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phoebe-delia · 2 years

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Operation: Drarry

For @hdcandyheartsfest prompt: Texting! I made it into a little video, but text is under the cut!

Operation: Drarry

Ron: Harry and Malfoy are in position. I repeat: Harry and Malfoy are in position. Parkinson, what’s your 20?

Pansy: Granger and I are at the table across the pub. The polyjuice is still working. Granger has eyes on the boys, and I have eyes on Granger.

Blaise: Pansy, stop flirting with your girlfriend in the group chat.

Pansy: Oh, as if you’re any better with Ginny.

Ron: Can we focus on the mission and not on how gay you all are?

Ginny: You’re as gay as the rest of us, Ronald.

Ron: Yes, but Nev and I keep it in our pants in public.

Hermione: Except for the time I caught you two in the common room.

Blaise: And in the RoR

Ron: What? That never happened!

Neville: Yes, it did, love

Ginny: You don’t remember because you asked us to Obliviate you lol

Ron: Fuck!! Nev, will you Obliviate me later?

Neville: Sure, babe.

Blaise: Can we get back to the mission? Granger, what’s happening now?

Hermione: Okay, I think they’re close. Harry just laced their fingers together.

Ron: YES! I taught him that move.

Pansy: You didn’t invent handholding, idiot.

Pansy: And you did a lot of handholding in Gryffindor Tower, did you?

Ron: No!

Ginny: Only when there were spiders lmao

Ron: TRAITOR

Ginny: Remember when you’d wake everyone up when there was a spider in the middle of the night?

Ron: Okay, don’t come crying to me the next time you think you see a wasp.

Blaise: You’re scared of wasps, Gin?

Ginny: Their stings hurt like a BITCH

Hermione: If you all would pay attention, you might see that Harry kissed Draco.

Ginny: !!

Blaise: Fucking finally.

Neville: Good for them!!

Pansy: It’s pretty hot, not gonna lie.

Ron: Ew, I don’t want to see my friend making out with his new boyfriend.

Hermione: Neither did I. But I’ve got two words for you, Ronald: common room.

Ron: Traitors, the lot of you.

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teacup-tai · 3 years

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Tai's Face Cast of the day:

Pansmione 💦

Drarry 🔥

Hermione Granger: Berta Vazquez (Spanish-Ukranian)

Pansy Parkinson: Ela Velden (Mexican)

Harry Potter: Alonso Herrera (Mexican)

Draco Malfoy: Rodrigo Hilbert (Brazilian)

#drarry #harry potter #draco malfoy #pansy parkinson #pansmione #hermione granger #wlw #hp wlw #drarry squad #face cast #latinx

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keyflight790 · 3 years

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Read Catching the Niffler along with the behind-the-scenes moments with @keyflight790 and @tsundanire ! You know you want to! We’re starting on 12/7, or 7.12.20 for you brits.

Why? It’s at 2k kudos, and we cannot believe that you all loved this fic as much as we enjoyed writing it! (and as much as everyone enjoyed playing the game!)

So how do you listen? Join the discord and tune in! If you don’t want to join, you can also follow tsundanire and keyflight on A03, where we’ll post the audio for your listening pleasure!

And yes, for you hornballs we’ll also be doing a read-along for Have Yourself a Kinky Little Christmas! It’s only 200 kudos away from 2k, can we get it to 2k by the end of the month? Maybe?

Join us here and read the fic here!

#drarry #drarry squad #harry potter #draco malfoy #lemon #read-along #neville longbottom #hannah abbott #pansmione #blon #blaise zabini #ron weasley #pansy parkinson #hermione granger

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stargazing-enby · 5 years

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How to Ruin the Perfect Proposal (and Still Get it Right)

A Drarry ficlet written by @drarryruinedme7 and I for Harry’s birthday! Thanks to @coriesocks for betaing 💕

Drarry | General | 2k | Fluff and Crack, Cuddles, Marriage Proposal, Background Pansmione, TW for mild blood and fainting | Read on AO3

“Draco, are you sure Harry will like this?”

Draco looked around his studio at the fireworks stacked on the desk, the wild amount of flowers dispersed all over the room, the two tickets for a Portkey to Paris, the spellbook open on ‘Create Your Own Hot-Air Balloon’, and sighed.

