#harry would say draco baby and babe everywhere
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its crazy late but
@drarrymicrofic prompt: blanket fort
(there’s no plot. none. just dudes being guys, guys being pals)
(caution: not very micro, more like a one shot. a whole lot of anecdotes. i’m writing this under a blanket with snow beating at my window, so of course this has to be very soft and warm. you have been warned)
“Hello?” Harry says into the dark. He’s just gotten home and instead of seeing the familiar orange hue of their beetle-shaped lamp (a gift from Luna, of course), there’s a single sliver of moonlight slipping through the curtains. Nothing else seems to exist in the living room but the echo of Harry’s greeting. Tangerine and sage drift into his nose, followed by the bitter tang of smoke. The scent of Draco’s favorite candle, newly extinguished.
Draco just left. Discovered a breakthrough in his research and fled to the Ministry lab, maybe.
Harry sighs. Unlaces his boots and hangs up his coat absentmindedly only for it to crumple onto the floor. Another sigh. He bends and retrieves it, deciding instead to throw it in the laundry bin. Might as well; he’s been trudging around in Dayhound mucus for hours and neither his dragonhide boots nor coat were spared.
Walking into the kitchen, Harry grabs a glass from the drying rack and pours himself water from the pitcher in the fridge. It’s ridiculous how a simple act like this can drain his energy so, but it does. Curse breaking isn’t a walk in the park; even walking hurts, considering the amount of magic he expends on shite like a 500-year-old wailing locket on a day to day basis. Exposure to different kinds of magic - dark, Old Magick, elemental, countlessly and endlessly more- for 8 hours straight more often than not result in a fierce ringing in his temples and pinpricks on his skin.
After years of doing it, he can scarcely tolerate one Portkey trip from wherever he’s assigned to back to the main headquarter before getting uncontrollable shivers. Another 30 minutes on the metro, then a 10-minute walk home. In addition, Harry has to sleep for at least 8 hours every night to replenish his energy. Morning comes, he wakes up, Apparates to the headquarter, and the cycle continues.
Why does he even stick with curse breaking at this point? Right, a wry grin graces Harry’s lips, Draco thinks the uniform is hot. Oh, and can’t forget the job benefits, insurance, whole nine yards.
With the glass now rinsed and settled once more on the drying rack, Harry drags his feet to the bedroom. The clock - an antique Draco stole from his cheating ex - hits 7:18 PM, but getting ready to go to sleep sure sounds like a decent idea. Harry palms the back of his aching neck and winces. He’d go shower, scrub the dirt and tension off his limbs, and maybe heat up the leftovers from two days-
“There you are. I was wondering how much longer drinking water could take.”
Harry looks up from his slippered feet to see Draco. Or, more specifically, Draco’s silhouette. Behind some kind of white cloth. A white cloth that’s conveniently placed where the focus of the bedroom should’ve been.
The relief at seeing his husband evaporates.
“What,” Harry says, “where’s our bed.”
Draco’s silhouette crawls to the opening of the cloth… tent-shaped thing. Pewter grey eyes peer at him behind strands of near-platinum blonde, its icy color soothed by the orange tint of… ah, so he’s brought the bug lamp in here. Neat.
“I,” Draco answers. Pauses. “Might have brought it somewhere else.”
“Somewhere else.”
“Yes.”
Harry shakes his head. An exasperated chuckle escapes his lips.
“Is ‘somewhere else’ the recycling center?”
“Why,” Draco flops down on the floor, appearing tired of holding himself up on his elbows for more than 10 seconds. It’s peculiar to see, the gesture a bit ungraceful for someone like him. Harry is helplessly in love amused. “Do my ears deceive me? Am I being confronted, cornered, accosted for being a good husband? Were the 5 minutes it took to Shrink and Levitate the wretched old thing away from our safe haven worth your condescension, dear lover?”
“I guess I did say I hate-”
“Correct!”
“-the headboard. Nothing but the headboard. Yesterday. While I’m half asleep. Baby.”
“Oh, pish posh, I hate it too! In fact, I’m doing us both a favor disposing of the entire thing altogether.”
“God, however can I thank you? I mean, you did rid us of our bed where we sleep on.”
“You can thank me by taking off those horrid gears faster and come here,” with that, Draco crawls back to where he was sitting before.
“You love these gears,” Harry says, hanging his harnesses and tool belt in the closet and walking into the bathroom for a quick shower, “you love them against your ba-”
“Put a lock on that filthy mouth, Potter, what will the Daily Prophet think?” Draco’s yell almost drowns out the shower spray. Harry laughs, his stomach hurting for the right reason at last.
When he re-enters the bedroom, Draco is leaning out from the tent thing.
“Come, get in, get in,” he beckons with a hasty wave.
Harry points to his wet hair with the hand holding his towel. Draco clicks his tongue and waves his hand more aggressively.
His husband’s level of theatrics is directly proportional to how slow Harry is at doing what he says, so he nods, fondness overflowing, and obeys.
“What’s all this?” He crouches and crawls in, eyeing the collection of pillows and quilts surrounding Draco and what would be Harry’s seat. It seems that he had also lugged in the chairs from their dining room to provide some structural support for the tent.
“A blanket fort, lover,” Draco says, his gaze tender. Harry’s finger tips tingle with every touch of cotton, linen, silk, as he gets situated. It’s been years and years and years and years, and Harry can never get used to, can never take for granted, the weight of his husband’s undivided attention.
“Huh,” he says, sitting down with an ‘oof’, “isn’t this for kids?”
“A blanket fort is a blanket fort,” Draco takes the towel from Harry’s arm and puts the throw pillow Ron knitted in his lap. He hits a button on the laptop in front of them, and Harry’s favorite jazz collection plays. He blinks. He thought Draco would play his questionable atmospheric-white-noise-POV-you’re-having-tea-in-a-gothic-vampire-library playlist, the weirdo.
Velvety smooth sax flows through the air. Harry exhales, easy and content, and lets Draco tilt his head. He towels Harry’s hair, massaging unhurried circles on his scalp and varying the degree of pressure. In no time, his head lolls forward, eyes closed, chin a breath away from his well-worn shirt. A slender, pale hand cups his cheek and holds his head up and steady. Meanwhile, the hand’s owner leans out of the blanket fort to get something.
