#drarry fic
Text
author reclist: wolfpants
over the last few months, i've been devouring @wolfpants' works. ever since reading pages of you in two days, their rendering of harry, draco and a vast array of incredibly compelling side characters have irrevocably hooked me.
wolf is an author in enthralling motion. their fics often feature places, temporalities and contexts far removed from where canon holds & leaves us, while simultaneously being tenderly familiar, like coming home. wolf's sense of & grasp over setting leaves me breathless and dumbstruck. their different spatialities inform & infuse character in admirable ways, at various levels of craft, enjoyment and inspiration. this fandom knows and loves the draco and harry they give us, but we delight in discovering new dimensions & aspects of these characters. it's always done brilliantly believably, especially in the framework of the worlds they construct— a breath of fresh air in a forest where the trees still know your name.
wolf's works also demonstrate, sometimes explicitly, sometimes implicitly, a really significant political sensibility. most of their fics are set against backdrops tight with political tension bleeding into the characters' circumstances and interpersonal dynamics. whether through a spectrality haunting the narrative or the crucial central diegetic thread, wolf's works are layered, interrogating and collapsing delineations among private, public and political, between history and contemporaneity and between narrative and commentary.
in the interests of length & theme of this list, i've specifically selected some fics that, for me, showcase wolf's mastery & playfulness with setting, understood as deviations in place, time and universe. the broader recommendation is, of course, to check out everything wolf has ever written!
nightcall (E, 1k) ft. a long distance phone call
On a top secret Unspeakable misson, Harry calls Draco from a remote phone booth on the Isle of Skye.
a stunning portrait of desire, longing and familiarity that uses distance as a device to intensify every element. it's unbelievable how much character & context 1k words of (mostly) smut can pack in. the slivers of backstory demand your investment, inform the dynamic in crucial ways and set up some delicious stakes and tension. and some absolutely fantastic dirty talk. see also: @getawayfox's gorgeous art for this fic!
long haul (E, 8.6k) ft. plane rides, mile high club, nyc
The last person Harry expects to run into on a long haul flight to New York City is Draco Malfoy.
the way wolf writes movement— between places, between people— strokes its way up your spine, warms you, walks with you. draco and harry, buoyed in the air, let preconceived notions fall away, to be replaced by startlingly rapid and exquisite intimacy. the liminal settings, specifically, allow mature, open-minded, desirous characterisation & some of the most glorious, soft, tender sex to fall into like a warm bed.
look for me in the sun (M, 8.7k) ft. americana, roadtrip/on-the-run vibes
Harry and Draco are on the run in America after a mysterious string of werewolf-like attacks in the Muggle community causes the Ministry to impose new and harsh anti-werewolf legislation.
atmospheric writing dialled up to eleven, like the smell of ozone in the air before a thunderstorm. the sense of limbo— transience, out of place and time, the complication of home— that afflicts the circumstances of draco & harry here is heart-wrenching. a taut rumination on otherness in a variety of ways, rendered through some of the most tense and subtle writing i've encountered.
under giant mountains (E, 33.7k) ft. norwegian dragon reserves & rampant escapist tendencies
Harry doesn't know where he's going. Everyone else has their life paths figured out; he doesn't even know where his map is. Who'd have thought Draco Malfoy bathing in a Norwegian forest would be the guidepost Harry needed?
opens with harry, stuck in the same place for far too long, and draco, avoiding fixity like the plague. this fic looks at both stagnation and escapism as iterations of each other & treats them with the gentlest empathy. the norwegian dragon reserve setting, whose visuality wolf's writing captures beautifully, becomes the canvas to explore both. desire, here, was simultaneously so evident from the outset and took its time to build— longing tinged every interaction & payoff, in the form of a sequence of some of the most emotionally fraught sex scenes i've ever read, was that much sweeter.
romp and circumstance (E, 35k) ft. a historical au set in the 1800s, regency era england
Since the war, Harry Potter has gone from Saviour to Scoundrel—not that he’s complaining.
With a schedule full of gorgeous men, alcohol, and late nights, why would he want to change? Enter Draco Malfoy: beautiful, sharp, and completely untouchable. When Draco comes to Harry with a proposition to help him attract an engagement, Harry’s up for it—after all, how hard can it be not falling for his former nemesis?
Very hard, apparently.
the very first wolf fic i read, in a brief little fandom interlude back in 2022. i remember thinking, then, what an author, i'm really missing out these days. one of my favourite post-war harry characterisations— raucous, promiscuous, messy and at heart, a hopeless romantic. also one of my favourite draco characterisations— pristine, a little uptight, cool and distant and untouchable, except what he really wants is to be unbuttoned, messed up. the transforming sentiments of their relationship were so compelling, the build of harry's feelings was perfectly achey and tender and this draco was a complex, nuanced, frightfully sexy version that i just couldn't turn away from.
pages of you (E, 101k) ft. a 1980s non-magical au
Summer, 1980. Harry is floating between university and becoming a Real Certified Adult. He's not ready. He really isn't.
