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#harry x draco


*in Hogwarts*

Harry: C'mon Draco! Let’s have a baby!

Draco: No! One, we are too young, and two are you responsible enough to have a baby?

Harry: Hmpf, fine!

*after the war, now they take care of teddy*

Draco: *playing with the baby, visibly enjoying it*

Harry: See! I told you having a baby would be great!

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So... I know I have already prompted...but........ Number 10 for angst please? 🥺 This is literally the angst bomb and I am kinda scared how this will turn out ;_;

Yaaaaaaaay! Send as many prompts as you like, dear! I’m having so much fun writing them 😊 Now, I know this was supposed to be angst, but I just couldn’t :( I hope you’ll accept fluff instead ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Angst #10 “Do you even love me anymore?" 

The Direct Approach

"I need to speak to you,” Draco said. The direct approach was best, he’d decided. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed the shift in your behavior lately. The way you’ve been throwing yourself at Blaise and Weasley. You even spent the other night in Pansy’s lap! I thought we had something special.”

Bright green eyes blinked myopically at him, but he didn’t respond. 

“What is this? Do you even love me anymore?" 

With a monumental effort, he lifted himself to his feet and slinked his way across the bed on all fours. Draco only scowled. 

"Oh, no you don’t. If you think I’ll forgive you that easily, you have another think coming, mister.”

He paused at the edge of the mattress, staring balefully up at Draco, his eyes imploring him to forget his grievances and reach out to touch. Draco felt himself crumbling. With a long suffering sigh, Draco threw himself to the bed, running one hand down his back, from shoulder to hip. 

“I can’t stay mad at you,” he said, love swelling in his chest. “But, seriously, you’re mine. No one else’s. I need you to remember that.”

“Draco?” Harry called from the end of the corridor, his voice moving closer. “Who are you talking to?" 

As if he hadn’t heard a word Draco had spoken, the sleek grey cat leapt from the bed and padded his way to the doorway to meow solemnly at Harry’s feet. 

Draco flopped onto the bed with a muffled, "For fuck’s sake.”

Send me a prompt

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Number 2 for the way I said I love you? 💖

hello dear, thank you for the prompt 💗

2. With a hoarse voice, under the blankets


Harry murmured, “Do you remember our first date?”

Draco hugged Harry closer to his chest. Under the blankets, only the head of his messy hair peeked out; his glasses were taken off and now sat on the coffee table, his face open in a way that slowly became familiar. Harry snuggled, dozing off.

Draco whispered, “Of course I do.”

Today was their first anniversary. Even though Harry did not care much for mannerisms, he had taken Draco out as a surprise: ice cream and an afternoon by the lake in the park, feeding ducks, and a table reserved at a fancy restaurant for dinner. After dessert he took him to the London Eye, led him into the carriage. They had watched the city shrink, bit by bit, as they ascended into the sky until a sea of lights blinked underneath them—a sea of fallen stars, the familiar city now beautiful at a distance in a foreign way. Harry had thought he wasn’t watching, but he was—Harry’s faint smile as he touched his fingers to the glass in awe, the curve widening as Draco reached for his hand.

Now they had returned to their flat, had cooked cocoa and watched Muggle television for the remains of the night—had snuggled up on the couch, drinking cocoa and eating chips. Harry was starting to doze off. The night was cozy in a way as though it would never end: the air warm, the lights soft, the television a hum in the background. Their legs curled together, the blanket hugging them like a cocoon. Draco thought he wouldn’t mind falling asleep like this, wouldn’t mind waking up the next morning like this: curled up together on the couch, pieces of the previous night cluttering around him—glimpses of their first year together opening into their second.

“I’d bought you sunflowers,” Harry mumbled.

“You did. To distract me, because you were late.”

Harry chuckled. “‘s not true.”

“Is it not, now?”

“No.” Harry buried his face into Draco’s chest. “Tell me ‘bout it again.”

They had told this story a thousand times; every time still felt like the first. Draco carded his fingers through Harry’s hair. Harry sighed.

“I was waiting for you at the library,” Draco started, voice low, “because you were going to pick me up. You said it was a surprise, where we were going. So I let you. Two-thirty in the afternoon, you said, but fifteen minutes passed and still you weren’t there. Twenty minutes, and I started to get nervous…”

“’m sorry,” Harry mumbled.

“It’s okay. Twenty minutes, thirty minutes…I thought you stood me up. I was going to leave and never talk to you for the rest of my life.”

It was an understatement, that he was going to leave and never talk to Harry for the rest of his life. He was on the verge of tears, then, furious and panicking and abashed: to think he had borne his heart out. To think he had hoped there was something, had believed there was a glimmer of something—how foolish, how inconceivably naïve. Stumbling, he turned to Apparate back to his flat, the Statute of Secrecy be damned—

But then Potter showed up.