“Ow.” A grunt. Harry smiles; most likely a cramp from all the leaning.
Then, his husband reseats himself, this time with a smell. A mouth-watering, delicious smell, tickling the back of Harry’s nose. He opens his eyes to see Draco lifting off the lid of a ceramic bowl perched on a tray, steam floating out and fogging Harry’s glasses. It’s purple yam soup, topped with chopped up shrimp and ground beef.
“Your usual order from the Viet place nearby whenever Pepper-up isn’t sufficient,” Draco murmurs, placing a spoon in Harry’s hand, his words warm against Harry’s temple. Huh, he didn’t think Draco would notice. “You said today you’d deal with those disgusting booby traps you showed me, thus I reckoned I should put the yams on our counter into good use.”
Harry stares at the soup, stunned. Draco must have taken his expression as something else.
“Oh, right,” he says, “I heated it up on the stove, but you were taking atrociously long so I casted a Heating charm. Let me take it off, okay?”
Draco flicks his hawthorn wand, a hand squeezing Harry’s shoulder as if he could see the prickling running up Harry’s nape.
He turns to look at his husband. When Harry’s career was starting to take its toll on his magical core, Draco didn’t hesitate to dive headfirst into Muggle living. Easier said than done, and it took months for him to stop frowning at the “absolutely bizarre, Potter, bizarre” appliances, but he got there in the end. Despite his constant bitching about everything, Draco not once raised a word about the drastic switch, effortlessly guiding Narcissa to gossip about the Albescu clan’s abhorrent matriarch when she asks about how he’s faring.
“Gosh, I,” Harry says. Mumbles, really, into Draco’s collarbone, filling his brain with the woodsy aroma of potion making that no amount of expensive body products can mask, “that’s lovely, baby, thank you.”
“Eat,” Draco says, rubbing his chin on the top of Harry still-damp hair and messaging his tense neck. Harry knows he’s breathing him in too. “Or I’ll have to heat it up in the kitchen again, and forgive me but I’d rather stay here for the next 12 hours, at least.”
“Lazy arse.”
Draco laughs, a momentary rumble of his chest, then moves forward to click something on the laptop. Harry’s on his fifth spoonful of pure comfort when the jazz music stops, and on the blank wall opposite from their blanket fort is the title card of a movie. Strange, Harry didn’t even notice the mini projector. He squints.
“Why is there Korean subtitles?”
“Lover,” Draco tosses a napkin at Harry’s crossed legs, “what is watching movies online without the occasional bout of piracy?”
“Pira- piracy,” Harry chokes, the hot soup stinging his palate, “we have a Netflix subscription.”
“You can’t find shite like this on Netflix.”
“Of course we can. Baby, we don’t know anyone who’s good at computer stuff and can deal with the viruses.”
“There’s no virus here, I checked.”
“How,” Harry stresses, “and again, piracy.”
“Sometimes,” Draco says, lowering the speaker volume, “not doing crimes… is worse.”
“What the fuck,” the main character, a square-faced woman with a python around her neck, has a monologue in a completely different language. “What the fuck? Is that Italian?”
“Yes, but I’m French.”
“And?”
“And they’re both Romance languages. I can understand certain words and translate it for you.”
No, he can’t.
“Why are you looking at me like that? Keep eating,” Draco settles amid the pillows, long hair settled on his satin-clad chest, white against emerald. Harry sneers at him - an unfortunate habit he’s gotten from Draco - and turns to watch the movie.
True to his words, Draco translates every dialogue and mimics the characters’ voices with zeal, contradicting his stoic expression and somber, interlaced hands, looking like a cranky judge having to deal with reckless teenagers on their anti-authority phase. Harry can tell that he doesn’t understand a thing, and soon enough he’s woven a story about how the thriller-mystery they’re watching is actually a vicious custody battle over a duck. For each of Harry’s occasional snicker at the absurdity Draco has thought up is a playful kick at his ribs.
Minutes pass. With Harry’s bowl now emptied, he puts it on a chair and goes to wash up.
The moment he sits back down, Draco’s big toe pokes at his spine. Getting the memo, Harry grins and reclines on the pillows. His left side is flushed against Draco’s right, the kinks in his neck eased off from the angle. They, as per usual, gradually get closer to one another, and at some point, Draco lays his head on Harry’s chest and ear on his beating heart. It’s calming to him, Draco had said when Harry asked, on the third night of their honeymoon. With the war long behind them, there was nothing to fear. Only the constellations existed as their witnesses.
“You died, Harry,” he had whispered, full and tipsy. “It was the worst thing I’ve ever seen, despite all the shite I made you go through.
“You were so far away in Hagrid’s arms, I couldn’t see your face,” the night had been blinding, but his eyes had found Draco’s anyway. “It felt like my heart died with you.”
Harry had kissed his forehead and hugged him close. His heart had always been there for Draco to take.
“What’s up with the blanket fort?”
He has a lapful of Draco, a lungful of peach and cedar scented shampoo, and the sleepy timbre of his husband’s voice against his chest. The Italian movie is the last thing on Harry’s mind.
“I wasn’t aware of its existence growing up,” Draco says. “Having anything other than an immaculate bed when one wasn’t sleeping was uncouth, see, so you could imagine my surprise when Teddy demanded to play in something as messy as a fort so often.”
Harry doesn’t need to imagine it; he had witnessed it himself. Draco, freshly released from a two-year sentence in Azkaban, mellowed and tentative, yet determined to reconnect with his mother’s sister and his nephew. Harry had been wary too, standing in the corner of Teddy’s bedroom, staring at the fuzz of blonde on Draco’s shorn head and his weak gait. Teddy, the darling boy with his clumsy hold on Draco’s thigh, afraid that the haggard man would trip without help, had led him to his play area.
“Fort, fort,” the boy had screamed in Draco’s ear, but he hadn’t flinched. He had nodded and gone along with Teddy’s babbled directions, then sat back on his heels and fixed a wide-eyed stare at the monstrosity Teddy had called a fort (his designing skills were, unsurprisingly, underdeveloped at the mere age of two).