“Of course he will!” His voice cracked a bit in the end. He glared at Ron and shrugged. “Why do you ask?”

Ron raised an eyebrow and smirked. “I know Harry better than you and he doesn’t like big gestures for his birthday.”

Excuse me?! Stupid freckled Gryffindork, how dare he! Ready to kill, Draco replied, “I’m his boyfriend! For six years this year! I—”

“Guys,” Hermione’s voice interrupted his rant, “stop arguing about who knows Harry better. Ron, stop ruining Draco’s plans; they’re perfect.”

Before Draco could mock Ron for being scolded, Hermione went on. “Draco, stop falling for Ron’s mockery. Dear Godric, it’s always the same with you two.”

“She’s right, Draco. It’ll be splendid, okay? Now, hurry up or you’ll miss your Portkey,” Pansy said from her seat next to Hermione. She smiled and kissed her cheek softly, whispering in her ear, “We could go to Paris too, sometime.”

Ron mimicked gagging and rolled his eyes. “You’re all so disgustingly sappy. Why Paris, then? It’s just a city like—”

“Out! All of you!” Draco croaked, exasperated. “I need to get ready and you’re all distracting me. Harry’s almost home. Shoo!”

————

Finally alone, Draco fixed everything: the fireworks shrunk and in the pocket of his suit; the tickets tight in his hands; the flowers all positioned in the living room, red roses and sunflowers — Harry’s favourites. They’d be the first thing Harry saw once he crossed the threshold of their house, together with Draco in Harry’s favourite soft green jumper and their suitcases in front of him, a banner floating above them, ‘Joyeux Anniversaire, mon amour.’

Waiting for Harry to arrive, Draco started to replay the entire scene in his mind: Harry’s eyes, shining with emotion, Draco telling him he’d organised a surprise weekend for the two of them, together in Paris.

And then, the day travelling by the hot air balloon Draco now knew how to conjure, the picnic at high altitude, with Harry’s favourite wine. Landing on the top of the Tour Eiffel, Draco would declare his endless love for Harry, his speech ready in his pocket. Kneeling, giving him the ring, the sunset would surely enhance Harry’s breathtaking smile, and the answer he hoped to hear from him. ‘Yes.’ Maybe a tear or two.

Yes, everything would be perfect. What could go wrong?

————

Apparently, everything. Everything could go wrong.

Hearing Harry’s key in the lock, Draco straightened up, taking deep breaths, willing his heart to go at a slower pace, trying to control the wave of nausea that hit his stomach.

Tickets in hand, heart furiously beating in his chest, Draco looked as Harry entered their living room. And all of Draco’s blood drained from his face in sheer horror.

Harry was completely covered in blood, from head to toe.

“Um, Draco, love? This isn’t mine.” But before Harry’s words could reach his ears, Draco saw stars in front of his eyes and passed out, vaguely aware of Harry hurrying towards him and catching him in his arms.

“Draco…” Harry’s worried voice slowly became clearer until Draco opened his eyes to see Harry crouched next to him, softly caressing his hair.

What a way to start the proposal weekend, really. And — fuck! The Portkey! Draco suddenly straightened up, taking in he was on their couch, and cast a quick Tempus. 8 pm. They'd missed their Portkey.

“Fuck,” Draco said. The world was spinning around him, and Harry’s hand was suddenly on his back, holding him upright.

“Not so fast, you idiot,” Harry said, rubbing his back in slow circles. “Thanks for the banner, by the way.” He smirked. “Very thoughtful.”

“No! No, no—” Draco tried to stand up, but Harry held him by the waist, locking his fingers at the height of Draco’s belly and pulling him back down—right onto his lap. “Harry, the Portkey! And—and Paris, and—” Harry had cleaned himself up, he realised. Probably with a spell, since his clothes still felt weird to the touch. “What the heck happened?”

“Explosive charm set in a park. We were called to take the civilians out before the explosion occurred, but…”

“Fucking hell.” Draco felt dizzy all over again. He turned in Harry’s arms, bringing his hands to Harry’s face; to Harry’s chest, to his head, saying, “Are you okay? Are you hurt? Are your ears hurt? Are you—”

“I’m all right, love,” Harry said, and suddenly he was hugging Draco closer, burying his face in the crook of Draco’s neck. “Glad to be home.”

