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drarryruinedme7 · 1 year

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Harry looks sideways at Draco. They’re on their bed, ready to go to sleep.

Draco grabs his usual body cream from the nightstand, the coconut scented one. It’s the one with glitters in it.

You’re fifty, Draco.

So? Is there a law forbidding fifty year old people from using glittery body creams?

Harry would say that yes, there is, just to spite him, but not tonight.

Tonight, Harry shakes his head while he recalls every memory of their thirty years spent together. He smiles as he watches Draco spreading cream all over his legs, still so long, still so soft, still so hot.

“Thirty years,” Harry mutters.

Draco pauses for a second, legs glittering. “What?”

“I said —” Harry reaches out, traces an imaginary path down his husband’s shin. “I said — we’ve been together thirty years. That’s a long time.”

He knows he sounds sappy and he feels that too. His voice breaks and when a wicked smile appears on Draco’s face, Harry knows his mind is quickly filling with images from their shared years as well; of their fights, the first tentative and verymuchsecret dates, their first kiss, the many, many christmases, birthdays, lazy mornings spent in bed cuddling.

Draco covers Harry’s hand with his own. God. Harry knows everything about that hand; the small blue mole on the pinkie, the wrinkles time drew on it, the always, always, always, perfect nails.

“Are you trying to tell me it’s too much?”

“I’m trying to tell you,” Harry says, all too happy he’s now 100% able to discern Draco’s use of sarcasm-cause-I’m-embarrassed, “I still love you. More and more. Everyday. I look at you with your body cream and I just— love you so fucking much.”

Draco blushes. How is it possible to love someone so deeply after all this time?

“So sappy.” He turns back to his nightly routine. Looks at Harry out of the corner of his eye. “I love you too,” he murmurs.

#drarry #harry potter #draco malfoy #drarry squad #draco x harry #fluff #idk what this is #just a nightly thought #sometimes I just want them to be cute and sappy and in love #drarry fic #drarry ficlet #drarry fanfic #established relationship #married drarry #mywriting

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lqtraintracks · 19 days

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Explicit| Words: ~450 Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter Additional Tags: Wedding Night, Drarry Husbands, Blow Jobs, Mention of - Freeform, Anal Sex, POV First Person, POV Draco Malfoy Summary: What it says on the tin! I'm sorry the title is so shit, and now the summary is shit too lol, but seriously, it's... their wedding night. A/N: I'm sick. :( And what's bonkers is that this is the first day in a long time that I've gotten the Drarry writing bug! So, I am double-bugged today. Phoebs!!!! @phoebe-delia you sent me such amazing prompts! This one snagged my brain today and wouldn't let go. Thank you so much for the inspiration; I hope you enjoy it, darling! ♥

#new ficlet #drarry ficlet #my fic #for phoebe

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pepperpaperpopper · 2 months

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Draco smells like pine and musk and there is a slight sheen of sweat all along his body. He stretches luxuriously like a cat and makes a soft noise at the back of his throat when Harry lightly bites his Adam's apple.

Harry is undone. He feels like a horny teenager who who might come at any moment. He tugs at Draco's shirt. "Off," he demands, his voice husky with arousal. Draco's hands are too slow and Harry all but tears off the buttons in his haste, and stops, horrified.

He's never seen Draco shirtless before. The one time they were at a pool party together, Draco insisted he didn't feel like getting into the water and kept his linen shirt on. Now, Harry understands why.

Draco's chest is a canvas for scars. Scars that Harry gave him. Scars that look vivid and raw even after decades. Pink, raised scar tissue runs in thick ropes wherever his skin had to be knit back together. Harry had never seen it before. He had no idea. He can't breathe.

"Hey! Hey! Hey!" Draco whispers, "look at me." He tilts Harry's head up. "Harry. I'm ok. I can see you're about to go into a mental spiral. Don't."

Draco has carried sectumsempra scars for almost thirty years. Even his dark mark didn't last this long, having become so distorted and faded that it is unrecognisable from a distance. Harry thinks of him hesitant to be shirtless in public, having to explain his scars every time he was intimate with someone, confronted with the physical reminder of war, of Harry whenever he took a shower, changed his clothes, felt an itch, a pain.

He is looking down at the scars again. Draco tilts his head up. Again. "I forgave you a long time ago," he whispers, wiping the tear that has rolled down Harry's cheek, "and I hope you've forgiven me for the things that I did to you."

"Yes. But.."

"No. Don't draw away," Draco says, clutching his shoulders. "Kiss them." There is a slight catch in his voice, that tells of how vulnerable he is in this moment.

Harry puts his lips on the trail end of a scar at Draco's collarbone. Tentatively, almost reverently at first, and then with more gusto. He traces every inch of every scar with his lips, his tongue, his teeth. Draco's scars taste like angst, like patience, like devotion, like redemption. They were borne of enmity, of desperation and pain. Harry claims them for love.