“But then you showed up, and you caught me by the arm, and I must have looked quite wretched because you were so surprised. I shrugged you off but you begged me to stay, please stay, stay for just a minute—and you took out the bouquet of flowers from behind your back.”

It was sunflowers. A bouquet of sunflowers, the yellow petals bright and exuberant; the baby’s-breath like strings of bells. Wrapped beautifully in parchment the color of plum, it was as though a piece of summer bloomed in Harry’s hands.

Harry murmured, “I’m still surprised they weren’t all squeezed flat.”

Draco chuckled. Stroking Harry’s hair, “You said you were late because you were waiting for the bouquet. You said you wanted to get one last minute, because you thought I’d like it. You said I’m sorry, the café is still reserved, let’s go, please?”

“And we went.”

“And we went.”

Harry sighed in content. Snuggling closer he said, voice hoarse with exhaustion, “I love you.”

Draco pressed a kiss to Harry’s hair. “I love you, too.”

Send me a prompt: The way you said “I love you”

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story prompt

enemies to lovers - but nobody realizes theyre dating because they still bicker the same as when they were enemies but then they kiss one day in a public area and everyone is like shook

or it could be like the opposite where its

best friends to lovers - but nobody realizes theyve started dating because they were already so close nothing really changed except that they make out now , and then people would find out by them kissing in public

edit : this has probably been done before but I couldnt find any fics about it

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Draco secretly has curly/wavy hair, Harry loses his fucking mind when he finds out. Which is several months to a year after they start dating. How he missed it, nobody knows

I loved writing this! I’m a sucker for Draco’s hair, ya know? This drabble turned out a bit longer than I expected because I’m a whore for a good plot, but the more words the merrier, eh?


Harry loved Draco’s hair. It was probably his favourite physical aspect about his boyfriend. That, along with his dick, of course.

Harry and Draco had begun dating soon after Harry’s 24th birthday party, to which Draco had been invited to on a whim. They’d started working together as aurors the year prior, and Harry thought it would be a good idea to invite him to perhaps begin a friendship of some sort. The celebration had been held in a newly renovated 12 Grimmauld Place by Ron and Hermione, and all of his friends, some former professors, and nearly the entire aurors force had arrived. He didn’t actually expect Draco to show up to the party, but when he did, Harry was pleasantly surprised.

And show up, Draco did.

His emerald green robes had been tailored to perfection, with silver trim along the edges and a thin, hourglass-shaped waist that just screamed ‘squeeze me!’. But what caught Harry’s eye the most was Draco’s hair. His long, beautiful, platinum blond hair had been tied into a loose braid and was slung over his shoulder oh-so prettily, and Harry couldn’t keeps his eyes off of him.

“Potter,” Draco said with a nod upon entering.

“M-Malfoy,” Harry managed to stutter out, his face turning red with heat. “I’m glad you could make it.”

“Are you now?” Draco said more than asked. At that, he smirked, his silver eyes gleaming as he strutted away into the crowd.

Draco had never worn his hair down at work. Every day since he had arrived at the office a year ago, it had been tied up into a tight bun, not a single strand of hair able to escape it’s confines. Harry never bothered to wonder what it looked like down before, but now that he finally knew, he never wanted to see it hidden again. And it most certainly hadn’t helped him when it came to his long-rooted crush on the bloke.

Harry hadn’t exactly been subtle in his gawking at Draco that night. The blond man noticed his staring immediately, and instead of scaring him away, it only made him come closer. Draco would smirk and saunter around Harry, never more than a few steps from him throughout the entire party. Harry had watched him with intent, becoming jealous when Draco started laughing with Anthony Goldstein by the punch bowl, or fuming when Zacharias Smith slung his arm over Draco’s shoulder near the fireplace.

Harry hadn’t expected Draco to finally approach him again at around midnight that night. He especially hadn’t been expecting the way Draco was blatantly flirting with him, complimenting his clothes and his new glasses and his recent promotion and ‘My, aren’t you looking quite fit today, Potter.’” It wasn’t until after the two shared a few shots of firewhiskey, that Harry finally managed to summon his Gryffindor courage and pull Draco away.

“Where are you taking me, Potter?” Draco asked with a sultry voice.

“Just come,” Harry said, his mind buzzing.

“Oh my,” Draco practically giggled as he was pulled.

They ended up shagging in Harry’s upstairs broom closet later that night, at around half-past-one, protected only by a simple silencing charm.

A few days later, it was Draco who asked Harry out first. They went on a few dates, had a good shag or two, and were official boyfriends by the end of the month. Soon after, Draco quickly realised that Harry was quite taken with his hair, always looking at it and often running his fingers through it when he got the chance. Draco then took to wearing his hair down more often, just for Harry, though he would never admit it out loud.