Draco let himself be held, forgetting about his ruined plans for a moment. If anything had happened to Harry…fuck. He wanted to say something, something about how much he hated that stupid job of Harry’s, but he refrained. They’d had that conversation one too many times already.

“So I take it I ruined your birthday surprise for me?” Harry mumbled a moment later, burying his nose in Draco’s hair on retreat.

“You bloody well did.” Frustration quickly pooling in his chest again, Draco groaned, taking his turn in the safety of Harry’s neck. “Dammit. I need to call the hotel to cancel the reservation before it’s too late.”

“Hotel? You romantic prat, where were you taking me?”

“Paris,” Draco said with another groan. “I was going to take you to the Ritz. And—and I was taking you on a hot-air balloon, and—I have it in my pocket, you know! The hot- air balloon! And there were gonna be fireworks, and love confessions, and it was going to be perfect, and—”

“A hot-air balloon? You have a—”

“Yes!” Draco moaned, sitting up again. “It was going to be perfect, Harry!”

A smile was pulling at his boyfriend’s lips. Draco scowled.

“Well…I guess we could still go?” Harry said, his smile widening despite his efforts. “D’you reckon the balloon could make it to Paris?”

Draco raised an eyebrow at him. Honestly, that suggestion didn’t deserve a reply.

“What!” Harry said with a surprised laugh. “I’ve travelled by dragon, it can’t possibly get more dangerous than that!”

“I’ll tell you,” Draco said slowly, “what would happen if we were to do the imbecility that you just suggested. What would happen is we would die. In the ocean. Or worse, we’d end up stranded on a desert island filled with cannibals—”

“—there are no cannibals in the English Channel—”

“—that we’d alert when we lit up the fireworks to try and attract boats to us—”

“—there are fireworks too?”

“Or worse! The fireworks would set themselves off in my pocket while we were in the air and we’d be dead before the balloon could even hit the water! Two explosions! On your birthday! That’s what would happen, Harry,” Draco concluded. “Two explosions on your birthday.”

Harry nodded solemnly. “A very sensible conclusion. I have one of my own.” At Draco’s raised eyebrows, he said, smirk back in place, “You have a great imagination, love.”

Draco snorted, the sound turning into a whine. He roved his hands up from where they were resting on Harry’s chest, buried them in Harry’s hair, and pressed their foreheads together, sighing through his nose in frustration. “Do you at least like what I’d planned? Please lie to me even if you don’t. I don’t think I can take a defeat against the Weasel right now.”

“Pfft. When have I ever not loved your presents?” Harry said. “Don’t listen to Ron. I knew what I was signing up for when I started dating you, and I haven’t regretted it one day. Well, except for that time with the—”

“Don’t you dare bring up the spaghetti—”

“There was just so much of it!” Harry laughed. “Seriously, though. I love you.” He pulled back, pressed a kiss to Draco’s forehead. Another one to Draco’s nose. To his cheek. “Thank you. And sorry I ruined it.” A kiss to Draco’s other cheek. To the tip of his chin—Harry’s hands holding Draco’s head to angle it. “Do you know what I’d really like for my birthday?”

Draco, quickly melting in Harry’s arms, could only muster a, “Hmm?”

“You, me,” Harry said, nuzzling Draco’s jaw, the spot behind his ear, “takeaway pizza, my hands roaming under this beautiful jumper of yours…” Draco rolled his eyes at him, but Harry just smiled and finished, “and to open your gift. I know you’ve bought me something physical. You always do.”

Fuck. Oh, fuck. The ring. It was still in his pocket.

Draco jumped from the couch, muttering frantically, “Maybe I can still do it in time! Oh Merlin, yes, the ring is—”

“The what?”

In a second, Harry was standing right next to Draco, his green eyes as wide as saucers. Fuck.

“Did I… say it out loud?” Why the fuck had Draco planned this, he knew with Harry nothing went as planned, just like with the spaghetti—

“Draco… what’s happening?” Harry’s voice was only a whisper and Draco mentally cursed himself. It was time to react.

“Ok! I have this! You order the pizza and I’ll go to the bathroom—”

No wait, it was Harry’s birthday, he shouldn’t be the one providing food.

Draco shook his head, the room spinning around him again. “No! I order the pizza and you go to the bathroom—”

“But I don’t need to go to the bathroom…”

“I lit the candles, yes, it can work.”

