made” Blaise mumbled under his breath rubbing his shin under the table.
Pansy continued “What will the rest of you be? I know Adrian is going to be an angel as well so he can match Scar.” Pansys voice grew quiet towards the end leaving a distasteful look on her face.
“And because she is my Angel.” He says placing a kiss on top of her head. 
“Pans I don’t think I am even going to go. Dressing up is rather childish don’t you think? Plus I have better things to do than hang around a bunch of people who I despise..” Draco argues from beside me.
“Well you’ve been a party pooper all year, so I expect nothing less from you” Pansy said matter of factly “Theo, Blaise? What will you be? If you don't choose anything I will just have you escort me."
"Yeah, yeah that’s fine Pans” Blaise waves his hand in a motion to indicate he doesn’t care. “Sounds great, Pans, maybe I will find my own little devil to take back to my dorm  with me” I say while raising my eyes seductively.  
With all of us walking to class Scarlet hasn't talked to or looked my way once. I tried to get her attention throughout the day but it's all been short. “Thank you Theo.” “No thank you.” “See you later Theo.” If she was trying to act like nothing happened, not talking to me at all or as usual, isn't normal. She is my best friend.  ——————————————————————————————————
After classes are done for the day I make my way through the door of Pansy and Scarlets dorm. I am immediately hit with the smell of vanilla and earl gray. Pansy is fussing over two red dresses on her bed. Different shades of red. One darker than the other. One lighter in color with sparkles and strapless. 
“Oh good you’re here!” Pansy exclaims with a clap of her hands. “I need your help deciding which dress to wear. This one?” Flicking her wand she puts on the first dress. Short, sparkly and strapless. And the second. Darker, one shoulder and also extremely short.
“I would definitely shag you in that first one” I say with a flop onto her bed. “First one it is!” Flicking her wand back to her peach satin pajamas.
“So Theo boy. What can I do for you?” She says coming to sit on the opposite end of the bed. “And hexing Adrian is not an option. Though I have been really considering it lately.”
 “No hexing as of yet Pans. But maybe later.” I smirk. “I came to talk to you about Scarlet… Ha-“ I was cut off with a groan from the raven haired girl I call my friend. “Theo, listen. I love you, I do. But I cannot listen to you whine about her and Adrian anymore.”
Rolling my eyes “I do NOT whine about her…” Pansy has known about me being in love with Scarlet since 4th year. She caught me beating the piss out of Seamus Finnigan for talking about how much of an annoying swot Scarlet is and caught on even more when I threatened to Crucio Adrian once we found out he was cheating on her.  
“The other night she said she had a nightmare.. She looked awful Pans..” Pansy looking sad nods her head. “She gets them every now and then. Quite terrible honestly. Screaming, crying. I often have to hold her down to stop her convulsions.” Horror was written all over my face. 
“Who are these nightmares about Pans? Has she told you?” I don't understand. She has never mentioned having such extreme nightmares. Trying to think back on anything that could have hinted to such nightmares, I come up with nothing. 
“Her father… But I don't know anything else about them other than what she yells in her sleep. I have tried to ask but she just makes something up. Being late for her O.W.L.S or failing them. Nothing that would make her freak out the way I’ve seen.” She looks over at Scarlet's bed. 
“What does she yell in her sleep Pans?” I question quieter than I intended. 
Pansy hesitates for a moment. “‘Please stop’ ‘I can't take anymore’. I don't know what’s going on in those nightmares… But it's always the same. She screams as if she is being tortured, then she goes to the bathroom and will come back out like nothing happened. Won’t talk about it or tell me anything.” 
Nodding my head in understanding,I stand up, kiss pansy on the top of her head. 
Her father? She’s only ever told us that he’s an auror for the French ministry. And that she spends most of her time with the Malfoys because he's away often on missions… None of this makes any sense, and I cent help the thought that maybe she is hiding more.