Swiveling his head, he had gawked at Harry, who had still been standing in the corner with his arms crossed, confusion and hysteria in the arch of his aristocratic brows.
It had been the first time he had looked at Harry in the eye for years. In seconds, it was 6th Year all over again, with him watching Draco pushing his food around with a fork from across the room, unable to look away. Obsession, a voice unlike Hermione’s helpfully defined, had slithered up and under his skin. It had remained there for years, stubborn and ardent, an emotion he had tried to leave behind time and time again. He’d never succeeded.
It’s Draco, after all.
“He never let anyone but him enter the fort, remember? Back when he’s still making us build it for him?” Draco’s fingers tap a random rhythm on Harry’s stomach. Harry tightens his arm around him, shifts a bit. “So many forts and I still didn’t know what it’s like to be in one.”
Somebody downs a shot in the movie. Harry doesn’t quite register it. “I don’t think I’ve ever been in a proper one either until now. Didn’t have enough space in the cupboard. Plus, the hanging around the beds at Hogwarts felt pretty cozy by themselves.”
Draco hums. “Mhmm, I say. Another ‘first’ for us.”
Harry glances at the crown of his head. The man doesn’t sound surprised; Harry wagers that he already knows and decided to make one for the both of them today.
They continue to watch the movie in silence, whites and blues and purples flooding his sight, until Draco yawns and Harry blinks his eyes shut for far too long.
“Baby.”
“Hmm?”
“Sleep?”
“Yes.”
“Where, then? We have no bed.”
“I still maintain that I made the right choice”
“Jesus Christ, you’re so rash for an academic.”
“Well, in my professional opinion, sleeping in a blanket fort every blue moon does wonders for one’s quality of sleep,” Draco gets up on his elbow to smirk at Harry, “we can look at other beds tomorrow, can’t we? Now hush. Rest.”
“Ha,” Harry says, at least 5 more words to follow up on that just on the tip of his tongue. But then Draco runs a gentle hand through Harry’s hair, taking his time with it, the remaining hints of Harry’s migraine from work fading with every curl of hair carefully unknotted. He mumbles this and that, silly, insignificant things, engrossed in his task, and Harry listens carefully as his eyelids lower.
Draco takes off his gold-rimmed glasses (so sweet and soft Harry can barely feel it), cleans them and puts them on a chair. Through half-lidded eyes, Harry watches him cover them both with a quilt and return to Harry’s chest, curling up like a cat. Draco’s arm is around his midriff, peach and cedar pervading his senses anew, and Harry forgets whatever he was going to say.
Cold ankles pressed against bare calves, Harry is already deep asleep when the credits roll.
#drarry#drarrymicrofic#drarry fic#fanfic#harry potter#draco malfoy#blanket fort#oneshot#3k words#draco would be the type to get mushy mushy in private and call harry shit like lover darling my love#harry would say draco baby and babe everywhere#thats it hes uncreative like that#and draco wouldnt even care#both of their love languages are acts of service so draco doesnt need reassuring when he knows harry would burn cities for him#they love each other very ardently that simple gestures communicate entire sonnets#and theyre cool with that#good for them#joonkorre writes
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Ways you said I love you prompt: Without needing to say the words
I couldn’t find this prompt on the list, but it was so beautiful the story started writing itself in my head. Thank you very much for asking ❤️
Ways you said I love you: Without needing to say the words.
Draco dreams of the forest. A forest, he supposes, but it feels like the forest.
In the dream, he’s holding a stone and looking at the ghostly figure of Harry Potter. In the dream, he’s crying. He can hear his parents calling out for him, he can hear, still, the echo of bombardas that he knows should have ended hours before.
He knows, in the dream, that things had gone the way he always knew they had to. He knows that he wishes they hadn’t. That, in the dream, he’s devastated.
That heartbreak follows him into daylight, drapes itself over him like a cloak. He feels it when he wakes, feels it as he walks the halls of the manor he commands, feels it as he’s told by his house elf that his father has called by floo and is waiting for him. He feels it as he hears him say, “the Potter boy was seen in Dorset three days ago. You know what to do if you find him.”
The heartbreak follows him all day, because he knows if he sees Harry Potter, he has to kill him. He knows that he will. And he mourns him already, the man he has never met, the man who is more legend than man, because he remembers himself standing in that forest. Because, in a dream, he knew him.
He also knows what’s expected of him, and he will follow through. Even if it kills him.
-
But this is not that kind of story.
-
What happened was this: the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord was born as the seventh month died.
And so, one fateful Halloween night, the man who called himself Lord Voldemort aimed his wand at that baby, after killing everyone standing on his way. He didn’t flinch or bat an eye, way past the point of hesitating before taking a life, even if it was the life of an innocent, wide-eyed one year old who stared at him with his arms outstretched, looking for comfort. He aimed his wand and said the words that would kill him.
The babe, defenseless, just sat there.
...but killing off a child would not be very PG-13 of us, would it, and so what happened was this: the little boy broke the Killing Curse as it slammed against him, turned it into endless fragments of green light, tendrils of black magic that floated up into the ceiling like dancing fingers, fading into nothing. Some of it slipped inside of him through his weeping little baby mouth, through his wide green eyes, through the jagged crack the impact put on his forehead, but most of it – gone.
And yes, the boy was nestled in a cocoon of protective magic strengthened by his parents’ sacrifice, but he was an actual baby, and a powerful curse slamming against him was certainly enough to knock him out, even if he did have a bit of a magical force field. He passed out. He did not die.
The man who called himself Lord Voldemort – perhaps not much of a man after all – did not die that day, either, in any way, shape or form. There was no rebound to the spell. From his side of the wand, it appeared as if it had hit the boy and done what it was due.
He peered into the crib that held the unconscious baby and, being a Dark Lord and therefore not knowing the first thing about babies, assumed his work there was done. Satisfied, he turned on his heel and stormed down the stairs, ready to continue his pursuit of power, now unstoppable. That’s what he thought.
But the boy had not died, as we’ve established. What happened to him was this: a devastated young man in a flying motorcycle found him and, you know, like a regular person, thought to shake him around a bit before assuming he was dead. And the baby knew him, so he sighed with relief upon waking, lay against the man’s chest and fell back asleep clutching his battered jacket in his tiny fists.