In a desperate attempt to have the Best Last Summer ever, he takes a casual job at his godfather's bookshop in London, starts an illicit pen pal affair with a wordy posh boy that he's catching feelings for, all while dealing with the son of Sirius's business rival, one Draco Malfoy, insufferable know-it-all extraordinaire.
gosh, what a fic. sensitive and sprawling, this work brings the spatialities of london, sirius and remus' queer comfort of a bookshop and harry's room at the residence halls to pulsing, colourful, splendid life. i can still close my eyes and imagine the spaces this fic occurs in, how important they are to the push and pull, ups and downs of the dynamic between harry and draco. a coming-of-age/sexual awakening & exploration story, summer romance and queer political fiction rolled into one, this is a fic that's hard to summarise and easy to obsess over. perfect characterisations, writing that burrows into your soul and a plot that unfolds with the slow and steady depth of gentle lake.
and lastly, a fic that's on my tbr:
terrible people (E, 52.7k) ft. cruises, beach holidays and more of @getawayfox's masterpieces
What happens when Harry and Draco end up on the same Muggle gay cruise? They certainly didn't plan for it to happen (but their friends might have). They're stuck with each other for a week, they might as well make the most of it, right?
in conclusion: vivid, descriptive, immersive storytelling from an author who understands the intricacies of different narrative elements and leverages them masterfully. can't wait to read the works i haven't, and for everything wolf writes in the future!
#wolfpants#drarry rec list#geets recs#drarry fic#drarry fanfic#drarry recs#draco malfoy#harry james potter#hpdm fanfic#hpdm#draco x harry
81 notes
·
View notes
Text
this heaven of mud | 94k
winter, 2002: Draco Malfoy is absolutely fine, thank you very much.
summer, 2008: Harry Potter is, er- well, not good exactly, but definitely better. Yeah. Better than before.
A love story told in two somewhat unreliable parts, over six years. Featuring secret shagging, to friends, to the ‘how is it fair for someone to say your name like that’ sort of friends, to, finally, someone you could call a home.
-
this fic is now complete!
featuring: alternating points of view, whole buckets of pining, affectionately venomous conversations between Slytherins, three-foot-wide clairvoyant orchids, swans who had previous lives as pillows, Draco having a terrible fiancé, social worker Harry, more pining if you can believe it and, I swear- a happy ending.
click here to read it on ao3
#draco x harry#drarry#drarry fanfic#drarry fic#drarry fanfiction#drarry fic rec#harry x draco#hpdm#woo what a doozy#a lot of feelings i'll have to go sit quietly about them#boy howdy
43 notes
·
View notes
Text
not very subtle now are we?
we love us some awkward harry
#drarry#draco x harry#harry potter#hp fanart#draco malfoy#drarry fic#tryna get used to drawing more of them#btw im not a new shipper#ive been shipping drarry since i was 12#just wanted to start posting on tumblr bcuz why not#btw sorry for the ugly sketch i drew this at work
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
the game’s the game
“What was going through your mind when you spotted the Snitch?”
Two camera shutters go off like lighting, but Draco doesn’t blink. It’s almost the end of the season, and he’s done a press conference every week. He’s used to them.
“Fucking finally,” he answers, and the journalists all laugh. They think he’s joking, and he can already imagine the articles they’ll publish tomorrow pronouncing him cheeky and funny, but he means it wholeheartedly. Six hours in the sky, drenched all the way through his pants in rainwater, and facing the very best player in the league? He had half a mind to jump off his broom if only to have the game end somehow.
“This is the second time you face PU and well, Harry Potter, this season,” says another reporter, a young, pretty woman with her hair pinned up and a reverent tone when she speaks Potter’s name. Like everyone. “Are you expecting to encounter him at this year’s Cup? And if so, how does that make you feel?”
Draco breathes out hard through his nose. Across the room from him, sitting at his own table against the wall opposite, Potter’s doing his own press conference. He’s wearing a hat backwards, the light blue of his team hoodie contrasting with his golden-warm skin tone. He has a hand to his chin, rubbing his short beard in thought at some question he’s being asked. Probably about just how sweet it had been to snatch that Snitch right from under Draco’s nose. He’s earnest and so gorgeous Draco can’t stand the sight of him.
