#@drarrymicrofic
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for the @drarrymicrofic prompt 'proof' | Just something random that floated across my mind and got itself written and it matches the prompt!
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People wonder what Harry Potter – Saviour of the Wizarding World and Gryffindor Golden Boy - could possibly see in Draco Malfoy - Death Eater scum and a good-for-nothing Slytherin snake.
People find it ludicrous to believe when Harry insists that Draco has changed. Why should they believe? How could they?
Because they don’t know how hard Draco tried to learn the recipe of treacle tart from Mrs. Weasley just to surprise Harry on his birthday.
They aren’t aware how Draco is always that one person to believe Harry in a heartbeat – whatever it is – even when no one does just because Harry hates when people imply he’s lying for he must not tell lies so how could he?
They don’t know how tight Draco holds Harry’s hands even long after they’re asleep because he's afraid of falling into the Fiendfyre in his dreams.
They didn’t hear him giving Ron ‘the talk’ when the poor guy was on the verge of a mini mental breakdown mere minutes before his wedding with Hermione.
They didn’t see the tears in his eyes when Harry kissed him hard and said, ‘Yes I will! Of course I will, you idiot!’ while slipping the plain platinum band on his fingers with his pale, trembling hands.
People don’t see any of this and frankly Harry doesn’t coax them to anymore. It isn’t the first time when they have refused to believe him. It isn’t the first time when they have demanded Harry a proof for his claims.
This time, however, he’s more than content to be selfish enough to keep the pure and simple truth all to himself.
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#drarry#draco malfoy#harry potter#draco/harry#harry/draco#microfic#drarrymicrofic#@drarrymicrofic#rating: unrated#all mistakes are my own#drarry fanfic#proof#boldyinnocent317#bi317writes
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Prompt: heartstopping
Harry's hands around Draco's waist; the way their whole body, their souls, are just focused on one another as if this is not a room full of hundreds of Hogwarts graduates, but just the two of them. Everyone with eyes can see that what they have is heartstopping.
- Word count: 48 words, @drarrymicrofic
#drarry#draco x harry#harry x draco#harco#drarrymicrofic#microfic#hp microfic#harry potter#@drarrymicrofic#hermione pov#outsider pov
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It stands to reason that Harry’s holding groceries when he runs into Draco Malfoy for the first time in twenty years.
Well— doesn’t run into, exactly. No, more like peers through a shop window like a right barmy bastard, bits of overspilling lettuce brushing his arm and passers-by on Diagon shooting him strange looks.
Of course Malfoy has to look up from the till— because, yes, Draco Malfoy is a shopkeeper on Diagon Alley apparently— and see him goggling. So, of course, Harry has to step inside, as though he meant to make a stop at— right, yeah, Narcissus Needlework Studio— all along, holding brown paper packages of vegetables.
Malfoy’s frowning when Harry makes his way over to the till.
“I don’t want any trouble,” he says. “I’ve registered the shop, everything’s perfectly within regulation—“
“Trouble?” Harry blinks. “Oh, no. I’m not an Auror. Anymore.”
“I know that,” Malfoy says unhappily. “The whole Wizarding World all over Europe knows that. Only you’ve never left well enough alone, have you, Potter?”
Harry’s forty next month. He’s lived twenty years seeing hide nor hair of Draco Malfoy, and he’s never gone looking. Well, except for that one time when he was twenty one and went to the Manor as a trainee Auror for a— well, it was a routine check, really. And that other time when he was twenty five and thought he saw a man at a club who looked just like Malfoy from the back and was convinced for four months Malfoy was back in London and must be up to something if no one knew about it. And that time when he was thirty two— and, oh, alright, Harry hasn’t ever left well enough alone, not when it comes to Malfoy, at least.
This time, though, Harry really didn’t go looking. And it’s definitely Malfoy.
“I just wanted some— thread,” Harry says. A needlework studio should have some of that, shouldn’t it?
“Thread,” says Malfoy. He looks down, deliberately, at Harry’s lettuce.
“For Molly,” Harry says. “As a, um, birthday present. New shop on Diagon, thought I’d pop by. Seemed the place, you know. Didn’t know it was yours.”
Molly’s birthday, Malfoy doesn’t need to know, is in December. It’s June.
Malfoy continues to stare at him, until Harry’s unsure whether to get indignant about it all or turn tail and flee.
“Well,” says Malfoy before he can make a choice. “Embroidery yarn for you, then, Potter. Come along.”
-
“I’ll see you again, I assume,” Malfoy says at the end of what transpires to be a surprisingly smooth purchase.