#drarry #drarry drabble #hpdm #sectumsempra #harry potter #draco malfoy #drarry ficlet

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starlitsilvereyes · 9 months

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Hands To Myself

Written for @sapphicmicrofics’s prompt: Hands & @drarrymicrofic's prompt: Slide | Rating: E | Warnings/Tags: Femme Drarry, Dirty talk, Nipple licking, Masturbation, Vaginal Fingering, Squirting, Cunnilingus | Read on Ao3

A/N: This is my first time writing femslash (I think?) So please let me know what you think! :)

A shaky breath leaves Draco, her stomach coiling with tension as Harry’s emerald eyes pierce daggers into her. Harry sits naked at the edge of their bed, beautifully so, her plump breasts in full view for Draco to admire.

“We don’t have to do it, if you don’t want to,” Harry says. The strain in her voice lets Draco know she wants this as much as her. Has wanted it for a long time.

“I want to,” Draco replies. The hand that rests on her left thigh slides between her legs, close enough to the wet heat of her cunt but not touching. Not yet. “I want you to watch.”

Harry licks her lips, raising a hand to push back a curl that’s fallen in front of her eyes, gaze never leaving Draco.

Draco gasps as she circles her clit lightly with her ring finger. Her hand is cold against the heat of her pussy, eliciting a spark of pleasure that has her rocking her hips, desperate for more. But she wants to take this slow. Wants to prolong it as long as she can.

She keeps teasing herself, adding another finger, sliding them from her clit and dipping them into her entrance, pulling out before the first knuckle. A string of soft sighs and whimpers fall from her lips, hips shifting with the movement of her fingers.

“Tell me what to do,” Draco says quietly. She can feel the heat rushing to her cheeks, embarrassment threatening to bloom within her. Neither of them have done this before. “Tell me what you want.”

Harry opens her mouth, then closes it again, looking deep in thought. “Tease yourself a bit longer. And– here, let me,” She shuffles forward, a warm hand reaching for Draco’s breast. A moan leaves Draco’s mouth as Harry rolls her nipple between her thumb and index finger. “Dip your fingers in, all the way through.”

Draco follows, becoming wetter as Harry’s hot breath fans over her cheek.

“Hold them there,” Harry instructs. “Don’t move.” She massages both of Draco’s breasts with her hands, thumbs running over Draco’s pink nipples as she does so.

Draco wants to close her eyes from the overwhelming pleasure. But she doesn’t want to miss the sight of Harry pulling her bottom lip between her teeth, looking at Draco as though she wants to devour her whole.

Harry leans down, latches her wet mouth on Draco’s right nipple. Draco howls, her hand involuntarily jerking inside of her.

“You’re so beautiful,” Harry murmurs against her chest. “All for me.” She tortures Draco longer, not instructing her to do anything but keep her fingers inside of her pussy as Harry laps and bites and sucks at her nipples.

“Harry,” Draco whines. Her legs are shaking by now, and her fingers are soaked with liquid want.

“Thought I was the one in charge here?” Harry pulls off, arching a thick brow.

Draco frowns, fighting the urge to kick her right then and there. “You’re a menace.”

Harry laughs, sitting up straighter as to get a better view of Draco’s cunt. “Go on, love. Fuck your fingers inside of your pussy.”

With shaking hands, Draco pulls her fingers out of her dripping cunt. She dips them in again, down to her last knuckles, then scissors them inside of her. Her hips rise from the bed, following the movements of her fingers as she fucks herself faster and harder. “Harry, hnghhhhh, fuck, fuck–”

“That’s right,” Harry hums. “Fuck yourself like how you want to be fucked.”

How the fuck is Harry so good at this?

“Start rubbing your clit with your thumb,” Harry says, breathless.

Draco does, whimpers when orgasm starts to roll at the pit of her stomach. Harry reaches for one of her legs, hikes it up against her hip, creating a new angle that leaves Draco moaning loudly. She’s so close, so fucking close. She wants to cry from the pleasure of it.

“Come, Draco.” is all she needs to hear from Harry. Draco does, squirting all over her hand as she moaned Harry’s name through her orgasm. When she comes down from the high, she opens her eyes to see Harry peering down at her hungrily. Heat rushes through Draco’s cheeks, realising the mess she’s made of their bed.

Harry’s darkening eyes travel from Draco’s wet hands and stomach to her breasts, then to her face. “I want to taste you,” she says, sliding down the bed, her face between Draco’s legs as she licks her clean.

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saintlupin · 1 year

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Winter’s biting chill cuts into Draco, the taste of ice on the back of his tongue. On days like this, the vitality of speech evades him. Desperate to make it through the short-long day where the hours have dragged their feet, the sun kisses the skyline goodbye at thirty past four, and Draco walks in a stupor.

The package waiting excitedly on his stoop takes him out of his exhaustion, and suddenly Draco is awake and aware and rushing up four flights of stairs with the promise of joy in his hands. He wastes no time opening and closing his door, hurriedly kicking off his shoes and pulling out his wand to unlock the treasures waiting just beyond the magically charmed cardboard.

In it: small trinkets, gifts, cute things he adores that make him smile so wide, dancing in place because his heart is so very full he can’t hold in the happiness that circulates inside him.