He turned to search for the phone when Harry grabbed his elbow and cupped his cheek. “Draco, love, take a deep breath and tell me what’s going on. You’re giving yourself a heart attack.”

Draco looked into the eyes of the love of his life, knowing right now, right here, he wanted to stay with him for the rest of his life. “The ring…” he murmured and without letting Harry reply, took it out of his pocket.

He opened the box, kneeled before Harry, gently disentangling from his embrace. “Harry…”

“Oh fuck… Draco, yes!”

“Let me finish!”

“Yes, yes, yes!”

“Wait…”

“Okay, okay, sorry, you go.”

Draco took a deep breath and snorted at the eagerness in Harry’s eyes.

“Harry, I know this isn’t Paris. There isn’t the perfect sunset and the Tour Eiffel, or the fireworks or… nothing of my perfect, perfect plan…”

“Erm, Draco it doesn—”

“Right! It doesn’t matter because it’s you and me and what’s more important than that? It’s you and me, together and this is exactly what I’d want for us for the rest of our lives. Me, you, together, forever.”

Draco stopped, feeling his chest tighten, his voice faltering away. He closed his eyes, trying to hold back tears.

When he opened them again, Harry had kneeled in front of him, his eyes filled with tears, a big smile plastered on his face.

“Yes.” He said once more, voice shaking, breaking into a stream of sobs, his lips trembling. Draco wanted to capture them in a kiss, but…

“Wait. Just… let me say it, please?”

“I love you.”

“Harry…”

“Yes, sorry.”

“Will you marry me?”

Harry grabbed a red rose from the coffee table next to them and swirled it in the air between them.

“The flowers are perfect.” His voice was still shaking and Draco struggled to understand him amongst his sobbing. “Everything with you is perfect. You are perfect.” He inhaled slowly. “Yes, mon amour. Yes, yes, yes, yes, and forever, yes.”

Merlin, Harry had said yes. They were going to marry, for real. Draco felt dizzy and launched himself on Harry, kissing him, hugging him, keeping him close, making sure he was real.

They laughed in their kiss, and kissed again, and again, and—

“Your French pronunciation is horrible,” Draco breathed between one kiss and the other.

“Shut up!” Harry lightly shoved him back, standing up.

“I still want the pizza, you know.”

“You always want to eat. Oh no.” Draco groaned, hiding his face in his hands. “Ron will forever rub this one in my face.”

AO3

#harry's birthday #drarry #drarry squad #otpshipper98 #drarryruinedme7 #proposal #blood tw #fainting tw #fluff #crack #Harry Potter #pansmione

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daddiesdrarryy · 10 months

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Pansy: Okay, game time, we’ll go around the room and introduce yourself. Hermione, you go first

Hermione: All right, my name is Hermione, I’m a Muggleborn

Pansy: Yeah, yeah, great name! So are you into girls or guys?

Hermione: Well, I’m into everyone

Pansy: That’s lovely, yeah, very nice

Ron: I’m Ron—

Pansy: Shhh, Ron, it’s not your turn yet. So, are you free this Friday, Hermione? Can I take you out on a date?

Hermione: Oh! Yeah, sure, I’d love to!

Ron: My name’s Ron—

Pansy: Ron, still not your turn. Hermione, should I pick you up then, say...7pm?

Hermione: Seven is good

Pansy: Great! It’s a date then!

Ron: Okay, so is my turn gonna come any time soon or do you two have to get married first?

Pansy: Ron, shush, so Hermione—

Ron: Oh for Merlin’s sake!

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fleetofshippyships-archive · 5 years

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Achilles heel

(oooh not in any wips, I’ll write a wee drabble!! Drarry + Pansmione)

(AO3 Link)

“How did you manage to talk him into this?” Pansy asked, watching Harry leave their private box to nip off to the loo during intermission. “I never thought I’d see the day Potter attended the opera.”

“Hmm?” Draco was still distracted by the romantic drivel Blaise was spewing to his date. It was exactly, almost word for word, dialogue from a muggle movie Harry had made him watch the other day. He was sure of it. “Oh, I have this look he can’t resist. How did you get your sleeping beauty to come? Promised her a good nap?”