When Hagrid came for the boy, Sirius insisted on accompanying him, and together they met Albus Dumbledore in Surrey. Yes, unfortunately that still happened.
We know how this story could have gone. But it is not how it went.
What happened was this: young Sirius Black now had an alibi. Even though the baby was still left in a terrible home with his terrible aunt and uncle, his godfather, a free man, visited him in the form of a dog – against Dumbledore’s orders, but, in young Sirius’ words, he did not give a shit – and taught him about magic all through his childhood. Harry Potter was a happy boy. He knew his stay in Privet Drive was momentary, he knew as soon as that man “Dumbledore” allowed it, his godfather would take him.
A few things changed, of course. This is not the story we knew. Let us try to break it to you… gently.
1. Harry James Potter received the “you’re a wizard” talk at 4 years old, as soon as Sirius thought he’d be old enough to understand it.
2. Sirius Black told him all about his parents as well. Showed him pictures and books and sometimes cried while he cradled Harry to sleep.
3. Sirius Black, unbeknownst to Harry, once slipped into the Dursley’s bedroom at night, let them think he was a demon, and threatened to unleash hell’s wrath upon them if they weren’t nice to their nephew. It worked.
4. Lord Voldemort didn’t die that Halloween night.
5. Lord Voldemort continued his campaign for power and immortality.
6. Lord Voldemort gained terrain over the Ministry, terrorized and devastated magical villages, established governors in each of them – Death Eaters, all of them.
7. Lord Voldemort directed a series of attacks against ministry facilities.
8. On Christmas Eve, 1986, the Ministry fell. Millicent Bagnold was killed in her office, and Pius Thicknesse was appointed Minister in her place.
9. Lord Voldemort gained full control of magical Britain.
10. Albus Dumbledore visited when Harry turned 7 and told him the story of Tom Riddle, the man, and Voldemort, the monster. Harry was 7, and Dumbledore let him know he was a soldier. He let him know he was the most powerful wizard of all time, probably. He let him know he was their only hope. Harry was 7.
Everything was different.
Harry was whisked away from Privet Drive and taken to Grimmauld Place. He was 7, and his transformation into a warrior, a bringer of hope, began.
-
Harry Potter is, at 20 years old, a first priority criminal, wanted by a corrupt government for treason and criminal disloyalty.
The tips of his fingers hold more power than many wizarding folk see in their entire lives, charged with years of training, charged with light and dark magic, balanced inside of him like night and day. And what he does is this: he walks. There’s a member of the Resistance next to him, always, a different one each day as he walks through the country, feet calloused, refusing to apparate anywhere before he sees it all. He walks, passes villages in his search for horcruxes, and bestows small miracles upon those who need him.
He comes and goes, more legend than man. In places where governors reign wielding terror as their weapon, the people await him. His name is whispered in taverns, held close like a secret, like something precious, and when he appears, white hooded cloak shadowing his face, it’s as if rain poured after centuries of drought. He smells of dirt before a storm, of fresh grass, and every house welcomes him in secret in the middle of the night.
His hands brush over burning foreheads, over broken arms, through strands of hair, and his touch is curative. His words slide smooth like a balm over wounded souls, his message — we will win this, I will win this, worry not, fear not, for I will end this — the love everyone feels for him, deep in their hearts. He’s a stranger, but he’s not. In places where fear has become a living, breathing thing, villages where everyone cowers before their leaders, people bow down for their warrior, kiss his calloused hands, his scarred forehead, and what little they have they give him so he can continue his trip.
At night, after he has left, the air smells different, smells like him, like rain and lightning, and his message of love is whispered into the night with the certainty that he will free them, he will free them.
Harry Potter, the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord. The boy who lived, the man destined to become a savior.
At night, people come together in secret and say, “long live Harry Potter, savior of all.”
-
He’s just a boy, too.
He flies over Dorset, broom held tight between his legs as he makes his way to the Resistance’s refuge in East Devon. The hands that cured a man of blindness earlier, now push through a wooden door and find their way around the back of his godfather, who was up waiting for him. Desperate times, but that man always has a smile for Harry.
“News of civilization?” He asks then, holding him tight, letting him know it’s okay to share the burden of his responsibilities if only for a minute.
“Yes. A man knows of a man who bought the cup. We need to move to Wiltshire.”
That’s how he lives. Just a boy who happens to be a savior, who lives nowhere and everywhere, who knows his duty, who has trained his whole life to achieve it.
And Sirius goes with him. “We’ll hit the road tomorrow.”
-
When Harry Potter knocks on his door, Draco almost sicks up on the spot.
Piercing green eyes stare at him, ready for a fight. But Draco is smart. He knows Harry Potter has come looking for something. Draco reads the paper, talks to his father daily about the information they have on Potter at the Ministry. He wouldn’t come, unless he was looking for something.
Draco should kill him, should end this, win the Dark Lord’s favor.
But he dreamt of a forest, and of knowing this man who carries the wild in his eyes.
He lets him in.
-
Malfoy Manor is full of secrets. Harry coaxes them out of hiding, cradles them near his chest and learns about darkness by stumbling into it in every corner.
The cup calls for him from the heart of the house, and he finds it on the second day of his stay, unearths it from a coffin in the depths of the dungeons. He destroys it on the spot, unspools the layers of iron with the magic contained beneath his fingernails, and destroys it.
When he turns, Draco Malfoy is in the corner. The child of a Death Eater.
But Harry has been in many places, seen enough repentance to recognize it in downcast grey eyes. He lowers his cloak and walks to the child of a Death Eater, holds his head between his hands.
“You can tell me.”
“There’s more where that cup came from,” Draco mutters, as if Harry had forced it out of him. He could have, but he didn’t.
“Will you show me?” And he can tell this man whose beautiful face he holds between his fingertips knows little of gentleness, knows it because he sees him flinch at Harry’s uncomplicated love and soft words.
“I should turn you in.”
“Will you show me?”
Draco shows him.
-
He learns more from Harry Potter the first two weeks they spend together than he did in 7 years at Hogwarts.