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sailtomarina · 1 year
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I think we should get married
They had been talking about their last trip, the one where they had gone to the Blue Lagoon to experience the social media craze for themselves and investigate the source of the hot springs. Granger was excited to document the fire salamanders in person and Draco had to drag her away at the end of each day to soak in the waters.
“—but Draco, this is our chance to see the salamanders mating in their natural habitat, the literal reason these volcanic fields even exist the way that they do!”
“I. Do. Not. Care. We’ve seen them mate three times now! I want my mud mask.”
And now they were planning their next trip to a place Draco had never even given the slightest consideration but Hermione insisted was at the very least a bucket list sort of destination.
“There must be superior casinos in more exotic locations, love.”
“But it’s Vegas, the city of Lost Wages, of Second Chances, the ultimate Sin City. And that doesn’t even include the bloody Grand Canyon.”
Draco snorted into his tea mug, resulting in an unpleasant sensation in his aquiline nose. “As if a Malfoy could lose wages like that. And you’ve already given me the only second chance I need, and all the sins of my dreams.”
“Well, while we’re there, I think we should get married at a chapel, maybe even the Little White Chapel if we’re aiming for the full experience—”
This time, it was a full mouthful of Earl Grey sprayed across the table in a manner that would have had his mother falling into a dead faint.
“Excuse me, what?”
Hermione continued on uninterrupted as she shuffled through her stack of papers, lifting up different sheets for his viewing. “If that’s too gauche, then there are some perfectly lovely alternatives at the Bellagio, or outdoors at the Flamingo and Tropicana—”
“Wait a minute, stop.”
Her mouth hung open, eyes rounded at his raised palm.
“Chapels? Marriage? Did you just propose to me?”
Now she was smirking at him. Her, smirking at him, the one with the trademark Malfoy smirk.
“Oh, I’m sorry, should I have done things in a slightly more conventional manner? Or perhaps you’d like me down on one knee.” 
Before he could even reply, she swept up and around the table quickly before dropping down on a knee in front of him. She gazed upward still smiling that damn smile, all predatory teeth and crinkled eyes.
“Draco Malfoy, will you do me the honor of marrying me?”
Liquid dripped off his chin onto their clasped hands. He could smell the bergamot mingling with the wisteria’s heavy scent from above them. If not for the bloody tea, their reversed positions, her damn chapels, this would have all the appearance of a romantic proposal, not too unlike his own intentions for the near future.
“If I say yes, what are the chances of a do over, or at the very least, a re-telling of this proposal where we swap places?”
She didn’t even bat an eyelash before responding. “Not on your life, Malfoy. And speaking of last names, I’m not taking yours, either. You may consider, however, taking mine.”
Draco Lucius…Granger.
He shuddered at the very thought of it, but perhaps it was one of…delight? To shed the Malfoy name, centuries of history, responsibility, pride, and now shame. He had originally planned on rising out of the ashes, bringing new meaning to the family name, but hadn’t even considered casting it aside completely.
“‘Draco Granger’ doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue, does it?” The syllables rolled around his mouth awkwardly.
“‘Draco Malfoy Granger’ sounds lovely, and that way I can still call you ‘Malfoy’ when you irk me.”
“There’s no getting out of this now, is there?”
Standing up, she pecked him on the nose. “There really isn't. You also still haven’t given me an answer.”
She squealed as he quickly stood up, hoisted her up into his arms, and deposited her onto the table.
“Draco! Your tea is soaking into my dress!”
“I don’t care, and you deserve it. Yes, my answer is yes.”
If the wisteria could talk about what happened next, it would choose not to, for what other purpose could there be for a curtain of flowers than to keep secrets?
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draqo-pctter · 1 year
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so... it has come to this dramione microfic/ words: 516 tags: hogwarts professors, coworkers, first kisses prompt taken from rapunzerelli on twitter
“So… it has come to this.”
Draco was standing in the doorway to Hermione’s chambers, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. For three years they had successfully remained hardly acquainted coworkers, keeping their conversations brief and focused on their students. Somehow, Draco had made the mistake of assigning an essay to his fourth year potions students with a forty inch minimum. And they’d all nearly made it to sixty. grades were due in two days, and he needed help.