Pansy turned to where Hermione was indeed dozing in her chair. Draco couldn’t see her face, but he knew she’d be pulling some sort of love sick expression.

“Well, if our dates can’t appreciate the opera, at least we have each other,” she said with a sigh as she turned back to him. “But seriously, what look?”

Draco smirked. “Oh, I just widen my eyes a little and think sad thoughts. Gets him every time. Playing the hero is his Achilles’ heel, always has been. I just mope about how lonely I’ll be if he doesn’t come and then he offers. Loves to swoop in and save me. Ridiculous, but useful.”

She gave him a very unimpressed look. “Or maybe he sees right through your terrible acting and just loves you enough to do what makes you happy even if it bores him?”

Draco scoffed. “We’re not there yet.”

Pansy scoffed right back. “Sure, keep telling yourself that while you slowly shift your things into his flat in a passive aggressive attempt to get him to ask you to move in.”

Draco opened his mouth to tell her she was being ridiculous only to close it again. He had just been complaining to her earlier that day that his favourite shirt was at Harry’s. And his second favourite belt. His good shoes from when he’d stayed the night after that charity dinner. His best formal robes. Several of his favourite novels were on the bedside table, now that he thought about it.

Good lord. He even had a toothbrush there. When had he even bought a second toothbrush?

“Yeah, not there yet,” Pansy snickered.

(Yikes, I’m out of practice writing drabbles from tiny prompts XD I tried?)

(Send me an ask with one word, any word. If any of my unpublished wips for this account have that word in them, I’ll post a snippet containing that word! And if not, I may try and write a wee drabble/headcanon with it?)

#ask meme #ask game #drarry #drarry squad #pansmione #my fanfic #*#prompted writing #spaceaas #asked and answered #hp

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harrypotterfanfictionwriter · 5 years

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Weekly prompts

Luna is George his therapist after the war and slowly helps him heal with the loss of his brother.

Neville has never been down in the slytherin common room, however the repairs to Hogwarts after the war change this as no one else is willing to work with Draco Malfoy down there.

Ron couldn't help but notice that Draco was actually a handsome man. He blames Harry for being obsessed with the blond for many years and always telling Ron everything and wanting him to help and watch Malfoy.

Pansy hasn't been shopping for forever since in diagonally everyone throws her dirty looks, so she convinces her girlfriend Hermione to take her shopping in muggle London.

A new class is introduced at Hogwarts, muggle sports. During a particular class of Judo Dean and Seamus get really close.

As a new idea for inner house unity two students are swept from houses. What happens when Neville goes to slytherin for 3 months and gets close to Theodore Nott?

Hermione Granger plans a reunion for all students from their last year. At first Pansy didn't want to come until she hears a certain redhead is going to be there as well.

Luna can't help but notice to see how many stuff Hermione has in her bag, it seems to go endlessly. After learning about the extension charm, she asks the other girl to teach her it.

The quibbler holds a special edition for the anniversary of 10 years of peace in the Wizarding world. Luna interviewed almost everyone except Severus Snape, who just wants to be left alone. Shall she get the interview?

Ron and Hermione's anniversary is coming up and Ron is in desperate need of help with what he should do. So he asks four friends: Harry, Luna, Neville and eventually Hermione.

Hi people, above here you see my first edition of weekly prompts. Every week I will post from now on a list with 10 prompts with random pairings. Everyone is free to write any of these prompts all I ask for is to be tagged!

You can find the prompts under #weeklyprompts

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partialtopotter · 5 years

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Hey potter friends, I’m looking for recs for all ships in the HP fandom! I’m trying to make a fanfic for beginners master list for the HP fandom but I mainly read drarry and wolfstar, so I need your help. Please send me your favorite HP fics of any rating and any pairing!

#harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fan art #drarry squad #drarry #dramione #draco malfoy #harry potter #drarry fanfic #scorbus #wolfstar #linny #pansmione #jily #harmony #harry potter fandom #ron x hermione #romione #neville/luna #dean/seamus

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draco-and-harry-malfoy-pottah · 2 years

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Pansy: You're so obvious

Draco: *gay panic* I DON'T HAVE A CRUSH ON POTTER

Pansy: I was talking about how you sneak dark chocolate out of the kitchen on regular basis, but whatever you say

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onlytaylor · 5 years

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Seven Minutes in Heaven Drarry (and Seamus is always right)

Eighth year at Hogwarts was intended to be one of educational fulfillment, a chance to finish one’s goal of mastering NEWT level witchcraft and wizardry. What it had become, however, was quite the opposite.