In the mornings, he steps out the door to find Harry kneeling by the flower beds, and when he turns to Draco his smile is wide and gentle, “Look at this,” he says, and with a touch to their petals, he makes the buds shake off their stupor and bloom, nurses them back to health. “Every living thing is ready to thrive, if you ask nicely.”
In the evenings, when they share a meal by the fire, he can’t stop himself from thinking about his father. About the fact that he’s betraying him. And Harry knows, because he always knows. In the short time they’ve spent together, he’s always seemed to know.
“Once you’ve passed your own limit, punishing yourself for love, you will start hating yourself, Draco,” he tells him as if he could read his mind, and then reaches for his hands and plays with his fingers, traces an outline of vines and flowers along Draco’s arms with magic, with locks of pure, blue light. “And if you think you know what’s right, that’s what you should do.”
And it’s nothing Draco doesn’t know. He knows what’s right, knows the magic of Harry’s hands, knows his heaving chest after an evening looking through the libraries for clues of where he needs to go next, he knows his profile, has been staring at it for days, he knows what he feels after Harry kisses his hands and tells him he can join them if he wants, they have room for him, he has room for him.
He knows what’s right. Harry’s message of love, of life is what’s right. And he would walk through fire if Harry asked, but right now, he’s simply asking him to thrive, if he’s ready.
He’s ready.
-
“The locket is in Inverness,” Harry says. He can see Draco flinch, and he knows the reason. “We have a fortress there. Will you come with me?”
He knows the reason.
-
This is what it’s like, walking with him: there’s magic where Draco never thought to look before. In the eyes of a child, who feels hope for the first time, in the lips of a mother that kisses Harry’s hands and Draco’s forehead. There’s magic in Harry’s feet as they touch the ground and make flowers bloom around him, as he brings life to everything around him, offers tenderness and words of love in places where authoritarian brutality is the norm.
It’s this: walking into prisons at night and melting out the iron keeping innocents locked in. It’s colors seeping into grey, it’s Harry reaching into a tree and it producing a perfect, ripe apple to gift to him, it’s Harry pressing it to Draco’s lips with a smile and saying, “here, you’ve earned it.” It’s Draco biting into it and being certain of the fact that he loves this man, tasting it in the sweet, sweet juice after breaking the skin of the fruit.
He knows, now, that Harry is the legend he has always heard about. He’s infinite, raw power poured into the purest vessel it could find, he’s gentleness to his core, he’s magnetic and good. He makes it impossible not to love him.
And he knows, now, that Harry is also the boy everyone forgot used to hide underneath that cloak. That for all the life he brings everywhere he walks, there’s a solemnity he carries in his chest, the burden of hope heavy between his shoulder blades, crushing him even if he does not know.
Sirius comes and goes, joins them on their trip and disappears on recon missions, over and over. Once, when they’re alone, Draco tells him about it, says “he’s just a boy” and Sirius sighs because he knows what it’s like to love him, to love this boy who is both young and ancient, like Draco does, and can’t even assure him, because there’s many ways this could end, and only one of them, the least likely of them, lets them keep him.
So he gives Draco a stone.
-
It takes them a year. Harry makes his way through England and Scotland, brings hope and freedom to the people as he searches for the items he needs to destroy the Dark Lord.
Draco guides him into Hogwarts, hand in hand, the moment they know where to find the last one. As Harry destroys it, he sees Draco cry.
He hasn’t told him what Harry has always known, that the way this ends for him is in sacrifice, but he thinks Draco must suspect. So he holds him in his arms and smooths his hands through his hair and over his eyelids. “It’s almost over, my beloved. Now let him come to me.”
He makes himself sound more confident than he feels. For the first time, as he holds Draco close, he doubts his own faith, for entirely selfish reasons.
But he remembers his lessons, and he remembers Dumbledore, and the Order, and reminds himself that this is what he was born for.
“Let him come to me.”
-
Draco knows what Harry is going to do, and sees him try to hide it. He sees him fight, sees him help every single witch and wizard to cross paths with him, the way he always does.
And when they part ways in the midst of the battle later that night, when Draco sees his mother, he feels something shatter inside of him and knows it’s happening. So he runs.
-
“The boy who lived, come to die.”
“You think this ends with me, Tom, but it doesn’t. The people’s pain is more powerful than their fear, and they won’t be silent. Do not think they’ll be silent. From the other side, I will see them bring you down.”
And then a curse, finally doing what it was due all those years before.
-
He stands in the forest, a stone held tight between his fingers. He can hear his parents’ cries for him in the distance, running towards him, echoes of bombardas that should have stopped hours before. He stares at the ghostly figure of Harry Potter.
“Why?”
“This was the only way he would die. I know you don’t understand, Draco, but this was the only way.”
“But he’s not dead, he went back to the castle, he’s making everyone pick sides. Harry, it’s over, it’s over.”
-
Harry stands in Kings Cross.
He’s given a choice, and he thinks of the burden, thinks of what his life might look like now, what will be expected of him next.
He thinks of the boy with the grey eyes.
He makes his choice.
-
In the morning light, a hero is reborn. Draco tosses him a wand and runs to fight next to him. Where he always belonged.
Afterwards, when the withering body of a man who was a monster hits the ground, they walk into the Hall, hand in hand, covered in dust from head to toe. Harry touches every bloodstained forehead, every dead body, presses his forehead to them and whispers words in the ancient language of the magic that runs through his veins, through underground streams and every living, breathing thing.
Everywhere in the Hall, eyes begin to open, and look into a new world.
-
“The change is only starting,” Draco tells him, as they stand with their foreheads pressed together outside the castle.
“It has started, my beloved.”
He doesn’t say he loves him, but Draco has known from the beginning, hears the words in the spaces between, slowly, dripping from every pore of Harry’s skin.
“We should go away for a while, just… while the dust settles.” Harry doesn’t protest, but Draco sees it in his eyes, and so, he interrupts his thoughts with a soft press of cracked lips, rough to touch, tender to heart. When he pulls away, Harry’s smile is nearly blinding. “You deserve it, for once. Besides, I know of a place in Wiltshire where the flowers sing your name.”