“The game is the game,” Harry’s voice carries, clear and chesty, deeply masculine as he says his favorite little quote that means absolutely nothing and that fans have been yelling and tattooing on their bodies the whole season. “We don’t take any victory for granted. Coach has been running us to the ground, she won’t stop until we have that trophy in Puddlemere, and we’re doing our best to make her proud.”
“Oh, I’m certain we’ll face them at the Cup,” is what Draco answers at last. “Honestly? I think no other team comes even close. We’ll face them, and then we’ll bring the Cup home to Appleby. As Potter himself likes to say, the game is the game.”
All the cameras around him go off, the sound of Quick-Quills scrabbling and the reporters’ scandalized gasps at his use of Potter’s quote. He grins, puts his olive green Arrows cap on and stands to leave. He needs a fucking shower.
Later on, he’s sprawled on his hotel room couch, drying his hair with a towel and watching a replay of the game on the enormous television, making mental notes about his own flying, his mistakes, the times he dove too soon or hovered too low. When the screen follows the blue jersey with POTTER 7 emblazoned across the back, he looks closely, trying to spot mistakes but knowing he won’t find any. Potter’s probably the best flier of the century, and Draco loves Quidditch too much to lie to himself about that.
He’s admiring one of Potter’s physics-defying feints when there’s a knock on his door. Immediately, his heart takes up a gallop, and he has to press a hand to the center of his chest with a frown.
“Calm the fuck down, Malfoy,” he mutters. It’s a disproportionate reaction and he’s irritated with himself for it. It’s not as though it’s the first time. Or the tenth.
He pauses the game with a flick of his wand and makes his way to the door, through the archway that separates the TV room from the kitchenette. A quick look at the archway across the suite to make sure the bedroom is as he left it, and he’s at the door, taking a deep breath.
Potter’s grin is huge when Draco opens. He’s foregone all his team outwear, and is now in a familiar, worn leather jacket and a black sweater. His hair is wet, as though he rushed after his shower so he could get here quicker. Draco opens his mouth to say something, but before he figures out what, Harry pushes inside, turns around and presses him against the door, big hands gentle on Draco’s waist. Draco’s heart hasn’t gotten the “this isn’t the first or tenth time this happens,” memo, and is still running a marathon inside his chest, so he says nothing.
There’s a plastic bag in Potter’s hands. Dinner, probably, he usually brings dinner when they meet after a game. His wide smile reveals white teeth, a crooked canine that Draco knows is a baby tooth that never loosened. Round, stylish glasses cover the most intoxicating green eyes Draco has ever seen, and they’re shining with tonight’s victory. And Draco might be — definitely is — the world’s sorest loser, but he’s also the world’s biggest slut for Quidditch excellence, and he has it right here, holding him against his hotel room door.
“The game is the game?” Harry asks, amused, already leaning in, the hand on Draco’s waist moving to wrap the whole way around him and pull him close.
“Just some stupid phrase I’ve heard from a dickhead,” Draco answers, but the words hold the shape of a smile and are uttered right into a kiss there at the end.
It’s always a race at the start. They're both high from the game, still in that mindset, and it’s a competition to see who can undress quicker, who can make the other harder, who can earn the first moan and coax the first orgasm of the night. But after that first one, after Draco’s jaw aches dully and Potter is softening between his legs, everything slows down a little. Potter helps him up and they share the tacos Potter brought, watching the last minutes of the game they played earlier with Draco’s legs up on Potter’s lap, where he’s massaging his knees, his quads, making sure he’s not achy from kneeling for him.
“I really fucked that one up,” Potter comments. His tiny self on the screen just pulled out of an impossible dive at what looks like a 90 degree angle. He sounds earnest, which is the only reason Draco isn’t kicking him right in his beautiful face.
“I hate you so much. Only you would call that a fuck up.”
Potter hums, his massaging hands moving from Draco’s calf to his heel, his thumb pressing into his sole. On the screen, tiny Draco swerves a Bludger aimed to his head, and his teammate Owen is flying to him to make sure he’s alright.
“That guy is so into you,” Potter points out.
“I know. We fucked all through rookie year.”
Potter turns to look at him so fast it must hurt his neck. Draco raises an eyebrow, confused at the strong reaction.
“What?”
“I — I don’t know,” Potter says, suddenly sheepish. His hands haven’t stopped moving over Draco’s foot. Potter’s skin is dark, but Draco can still make out the blush spreading across his cheekbones. “Isn’t it weird? He’s a teammate.”
There’s something he’s not saying. It’s evident in the way he bites his bottom lip, in the way he obviously wants to look away but is too ridiculously brave to actually do it. Draco’s heart thumps inside his chest, so hard he’s sure it must be audible to Harry too.