Harry nods.
He only realises after he leaves that there’s no reason for him to come back. He’s seen it for himself— what Draco Malfoy’s up to these days. Nothing nefarious or suspicious, just yarn and needles and tapestries on Diagon.
Except, well, he’s committed now, hasn’t he? And Harry Potter’s a man of his word. He said yes, when Malfoy asked— Malfoy asked!— so he’ll be back.
And really, if he has to invent Hermione’s sudden new and passionate interest in needlework— well. That’s between Harry and his lettuce.
written for @drarrymicrofic’s prompt “sewing”. i just personally think harry james potter could be seventy five and still rapidly become obsessed with draco malfoy at any given moment.
#drarry#hpdm#drarry microfic#drarrymicrofic#draco malfoy#harry potter#drarry fic#drarry fic rec#geets microfics#i just personally find this bit of their completely canon dynamic beyond hilarious#obsessed little freaks
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Innossb continues its North American tour remains focused on the event in your respective Afrocongo arrived soon 😍❤️
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@drarrymicrofic
Prompt: Time Loops, 9 February 2024
TW: Language
Words: 120
47
"What is wrong with you, Potter?"
Harry blinked in the doorway.
"Why, do come in..." he said as Draco shoved his way on through.
"Forty-six times! Forty-six fucking times I've repeated this day. And nothing I do convinces you to fucking kiss me!"
Harry blinked some more. When he was done blinking he said: "Well. Did you ask?"
Draco threw his head back and cast his hands to the heavens. "Of course, why didnt I think of that!? Potter, give us a snog, will you?"
Harry squinted. "Alright."
"What?"
"Oh good, you've stopped flapping about." Harry stepped right up into his space and latched a hand onto each bicep. "Shut your eyes then, Malfoy. Don't make it weird."
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back to the basics
“Remember third year,” Harry said.
Draco glanced up from the evening paper. “I try not to, no.”
The clock on the mantle read half past eight. Harry itched his ear and yawned, his legs sprawled over the sofa arm. “Third year’s the dementor year,” he said. “The year they followed us to Hogwarts. You remember.”
“Yes, school was rather like a prison, wasn’t it.”
“Every time the dementors got near, I relived the death of my parents—”
“Merlin, how many times do I have to apologize for dressing up as a dementor, I mean how could I have known—”
Harry laughed. “I’m not looking for another apology, Draco.”
Draco paused. “Then what are you doing?”
“Just reminiscing. Funny how angry I felt back then but it’s all so funny to me now.”
Draco made a face. “I was a pretty rotten kid. But I’ve changed. Like, a lot.”
Draco always looked nervous when talking about the past. Like he thought Harry would leave him if he suddenly remembered the day he let the Death Eaters in and Fred died. But Harry never forgot anything.
Harry closed his eyes, remembering that first day at Madam Malkin’s. He had been so unconflictingly angry. But children were malleable, half-formed things. No child was a bad person. They were just dumb mean kids.
Harry reached over and pinched Draco’s nose. “I don’t think you’ve changed much at all, actually. You weren’t all that bad from the start.”
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A 50 word Drarry microfic for your enjoyment ♥️
It took twenty-three dates.
Twenty-four if you count their shag in the ministry loo. Harry decided he definitely did.
Twenty-four dates before the stubborn bastard said it.
One word that set Harry’s nerves alight; relief in his lungs, elation in his veins.
One word breathed into their tender kiss.
“Harry.”
#drarrymicrofic#drarry#hpdm#draco x harry#drarry fanfiction#50 word fic challenge#50 word microfic#frotcot bingo#the FrotCot made me do it
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100 words for the @drarrymicrofic prompt disrobe
"You need a hobby," Ginny said. Don't argue, her tone communicated loud and clear.
So here he was: drawing class. What rubbish. Harry stared at the sketch pad in his lap. His hands were smudged black from the charcoal, and the class hadn't even started yet. There was charcoal smeared across his cheek from when he had pushed his glasses up his nose, he could feel it.
"Say hello to our live model for tonight," the teacher announced.
Harry looked up just as Draco's robe slid to the floor, and the charcoal in Harry's hand splintered with a loud crack.
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Just an idea that came to me at 4 AM but I actually kinda like it. Should I continue this?
—————
Harry pulls away from the kiss and Draco wastes no time in moving his lips down to brush along the brunette’s jaw, “Dray?” He asks, “How much longer do we have to keep this up?”
“Hmm?” Draco hums in question; his lips tickle against Harry’s skin.