It all started when Hermione made friends with that one Slytherin Pansy Parkinson, and boy what a friendship it was. No one could really place what the two had in common, or what it was that kept them giggling at night, but they were a regular Lavender and Parvati and there was no separating them now.

The increased occurrence of Pansy’s presence had brought about a very sly, coy Blaise Zabini. Ron had refused to acknowledge his placement at their parties (“soirées” according to Pansy) until one day Blaise cracked a joke about Malfoy and- damn- If that didn’t have Ronald Weasley spewing his butter beer. They, too, had become an inseparable duo, and Harry had just about had it (“UP TO HERE” he’d said) because if Pansy was there, and Blaise was there, then Draco most definitely was going to be there. All the goddamn time. And there was no one he still despised more than- well, come to think of it, he really didn’t anymore. At the conclusion of the war, Malfoy had become sort of a gray character in Harry’s life, one who’d shown his condolences and grown quite a bit. They’d shared small conversations here and there, but nothing to speak of. And definitely not anything to make them friends. Malfoy and Potter could never be friends, no. There’d always been something so much deeper than that, whether it was hate, or just a plain abomination that resonated between them. But, whatever it was, it wasn’t friendship. It was fire, and passion, and knowledge, and fury. It struck Harry’s insides like wildfire, like the hot breath of a Hungarian Horntail. No, they would never be friends.

When the eighth year common room lit up that Friday night with the anticipatory mood of another soiree, Harry wasn’t surprised to see the silver trio enter suavely. Seamus was already drunk, and with Dean in tow he marched right up to Malfoy and gave him quite the uncomfortable hug.

“Malfoy! It’s so good to see you. I notice you’ve been hanging around those three pretty often. Anything you wanna tell me?” He gestured toward Harry with a wiggle of his brows and an obnoxious thumbs up that had Dean dragging him away. “Okay, Okay, you’re cut off.”

Harry, who’d already been staring in that general direction (because he hated him being here, that was all) froze with some sort of embarrassment. He expected Malfoy to sneer, or make some rude arse comment to the already pissed Gryffindor, but instead the only shade of emotion he illicited was a hot pink blush that spread across both cheeks. Harry started. He’d never seen Malfoy look so, so... fragile. It was beautiful. Captivating. What?

And then they were all downing shots of Firewhiskey (courtesy of Ron’s newest best friend), and the more inebriated Harry got, the more he found himself pondering the flush of those cheeks. The way his platinum hair accentuated them. The way his sharp features lacked their once pointed edges, and appeared rather... endearing. Like he really regretted following in his father’s foot steps during the war. Like another chance.

And suddenly Harry was thinking about his lips, and how they might taste like that certain kind of redemption that flips the world upside down. And he knew he was drunk, because when had he ever thought about snogging Malfoy? If he was really honest with himself, he’d find that this wasn’t the first time.

And suddenly his stupor was broken by a very self-appeased Pansy Parkinson suggesting that they lock each other in a closet for seven minutes and see what happens. “It’s a muggle game! Hermione told me about it,” she chattered, and Harry noticed Hermione’s cheeks blushing the same way that Draco’s had. What the fuck?

And then coincidentally Ron and Blaise were the first to end up locked away together, and from the suspicious noises coming from behind the door, Harry assumed they’d figured out they were in each other’s company. Was he fucking dreaming?

And then Luna (was she even an eighth year?) ended up with Ginny, and Dean with Seamus, and suddenly drunk Harry was wondering if Pansy was behind these matches or if this was one big coincidence.

When it was his turn to be blindfolded, he entered the closet with a weird sort of anticipation that he was sure he could blame on the whiskey. Why did he care who he ended up with? It’s not like it meant anything... right?

And why was there a small, evil voice in the back of his mind that hoped it would be Malfoy?

When the door opened again to reveal the warmth of another body, and immediately closed behind it, Harry’s breath caught. Who could it be?