“And you want me to help you?” Hermione raised an eyebrow. “I have my own essays to grade.”
Draco pursed his lips and debated whether he should beg for her help or hope that a pout and his (allegedly) dreamy eyelashes would win her over.
“I’ve seen you read entire books in one sitting,” Draco attempted. “and I’ll buy you whatever you want from Honeydukes next weekend.”
“You’re trying to buy my help with sweets?” Hermione raised an eyebrow. It was then that Draco realized she was in her pajamas - an actual pajama set in light blue plaid - and her hair was wild. He’d woken her up. What time even was it?
“You won’t help me,” Draco said out loud by accident. “I’m sorry for bothering you. I’ll be-”
“That’s not what I said.”
Twenty minutes later, Hermione and her blue pajamas were in the sitting room of Draco’s chambers, nose deep in parchment. He attempted to grade his own stack, but the way she would hum in approval or shake her head in disbelief at the students’ work was distracting.
Not to mention the fact that she was sitting so close beside him they might as well have been on top of one another. Could he have her on top of him?
No. Draco shook his head to himself and looked back down at the essay in front of him. The student clearly hadn’t been paying attention in class, or read the textbook.
“Look at this,” Hermione said, lifting up the essay in her hands.
Draco turned to face her, only to realize how much closer she’d leaned. Her amber colored eyes were mere inches from his own, and her lips even closer.
“Yes,” Draco said, his voice coming out more rough than he’d anticipated. “What about it?”
“Um,” Hermione paused to chew on her bottom lip. He caught her glancing down at his mouth before bringing her gaze up to meet his.
Draco didn’t know what happened. He couldn’t say who leaned in first, or which one of them made the move to shift so that their lips could meet perfectly in the middle. All that Draco knew was that Hermione tasted like earl grey tea and mint gum, and that her hand on his chest had his heart doing summersaults.
They both pulled away, almost in shock. He worried that Hermione would immediately bolt from the room and head straight for McGonagall’s office to have him terminated.
Instead, she smiled. Draco leaned forward then to capture her lips in a proper kiss, and nearly expired when she shoved him back onto the couch.
follow me on twitter where i post other dramione ramblings & updates on my wips on archive of our own
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shealynn88 · 7 months
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Trick or Treat (Drarry, T)
Relationship: Drarry Flatmates to lovers via Halloween makeup. The classic, oh. Word Count: ~700 Prompt: non-mag AU, one of them really doesn't like Halloween and the other is massive hype and somehow they're stuck together and, of course, the solution to the drama is a kiss Thanks to @erajmcouts for the prompt, this was so much fun to write!
They’ve been flatmates for almost two years now, and there is a lot that Harry puts up with for Draco.  
Halloween is one of those things. Every surface is covered in little coffins and dubiously accurate skeletons.
“Spiders don’t have skeletons,” Harry’d said when Draco'd opened the delivery box. Draco had rolled his eyes. 
“They do when it’s Halloween,” he’d said.  “It’s spooky!”
There are bowls of Dairy Milks and Roses near the door, in case the kids in the building stop by, and Draco’s put cat ears on Harry’s head and is now painting on the whiskers while Harry looks cross-eyed at the tip of Draco’s nose, painted pink to match the inside of his soft bunny ears.
Harry wouldn’t do this for anyone else. He wouldn’t sit here to be painted into some ridiculous approximation of a cat that's better suited for a four-year-old. All this to maybe pass out candy, if anyone happens to come their way.
Come to think of it, there are a lot of things he wouldn’t do for anyone else. He wouldn’t stay up too late watching the telly if Draco wasn’t sitting next to him, sharing a blanket. He wouldn’t get up extra early to make tea and have breakfast if Draco wasn’t cooking.  He wouldn’t shell out for the special Earl Grey if Draco wasn’t always moaning over it in ecstasy.