They’ve never named this thing between them. The first time they did it, after the quarter finals one year before, with Potter’s ill advised kiss that ended with them fucking in the showers of the stadium after Potter had wiped the damn dust with Draco on the pitch, they agreed to keep it quiet, and that was the last they discussed of it. It’s going on fourteen months since then, and they’ve done it at least once a month, when the league brings them to nearby towns, and sometimes when it doesn’t and they take a quick midnight Portkey to each other to blow off some steam.
Draco had never in his life been as well-fucked as he’s been this past year, and he definitely doesn’t want to lose it. Potter’s always been honest and open with him, vocal in bed about how much he wants him, filthy in his occasional text messages when they’re apart, but he’s never given any indication that he wants anything other than exactly what they have.
“It’s not weird,” Draco says slowly, unsure of what to think of this exchange. “We stopped a while ago. I was clear that I didn’t want — that I’d rather we stayed friends and teammates, without any complications.”
“Right,” Potter says. He sounds relieved, and Draco feels like he’s three steps behind the conversation they’re having. He’s about to ask, but Potter’s fingers on his calf smooth over an old knot and he groans instead, letting his head fall back onto the couch cushion.
“That feels great,” he says, and Potter repeats the motion.
“Yeah. I think you pulled it when you made that X turn.”
The turn he made to try to beat him to the Snitch, he doesn’t say. How he had enough awareness to know Draco attempted it while diving for the Snitch himself is beyond comprehension, but Draco has long accepted that Potter is simply insane about the game. He notices everything, considers everything, takes every risk. If he weren’t a player himself, Draco knows he would be following Puddlemere and Harry wherever they played for the entire season, wearing a pale blue jersey with the number 7 on it.
“Probably,” Draco says, closing his eyes and groaning again when Harry keeps pressing the same point. After a moment, he feels something softer brushing his calf, and opens his eyes to find Harry bent over his leg, kissing a path up towards his knee. He can’t help the embarrassing little sound he makes, and Harry’s laugh is a puff against his skin as he keeps moving up, breath warm on the wet trail of his kisses up Draco’s thigh. In the background, the presenters are going crazy over a feint Harry pulled, the sound of the audience carrying all through the stadium and out of the TV speakers.
Harry has made his way high up and is kissing Draco’s birthmark, a brown, apple-sized beauty mark an inch below his groin when he lifts his head to ask, “Why didn’t you want to?”
Draco can’t believe he’s using his mouth to speak at that moment. He licks his lips, trying to make sense of the question.
“What? What are you even — ?” He tries to sit up a little, but Harry moves over him instead so they’re eye-level without Draco having to move at all.
“With Caddell. Why didn’t you want to keep seeing him?”
“Owen? Why the fuck are we talking about —,” Draco lets his head drop down onto the cushions again, a sigh punched out of him. Harry takes pity and leans forward to kiss him, lips soft over Draco’s, knowing exactly how to coax his kisses out of him the way he likes best.
“I just want to know,” Harry whispers against his lips. He’s breathless just from touching Draco, from rubbing his legs, from kissing him. Fuck, this is insane.
“I like him, but it wasn’t very exciting.” Draco says. He closes his eyes as Harry begins to kiss down his neck, and tries to really think about it, because he’s not even sure himself. “I wasn’t willing to risk our teamwork when what we had wasn’t even that … electric. I don’t know. This sounds insane.”
Harry shakes his head, his beard rubbing against Draco’s collarbone. “It doesn’t. I get it.” He bites on the delicate skin connecting neck and shoulder, licks a path down his chest. “I get electric.”
“Fuck yes you do,” Draco says, nonsensical, but he feels he can’t be blamed when Harry is brushing his lips over his nipples, broad hands moving around Draco’s body to secure a grip over his ass.
“Is this?” Harry asks, mouth nearing the V of Draco’s hips, the edge of the trail of hair leading to his crotch. “Electric?”
Draco swears, fingers running through Harry’s hair and finding a grip, hard. “If you don’t put your mouth on me right now I swear I — yes.”
He spreads his thighs to accommodate Harry between them, one hand gripping Harry’s hair and the other curled around the cushion over his head. It is electric, the way Harry knows exactly which buttons to push, sliding a finger inside him while keeping him on his tongue. He’s a prodigy in this too, the star player who knows every move in the playbook that is Draco’s body.
It feels like no time at all, no effort at all before Harry is pulling back, dragging Draco closer by the waist and working himself inside. The feel of it, the sound of them together, the look into Harry’s open gaze, his sweat dripping onto Draco’s chest and his hands underneath Draco’s back, holding him, pulling him onto him, have Draco nearing release almost too fast for his liking, but the night is young and it’s been so long that he lets himself go, a cord snapping in his core, eyes open as he watches Harry watch him come apart.
“Come on,” he says once he’s come down, lifting his hips, shifting his weight onto his shoulders. “Show me what you got, Potter.”