A letter with his name awaits, and he opens it delicately, careful not to tear the heart-shaped sticker on the envelope. He reads:

Draco,

I hope all these little mementos I’ve collected over the past few weeks made you smile. I kept seeing things that reminded me of you, and I couldn’t stop myself from buying them for you. Life’s been pretty much the same since you left. Hermione and Ron still bicker–which, ever since you said that’s their version of foreplay, I can’t see it any different, so, thanks for that–Luna has switched to only speaking backwards again, something about nargles. Pansy and Greg come by with lots of food and won’t leave until I’ve had at least two servings and put some leftovers away. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you? (I promise I’m eating more than cereal and popcorn).

Here’s the latest gossip I’m sure you’re dying to know about: Theo, Blaise, and Neville are a "secret" throuple now. They think no one’s noticed, but really, we’re just waiting for them to tell us. Ron says you owe him 5 sickle, by the way.

Hmm…what else? I’m doing okay. I promise. Work’s been work, you know how it is. How’s your internship? I’ve hung the picture you sent me with the Elder Scrolls of Merlin. Incredible, really! I can’t believe you spend all day archiving scrolls almost as old as Hogwarts itself.

I miss you a lot. I hope you’re remembering to take care of yourself, too. Let’s floo-call soon, ok?

Forever yours,

Harry

Draco couldn’t help the flutter of his heart or welling of tears in his eyes. He felt so loved. It had been such a long day, one where his breathing felt like drowning, and yet, he was loved through that from hundreds of miles away. The terror weight of the day’s stress that had pressed so firmly on his chest only moments before he’d seen this package on his doorstep faded. Even on Draco’s worst days, Harry loved him; thought of him. Without his realizing it, Draco felt okay again.

for @hdcandyheartsfest's prompt: memento. dedicated to my dearest @softlystarstruck!! happy birthday bee!! i'm both grateful to know you and happy i get to call you my friend. talking with you always makes my day brighter and i hope you enjoy the little easter eggs (not so little) i've hidden in here just for you!!

#drarry #hdcandyheartsfest2023 #drarry microfic #drarry fanfic #drarry fanfiction #drarry drabble #drarry ficlet #hp x dm #dm x hp #harco #draco x harry #harry x draco #harry/draco #draco/harry #tzi's writing

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t4tdrarry · 2 years

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@drarrymicrofic Sept 30 2022 | Prompt: Frame | 50 words

“You like it?” Draco tucks a strand behind his ear.

Harry reaches out, plucks more loose to fall over his forehead. Stares as it softens Draco’s angles, brings to eye the mole by his brow, the freckles spattered on his cheeks. A portrait framed in pale gold.

“I love it.”

#my writing #drarry ficlet #drarry microfic #drarry squad #drarry fluff #drarry fic #drarry fanfic #drarry #drarrymicrofic

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slytherinnbitch · 2 years

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@a-fangirl-08 i just saw you liking the posts and had the urge to write this. Hope you like it! Also, this is a voldy actually died with Jily AU.

"Are you sure about this?" Draco asks nervously, not for the first time in the past couple of hours.

"Yes, love. It's just Pads and Mooney. They know I'm bringing home my partner tonight."

"Woah, wait! They don't know I'm coming?" Draco asks incredulously.

"I just said they did."

"Harry, love. Have you specifically told them it's me, Draco Malfoy, son to Narcissa Black-Malfoy?"

Harry just looks skyward, avoiding his eyes.

"Harry James Potter! I will kill you and then resurrect you to kill you again if you tell me that-"

Before he can finish his sentence, the door to Grimmauld Place opens. Behind it, Sirius Black, his cousin and Harry's Godfather stands, with an eyebrow raised.

"Are you going to come in? Or do we need to listen to this some more through the charms?" He asks.

"Oh.. we just- yeah let's get inside." Harry stutters out and takes his hand before entering the Noble House of Black.

Sirius doesn't say a word, until they are seaten in the living room, across Professor Lupin.

Before Draco gets to greet the them two formally, he looks at Harry to find him with his eyebrows scrunched up and he then says,

"What charms?"

"They are the opposite of privacy charms, so my lovely ancestors could hear what was going outside their door. It's never been removed, as I got to know a few minutes back." Sirius shrugs and looks from Harry to Draco.

"Oh, okay. Well, er... This is my partner, Draco Malfoy."

"We know." They say in unison and what?

"You know...? How?"

It's Professor Lupin who answers, "Because Harry, he is all you talk about. Have since fourth year. And now, Draco, tell us how were you thinking of resurrecting Harry after killing him? I have some ideas if you want."

"He is teasing, mate. Don't take him seriously," Sirius says before he can muster up any kind of reply, "I'm sure you have heard about us, not as much as we have about you of course."

"Yes, Mr. Black. Harry talks very highly of you both."

"Moons, help me. He is making me sound like some old pureblood man!" Sirius pleas dramatically, or he thinks so?

"Pads, you are an old pureblood man. And Draco, call us Padfoot and Moony if you're comfortable. Or Sirius and Remus would do as well. Let's ditch the formalities, please."

"I am old-" Sirius starts again and Draco smiles softly at them three when even Harry joins in on the banter. There was nothing of this sort at the Manor ever, to make it feel happy and safe.