He mouths down Harry’s neck - nipping, sucking and kissing as Harry stutters out, “this whole ~ah~ m-mortal e-enemies charade?” He huffs out a breath as Draco sucks and bites that sweet spot where his neck and shoulder meet. The other boy’s teeth scraping his skin followed by a hot tongue, soothing the sting. Harry’s heart flutters at the thought of seeing Draco’s mark on himself later.
“Ah~ Draco…” He groans, trying to elicit a response from the blonde.
“Shh…”
“But-“
“I said,” Draco pauses to nip the shell of Harry’s ear and Harry shivers, “hush,” and then Draco’s lips are on his again. Obviously unwilling to have any kind of conversation.
He wants to know Draco’s response, he swears he does, but when the man of your dreams is kissing you like his life depends on it while also sliding his hands up your body to hook into your tie… your mind kinda goes blank.
Realistically it’s toxic, it always has been with them, but Harry still wants it. MERLIN does he want it. Anything and everything Draco will give him, and at this moment? With the other boy’s hands now working to undo his cloak? He no longer cares.
Harry - throwing all caution to the wind - deepens the kiss and without breaking away, grabs the blonde’s thighs to hoist him up onto the desk. He slots himself in between Draco’s legs to press closer into his heat. This is all so wrong, but it feels so, so right.
#drarry#drarry fic#drarry fandom#drarry fanfiction#drarry microfic#drarry fanfic#drarry ship#drarrymicrofic#draco x harry#harry x draco#harry potter#harry potter fanfic#drarry angst#drarry ao3#harry potter x draco malfoy#harry/draco#top harry#top harry potter#harry james potter#draco malfoy#draco lucius malfoy#bottom draco#bottom draco malfoy#draco fanfiction#harry fanfic#draco malfoy x harry potter#harry potter microfic#author is sleep deprived#drarry smut
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Second chance
For @drarrymicrofic prompt "Changes" . Thank you @cluelesspigeons for beta reading!
Harry noticed some changes in Draco’s behaviour ever since the beginning of the eighth year. Good changes. He smiled more, laughed more. And Harry couldn’t help but follow him to keep a watch on him.
“You’re not going to be like sixth year all over again, right?” Ron sighed as they sat at theGryffindor table in the Great Hall.
“Why are you saying it like that?” Harry struggled to stop staring at the blond Slytherin.
“Because I can’t stand seeing my best friend being into… him!” Ron groaned.
“You were the one saying that people deserve second chances. And Draco has changed!” Harry turned around to look at Draco again.
“Right.” Ron sighed again before taking a bite of his chicken. He turned to the others at the table. “Who wants to place a bet on them? I give it two months.”
“Two weeks,” Neville said as he sat down beside Harry.
“Hey!” Harry gasped.
“They’re pretty dense,” Hermione argued. “It won’t happen before spring break.”
Harry groaned. Of course they would bet on his love life. But as he looked at Draco again and saw him staring back at him with a soft smile, he wanted to prove them wrong.
“Two minutes,” he said. He got up from the table and started walking.
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Microfic: Evermore
I don’t know why I went. When the invitation showed up in the mail with Dudley’s almost illegible scrawl on the back, I thought - they don’t want me there, not really. But Vernon was dead, and I guess I wanted to see it for myself.
I stood in the back of the small church, arms crossed across my chest, watching the mourners in the service in their pearls and lace, their pressed shirts and boxy suits. A couple had glanced at me nervously on their way in, confused as to what this young man with his wild black hair and leather jacket was doing in their church. But it wasn’t them I had come to see.
Dudley walked right past me, Aunt Marge hanging heavily on his elbow. To be fair, with the sheer volume of her wails, I wouldn’t have noticed me either. But the two people I wanted to see me, to look me in the eye and realise who I had become without them in my life - well, one had only spared me a tight-lipped glance, and the other was squeezed into a coffin at the front of the church.
As I trailed behind them on their way to the churchyard, and then as I watched them lower him into the earth from beneath an old chestnut tree laden with spiky shells that rattled in the breeze, I thought, this is it then. I was nothing more than a raven, haunting a funeral for a man who hadn’t seen me since I was barely seventeen. I never had to see him again. But the thought brought me no peace.
Draco was waiting for me when I got home. He sat at the kitchen table, reading the Prophet with the slight scowl that he worried gave him wrinkles and which I usually kissed away with a smile. He looked up as I came in and hung my jacket up in the hall.
“How’d it go?” he asked.
I paused, one hand still braced on the wall from stepping out of my boots. I took a deep, shaking breath.