“Why are we doing this?” Harry asks as Draco leans in to draw in an eyebrow with a long stroke over Harry’s scar.
“I told you, Potter. It’s just a silly tradition and it’s fun, and I’m going to teach you to have fun if it kills me, which it very well might,” he says, brow furrowed adorably in concentration.
“But, why does it matter if I do it? Why does it matter so much to you?” Harry asks, wondering if, maybe, he knows. 
Draco looks away and clears his throat. “If you wanted out so badly, you could have made other plans.” He’s stopped drawing the eyebrows, as if he actually believes that Harry might leave, mid-transformation.
Draco does things for him. Not just this—fun things—but all sorts of things. He changed his shampoo because, if Harry sat close to him after he showered, the tea tree scent made him sneeze. He makes Harry’s favourite sweets sometimes, just because. He…he looks after Harry.
And somehow, Harry never noticed, because he’d been so stuck on looking after Draco.
Harry reaches out and takes Draco’s hand with the pencil in it, and brings it back to his face, his thumb against the crease of Draco’s palm. “I don’t want out. I want to be here with you. Surely you know that.”
Draco goes pink, and starts drawing again. “I…thank you. I…I’m glad. I’m glad we’re such good friends, Harry.”
“Is that what we are?” Harry asks, as Draco finishes his second eyebrow and steps back, his bunny ears flopping forward. “Good friends?”
Draco tip his head and frowns. “Aren’t we?”
“I didn’t mean…” Harry shakes his head and stands up, squaring his shoulders. “I suppose I meant, maybe, when I wasn’t looking, when I wasn’t…maybe it turned into something. Do you…do you feel that, at all?”
Draco licks his lips. “Something,” he says quietly, not quite a question.
“Do you think so?”
“I…um. Thought, maybe, someday. I just want you happy, Harry. That’s all.”
“You make me really happy.”
Draco’s smile breaks over his face like sunrise. “Do I? That’s, that’s good. That’s really good. I don’t mean to push so hard, I know I overdo it.”
“Not too hard. I need a push, sometimes.”  Harry steps in and lifts his hand to Draco’s cheek. He thumbs the sparkling blush Draco put there. “Like now, maybe.”
Draco leans in. “I can do that. If you want.”
Harry nods, and they meet in the middle. The kiss is warm and sweet, and soft. Everything about Draco is soft. His skin, his lips, his velvet mouth. Harry wants to touch every soft edge of him, kiss every gentle ridge and dip. 
“Harry,” Draco whispers against him, and Harry pulls him close—
And then the doorbell rings, and they hear giggles outside.
“One second,” Draco says, giving Harry a quick peck on the lips. “I want to pick up right there. One second,” he holds up his index finger and grabs a bowl of sweets. “Don’t go anywhere.”
“I won’t,” Harry promises fondly. “I won’t go anywhere.”
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dhr-ao3 · 4 months
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Word Play
Word Play https://ift.tt/hPWE6iJ by januarywren "If you want to understand Granger's feelings, it's simple, mate—ask her which word she'd use to describe you." Blaise's last girlfriend had picked the word “yummy”, which led to a furious snogging session (until later when she found that Blaise had asked another girl -an indiscreet Ravenclaw- the same question. Then she had changed “yummy” to an “absolute prat” which was two words, but that hardly mattered after Blaise found himself drenched in Earl Grey). While Draco doubted his curly-haired witch would choose something similar, he smiled at the thought of her calling him “delicious”, or “dazzling”... Merlin, what was happening to him? Fluffy AU | No Voldemort, all dramione Words: 1565, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: F/M Characters: Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy, Crookshanks (Harry Potter) Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger & Draco Malfoy Additional Tags: Fluff, POV Draco Malfoy, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Hermione Granger-centric, Alternate Universe - No Voldemort, Romance, Tiny smidgeon of angst, so small you'll barely notice it, Good Draco Malfoy, Draco Malfoy is Bad at Feelings, Pining Draco Malfoy, Meddling Snape, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy Fluff, dramione - Freeform, Fluff and Humor, Love Confessions, Mentioned Crookshanks (Harry Potter), Matchmaker Crookshanks (Harry Potter), Hogwarts Fifth Year, Childhood Memories, Fluffy Ending via AO3 works tagged 'Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy' https://ift.tt/4iKwjSp December 11, 2023 at 08:14PM
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azalealarae · 5 months
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A Scrap of Silk and Lace
Harry yelped. His familiar cotton boxer briefs had been replaced by something thinner, silkier, and not nearly as supportive. “Malfoy! What the fuck!”