“And you?”
“And I sing it, too. I sing it, my love.”
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Draco x Reader (smut)
Reader's pov
I was heading towards the great hall for the Yule ball that was being held. No one asked me to go with them but I didn't care. I see Draco with Astoria Greengrass. I was beyond angry. I mean I have a crush on draco but he wouldn't want to be with me anyways I'm in Gryffindor. I calmed down and continued walking down the stairs.
Draco's pov
I was at the bottom of the stairs waiting for Astoria. She was taking to long get down here. When she finally arrived I heard some say something.
"Wow! Is that (y/n)?" A random guy asks I'm pretty sure that guy is in ravenclaw. I looked in the direction the guy was talking about and see (y/n) in a sexy green dress that came a little above her knees with matching heels. Her hair and make up was beautifully done. I just want to take her clothes off. What am I talking about she's in Gryffindor, my father won't be happy about that.
~time skip~
I seen (y/n) leave and I went to follow her. I see her at the entrance to the room of requirement. She paced and then a door showed. She walked in and I entered after her. I looked around and seen slytherin decor everywhere.
"(Y/n) why does this room have slytherin decor everywhere? " I asked and she gasped.
"D-draco! What you doing in here? Shouldn't you be with Astoria? "She asks.
"I don't like Astoria. "I say.
"You don't? Who do you like then?" She asks and backs in the bed behind her.
"You." I say and kiss her roughly but passionate. She instantly kissed back.
Reader's pov
I can't believe Draco is kissing me! His hand travels up my leg and to me lace green panties. I winced in pain when he entered one of his fingers in me. He kisses down my neck and I moan as he continues to finger me. He finds my sweet spot and bites down. I moan in pure pleasure. He chuckles softly and removes our clothes. I whine a little bit about the loss of touch. He aligned his huge long member at my entrance and enters me without warning. He pounded into me ferociously. I moan with each thrust. He kisses me softly and I kiss him back. I cum after an hour of him pounding hard into me. He cums shortly after and moans my name.
"I love you Draco."I say.
"I love you too (y/n)." He says.
"What if your father finds out." I ask.
"I don't care what he thinks anymore. "He says.
~the next day~
I was sitting at the Gryffindor table. I felt like I was being watched so I looked up and seen Draco looking at me with desire in his eyes. I looked away and blushed.
"You okay? "Harry asked and I nod. My owl comes in and drops a package in front of me. I open it and see a beautiful silver snake necklace with green eyes. I looked at the note after I put the necklace on.
I had a great time last night beautiful. I hope we can do it again some time. Would you consider being my girlfriend. I'll buy you more things because I just can't help but spoil someone as beautiful as you. Please give me an answer soon.
Love your slytherin,
D.
I looked at Draco and smile at him. He smirks and I instantly become wet. I squeeze my legs together. I get up and walk to the ladies room near the slytherin common room. I am pushed up against the wall. I look up and see draco. I kiss him passionately and wrapped my legs around his waist. He pulls my under wear down and unzipped his pants. He bends me over one of the sinks and pounds into me ferociously from behind. I moan softly with each powerful thrust he gives me.
"So what's your answer? "He groans slightly into my ear.
"Yes I'll be your girlfriend. " I moan and cum hard onto his member. He cums deep inside of me and kisses my forehead. We clean ourselves.
"See you in class babe." Draco says with a smirk.
~a week later ~
I wake up feeling sick. I quickly run to the bathroom and vomit. Hermione comes in there and holds my hair.
"Are you okay? "She asks and I shake my head no. She hands me a muggle pregnancy test and I take it. We wait five minutes. Hermione looks at the test first then hands it to me. The test reads positive. I cry and Hermione cheers me up.
"Congrats. Well I'm going to get ready and head to the great hall. " she says. I decided to write draco a letter.
Dearest Draco,
I have just found out some news relating to me. I'm...... how do I put this. I'm pregnant! So if you don't want to be with me anymore I understand but just so you know it is yours and I have never cheated not once.
Love your Gryffindor,
(Y/n).
I sent the letter with my owl and got dressed. I went to the great hall and sat beside Hermione. Draco comes in the great hall and heads towards me.
"What are you doing over here Malfoy? Are you supposed to be over there?" Ron asks.
"Don't even start with that today. "I say.
"I need to speak with you, (y/n)." Draco says. I get up and head out the great hall.
"So you got my letter? "I ask and he says yes.
"What are you planing on doing with the baby or babies? "He asks.
"I want to keep them. "I say and draco kisses me. Hermione comes out. She sees me and draco kissing.
"(Y/n)! You and draco are together? "She asks
"Yes."I say and hug draco. She nods and walks away.
"(Y/n) will you marry me?" He asks. My eyes tear up and I kiss him passionately.
"Yes Draco I will!" I say.
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Hermione x Reader, “Baby Boy”
REQUEST: Hermione x reader where they magically have a baby boy (Hermione gave birth to him) and what it's like as he grows up ❤
let’s go, chicken
warnings: just pure cute fluff
hermione granger x reader
- Hermione and yourself spent at least the first trimester on how the hell Hermione got pregnant.
- You thought it was Ron’s fault but Hermione reassured her it must have been a spell or something.
-to be fair, if Dumbledore couldn’t explain it, who could?
- Ron, Harry, Ginny and Luna even were fighting over to be Godmother and Godfather.
-”Ron, I’ve defeated the Dark Lord..twice. What can you do that I can’t?”
-”See without glasses, Harry.”
-That quickly started a row that Hermione was like always able to subdue.
-In the end, they all ended up being godparents because you both didn't want to hurt their feelings.
- Every time Hermione felt a kick, she would call you over and you would whisper, “ That’s my little monkey.”
-Hermione just wanted Mint Chocolate Ice Cream the entire bloody time which meant you being the loving partner that you are, had to go out at 5am and look for Mint Chocolate Ice Cream.
-You had an episode of self-realisation into the second trimester that you were going to be a mother and cried.
-Hermione just stood there, looked down at you and cried with you.
-That day was just full of tears and a lot of ice cream.
-The third trimester came and Hermione made you go to baby yoga with you because she “needed the birth to be as painless as possible.”