So he just sits back and enjoys, sometimes commenting about Harry's this or that but otherwise just content to listen to his boyfriend and hopefully soon to be fiance be himself.

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tenthousandyearsx · 2 years

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Words: 250 Author: tenthousandyears (tumblr | AO3) Rating: T Category: M/M Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Relationship: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter Notes: Thanks to the wonderful crazybutgood for the beta!

“Harry,” Hermione says, staring.

“Mate. Anything you want to tell us?”

Harry pinches the bridge of his nose. “Not really, no.”

The sounds of the party can be heard from the other side of Grimmauld Place, and Harry hopes they can just go back to it and completely ignore the dozens of portraits of Malfoy all over his studio. For a wistful moment, he wonders if he can Obliviate his best friends and get away with it.

“Is this the moment we find out you’ve been pining for the git since Fifth Year?” Ron asks, distressed.

“Pining for whom?” a voice drawls from just outside the room, and they all freeze.

Harry looks up to find that Malfoy has stilled on the threshold, eyes wide. Well, fuck.

“Good luck,” Hermione whispers, squeezing Harry’s shoulder before both she and Ron scamper out of the room, leaving Harry alone with Malfoy.

Embarrassment washes over Harry. How creeped out is Malfoy right now? Harry wonders if he can Obliviate him, too.

“I – I paint,” Harry says, swallowing, hoping that explains things.

“Since when?” Malfoy asks, a bit breathless. Then he seems to decide he doesn’t need to know, because he’s crossing the room in three quick steps and he’s suddenly so close that Harry can’t breathe.

“Am I misreading this?”

Harry lets out a noise and shakes his head.

“Good.” Malfoy says, sliding a hand up the nape of Harry’s neck. He tilts Harry’s head forward and presses a kiss on his lips.

--- Here on AO3

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dragonbornphoenix · 5 months

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A little birthday present for my lovely and amazing friend Andithiel who also happens to be one of the best HP fandom writers.

Thank you for your friendship and for everything else, Andi! YOU are the true gift! 💖

Cake-a-licious!

Draco watched Harry try to assemble the cake. His right eyebrow had gone to meet his hairline and looked ready to abandon his face and run away. “What, in Merlin’s name, are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing, smarty pants?”

“Looks like you are murdering an innocent cake right in front of my eyes.”

“Ha ha, you’re such a comedian, Draco! You should do stand-up comedy!”

“I am standing up, aren’t I? And that poor cake is being tortured within an inch of its life.”

“The cake is fine. It’s you who’s torturing my ears. Go away and let me work in peace.”

“I don’t see any peace here, only savagery and barbarism. Let. Me. Help. You!”

“I was cooking and baking while others chewed your food before they fed it to you; I don’t need any help.”

“And I am a seven-Michelin-starred chef, so whatever point you are trying to make is ridiculous. What you are doing is an affront to the natural order. You should at least have chosen a simpler cake.”

“Andithiel deserves the best birthday cake, and I am going to give it to her!”

“Not from where I’m standing.”

“So go stand somewhere else!”

Draco looked at Harry. He was dishevelled, sweaty, labouring with fogged-up glasses, the tip of his tongue sticking out of his mouth, covered in unidentified substances, and bits of cake all over his clothes. The stubborn berk!

But Draco was just as obstinate as Harry. Andithiel did indeed deserve the most wonderful cake, and if he stood by and let Harry commit crimes against baking and cakes everywhere, what she would get would be a Frankencake begging to be put out of its misery.

He stepped over and, with a light touch, shoved Harry away to take his place in front of the bench.

“Hey! What are you doing?”

“Staging a coup and taking over. Damage control. Stopping an assassination. Saving us the embarrassment. Pick one. Or pick the bunch; they’re all accurate.”

Harry fumed. “Oh no, you’re not!”

“Oh yes, I am!”

Harry shoved Draco sideways, trying to gain his previous position. Draco held fast and shoved back.

“I can do it on my own; I don’t need help!”

“That’s right, you need an intervention!”

“I’ll show you an intervention!”

What happened next was sudden and unexpected; while they shoved each other and traded barbs, the cake exploded, covering both of them from head to toe!

“What…” Draco said.

“How…” Harry said.

They locked eyes, gaping at the empty space where the cake sat. Shock hit them like a sledgehammer, leaving them speechless. A few seconds later Draco erupted into laughter, throwing his head back, his entire body shaking with amusement.

“It killed itself!” he wheezed. “It couldn’t take it any more!”

Harry joined him, shaking his head. He reached out and scooped a small chunk from Draco’s cheek. He sucked his finger, and an obscene moan came tumbling out.

Draco took half a step to close the distance. “You have a bit of filling here,” he said before leaning in and kissing Harry on the lips. “Delicious!” he breathed, looking into Harry’s eyes. “The cake is alright too.”

Harry threw his arms around Draco’s neck and kissed him like his life depended on it. It was filthy, sensual, and glorious.

“What am I going to do with you?” Draco whispered.

“Not divorce me, I hope.” Harry replied and leaned his forehead against Draco’s.

“If that was your pathetic attempt at getting rid of me, do I have news for you. You’re stuck with me. For life.”