Harry’s commissioned Draco to design his robes for the upcoming Ministry gala, and today is his first fitting.
*
It had been drizzling all morning; the sky was still gray, the autumn air cool and fresh. Harry sidestepped a puddle, then pulled the thick, embossed appointment card from his pocket.
The map on the back of the card, which had shifted and redrawn itself as Harry navigated wizarding London, had led him to a quiet street off Diagon that he’d walked a hundred times. He strode past a little Indian restaurant he favored, which was next to a coffee shop that stocked Hermione’s favorite blue flower earl grey tea. Harry again consulted the card, ignoring the accelerating tempo of his heartbeat, then crossed the street to a small understated storefront. As he approached, gold script letters materialized in the tinted window, the swirl of the calligraphy matching the sudden swoop of his stomach.
It’s just a set of dress robes, Harry told himself firmly. Couture, sure, but basically just fabric. No need for blood to surge through his veins like the moments before Quidditch kickoff. It was just a shopping trip, a task to check off—
The door opened. “You’re early.”
“You’re—” Harry stopped himself. Malfoy looked wonderful.
Well, of course he did. They’d barely seen each other since the war, since Harry had been half-starved and on the run and Malfoy had been living with Voldemort.
Malfoy was taller than Harry now, his bright hair swept back in a high bun. He wore casual Muggle clothes—a fraying black jumper and fitted black jeans—but unlike Harry, who somehow always looked untidy even in his nicest robes, Malfoy managed to look exquisitely intentional.
“Well, come in,” Malfoy continued, and Harry stepped inside.
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cluelesspigeons · 2 years
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This is written for the prompt ‘bergamot’ from @drarrymicrofic
Word count: 199
If you can guess which reference I used for this whole microfic, I will love you forever
Drarry microfic: bergamot
“Do you want some tea?” Harry asked. He already opened his cupboard to take out his favourite box of tea.
Draco shrugged, watching Harry as he stood on the tips of his toes to reach the box. “Sure,” he said, “as long as it’s not Earl Grey tea.”
Confused, Harry turned around, his eyebrows furrowed together. He tilted his head to one side. “No Earl Grey?”
Draco nodded once.
“Why not?”
“I don’t like bergamot.”
It was a short and simple answer, yet it left Harry more confused than before. Who didn’t like Earl Grey tea? “You may be the only person I know who doesn’t like it,” Harry said, taking another box of tea out the cupboard. “How do you even know there’s bergamot in there?”
“Ah.” Draco shrugged again. “I’m a Potions Master now, Harry. I know more than you think.”
The confusion still hadn’t left Harry’s mind. For as far as he knew bergamot was fine. Right?
Draco sighed, shaking his head with a fond smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “It’s just a personal preference,” he said quietly. “Let’s forget about it for now and continue our little date where we left it, yeah?”
Prompt from June 14th
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phoebe-delia · 6 months
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You Could Be the One That I Love
@basicallyahedgehog Rowan, did you think I was done?? With the birthday gifts?? Even though your birthday is over? NONSENSE!!!! YOUR PRESENCE IS A CONSTANT GIFT AND THEREFORE I SHALL CONTINUE TO CELEBRATE YOUR BIRTH AS LOUDLY AND AS OFTEN AS I CAN. I REFUSE TO ALLOW THE CELEBRATIONS TO BE CONTAINED TO A MEASLY 24 HOURS. THERE SHOULD BE FESTIVALS IN YOUR HONOR!!! LAVISH ONES WITH PERFORMANCES AND FOOD AND ART AND DANCING!!! AND ALSO PLUSH BENCHES FOR WHEN WE GET TIRED OF DANCING!!!