“I finally realised,” I said slowly, “that they never cared about me. Not really.”
Draco got up and pulled me into his arms. “Oh darling,” he murmured as I fell apart in his embrace, “my darling.”
Outside the kitchen window, a raven left its perch on the sill and flew off into the gathering night.
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For @drarrymicrofic prompt, “raven.”
#harry potter#drarry#my writing#draco malfoy#drarry microfic#microfic#drarrymicrofic#draco x harry#harry x draco#angst
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for the @drarrymicrofic prompts 'Bergamot' and 'Shock' | I entered this game a little late so I'm going to take full advantage of that by mixing all the old prompts to my liking. I hope you understand..... :)
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"We ruined it, didn't we?"
Harry ignored Ron's frantic question and dipped his head dangerously close to the hot cauldron to take a good sniff. Citrus is it...𝘭𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘴...? he thought and sniffed harder. Hmmm.... Maybe something blonde.....
Wait. Wha -
"It's okay, Potter. There are better ways to die than sinking your head in a boiling cauldron."
Malfoy.
MALFOY.
"Malfoy!" Ron hissed.
"Malfoy...." Harry breathed into the swirling pink concoction.
~~~~~~~~~
#drarry#dracoxharry#harryx draco#draco malfoy#harry potter#potions#ron weasley#drarrymicrofic#@drarrymicrofic#microfic#hp fandom#rating: unrated#it's the ambivalent sorta shock#all mistakes are my own#bergamot#shock#prompts#boldlyinnocent317#bi317writes
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Microfic: Say What You Want
for @drarrymicrofic prompt 'one of your girls' by troye sivan
There's a certain cruelty in making Potter ask. Draco can, of course, feel the same nauseating undulation of desire. But he's pleased to see he can still hold out against his rut for longer than Potter can his heat. Petty of him. Selfish. Ungrateful. But God, to have Harry beg.
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“What the fuck is this?”
Potter, in a fit of rage, is quite the sight to behold. Magic sizzles around him, errant curls escape his lazy bun, spectacles sit a touch too crooked on his nose.
Draco sips his tea. “A transfer request.”
“For Merlin’s sake—“ Potter rubs the bridge of his nose, a tell Draco’s learnt to mean he’s confused and scattered, and entirely unwilling to admit it. “I can read, Malfoy. Why?”
“Article 9, Section 3 of the Auror Code of Conduct—“
“No,” Potter cuts him off. “Absolutely not.”
Draco puts his tea down.
“I wouldn’t have thought,” he begins, slow and careful, “that you’d have already forgotten— what we did. Right in this office, in fact.”
“I haven’t forgotten anything,” Potter says. The transfer request is crumpling in his fist.
“Then you also remember it’s against the rules for us to remain partners—“
Potter stalks closer, until he’s towering over Draco’s desk. Draco’s mouth is desert-dry.
“Fuck the rules,” he says. This close, his scar always takes Draco by surprise, stark and ridged and white, cutting across his forehead and the top of his cheekbone. This close, now and every other time, he’s a riot of messy intensity. Draco can’t look away. “Merlin, Draco, when have I given a fuck about the rules? You leave me, I leave the MLE, there’s no point—”
“Potter,” Draco says. He’s weak and has never resisted temptation well. It’s no surprise this is all it takes for him to reach and cup Harry’s jaw, jittery thumb catching on the stubble shadowing his cheek. “Harry, I’m not that special.”
“Tell me you’re doing this because you think you have to,” Harry says, quiet and low. “Tell me you felt like you must, and not because you— because you want to get away from me. If it’s that, then I won’t stand in—“
“Don’t be silly.” It comes out sharp and affectionate, and Harry’s shoulders relax a little. “Nobody—“ he swallows, “—nobody else I’d trust to get my coffee order right, is there?” A flicker of a smile. Draco’s spirit sings. “Or—“ he says, huge and irrevocable and far too honest, “have my back in a fight. Only. It’s only you, isn’t it?”
Harry’s hand comes up, covers Draco’s where it still rests, trembling and uncertain on his cheek. He pulls it away, and for a split second Draco almost panics, until he realises Harry is lacing their fingers together, grip tight.
“It wasn’t a mistake,” Harry says. “The— us.” His mouth ghosts over Draco’s knuckles, warm and soft and plaintive. “I wanted it so long, Draco.”
“It wasn’t a mistake,” Draco acquiesces.
They stare at each other, long, silent moments, breaths heavy.