“In that case, what you are going to do is take me to the shower and help me wash away all the mess. For the next two hours.”

"Including the one we'll make?"

"I said all, didn't I?"

“With pleasure. But first, I’m going to lick every little bit of cake off your skin.”

And so Andithiel’s cake was forgotten in a haze of lust, love, and dirty sweet talk. But she didn’t mind one bit. After all, cakes are temporary, but love lasts forever.

#drarry #harry potter #draco malfoy #birthday present #drarry squad #drarry fanfic #drarry fandom #drarry fic #drarry ficlet #fun and games and exploding cakes #I'm a poet and I know it #dragonbornphoenix writes

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phoebe-delia · 5 months

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When The Fire Is Out

For @drarrymicrofic prompt: embers.

Harry knows his back will be killing him tomorrow. Lying on the floor this long cannot be good for him. Plus his arm is starting to tingle where Draco's head currently rests, slightly cutting off blood flow. Harry wants to move it, but he can't bear the thought of Draco's head lying on the floor, or worse, Harry accidentally waking him up.

He curls into Draco instead, careful not to jostle him, and eyes the glowing embers in the fireplace. When the fire is out, Harry thinks as his eyes fall shut, I'll take us upstairs.

Harry wakes the next morning, still on the floor in front of the fireplace, back aching. He looks at Draco, messy-haired and clinging to Harry in his sleep, and smiles before falling back asleep.

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stationintern · 9 months

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a promise that i made

A little ficlet I wrote based on Didn't Know What I Was In For by Better Oblivion Community Center. It felt very Draco to me.

Draco wakes up at 5:30 on a nondescript Tuesday morning. He brews a pot of coffee. He sips and he thinks and he stares past the beige curtains of his flat at the sparrow pecking around the windowsill.

He realizes he’s never done anything for anyone.

On Friday, he walks past the same bulletin board in the lobby he’s walked past every day since he moved into this shabby old building, but this time he looks at the poster with the pink ribbon, and on Saturday, he signs up for a half-marathon.

He’s never been a runner, and half-way through he seriously doubts that his legs could ever cure cancer, and thinks about how the entrance fee is probably pennies in the grand scheme of things. But he sweats it out, and he runs, and he runs, and he runs, and he collapses on the finish line once he’s done, and vows to never do it again.

Thursday’s are awful. Draco doesn’t know why, they’re just always shit. He’s become one with his couch, wrapped up in enough blankets to build a small castle in his living room. A commercial asking for a penny a day flickers on the screen, interrupted by brief static– a consequence of being ensconced in Draco’s magic day after day. Draco would call. He’s recently become interested in charity, after all. But, his home phone is all the way in the kitchen, and he’s comfortable.

It makes him sick, but he still doesn’t call.

On Sunday, he meets Pansy for brunch. Her boutique is closed on Sundays.

“I saw a piece on the news about the spike in homelessness after the war.” she says, flippantly, like it’s just a conversation topic. They’re actual people, sleeping on the streets of London, ducking under the cover of shopfronts when the rain pours and drenches their sleeping bags. Draco should be one of them. Draco shouldn’t have anything. “Merlin, I could have cried.”

“But did you?” Draco says. It feels like vomiting.

Pansy looks affronted, clutching her mimosa glass to her chest, “What?”

“Did you? Cry, I mean?”

“Well, no.” she turns her nose toward the sky, the picture of nobility and filth all at once. It’s like looking in a mirror. “But I could have.”

On Monday evening, Draco sits in front of the telly, blanketless on purpose. He’s waiting.

“For just a penny a day, you could support a child who has been affected by food insecurity-”

Draco hurriedly scratches the number down on an old take-out menu. He calls.

Draco doesn’t have much money. Unlike Pansy, he was left with nothing but whatever he could get selling old relics he’d managed to smuggle out of the Manor before it fell into Ministry hands. Stuck with his job at a Muggle country club, folding pool towels and serving drinks to the people he used to feel superior toward. They sneer at him, or worse, act like he’s not there. Some people think justice was never served, that he should be locked away from good society forever. However, being among so-called good society has taught him more than Azkaban ever could.

Here are three things Draco has learned since the war:

1. All the systems he once thought were in place at any given establishment in order to keep it running smoothly do not exist. Everything runs horribly, even the most expensive of country clubs, held together by rotting beams hidden from the eyes of customers and nestled on the backs of the pariahs that are employed there.

2. Being good would be easier if he was rich. Therefore, it makes his former behavior and the behavior of those he once associated with all the more confusing.

3. People are good. Deeply good. Disgustingly good. A lot of them just don’t know where to put all that goodness, and that’s the problem Draco’s running into now.

Draco went into a church once, just to see. The minister was terrifying, American, talking about the end times. He didn’t know that Draco had already seen the end of the world, and had to keep living beyond it. He fell for Lucifer’s tricks and damned himself, and one passage he read described Draco in naked detail.

Woe to those who call evil good and good evil, who put darkness for light and light for darkness, who put bitter for sweet and sweet for bitter.

There’s another marathon in March. Draco remembers his vow, then decides to forget it, and then he practices.