Anyway. Since I can't do that, and I can't show up at your doorstep with cupcakes, I shall have to settle for this.
Rowan do you remember how there was a song you prompted me, and then you forgot about it, and then I've teased you about it on and off for like a year and a half saying I was going to write it for you when you least expected it? WELL HERE WE ARE!!! SURPRISE!!! (I truly don't know how long it's been, but this reminder has been in my drafts since like April of 2022. So. *shrugs*
Anyway. Here's a drabble based on "Message In A Bottle" by Taylor Swift. This can be considered a kinda unofficial sequel to my fic Holy Ground, but you don't really have to have read it to get the story.
There's a Harry on Draco's doorstep at 7 a.m.
Draco sputters. "What on earth are you doing here?"
Harry has the temerity to look confused—as if Draco should know what's going on. "What do you mean?"
Draco scrubs a hand over his face, trying to rub away the sleep in his eyes. "I mean—what on earth are you doing here?"
Harry reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a piece of paper. "I got your letter," he says, holding it up.
"What lett—oh," Draco's stomach drops. "I sent that, did I?"
The frown on Harry's face shifts to something close to amusement. "You sure did. Would you like to invite me in so you can know what you said?"
Draco cringes. "Oh, sure." He steps aside, letting Harry stride into his flat.
Harry immediately unfolds the parchment and clears his throat. "Dear Harry—"
"Would you like some tea, or—" Draco starts and then lets himself trail off as Harry continues.
"I might be quite sloshed as I write this, but I'm rather tired of this whole long-distance dating situation. Either you move here, or I move back to London. At this point, I don't much care, but if I don't see your scruffy face in the next 24 hours I will simply lose it. Sincerely, Draco." Harry folds the note back up and puts it in his pocket with a small smirk. "And I'd love some Earl Grey, thanks."
Harry mercifully sits in the living room while Draco makes their tea in the kitchen and wills his cheeks to lose their crimson shade. He calms himself enough by the time he brings two steaming mugs and places them on the coffee table.
"Thanks. So," Harry says while he reaches for his mug and settles back into the sofa. "London or New York?"
Draco sighs. "Harry, I understand if..." Then, comprehension dawns. "Wait, what?"
Harry chuckles. "Draco, I'm asking you to move in with me. You're right. Dating long-distance sucks. And I want to be with you. So after I read your letter I got the first portkey available and came right here to ask you—which city—London or New York?"
Draco carefully takes the mug from Harry's hands and sets it on the table. Then he launches himself across the sofa and into Harry's arms. The kiss is messy and uncoordinated, and it's the best kiss of Draco's life.
"Either. Or neither. We can go anywhere—I just want to be with you," Draco says, just above a whisper.
"Anywhere sounds great," Harry says with a grin. Then he leans in again, and neither of them says anything for a little while.
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coffeedrgn87 · 2 years
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This came to me this morning over coffee…dunno what to make of it or with it but I thought it was perfect Sunday morning fluff to be shared, so here we are…
Drarry, pure fluff, no warning
Since the incident, every Sunday morning Harry wakes up to an empty bed and cold sheets. It used to ignite an all-encompassing kind of panic in him. Now, he just smiles and slips out of bed, pulling a hoodie over his head as he walks. He makes his way downstairs and into the living room.
At the door, his smiles widens, stretches almost across the entirety of his face. Draco is there. Curled up underneath a gigantinormous green blanket with a variety of silver star constellations stitched onto the soft fabric. Draco is positively basking in the rays of warm morning sunshine that stream through the large windows. His eyes are half-closed and his left hand is loosely supporting a steaming mug of his favourite Earl Grey.