“I’ll stay,” Draco nods eventually. “Of course I’ll stay, all you had to do was ask, just, say something Potter. Don’t you know that?”
Harry lights up with a grin so broad Draco wants to taste it, dip his tongue into it, merge his mouth with—
But Harry’s stepping back, towards the dustbin in the corner. Draco has a moment of confusion before Harry straightens out the transfer request still bunched in his grip and rips it to pieces. The parchment flutters, confetti-like, to the floor.
“You’re stuck with me,” Harry says, serious and determined, even though the smile hasn’t quite left his mouth. “Right here.”
“Where else—“ Draco clears his throat when the words come out raspy and tangled, “Harry. Where else would I possibly want to be?”
for the @drarrymicrofic prompt “pieces”. dipping my toes back in here after years and i could not stop thinking about messy auror partners!
#drarry#drarrymicrofic#draco malfoy#harry potter#hpdm#hpdm fanfic#drarry fic rec#drarry fic#auror partners#workplace shenanigans#geets tries to get back into writing
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For @drarrymicrofic 's prompt "Time loop". G | 542.
Maybe I will write more later. Fingercross that I would be able to create something decent.
They say that tomorrow never comes. Draco is sure they don’t mean it like this.
He stares at the Daily Prophet, silently willing the date on it to change. The date, probably relishing in Draco's agony, remains the same. It is the same the day before, and the day before that, and the day before the day before that, and— There are too many days before that, certainly more than Draco's liking, that Draco feels foolish to hope for something different. He still hopes.
Draco throws the paper at the wall. It always says rubbish, anyway.
“You know that’s not going to help,” says Potter from behind the kitchen’s table. He is buttering a slice of toast. On the table, there are two plates of perfectly cooked English breakfast, a mug of coffee and a cup of tea. Everything is made by Potter.
“What else are you telling me to do?!” Draco snaps back. “Sit down and drink coffee?”
Potter puts down the coffee mug he just drank from a second ago. “No. The world knows you hates coffee. But you can drink tea.”
Draco grumbles but sits down at the table. He sips the tea. He has to stop himself from moaning in pleasure as the liquid warms his entire body up. It is exactly how Draco likes it.
Draco glances up and catches Potter smirking at him. Draco glares at him.
After nearly a month of being stuck with each other, Potter has come to know too much about Draco’s habits and preferences for Draco’s comfort. Draco consoles himself that the contrary is also true. Draco also learns a lot more about Potter in that short time than in the previous ten years they have shared. However, if he is honest, that fact sometimes scares Draco shitless.
“You should go shopping for grocery. I'm getting tired of English breakfast,” Potter says between bites of egg.
“I'm not. You can get your own food if you don’t like it.” Draco throws back just to be contrary.
“Maybe I should.” Potter agrees. “Come to think of it, I don’t even have to cook. I can just get take away. Do you like naan?”
This is what discomforts Draco the most. It is getting harder and harder to anger Potter. Halfway through the second week, Potter doesn’t rise to Draco’s bait anymore.
“Aren’t you a bit too comfortable with this situation?” Draco grumbles. “People would think you love it.”
All pretend relaxation falls off Potter. His posture straightens up. His face hardens. “I'm not. I would sell my soul to get out of this.”
Draco mentally curses himself. There it is, the blank, world-weary eyes Potter occasionally wear. Against Draco’s better judgement, he knows that he would dig his own heart out if it could stop Potter looking that way. Between trying to get out of the time loop and having every meal together, Draco has fallen for Harry Potter.
Once again, Draco curses whatever has put them in this situation.
“Maybe we will figure it out today.” Draco says, hoping his lame comfort would cheer Potter up just a little. “And it will be like before again.”
Potter blinks. Then, he nods, looking less depressed but also kind of odd. “Maybe. Maybe not.”
#drarry#drarry microfic#drarrymicrofic#time loop#pining#kind of domestic#btw it happens in Draco's kitchen
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he loves me, he loves me not
for the @drarrymicrofic prompt "eerie" | 100 words | optional prequel
Harry wants to pretend he doesn’t read every love poem five times over. Maybe Malfoy’s owled seventeen sonnets to every eligible Wizarding bachelor, but it’s felt rather personal: what if you shook my hand; what if you held it.
Harry wants to pretend he doesn’t stand outside the Manor at the edge of the wards, trying to see inside. As though the eerie, flickering light in the windows could illuminate some clue as to why. Or maybe, how much.
Fuck pretending. When the eighteenth owl arrives, Harry claws the envelope open. Reads like he’s starving for it.
Maybe he is.
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