He runs until he can’t breathe and then keeps going. He sweats all the moisture out of his body, puts some back in, and then does it again. And again. And again. Until it hurts, but not quite as bad as the first time.

When March finally dawns, Harry Potter is waiting at the starting line.

“Thank you, Potter.” Draco had said after his trial, freshly free of his shackles but still sore, his ego and body beaten and battered. “How can I repay you?”

“Do something.” Potter replied, slipping Draco’s hawthorn wand into his waiting, trembling hands, “Anything. As long as it’s good.”

And maybe the life he’s been living as of late is his way of finally repaying Potter, or maybe it’s a desire he had all along, but now Draco has to face him.

“Doing something good?” Potter asks, lacing up his trainers. The question is poised as casual, but there’s a whole world of curiosity beyond his eyes.

For some reason, Draco doesn’t want to admit it. He wants to tell Potter about all of those times he sat in front of his television, watching the images of half-starved children pass by and still refusing to pick up the phone. He wants to make himself seem irredeemable, because he’s still not sure if he believes in his own ability to change. But Harry Potter has always stood for hope, and Draco feels it when he looks in his direction.

He wants to say, “I don’t know how much good I have to do to balance the scales. I don’t know when I’ll cross the threshold from repaying my debts to being truly, wholly good. I don’t think any of these marathons actually do anything, but I’m going to keep signing up anyway.”

Instead, he says, “Maybe. Maybe.”

Potter runs beside him, obviously slowing his pace to keep his spot next to Draco. When they reach the half-way point, Draco turns to him.

“Do you think this is actually curing cancer?” he asks, choking his words out while trying to inhale fresh air into his aching lungs.

Potter shakes his head, “Maybe. Anything to help, I guess.”

“Yeah.” Draco says, stopping, resting his hands on his knees and squinting up at Potter’s form, outlined by the afternoon sun, “Anything good, right?”

Potter nods, a toothy smile creeping onto his glowing, sweat-soaked face, “Anything good.”

if you have the spoons, feel free to check it out over on ao3 as well! your lovely comments are always appreciated.

#drarry #draco x harry #draco malfoy #drarry shortfic #drarry ficlet

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written-in-ash · 1 year

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How Draco Won Spin the Bottle (And Outed Himself in the Process) for @shealynn88

Teen | 7k | No Warnings

There is a fleeting moment of silence in the recesses of Draco’s mind where his heart soars. He feels the shackles of centuries worth of expectations waver and fall away. His father’s admonishing voice and his mother’s mutterings of displeasure fade into the haze. For the first time since the start of the war, he feels unburdened.

Or, Draco gets stupidly drunk, Harry's madly in love, and Zacharias Smith needs to keep his radish hands to himself.

Tags: Alcohol, Drinking Games, Drunken Confessions, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Mutual Pining, Secret Relationship, Fluff and Humor, Humor, Smitten Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter is So Whipped, Jealous Draco Malfoy, Spin the Bottle, Happy Ending, Draco says stupid a lot when he's drunk, Zacharias Smith throws a tantrum

Read now on AO3!

Much thanks to @crazybutgood and @basicallyahedgehog for all the help!

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lqtraintracks · 9 months

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Simple

Wrote a ficlet for the @drarrymicrofic prompt, simple.

480 words Rated: Mature for some sex Tags: coffee shop; post-war; getting together; falling in love; POV Draco Summary: He never would have called them simple. Everything was always complex between them. He’s unsure how they got here from there… Read on AO3 or below!

Draco’s unsure when it all changed. One day, he’d been embroiled in his hatred of Potter—which he’d always suspected might be a cover for his own self-loathing—and then…

Eyes meeting in a coffee shop. Potter giving him a small nod, that microscopic overture. Then, the chasm-crossing explosion that followed: “Hi.” Just Potter being quietly and strategically decimating.

It left Draco too stunned to speak, to nod, to anything. He’d ordered, got the wrong drink, didn’t care, couldn’t. Potter had walked through his life again, his departing back through the door, easy, the wool of his coat touching the ends of his hair which curled a bit at his collar.

Draco’s unsure when that changed too. When one word progressed to an exchange, the exchange to a conversation. Sitting together, talking, sipping tea and coffee and watching the day like it was something outside of them both, the two of them nonparticipants, observers of lives that weren’t connected to their own.

And yet theirs were connected to each other. This went unsaid. It was only a feeling.

Draco wasn’t sure how he could know Potter felt it too.

He’s unsure when mornings became evenings. When they traded coffee for cocktails. When they achieved the privacy of one another’s flats.

He doesn’t know who reached for whom. He only knows he feels like he’s been touching Potter forever, and starved of him at the same time.

Their love-making tends to be propulsive, forward-moving, goal-oriented. They like it hard, striving, wordless. And yet, as they pant in one another’s faces, their gazes meet. Hold. Stay. Draco remembers that first hello in the coffee shop every time. Remembers that first eye contact. Remembers Potter’s messy hair touching his collar, as Draco slides his hands into it while Potter pushes helplessly into his body.