A year or so passed and the two had moved into a flat out in muggle London. ‘Potter’s idea’, Draco would say, but deep down they both knew that he was just excited as well. Sometimes they both needed an escape from the magical world, to not be recognized as The Chosen One and a Pureblood Ex-Death Eater. At home, they were just Harry and Draco, and they were happy.

But Draco was hiding something.

It started immediately when they moved in together two months ago. Harry noticed that Draco would go into the bathroom perhaps four or five times a day, and wouldn’t come out for long amounts of time. Harry asked once, and was answered with a ‘Don’t be so nosy, Potter’ and didn’t ask again. At least, until one day he noticed something different about Draco.

Harry sat at the kitchen table, finishing his breakfast, when he looked over at Draco and realised that there was something different about him.

“Oh, I never noticed those before,” Harry said, slightly surprised.

Draco turned from where he stood by the counter, blowing delicately on his cup of tea, his sharp blond eyebrow raised in question.

“Noticed what, Potter?” Draco asked, his head tilting to the side.

“Your hair’s like… wavy at the bottom,” Harry said.

Draco seemed to freeze, his face turning even more pale than usual, which concerned Harry. It was true, though. Draco’s hair had grown far down his back over the last year, and Harry noticed that towards the end it turned into pretty waves, reminding him of sea. He’d never seen it look like that before.

Instead of saying anything, Draco simply sat his cup of tea down and walked quickly out of the room and to the upstairs bathroom. Harry followed and knocked on the door, worried by the way Draco was acting. It was only hair, after all, and Harry just thought that perhaps it had been a new hairstyle Draco was going for. But why would he get upset when Harry pointed it out?

“Love, are you okay?” Harry asked when Draco didn’t answer.

“I’m fine, Potter,” Draco replied through the door, his voice sounding very strange. “Now do go away, please.”

“What’s wrong?”

No answer.

“You can talk to me, Draco,” Harry tried once again. “If there’s anyth-”

“I said go away,” Draco suddenly snapped.

Harry frowned, but obeyed. He went back downstairs to watch TV, and Draco didn’t come out for nearly an hour. This time though, his hair was perfectly straight, as usual. Draco sat on the sofa beside Harry and cuddled up beside him, as if nothing had happened beforehand.

“Are you-”

“What are we watching?” Draco asked, cutting him off.

Harry didn’t bring it up again, knowing that he wasn’t going to get a willing answer out of his boyfriend. So instead, he set his plan in motion.

Two days later after work, Harry made his move. Draco sat at his desk, going over the last of his paperwork that needed to be finished, while mostly everyone else had left. Harry walked up behind his boyfriend and wrapped his arms around Draco’s shoulders, then planted a sweet kiss on his cheek.

“I’m going to the pub with Ron and Hermione. Want to come?” Harry asked, inwardly hoping that he would say no.

Draco sighed with a smile and shook his head. “As much as I would love to get shitfaced with you, Granger, and the weasel, I can’t. I have to finish the last of these, and tomorrow morning I’m having brunch with my parents.”

“Oh,” Harry said with a pout. “Are you sure, love?”

“Yes, dear,” Draco chuckled and turned to press a kiss to Harry’s lips. “Just don’t be out too late. And make sure you floo home safely, alright?”

“Okay,” Harry nodded. “I love you.”

“Of course you do,” Draco smirked and went back to his paperwork.

Harry quickly left after that, flooing home and changing into his normal muggle clothes before he grabbed his invisibility cloak and waited upstairs. Thirty minutes later he heard the floo roar, signaling that Draco was home, and ran into the bathroom. He positioned himself behind the open door and threw the cloak over himself, then waited patiently for his boyfriend.

Five minutes later Draco came into the bathroom and closed the door, still dressed in his auror uniform with his hair held in a high ponytail. He pulled his hair free from the band and shook it loose, the long straight locks that Harry loved so much shining beneath the bathroom light. Draco then lifted his wand and pointed it at his hair, and he whispered a quick finite incantatem.

Suddenly, gone was the straight long hair that Harry knew and loved. His green eyes went wide when the straight hair suddenly became wavy, loose curls. The curls made his hair appear shorter, now falling to the middle of his back rather than the bottom, but Harry could care less. All he could do was watch in awe as Draco undressed to take a shower, the waves swaying in the movement. He was so enraptured that he couldn’t help the tiny noise that escaped his lips when Draco pulled his shirt off.

Draco froze and looked up when he heard the sound, then threw his shirt to the floor and grabbed his wand off the sink counter. He held it in a firm grasp and pointed it in Harry’s general direction.

“Who’s there?” he asked, using his firm auror voice. “Show yourself!”

Harry quickly pulled the cloak off, knowing that his boyfriend wouldn’t hesitate to attack an intruder in the home. He held his hands up in mock surrender and felt terrible when he noticed the way Draco’s face changed into a look of horror, his body becoming stiff as he lowered his wand. The blond man then looked to the floor in what Harry could only assume was shame, his pale face tinted a slight shade of pink.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Harry asked, taking a step forward.