Harry groans and leans forward, kisses Draco’s jaw and his neck, and drives his hips faster. Draco wraps his arms around Harry’s back, moves with him as much as he can in the tight embrace, and remains close as Harry meets his own peak and tumbles down the edge.
They lie together for a couple minutes afterwards, panting into each other’s skins, basking in the afterglow.
“Some pro-athletes. We have the stamina of two eighteen year old virgins,” Draco mutters into Harry’s hair after a while, and feels Harry’s chest rumble with his laughter. The room is cast in the warm glow of the foot-lamp that stands beside the sofa they just fucked in, exactly like two eighteen year old virgins having the chance to touch for the first time in their lives.
Harry always goes boneless and slow after a good lay, so Draco eases him off his body with tenderness, a gentle hand to Harry’s chest, followed by a kiss.
“Let's go to bed, yeah?” He whispers.
Harry groans. “I don’t want to move.”
“That’s too bad, because I’m exhausted and I’m going to bed. Some idiot drove me to the ground on the pitch today.”
He stands up and shakes out his legs, testing the soreness of his muscles. There’ll be an ache tomorrow, but nothing he can’t handle.
Despite his complaint, Harry is already standing up too, coming up behind Draco, a hand finding its way to the flat of his belly, his forehead on Draco’s shoulder as though he can’t bear not to touch him for even a second.
“Bed it is,” he declares against the skin of Draco’s shoulder, sounding halfway asleep already. Draco huffs a laugh and pulls him towards the bedroom, pausing at the kitchenette to grab two glasses of water that he watches Harry drink in three gulps, a couple drops sliding down the sides of his mouth, into his beard and down his neck, his Adam’s apple bobbing.
“What?” He asks when he catches Draco watching him, and Draco shakes his head and pulls him to bed. He’s so handsome it’s genuinely upsetting sometimes. Draco thinks he’d throw a tantrum about it daily if it weren’t for the fact that he gets to touch him.
They try their best, but they don’t manage a second round before their eyes fall shut, tucked into each other like two hands cupped under a stream of water, tumbling into a satisfied, exhausted sleep.
Harry wakes him with a kiss before daybreak, the last of the night chilling the room and puckering Draco’s skin.
“Do you have to go already?” Draco asks, one eye still closed and a hand curled possessively around Harry’s bicep, not entirely on purpose.
Harry shakes his head, kisses him again with a gentleness that is meant to go nowhere but extend this kiss, warm and sweet.
“I thought we could talk.”
Draco is nodding before fully grasping the meaning, but even once he does he’s not tempted to back away. Must be the night, still cocooning them, must be Harry’s arms around him that are making him brave, but he’s not nervous anymore, not now that he’s remembered what they’re like, together.
“It is electric,” he says, suspecting that’s what Harry wants to talk about. “It’s always electric with you.”
The smile blooms slowly, lighting up Harry’s face from within, his beautiful eyes, unhidden this early in the morning, his glasses still on the bedside table. Harry sits up a little, clears his throat. It seems like he’s been gearing up for this, he’s squaring his shoulders the way he does before trying a dangerous feint, before performing a play that will have Draco biting dust. This insane, wonder of an athlete. Draco forces himself to shake the last of the sleep away, to focus on him, on what he wants to say.
“I know that … so many of us want you,” Harry starts. “On your team, on mine, the whole league, actually. But I —”
He looks like he’s stating an absolute truth, like he has irrefutable proof, and Draco is taken aback. He knows some of the guys find him attractive, but that’s not the same as being wanted. He shakes his head. “What? Where did you get that?”
“I’ve talked about it with the guys, but that’s not the point,” he adds hurriedly when he sees his eyes widen. Draco hasn’t said a word to anyone, not out of shame, but out of sureness that they were sneaking around, that they were making it a point to hide. Apparently, he was wrong. Harry continues, “What I want to say is … I know we’ve not agreed on anything, that you’re free to want others, be with whoever you want to be with. I thought that you knew where I stood, that if you weren’t saying anything it was because you didn’t want the same thing I did, but it’s been brought to my attention that if I’ve not made an honest offer, I can’t assume you’re saying no.”
Draco’s heart is hammering inside his chest, inside his throat. He doesn’t want to jump to conclusions, but if he’s right, it seems Harry is saying …
“I don’t want this to be a once a month thing. I want to bring you home, I want you to meet my family, and I want the guys to know that I’m saying no to all the people they set me up with because I’m taken and completely uninterested in anyone else. Are you … is that something you want, too? I know you might have better offers, but I – ”
The covers crinkle under Draco’s knees as he sits up, throws a leg over Harry’s body so he can fully sit on his lap and brings him forward by the neck.