He never would have called them simple. Everything was always complex between them. He’s unsure how they got here from there…

…to Draco seeing Potter’s reflection in the window glass, Potter seeing him see and smiling. Potter’s hand up Draco’s bare back, his arm wrapping around him and pulling their bodies close. Potter’s erection pressed against him from behind and yet neither of them in a hurry now. Both of them knowing it can wait. It will be there. This thing they have is steady, shockingly so.

Potter’s hand laying possessive claim to him, low on Draco’s belly where his joggers slip down.

“Hi,” Potter says against his ear.

“Hi,” Draco answers, turns his head enough for the kiss he knows Potter wants, that Draco wants to give.

He’s unsure when it happened, when they became these versions of themselves, when they exhaled with one another, when it all stopped and started again and became…

This.

Became everything he’d never known he was allowed to want. When they became each other and themselves entirely.

Became, finally, so very simple.

#drarry microfic #drarry ficlet

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drarrily-we-row-along · 2 years

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July 5: Block Party

The thing about dating Draco was that he was an unrelenting extrovert.

He loved having people around. He invited people over for tea, for lunch, for dinner, even breakfast on one memorable occasion (although, he was sure to never do that again without telling Harry beforehand, since Harry had walked into their kitchen in nothing but a pair of boxers. To say that Narcissa Malfoy had been shocked would be an understatement.)

Still, Harry loved him. He wouldn't trade Draco for the entire world, and so it was a thing they'd worked together on, something that they'd made compromises about.

Harry knew that his boyfriend was an extrovert who loved to entertain but it still surprised him when Draco informed him, over dinner, that their house was going to be the host site for the neighborhood block party.

"Excuse me?" Harry asked, certain that he couldn't have heard the other man correctly. "You can't be serious."

"Of course I am!" Draco said with a sniff as though he hadn't said anything ludicrous at all. "Our house makes the most sense," he added. "It's the center of the block, for starters, and we've got such a big yard. Everyone says we have the nicest yard for parties on the block," he added conspiratorially.

"Draco, we live in a neighborhood full of muggles!"

Draco blinked at him, "What's that got to do with anything? Honestly, Potter, you're the last person I expected to be biased against Muggles. All of this time that you've spent-"

"Draco!" he interrupted, "I'm not biased against muggles, we just live in a house where nearly everything is run by magic!"

"Well, aren't their's too?"

(Read more below the cut)

"Merlin help me," Harry said, putting his head in his hands. "No, Draco. Their houses are mostly powered by electricity."

"Will they notice, do you think?"

"That you make tea using a wand?" he asked. "That we don't have a refrigerator and keep all of our cold food in the cupboard?"

"Well, we do have lights like they have," he said, as though that cinched the argument.

He groaned, "Drac-"

"Please, Harry," he begged, lower lip protruding. "Please help me make our house look like a muggle home. I won't use any magic all night! I promise!"

He sighed, "Is it that important to you?"

"Yes," he said resolutely.

"Why?"

He picked at an invisible fuzz on his trousers.

"Draco-"

"Because Monica from two doors down was bragging about how gorgeous her house is! How it's the perfect location for the party. She's hosted it for years," he parrotted. "And she was being so nasty to everyone else, putting the whole neighborhood down really, and I-"

"Alright," Harry said, huffing a laugh, and covering Draco's hand with his own. "When is the party?"

"Friday?" he said with a wince.

Harry blew out a breath. They certainly had their work cut out for them.

----------------

Friday arrived and Harry had spent every minute of those three days muggle proofing their house. It looked pretty convincing as far as Harry could tell and he'd even had Ron and Hermione come over to do a test drive and make sure. Hermione said she thought he'd done rather well and Ron was sufficiently confused by a variety of things in their home that Harry figured he must have done a decent job.

Still, he was a little nervous that Draco was going to give them away. Draco, who still couldn’t understand that he needed to shut the door on the refrigerator if he wanted food to stay cold, or that he needed to use the switch on the wall for the lights.

“No magic,” Harry reminded him for what had to be the dozenth time that day as they set out more food on the tables before their guests arrived.

“Surely they have stasis charms to keep the food at the right temperature.”

He rubbed his head, “they don’t. You’ve complained about the food at every muggle party we’ve been to,” he reminded him.

“Well but they won’t know if we just-” he said as he started to lift his hand.

“Yes they will. They’ll ask you what your secret is and you’ll say something ridiculous. And we’ll end up on the cover of the daily prophet for getting arrested because we couldn’t keep the statute of-”

“Harry,” he interrupted, rubbing his hands over Harry’s shoulders, “you’re overreacting.”

He huffed, wanting to say that was rich coming from Draco, but knew that Draco was probably right.

"But I have mastered a wandless Oblivate, just in case."

"Draco! You can't just-"

The other man laughed, sweet and soft before brushing his nose over Harry's. "Teasing," he said, wrapping his arms around Harry's shoulders, "I'm teasing."

"Yoo hoo!" a voice called and they turned to see their neighbor, Graham, wandering into their yard. "So nice of you to host us this year!" he enthused, smiling widely enough that they could see the gap in his bottom row of teeth where he'd had one knocked out by their other neighbor Agnes over a dispute about radishes.