The sweet citrusy scent and Draco’s perfect calmness draw Harry closer, and lifting the blanket, he slides underneath and curls up beside Draco, head resting in his lap, looking up at him.
Almost immediately the long fingers of Draco’s right hand bury themselves in Harry’s hair and he feels them lightly scratch his scalp. He hums in approval and does not bother to stifle a soft moan, though it comes out as more of a shaky breath.
“I missed you in bed,” he says.
Draco quirks an eyebrow and smiles. It’s somewhat lopsided and contains just a hint of snark. His amusement over hearing the same statement every Sunday, perhaps? He doesn’t use words to respond, but simply hums. A wave of contentment washes through Harry as he watches Draco sip his tea. He lets his eyes fall closed and takes a leaf out of Draco’s book — basking in the early morning sun. Its rays are warm and tender and tingly. It’s all quite perfect.
Harry allows sleep to pull him under but instead of going deep, he flutters somewhere just underneath the surface where he can feel Draco’s tea-warmed hand slip underneath his hoodie and press against the centre of his chest and where he can hear Draco hum the melody of one of his favourite Muggle pop song.
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quackquackcey · 1 year
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Ch. 6: Hedgehogs, Honey, & Hazelnut-Covered Strawberries
Written for @hdcandyheartsfest day 6 prompt: bakery. 708 words. Many thanks to my beta @wqtson​! 💛
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Start from beginning on AO3 here, or click the #fic: HHHS tag.
Summary:
A chance meeting—or is it a setup?—leads to the start of a relationship filled with buttery baked goods, sweet smelling flowers, and hedgehogs.~ 🌹🦔
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They fell into a little routine. After Draco visited Potter’s flower shop, Potter visited his patisserie-bakery shop, and they sort of visited back and forth like that to the point that Draco didn’t have to make up excuses for wanting a bouquet anymore, and Potter would intentionally come near closing time to chat with Draco over pastries. 
Draco had just flipped the sign on the shop door to ‘CLOSED’ and sat down in his flat’s sitting room to flip through the ‘Meanings of Flowers’ booklet with hazelnut-covered strawberries and a cup of Earl Grey tea when a familiar mop of inky hair popped up outside the window.
“Potter,” greeted Draco as he walked downstairs to the shop and cracked open the door. “We’re closed.”
He moved to shut the door, but Potter wedged the tip of his oxford shoes in before he could, then widened the crack enough to stick his head inside. “Don’t be like that,” said Potter with an easy grin that caught Draco off-guard every time. “I brought takeaway.” He raised a paper bag and wafted the smell of spices and creamy tomatoes towards Draco. “Your favourite,~” he sing-songed.
Draco begrudgingly opened the door, as if he wasn’t going to let Potter in all along. “Butter chicken?” he asked as he peeked in the bag.
When he looked up, Potter’s face was much closer than he thought it’d be, and he nearly headbutted Potter in surprise, but lost his balance instead.
Potter caught him by the small of his back. “Alright there?” murmured Potter. His breath blew hot against Draco’s cheek.
“F-Fine.” Draco straightened himself and put some distance between them, although Potter immediately walked past and poked around as he usually did—a very nosy, curious creature, Draco had noticed, just as he’d been at Hogwarts. 
“Everyone’s gone,” noted Potter after a peek into the kitchen. “It’s just you?”
Draco huffed and walked back upstairs. “If you’re disappointed, you’re welcome to leave.”
“I didn’t say that,” said Potter, nabbing a few leftover pastries from the kitchen before catching up to Draco. “I brought some Muggle video games for Nott and Goyle to try out, but I can just get you to pass it on to them.”
“What, so you’re treating me like an owl now?” 
Potter made himself at home on Draco’s sofa. “Strawberry lemonade, please,” he said, completely ignoring Draco’s question as he took the takeaway boxes out of the bag and set them on the coffee table.