“You beautiful idiot. What could be a better offer? Why would I care about any other offers when I have the best one right here?”
They’re kissing, and Harry’s gasping, and Draco’s frenzied heart pounds against his sternum. He nods into the kiss, feels dizzy with how much he wants what’s being offered. Fuck. There’s nothing he wants more.
Harry pulls back a little, whispers: “Does this mean we’re — ?”
“Yes, fuck. It’s — The game’s the game.”
“What — That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Shut up. It’s your quote.”
Then they’re laughing into a new kiss, and it’s not the first, or even the tenth time they’re together like this, but Draco’s heart still goes crazy for this man, for his unlimited talent, his openness, his electric company. Quarter finals are coming up, then semis, then they might meet again on the pitch and Draco might lose and throw a strop and want to tear the hair out of his head over the beautiful Quidditch Harry plays, and then they’ll get to go home and celebrate a victory. No matter who takes the trophy. That’ll be the game.
Read On Ao3
#quidditch rivals but ohh they’re secret lovers bet NOBODY saw that coming#kinda unsure about the tone shift at the end but ITS LATE I’m sorry ok#I just wanted earnest Harry which is MY FAVORITW THING#drarry#drarry fic#Draco Malfoy#Harry Potter#my writing#mywriting
590 notes
·
View notes
Text
Draco Malfoy will return in...
Coming Soon to an Ao3 browser near you!
#Journal of Dreadful Things#jodt#Black Family Curse#drarry#harry potter#draco malfoy#lilbeanz#hp#lilbeanzdrawings#harry potter fanart#drarry fic#hehehe <3
966 notes
·
View notes
Text
"He pulls himself together for the exchange of rings, which is the most wonderful thing Harry’s done in his life."
In the Presence of My Enemy
Commission for @dodgerkedavra fic!!!!!
Thank you so much for commissioning! I'm happy I could draw drarry and design their clothes 🥰🥰, it's always my favourite part jejeje
#seriously#thanks a lot#i took a little liberty adding more textures than usual 🙊#if tumblr doesn't mess with the quality#you can zoom in and see the textures on their faces too 🥺🥺#drarry#drarry fanart#drarry fic#harry potter fanart#harry potter#draco malfoy#pato's art#artist on tumblr
732 notes
·
View notes
Text
Fic rec:
After a nearly 10 year absence from writing H/D – Faithwood is back. I was lucky to be her beta on this monster and it's amazing. If you loved her writing before, you're going to be thrilled. If you aren't familiar with her – you're in for a treat. It's 10 chapters and she's posting one every week (or sooner if she can). Go…read…leave her love for coming back!!
Title: Beholden
Author: faithwood
Pairing: Draco/Harry
Rating: Expicit
Length: about 100k when she's done posting
Genre/Content: Hurt/Comfort, Romance, 8th Year, enemies to friends to lovers, injured Harry
Warnings: none
Summary: Draco Malfoy might not be a killer, but it turns out he's an effective painkiller. If stopping pain was all Draco's touch did, things might not be so complicated, but either way Harry can't afford to be choosy.
Beholden
416 notes
·
View notes
Text
Things Draco Malfoy has Done in the Muggle World During His Postwar Probation
Attempted to order from a menu by speaking to it
Almost breached the Statute of Secrecy due to mistaking someone using clap-on-clap-off lights for a muggleborn using wandless magic
Got into a heated argument with the actors in a commercial because he thought the people in the tv were talking to him
Refused to walk in front of a car for fear of bumping into the invisible animals that obviously pull it
Panicked and responded "I have no idea what you're talking about" when asked what the "magic word" is
Complained that his telephone is broken because it periodically emits a loud ringing sound for no apparent reason
Run into Harry Potter unexpectedly in a pub, dropped everything he was holding, and automatically caught it with wandless magic without thinking, thus breaching the Statute of Secrecy in front of 47 muggles and the most famous Auror in Britain
Run into Harry Potter again in the same pub, thanked him for getting him out of those misuse of magic charges and apologized (again) for all of the more unpleasant bits of their history
Accidentally on purpose run into Harry Potter yet again in the same pub to find out why he comes to muggle London so often and how he's doing and to let him know that he's not remotely interested in whether the rumors in the Daily Prophet that he's split up with Ginny Weasley are true (they are)
Met Harry Potter in a pub for drinks to chat about old times except not the sad bits at least until they've had a few
Taken his muggle friends out to a pub that he definitely chose at random but which coincidentally Harry Potter also happens to be walking into so they might as well all sit down together
Had to admit that he may have mentioned him a few times when Harry is shocked to discover that all of Draco's muggle friends seemingly know his name despite the fact that he isn't famous in the muggle world
Met Harry and Harry's friends for drinks and somehow actually had a good time and not been vengefully poisoned by Ron Weasley or cursed by Hermione Granger or stabbed by Neville Longbottom or anything else dreadful
Had to explain to several bemused people that when Luna Lovegood says that they used to live together she doesn't mean they were involved romantically
Invited Harry Potter back to his flat and proudly shown him that he now knows how to make a telephone stop ringing (you just lift it up for a moment and then slam it back down and that fixes it) and then told him off for laughing
Visited Harry Potter at his flat, also in muggle London though protected by the Fidelius Charm for extra privacy, met a very small and excitable owl and had a protracted but good natured argument about which of them was actually better at Quidditch (because obviously if Draco had had a Firebolt he would have won every match)
Got his wand back and immediately transfigured everything in his flat just because he can and because it feels so good to use magic again and then cast Rictusempra on Harry because clearly Draco is the superior dueler and also because he likes the sound of Harry's laugh
Kissed Harry Potter.