“You spied on me,” Draco gritted out, jaw clenched.

“Yes, and I’m sorry, love,” Harry said honestly. “But I had to know. Why did you hide your real hair from me?”

“It’s none of your business,” Draco said and turned away from him.

“Why, Draco?” Harry asked again, moving forward to gently put his hand on his boyfriend’s back. “Tell me. Please.”

Draco was silent for what seemed like eternity. Harry moved closer and wrapped his arms around Draco’s waist, then pressed his nose to the crook of his neck. He held him tightly, not planning to let go until he got an answer.

“It’s ugly,” Draco suddenly whispered.

“What?” Harry pulled his face back, surprised. “Your hair?”

“Yes, Potter,” Draco snapped, his shoulders beginning to tremble. “My hair is ugly and stupid and I didn’t want you to know what it really looked like! I didn’t want anyone to know! But n-now-” Draco cut himself off and put a hand over his own mouth, his voice beginning to tremble in the end, which was a telltale sign that he was going to cry.

Harry turned him around in his arms until Draco was facing him. His hand covered his mouth and his silver eyes were filled with unshed tears, and he looked anywhere but at his boyfriend. Harry’s heart ached for Draco, and he leaned forward to press a kiss to the man’s forehead.

“Oh, love,” Harry said as he pulled away. “Your hair is beautiful.”

“Stop lying,” Draco’s voice was muffled behind his hand, and a single tear fell down his pale cheek. Harry used a thumb to wipe it away.

“I’m not, Draco,” Harry insisted. “Your hair- your real hair- is so fucking beautiful. How can you think it’s ugly? Why would you say that?”

“Because it is,” Draco said, pulling his hand from his mouth and sniffing, doing his best to hold back his tears. “All my life I’ve hidden it. My father hated it when I was little, so my mother would use a spell every day to straighten it. Even when I went to Hogwarts I would have to fix it nearly three times a day, and if I didn’t and my father found out, he would… well, I don’t know.”

“Sounds like it’s your father who thinks it’s ugly,” Harry said. “Not you.”

Draco bit his lip.

“Look, love,” Harry said, taking Draco’s chin between his fingers and turning his head to face the bathroom mirror. “Look at your hair. It’s so bloody gorgeous, I think I could cry. I thought I loved it before, but now I don’t think I ever want to see it straight again.”

Draco finally looked at himself, his face filled with uncertainty.

“Do… Do you really like it?” Draco asked tentatively.

“I love it, Draco,” Harry said, unable to stop himself from smiling.

Draco said nothing. Instead, he returned Harry’s embrace and pressed his face into the crook of his neck. Harry felt a few warm tears soak his collar, but he said nothing about it. He simply rubbed Draco’s back as they held each other, ready to hold on for as long as it took. Even if he had to stand there all day.

“Thank you, Harry,” Draco said and pulled away after what seemed like forever. “Can I… Can I really wear it like this? Just at home, though?”

“Absolutely, Draco,” Harry nodded. “The real you is my favourite you.”

Draco sniffed and looked into Harry’s green eyes, almost as if he were searching for some kind of lie. For some untruthfulness, or for Harry to change his mind and tell him he was just joking. But when Draco could find none of these, he smiled and moved forward to kiss him deeply. Harry returned the kiss, his hands holding onto Draco’s perfect bare waist while his even more perfect, wavy blond hair tickled his brown cheek. When they pulled apart, their foreheads rested together comfortably.

“I love you,” Draco said.

“Of course you do,” Harry replied with a smile.

That night, Draco left his hair as it truly was. In bed, Harry ran his fingers through the long, silky waves until he was too tired to keep his eyes open anymore, and was happy when he woke up to a frizzy-haired Draco the next morning. Draco didn’t bother to straighten it, instead choosing to simply brush it before daring to face his parents during brunch with his blond waves.

When Draco returned home near noon with a smile so big that his cheeks had turned pink, Harry’s heart leaped with pride and joy. He kissed his beautiful boyfriend more times that day than he thought he ever had before, and no matter how many times Draco slapped his hands away, Harry’s fingers somehow always managed to return. After all, Harry loved Draco’s hair.

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Chapter 24 of Home Is Where the Hurt Is is up! If you’ve been following along with this story, you really won’t want to miss out on this chapter ;) 

Rating: Teen

Summary: Draco finds himself floating through life, each day as miserable as the next. Six months have passed since the battle of Hogwarts, and Draco is consumed by the repercussions. As he tries to figure out what to do with his exhausting life, Draco’s path crosses with his most hated enemy, Harry Potter. Through a slow process of feeling bitterness, resentment, and fear, both Draco and Harry somehow find a way to move on together in forgiveness, kindness, and recovery.

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