Draco rolled his eyes, but went off to the kitchen to fetch two pitchers of homemade, fresh-squeezed strawberry lemonade he’d prepared this morning and two glasses. It was one of his daily pleasures, and ever since he’d let Potter try it, Potter had become hooked as well. 
Perhaps a little too hooked, since Draco found himself making triple the volume that he used to.
“It’s like crack,” said Harry over their butter chicken chicken tikka masala when Draco told him he needed to start bringing him lemons and strawberries if he was going to drink nearly two pitchers in one sitting. 
Draco stared at him blankly.
“It’s an illegal Muggle drug,” clarified Harry. “Very addictive.”
“...You just called my lemonade an addictive, illegal Muggle drug.”
Harry shoved another big bite of chicken tikka into his mouth. “In the best way. You know, without all the dangerous side effects.”
“Mm.” Draco pointed his spoon at Potter as he sipped his lemonade, clearing the rich, buttery tomato taste coating his tongue. “Has anyone ever told you that you suck at giving compliments?”
“No,” said Potter, “because I’m great at them.”
“A twelve-year-old would be better,” muttered Draco.
Potter set down his spoon. “Oh, yeah? Then give me a compliment if I’m so bad at it.”
“What? Why are you turning this on me now?”
“You’re the one griping about my inability to compliment, so now you have to back it up,” Potter settled back on the sofa, arm propped on the backrest, and it was unfairly hot how his forearms looked with his sleeves rolled up. “Go on, then. I’m waiting.”
So Draco sat there, mind short circuiting with many, many thoughts that he probably shouldn’t voice, and not for the first time, he cursed his big mouth.
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dramioneasks · 1 year
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Hello. I’m trying to remember a fic in which draco was a werewolf. This was during/after the war not sure. He was turned by grey mback as punishment by Voldemort. He’s now living in the forbidden forest with his pack or something. He’s very alpha in the story. I don’t know why hermiones thrown in there. Something to do with Ginny. Maybe she was the bad guy. Please help.
This?
The Sacrifices We Make byLR Earl - M, 28 Chapters - After Harry Potter falls in the final Battle, a desperate Order of the Phoenix needs Draco Malfoy’s pack of werewolves to defeat Voldermort. Hermione plans to offer the reclusive Alpha the one thing he can’t refuse: a child of his own. But sometimes we find ourselves in the sacrifices we make. AU, Werewolf!Draco, Voldermort!Wins. 2017 Granger Enchanted Awards Finalist - Best WIP
-Lisa
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m0srael · 2 years
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The Pleasure of a Fleeting Year, Pt. 47
June 14th, 2017: Harry
“What’s it like… living with a kid?” The armchair Harry is levitating settles with a thunk. 
Draco shrugs, directing a child-sized bed down the hallway of the converted apartment toward the second bedroom. “Loud, messy, unpredictable. Fun.”
“I’ve…never. What if it’s…what if I’m…” Harry’s voice wavers. 
All of Draco softens.  *
June 14th, 2017: Draco
“I’ve only lived with Scorpius…” 
Draco smiles, small and private.
“He’s like a tiny adult who collects stuffed animals, is perpetually filthy, and insists on doing everything himself. He drinks more tea than water…our flat always smells like Earl Grey. And we love each other. The rest is… unimportant, Potter.”
50 words x 2 for the prompt Bergamot. I'm writing a continuous story in microfics for all of the 2022 @drarrymicrofic prompts, and this is the forty-seventh installment.
Start Here ⭐ Previous Part Here ⭐ Next Part Here
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mxlfoydraco · 8 months
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Hey 💕
21, 24 and 27 for draco
hi!! 💘
21. Drink of choice (not just alcoholic)
He’s drinking something like lavender earl grey tea I just know it.
24. Most annoying habit
It’s self explanatory at this point lmao. I think he’s the most when he’s whiny, love that for him
27. Their guilty pleasure
sweets his mummy sends him!!! just adore the mental image of prim and prissy draco sitting on his bed with chocolate smeared all over his face, angry ranting at pansy about potter
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