"Our pleasure," Draco said cheerfully, unwinding his arms from around Harry's neck and reaching for the casserole Graham was holding out.

"It'll just need a serving spoon," he said.

Draco started holding out a hand to summon one, "No problem."

Harry grabbed his wrist, "I'll get one," he said. "From the kitchen," he added pointedly.

"That reminds me," Graham said and Harry couldn't help be a little grateful that he was going inside and thus missing whatever mad story was about to fall from the man's lips. "I had a friend once who kept all his silverware in the loo-"

Harry shook his head and headed inside to grab a handful of serving utensils, inwardly cursing himself for being so susceptible to Draco's pleading.

--------------

There were only a few more times that Harry caught Draco trying to do something with magic, and Harry was just starting to relax. The party would end soon, they'd be free to carry everything back inside of their house (that everyone would have left once again) and then use their magic to tidy up.

He was mentally patting himself on the back when he overheard Draco laugh, that tight nervous one he did when he was trying to cover something up, and Harry's ears were immediately on alert. "Well, Monica," he said and Harry wanted to cover his mouth, knowing that he was not going to like whatever words were about to fall from Draco's lips. "You may have had sparklers, but Harry and I have friends who build fireworks." Harry opened his mouth to protest. "So, we thought we'd really like to end the evening with a bang."

There was applause throughout the crowd that was gathered in the yard and the street and Harry rubbed his forehead. "Draco," he called and his boyfriend turned with a huge grin, one that dimmed a bit when he caught the look on Harry's face.

"We'll be right back," he assured everyone, the crowd still fairly humming with excitement.

He looked around once he got inside and dragged Draco to the kitchen, shutting the door and casting a quick ward at the door to make sure no one walked in. "Are you out of your mind?"

"What?" Draco asked, crossing his arms over his chest. "We do have all of those fireworks sitting around in the attic."

"Muggle fireworks are very different from wizarding fireworks!" he exclaimed. "Theirs don't move for starters."

"Then how do the get them in the sky?" he asked curiously. "What are they-"

"No," Harry said. "No. They don't," he let his head drop to his chest and he took a deep breath. "Theirs also shoot up into the sky and burst, but they're not..." he trailed off searching, "animated?"

Draco frowned, "Don't we have any that are like theirs?"

And at the look on his face, Harry folded, "I'll figure it out. I'm going to fire them from the backyard. Since I'll need magic to do it."

"I love you," Draco said, sweet and adoring, and Harry wanted to be mad but-

"I love you too," he replied. "Menace."

After digging around in the fireworks they currently had in their possession, Harry found a pack that was most similar to muggle fireworks; no dragons or magical creatures, no leprechauns that would rain down fake galleons, or anything else equally outlandish.

It was the pride pack, so it was full of bright colors, rainbows, and what would look like glitter as it fell from the sky. They'd used one at the muggle pride parade they went to last month, so Harry was confident that their neighbors wouldn't be suspicious.

He set everything up in the backyard and cast a couple of spells over the house to protect it from fire, took a breath, cursed himself for being easily won over, and cast at the first one.

There were wild cheers from the other side of the house as the firework corkscrewed into the air and burst into pink, purple, and blue shimmers. He exhaled and launched the next which set off a series of plumes that arched into the sky and burst red, orange, yellow, green, blue, then purple.

More applause from the other side of the house and Harry relaxed a little bit, launching more and more fireworks into the air, lighting up the sky with joyful colors and with the signs of love that their friends had gifted them. And something in Harry's heart warmed at the applause and cheering, as he continued to light off fireworks, like their community had really accepted them into the fold.

He shot the last one into the air and it showered the surrounding area with every color of glitter imaginable. Harry knew it would dissipate within a few minutes.

He came back around to the other side of the house to find everyone toasting Draco; bottles of beer, glasses of wine, cans of white claw, even red solo cups filled with Merlin only knew what, all held aloft while people cheered and applauded.

And Harry stood back, watching his boyfriend, smiling so wide that his eyes crinkled at the corner. Draco looked radiant in his happiness and Harry knew without a shadow of a doubt, that he would spend the rest of his life doing whatever wild, crazy, ridiculous things that he needed to do to keep that smile on his love's face.

The other man turned slightly and caught sight of him, holding out a hand for him, and Harry allowed himself to be pulled into the fold, Draco's arm wrapped around his waist as everyone made their way to collect their dishes and say good night.

After they'd finished cleaning everything up and climbed into bed, Draco pressed his smile into Harry's shoulder. "Happy?" he asked, because he wanted to hear his boyfriend say it.

"Incandescently."

"Good," he murmured, pressing his lips to Draco's forehead and tugging him a little closer.

"Are you?" Draco asked, propping his pointy chin up on Harry's chest and gazing up at him.

He smiled at Draco, "Immeasurably."

Draco hummed at that, seemingly pleased as he settled back down into his arms, "Good."

"Thanks for making my life an adventure that is actually enjoyable."

Draco squeezed him around his rib cage, pressing a kiss over Harry's heart, "My pleasure."

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July 4: Radio | July 6: Tattoo