-Which you replied with, “You're a witch, babe.”
-You both never set foot in yoga again.
-You were out shopping for baby carriers when Hermione called, “I’m in labour get your fucking ass down here.”
-Labour Hemione was a very violent and shouty Hermione.
-After 9 hours of you repeatedly putting anti-pain spells on her whilst no one was watching, something that she’d make up to later, she gave birth to a beautiful baby boy.
-He had eyes exactly like yours and her mother’s hair but just not as crazy.
-Hermione wanted to call him Rupert, but you stood held your ground against that because who in their right mind would call their child Rupert.
-After a day, you were all allowed home and Finn, a name you both decided on, vomited everywhere. That was the start of a long, gruelling but beautiful 3 years.
-On Finn’s third birthday, he nicked your wand and started playing with it, only to break Hermione glass vase.
-After years of Hermione reading to him and you playing with him, he grew up to be the son that only two mothers could dream of with your bright eyes and his mother’s wildly untamable hair, he was a beauty.
-On his 11th birthday, you and Hermione were more excited to see him opening the letter than he was.
-After packing and getting everything ready, you both left him at platform 9 3/4, to which he incredibly hesitated to go through. Smart boy.
-At the platform, you see Harry and Ginny and their child and introduce your baby boy to her.
-They quickly became best friends.
-Finn also was talking to Draco’s boy, Scorpius to which you had to hold Hermione back because she cannot let that snake befriend her son.
- With the golden trio reunited and watching their kids going off on their own adventure, it was a nostalgic trip.
-Everyone went out for dinner after but if felt like nothing had changed.
-Over the years, you and Hermione grew stronger and closer.
-Your son married to a bright witch//wizard.
-You both couldn’t be prouder.
-And for once, you could both say that all was well.
#Hermione Granger#hermione granger x reader#hermione pregant#x reader#harry potter x reader#ron x reader#ron wealsey#hermione granger imagine#imagines#ginny weasly x reader#luna lovegood x reader#draco x reader#hogwarts
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The daughter of the Lestranges! Part 2
A/N: Hey guys! Here is the second part of this story! I really hope that you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it :).
Hi there, I see that you would like to hear more about my story and I feel completely flattered I mean, I am not Harry Potter or Hermione Weasley and you are still into it.
“OH MY GOD! FREDDIE!” I yell at my husband as he throws a firework without me noticing it and getting completely startled which of course made him laugh his head off.
“What? I had to stop you there, but of them are great people and their stories are amazing. But so is yours love, when will you start giving yourself credit?” he said smiling at me in a particular way that always manages to make me laugh.
I laughed and then sigh saying “You are lucky that I love you Weasley”
“I know, I know and HEY! don’t forget you’re a Weasley now, Scarlett!” he said pretending to be offended.
I giggled and said “Trust me babe, my mind and heart know that! Also, not that I want you to leave but... I am trying to tell my story”
“Hmmm... so you don’t want me to leave? I can always stay and help you tell the story. You know, Teddy loves it when the two of us tell him stories before his bedtime. Maybe they will like it too” He said while shrugging.
“Alright” I said and kissed his cheek
Okay, so if I am not mistaken the last thing I told you guys was that I was sorted into Ravenclaw and that Fred and George followed me everywhere. I tell you, I was their hobby along with pranking. They loved pranking me and also loved annoying some of my friends; like Hermione from Gryffindor, I think you already know that and Finlay; one of my closest friend from my house.
“Yeah...Finlay” Fred said in an annoyed tone pretending to sound jealous.
Oh yeah, on our Hogwarts years Fred was always jealous of my friend Finlay for God knows what reason.
“I was never jealous” he said rolling his eyes jokingly.
“Sure...” I said smirking knowing I was right and that he knew I was doing it on purpose.
Anyways, so on the first months of being a first year at Hogwarts I was always studying with Hermione. That meant that I also hanged out a lot with Ron and Harry, you know, they are the golden trio and just as my father Ted used to say, if they were the superheroes I would be their sidekick. But those are muggle terms, sorry for confusing you, if I did. Ron and Harry always said that Hermione and I only had one thing in common. That thing was that we enjoyed reading and to study; I don’t like to study but I do like to be responsible with my school stuff. Anyways, when it comes to our personalities they were quite different since Hermione was more serious and I was more outgoing.
“That’s a fact, I don’t know how you guys have remained that close with that difference in your personalities” Fred said
“We have manage it and you know that I can be serious when I have to be” I said.
As for Finlay we talked, study and basically hanged a lot in our common rooms and were most of the times together in our classes and in the Great Hall. When we were not together, he was probably hanging out with Cedric Diggory and I was with the twins or the golden trio. One of the things we always did together though, was going to the Quidditch matches together.
“Oh, that I remember quite well!” Fred said
“You know he always supported Gryffindor” I said
“Only if it was a match against Slytherin” he said and I rolled my eyes.
“What is true and you are aware of it!!” he said
“I know, I know” I said
“I have to give Finlay credit for helping me on the day of the Draco incident” Fred said.
“Oh what a sweet memory” I said with sarcasm
“You should tell them about it love” he said “Come on, say it! I think that had a big impact in our relationship in someway”
“Yay, will be telling that happy memory and story right now” I said as I started clapping and giving Fred an annoyed look.
“You know that you love what me and George did that day; specially me!” Fred said as he kissed my lips, cheek, jaw and then placed his head on my neck.
I sigh and said “Okay, I will tell them”
Alright, so on the first Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Slytherin my cousin Draco decided to approach me for the first time. The reason of why I decided to go to watch the game was because I wanted to support Harry and of course the twins. Even though they always pranked me none stop and annoyed me, I was quite fond of them.So before the game started, I went to where the Gryffindor players were at to wish my three friends good luck and I hugged each of them and then left.
“Ah, ah, ah!! You are forgetting a detail from that moment!” Fred said
“Which one?” I asked and he smirked
“Do you remember when George said that it was going to be a good game cause we had our luck charm wishing us the best?” He asked
“Yeah, and then you said that you always received good luck wishes from lots of girls” I said raising an eyebrow.