“Hello?” He asked dumbly as the figure drew closer. He could feel their presence radiating toward him, being drawn as if by gravity. Since when did drunk Harry become such a goddamn poet? And then the body was beside him, sitting with its back against the wall, and Harry could feel his cheeks heating at the sudden closeness. Similar to the way Malfoy’s had.

Without a word, the foreign person beside him grasped his hand between two of their own. Simultaneously Harry’s heart began to race. Those hands were both mysterious and strangely familiar as they traced small circles around his palm. They were soft and smooth and suddenly Harry’s head was swimming, and he was 99% sure it wasn’t from the alcohol. The next moment brought their face eerily close to Harry’s, so much so that he could feel the smooth tickle of peppermint breath across his face.

And all at once he knew. He didn’t have to touch him. He recognized the proper, clean smell of a Malfoy, and his heart was pounding in his chest. He felt something inside him lurch, like he never wanted this moment to end. Why was he so close? And why did he want him closer?

“I know it’s you.” Harry whispered suddenly as he felt that breath come even closer, hot and heavy against his lips.

“Then why are you still wearing this?” Was the hushed response, and then those soft fingers were untying Pansy’s Slytherin tie from around his head.

The first thing he saw were piercing silver eyes held flush with his own. Why had he never noticed how stunning he was?

“We’re drunk,” Harry said as the world began to sway, reflecting outside what he so desperately felt within.

“I think about you all the time.” Was the response, and Harry felt his stomach lurch. “Ever since you gave me my wand back. And then Pansy and Blaise are all about your friends, and suddenly you didn’t seem so bad anymore. And then I realized that...that...”

Harry was frozen in his current state, unable to form words, let alone sentences. Out of nowhere, his instinct kicked in, took over, and answered what he knew to be hiding all along.

“That we always wanted each other.”

Draco nodded before resting his forehead against Harry’s. And then, out of nowhere, he was laughing.

“God, I never would’ve had the courage to tell you that if I wasn’t completely pissed. I’m no Gryffindor.”

Harry chuckled. “Well, I guess that makes me a poor excuse for one then.”

“You’re right. You should’ve told me sooner. That was your job.”

Harry smiled. “Prat.”

“Git.”

A quick pause, both lips pulled into an understanding smile. And then Harry’s grin widened into something slightly more facetious.

“So... how many minutes do you think we have? Five? Two?”

“Enough,” Draco answered urgently before pressing his lips forcefully upon his own.

Oh, God, they were the perfect balance of forgiveness and pining and secrets and fresh beginnings. They were soft and supple and most definitely not sneering in his direction. Harry’s drunken self pulled closer, no longer denying his innate desire to feel every piece of Malfoy become one with himself. His hands found the back of his neck, gripping the infinity of this moment before parting his lips and inviting Malfoy inside. He was suddenly overtaken by the overwhelming sensation of warm peppermint colliding against his tongue. It was perfection at its finest. It was Draco, and Harry, and a lifetime of desire splayed before them in one solid gesture. It was the future, and everything that was to come once they (literally) would come out of the closet together. It was firewhiskey and sobriety and indulgence. It was...

A room full of eighth years standing in silence, door wide open, observing two idiots snogging in a closet. Pansy wore a smirk; Hermione a knowing smile. Ron’s mouth was dropped into an unpleasant “O,” and Blaise was quietly chuckling at his reaction. They would’ve kept going, completely oblivious to the audience before them, if it weren’t for a stumbling Seamus Finnigan barging through the open doorway.

“SEE, DEAN!? YOU DONT GET TO CUT ME OFF WHEN IM RIGHT!?!?!?”

Drunk Harry didn’t care, and he had a feeling that sober Harry wouldn’t either. They separated with a grin before Draco took Harry’s hand and pulled them into a standing position.

He winked at Harry before turning to the crowd. “Somebody get Seamus a drink. He was right.”

With a hoop and holler from across the group, the soirée continued. It wasn’t long before Draco’s and Harry’s drunken confession inspired the start of several other relationships. By the end of the evening, Blaise and Ron had snuck to the dorm and Pansy and Hermione had locked lips in a deserted corner.

All in all, eighth year was more than just preparing for NEWTS. It seemed that it was educational in all kinds of ways, and at the end of the day, the golden trio had learned more than they would’ve ever expected from the silver trio. And, on top of that, everyone seemed to learn that when Seamus Finnigan was drunk, you should just go ahead and listen.

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