#humor#drarry#Harry Potter#hpdm#h/d#harry/draco#harry x draco#Draco Malfoy#harco#draco x harry#draco/harry#drarry headcanon#drarry headcanons#drarry fic#ish ?#my post
409 notes
·
View notes
Text
I recently finished Never Mind the Bollocks by The_Sinking_Ship. Since that day, it has been living in my head rent-free, and will remain there. Perhaps for a long, long time.
Every time I try to collect my thoughts to articulate every single thing I loved about a fic, I just end up screaming and dying with the feels. So instead of words, here’s some drawn lines (and more screaming).
#Never Mind The Bollocks#Written by: The_Sinking_Ship#Art inspired by Fic#drarry#draco malfoy#harry james potter#drarry fic#my art#kismet draws#artists on tumblr#Skater!Harry has officially reigned in my system#I am not normal about this fic
690 notes
·
View notes
Text
Commission I did for @dodgerkedavra for her Erised fic Former Things Come to Mind for @mallstars 😃
#I really love how this one turned out#also the fic is 🔥🔥🔥#art for fic#commission#drarry#drarry fanart#draco malfoy#harry potter#drarry fic#erised 2023#itsphantasmagoria#fic rec
478 notes
·
View notes
Text
I Have Never Been Loved Like This Before
Title from the song "Rock Me Gently" by Andy Kim. CW: very very minor injury
Scorpius will know gentle hands waking him in the morning. He will know lullabies sung low and soft in his ear. He'll have careful fingers sealing the bandage on his knees, and lips pressing a healing kiss to his injured skin. He'll wear colorful, soft clothes, have dozens of storybooks, and cuddle with plenty of stuffed animal friends to keep nightmares at bay. He'll never have a rotten Christmas or a lonely birthday. He'll want for nothing, but he'll never take it for granted.
"But most of all," Harry whispered to the pink-cheeked infant in Draco's arms, "I promise, that we will never let you know what it's like to feel unloved. "
#drarry#draco malfoy#harry potter#draco and harry#harry and draco#draco x harry#harry x draco#draco/harry#harry/draco#draco malfoy and harry potter#harry potter and draco malfoy#draco malfoy x harry potter#harry potter x draco malfoy#hpdm#drarry squad#drarry fic#drarry fanfic#drarry fanfiction#drarry ficlet#drarry drabble#drarry fandom#hp fic#hp fanfic#hp fanfiction#hp fandom#harry potter fandom#harry potter fic#harry potter fanfic#harry potter fanfiction#phoebe-delia
556 notes
·
View notes
Text
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
529 notes
·
View notes
Text
Bound: The Star Splitter by @oflights
If there is one thing I am not, it is patient. The minute I finished this fic, I ran off to ask the author for permission to bind it. I'm so happy I'll get to have this one on my shelf!
I spent a lot of time (for me, anyway) on the typeset. I wanted the chapter pages to be special but also was afraid that if I printed them in color, they'd bleed through (like what happened with The Man Who Lived.) But I didn't think I'd be able to fit the text block in my guillotine if I used a heavier weight paper.
Happily, I was able to use the heavier paper and the chapter pages and illustrations (by the absolutely incredible @littlewinnow) without any bleedthrough on the back.
I made the end papers with illustrations off pixabay and foil toner. Do I love them? Not as much as I wish I did. I may do something slightly different for the author copy. We'll see. (Mostly I don't love the color of the cardstock I printed on.)
So once I was happy with the text block, I had to think about the cover. I didn't want to do yet another navy book, so I almost went with black, but I decided to peruse the fabric store for starry printed fabric, and brought home a couple of options. I decided I liked this one the best.