“I don’t remember that but what I do remember is telling him that you we were going to be lucky cause you were the cutest” he said winking
I blushed and laughed “You did said that, after you had previously said what I said that supposedly you don’t remember” I said shaking my head.
“I tried to fix it and after all of this years I thought I had” He said frowning.
I smirked and said “You did but I like to remind you just to mess with you”.
Okay, so after I left to the Ravenclaw area to watch the game I accidentally bumped into Draco and immediately said sorry. He replied by saying “You are going to pay for that Tonks”. I ignored him and joined Finlay, we watch the whole game, weird things happened to Harry’s broom thanks to a professor named Quirell but at the end of the game Gryffindor won. All of us basically went running to the Quidditch field to congratulate the victorious team;specially my friends. But as I was about to hug Fred, Draco pulled me by grabbing my arm and making me face him.
“You really are something Scarlett Lestrange” He said knowing that I kept my biological parents story to myself.
“My last name is Tonks” I said through gritted teeth
He asked “Is that so? or are you too embarrassed of who you really are?” Raising an eyebrow and without letting me answer he said “Yes, she is a cousin of mine that is a disgrace to my family. She is a Pureblood that makes herself and others believe that she is a filthy Half-blood. Befriends mudbloods and Half-bloods and her Pureblood friends are poor people fascinated by muggles. I am pretty sure you do have more Pureblood friends but they might be as pathetic as the others are!...Oh and you might be wondering how come she be a Pureblood, we-”
“Malfoy stop” I said feeling humiliated and my eyes watering up.
“Stop? I don’t think so, her parents are my amazing aunt and uncle, Bellatrix and Rodulphus Lestrange. She is the baby that was born in Azkaban, I am sure most of you know that story! So yes, oh and she ain’t a Slytherin, I wonder how your real parents will feel if they ever find out who raised you and that you are not in their house. Also, congratulations, now everybody here knows what a liar you are!”
I looked around everyone and ran away crying.
“I felt shock and anger, I was taken back with what he had said about Scarlett but at the same time I wasn’t going to let him get away with it or let her get broken because of it. So, instead of dealing with that idiot, I decided to run after her while George, Finlay and Harry took care of Draco” Fred said
He basically found me in a corner near the entrance of the Hufflepuff common room sitting down with my hands placed on my face crying.
“I knelt down and hugged her and let her cry on my shoulders whispering things in her ears to calm her down” he said
After he calmed me down I told him that everything that Draco had said was true and that I was ashamed of who I was. Then he explained to me that my biological parents are not the ones who define who I am. What defined who I was and I am, are my actions, then I told him that I consider my adoptive parents as my real parents and he said that if I feel that way then they are as a matter or fact my real parents.
“Indeed, I also told her that her opinion about herself is the one that matters the most and of course, she should only listen to the words of those that care about her. After I stopped saying that I told her that Malfoy was going to pay and that George and I were going to take care of it” Fred said
“What caught him off guard was that I had agreed to join them! That’s were detentions began to happen, pranking together became a thing, studying became more fun and became unseparable. We were some sort of pranking trio! haha, and while all of that was happening I also, helped the golden trio in their adventures when they actually needed my help. I was basically in most of their adventure; except for the last one of that year because I got detention”.
“What was your favorite moment of detention?” Fred asked
“Going to the Forbidden Forest with Harry, Hermione, Neville and Draco along with Hagrid and his dog” I said giggling at the memory.
“Why?” Fred asked
“Cause it was the first time I saw Draco screaming like a banshee and scared as hell” I said with a wicked smile. Then I looked at Freddie and asked, “How did Finlay helped you the day of the Draco incident?”
“By basically fighting Draco off with the help of George and Harry. He also told me where you might have gone to before I started running off after you” he said.
“Now that you said that I remember Finlay having to take detention as well” I said chuckling
“They went easy on him” Fred said and I nodded in agreement
Oh, for the single witches out there, Finlay is actually single and wants to find someone. I don’t have recent pictures of him but I will show you the one I do have but he is still looks that handsome and according to some of my girlfriends they said that he has gotten better looking. On top of that he is an amazing and loyal person so-...
“I knew that you always founded him attractive and that you fancied him” Fred said narrowing his eyes at me.
“That’s rubbish, I was and I am still am into redheads! Between you and I, I chose the hottest and sweetest redhead in the wizardry world”. I said winking at Fred. “And I am only saying that to help Fin, I mean not that he can get girls by himself but you know, he is always working as the auror he is!”
My second year was full of excitement and fright because the whole case of the chamber of secrets. But I did have fun since I was being part of the golden trio’s adventure once again. Pranking people and professors with the twins, getting us to detention. Meeting Moaning Myrtle how can I not forget that, drinking Polyjuice potion...which was nasty. Hmm, having the most dumb,narcissistic and weirdest professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts; Lockhart.
“Oh yes, I remember you and Hermione having a crush on him” Fred said
“WHAT? Oh no, it was all Hermione I never fancied him, you jerk!” I said
“Sure, what’s the thing you remember him for?” he asked
“Well, there are many things I remember him for!” I said
“What’s the funniest to you?” he asked
“The thing he did for valentine’s day, he dressed in the pink robes and sending the dwarfs dressed as cupid all over Hogwarts. I remember that I was in Potions and a dwarf came in and dedicated me a poem and then said that it was sent by Fred Weasley” I said giggling to myself. “Snape was furious and I was shocked”
“and I was embarrassed! I said to George that I would do that if I ever managed to admit my feelings for her. Then this bloody dwarf heard and it and George said my name and hers. Then mentioned the class that she was in and the dwarf took off” said Fred with an annoyed tone.
“You’re still annoyed by it and is funny cause that sort of declaration was what awoke my crush on you and then developed into something more!!’ I said and Fred rolled his eyes.
“Are you guys going to the burrow to eat dinner or are you going to work a bit longer?” George asked
“We are going to the burrow” Fred and I said at the same time!
#harrypotter fanfiction#Harry Potter#harry potter imagine#Fred and George#fred weasley imagines#weasley#draco malfoy#hermionegranger#ron weasley#goldentrio#bellatrix lestrange#nymphadora tonks#teddy tonks#remus lupin
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