I was also nervous about this because I've never used printed fabric on a cover, and I was worried how the title would look. So I reconfigured my original design to make it legible. Oh, and thanks Joann's for having this holographic HTV on clearance! I love how it looks a million different colors, depending on the light and the angle and what it's reflecting.
Now. Go read this lovely fic if you haven't already!
292 notes
·
View notes
Text
*accidentally bumped into you*
one is never late to ship drarry
967 notes
·
View notes
Text
DnD: dungeons and draco
for @quail-in-red. this is just further proof that if anybody shows even the slightest interest in one of my dumb jokes, i crumble and perform like a silly jester at once. based on this post i made last year and rediscovered today about hp wizards playing DnD.
Dean didn’t give a lot of details when he invited Harry to his weekly dungeons and dragons game, but the last person Harry expected to see at the table was Draco Malfoy.
“We started a game together when we were, er,” Dean trailed off.
“When we were prisoners in Draco's house!” Luna finished for him brightly.
Malfoy didn’t say anything, just met Harry’s eyes stolidly and then went to fuss with the small pile of papers and cards in front of him.
Harry shared a look with Ron, who was already sitting between Dean and Hermione, and then sighed inwardly and took the last remaining seat between Seamus and Luna. He pulled out the premade character sheet Dean had owled him last week. It was wrinkled from having nearly been lost in a pile of post and then hastily shoved in Harry’s pocket before flooing to Dean’s flat.
Harry looked around the table. Malfoy’s stack of papers was bigger than anyone else’s, even Hermione’s. And why did he have so many cards? There was a little wooden tray in front of him too. The dice in the tray looked iridescent, catching and reflecting the light. Trust Malfoy to have expensive poncy accessories. Why was he even here? Did he even like DnD? He’d grown up around magic his whole life; what did he need to pretend for?
“And so let’s go around and introduce our characters,” Dean finished. Harry had missed his whole introduction. “Since Draco and Luna have played before, we’ll start with them.”
Malfoy straightened up a little, carefully picking up his character sheet even though it seemed like he was so familiar with it, he didn’t need to reference it. “I’m Mike, a level three call center operator. I’m twenty-three years old, originally from Essex and just moved to London. I played football in uni, but am feeling less fit now that I have a job where I sit all day.”
Luna went next and spoke in a surprisingly deep voice. “My name is Archie, and I’m a level six IT consultant. I’m forty-six years old, originally from Norwich, but I moved to London for uni and never left. I’ve been married to my wife, Evelyn, for twenty years and we have two children and a cocker spaniel named Rosa.”
Harry stared down at the character sheet in front of him. He hadn’t looked at it before grabbing it in his rush to get here on time. It told him he was meant to be playing Grace, a 29 year old paramedic who’d grown up in London and recently broken up with her fiance after finding out he had cheated on her. She had a cat named Pomegranate. Harry didn’t know much about tabletop games, but there had been a group of kids that Dudley’s gang would sometimes target instead of Harry who had played. And what he’d overhead from their games didn’t sound anything like this.
“Hang on, these are just normal people; we’re all humans with muggle jobs. I thought we were playing dungeons and dragons, you know, with magic involved.”
Malfoy glared at him. “Weren’t you paying attention, Potter? Dean just explained the premise of our campaign.”
Harry didn’t want to admit to Malfoy he’d been too busy wondering what his dice were made of. He looked away from Malfoy to Dean. “Er, sorry. I was… distracted.”
Dean sighed but looked more resigned than irritated at having to explain again. “When I started the game with Draco and Luna, they got confused by the magic system because actual magic doesn’t work the way it does in DnD, so I made up a slightly different game we could play. We’re a group of Londoners in a recreational dodgeball league.”
“And honestly, Harry, it doesn’t feel right pretending to be of magical creature heritage for a game,” Hermione added. “Think of what kind of hurtful stereotypes we could fall into.”
“Okay…” Harry said slowly. It still felt strange, but now that he thought about it, he supposed he didn’t need to spend his Thursday evenings pretending to be part of a group camping out and hunting evil. Once per lifetime was enough without having to do it recreationally in the realm of imagination.
Harry smoothed out his character sheet again and introduced the group to Grace.
not sure if there will be more, but we're all shipping mike/grace right?
#drarry#drarry fic#my writing#probably at some point one of them rolls a nat 20 and they kiss out of excitement
334 notes
·
View notes
Text
❄️The Yule Ball❄️ (Golden Snidget ver.) ✨️
#jodt#journal of dreadful things#drarry#harry potter#draco malfoy#lilbeanz#lilbeanzdrawings#hp#hehehe <3#drarry fic
700 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
fagforkings
Birds Aren't Real
xtm1992
Sem título
cremayori
♡welcome♡
emacamu
Camu's Dump
areeiiness
im weird