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lilbeanz · 2 years

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A quiet, cosy night in✨️

Ps: sorry for the lack of answers and comics recently folks, I've become completely enchanted by the idea of writing fanfic & I'm currently working on something artsy for sudsfest.❤️

#drarry #i-#the hair has taken control guys #older drarry #draco malfoy #harry potter #lilbeanz #lilbeanzdrawings #harry potter fanart #i had so much fun doing this #very self indulgent #❤️💚

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bluebutter-art · 2 years

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listen listen --

how about?????? dad bod harry 😼🤞🤨🥰

Thanks for the inspo! 😼✨

#dadbod!harry #;)#my art #older drarry

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starlitsilvereyes · 9 months

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Older Drarry makes me so emo because neither of them probably thought they’d live past seventeen. Hell, even after the war, Harry couldn’t shake off the feeling of death looming over him, like nothing came out of life more than death and death and death because it was all he had ever known of.

And after nearly three years in Azkaban, the stench of death and the trace of lost souls lingered with Draco, accompanying him on his daily walks through the Manor's withering rose gardens.

However, the older versions of Harry and Draco get to spend their days in Spain basking in the sun, and their wrinkled skin is covered with more than just scars. On Harry's hands, freckles sprawled like constellations, and a dragon tattoo roars to life on Draco's torso.

Draco's hair is more silver than blond, whereas Harry's hair and beard are all salt and pepper. Nightmares are long-forgotten memories replaced by dreams of having five seven children coming to fruition. They were stay-at-home dads for a while (which is perhaps the only time Harry has ever felt grateful rather than embarrassed about his astounding fortune). Until the children have grown up and moved on with their lives.

Now, Draco is a poet and Harry is an artist, both under pseudonyms. Without the rest of the world knowing, they are each other's muse. They have died and lived for each other in secret and their love is the most sacred thing they have ever held in the palm of their hands.

Harry no longer regrets coming back from the dead and Draco no longer resents himself for spending all those years hating Harry rather than loving him.

Draco, however, still scolds Harry for making his tea not scalding enough, to which Harry only rolls his eyes at. Harry still cuts his sandwiches into triangles because it makes ‘more bread’, which doesn’t make sense to Draco and probably never will.

Older Draco and Harry get to live the life they deserve and so much more. They get to watch a hundred more sunrises and a thousand more sunsets and the stars in the sky have woven into newer and more complex constellations just for them.

The road to all is well was a long one, but neither Draco nor Harry would change a thing.

#luci's thoughts #drarry headcanon #draco x harry #harry potter x draco malfoy #harry potter headcanon #draco malfoy headcanon #older drarry #cw: mentions of death #nightmares #poet draco #artist harry #i don't think i have enough life experience to write a fully fleshed out fic of older drarry so #headcanon it is!#if anyone has fic recs of fluffy older drarry please send them my way!

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cluelesspigeons · 8 months

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This is written for the prompt “dew” from @drarrymicrofic

I’d been craving some hot summer days while writing this, since it’s been a rather grey and wet summer where I live. So enjoy some older drarry spending their morning together.

Word count: 164

Drarry microfic: morning coffee

By the time Draco had made his way outside for his morning coffee, the sun had already dried the early morning dew on the grass and the leaves around him. He could feel it would be yet another hot summer day.

It didn’t take long before his husband joined him in the garden, a cup of tea in his hand. He sighed when he sat down next to Draco. From this close, and with the sun warming his face, it was easier to spot the greying hairs in Harry’s beard.

“Have I ever told you how much I love summer?” Harry asked, before taking a sip of his tea. “Those warm days with the soft breezes and the long evenings… It’s all so perfect!”

“Hmm.” Draco hummed contentedly. He did have to agree, summer was the best season. It was moments like these, when he could enjoy his morning coffee outside with Harry by his side, that he would cherish until his final days.

Prompt from May 9th

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#drarry #drarry microfic #drarrymicrofic #drarry fic #drarry fanfic #drarry fanfiction #draco malfoy #harry potter #draco x harry #harry x draco #my writing #cp writes #cluelesspigeons #may 2023 #dew #morning coffee #warm summer day #older drarry #they’re just enjoying their time together

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sitp-recs · 1 year

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Hi Liv! Do you or your followers have any recs for drarry fics set several years after the war, with an older Draco and Harry, but not established relationship? Thanks so much!

Hello anon! Of course, I hope you enjoy these:

Night Changes by @writcraft (E, 10k)

Draco and Harry have spent years dancing around one another, but Potter’s straight and married. Until one day he isn’t.

More Than That by joosetta (E, 11k)

This is a story about two 52 year old men who refuse to age gracefully.

The Weight of a Wanting Heart by Femme (E, 12k)

After nearly two decades hidden away in the Wiltshire countryside, Draco Malfoy’s surprised to see a familiar face come into his local.

Reading Malfoy by Femme (M, 15k)

After thirteen years of hiding himself away in Muggle London, Draco Malfoy shows up again in the wizarding world--with a wickedly amusing memoir in hand. Harry doesn't want to read it. Really. He doesn't.

Vortex by @xanthippe74 (T, 20k)

Who would want a soulmate who was a schoolyard bully, a Death Eater, and a convicted felon? Certainly not Harry Potter. And Draco is determined to take this secret to the grave.

Unfinished Business by cupiscent (E, 20k)

Ten years after the War ends, Harry and Draco still haven't got their act together. But maybe it's not too late.

Survival of the Species by @romaine2424 (E, 46k)

Draco approaches Harry on the 9 ¾ platform, after their sons have boarded the Hogwarts Express, and invites him over for tea. The discussion they have leads them on an adventure that neither could have expected.

(We'll Call This Fixer-Upper) Home by @phdmama (E, 52k)

Draco Malfoy hasn’t set foot on English soil in ten years. After the war, he fled to America, where he found himself in a community, and healed himself through following his heart into music.

Meet Me at Midnight by @the-starryknight (T, 57k)

Harry was beginning to wonder if he’d ever make anything again when Malfoy stormed through the door of Harry’s furniture shop. Now Harry’s got an impossible Ministry commission to finish, and even less energy than ever to deal with his elusive muse.

I Am Not Who I Became by mab_di (E, 93k)

Draco left England after the trials and has travelled the world meeting wizards and Muggles from different cultures and with vastly different relationships to magic, each other, and the natural world. Now he's a fisherman in Finland on commercial vessels.

A Sword Laid Aside by @korlaena (E, 128k)

When Draco’s cover is blown during a deep undercover operation and the Ministry is compromised, Ron takes Draco to the only safe place he can think of—Potter.

When Times are Dire by @aibidil (E, 130k)

Magical Britain is screwed, and it's once again up to Harry to save it. This time, by marrying Draco Malfoy.

This Ain't the Garden of Eden by @romaine2424 (E, 131k)

In 2020, Hit Wizard Harry is starting to enjoy his life. He’s divorced, and no longer Head Auror. His biggest project these days is trying to remodel 12 Grimmauld Place for him and the kids.

By the Grace by lettered (T, 140k)

Harry is an Auror instructor. Malfoy wants to be an Auror.

Turn by Saras_Girl (E, 306k)

One good turn always deserves another. Apparently.

#asks #anon #drarry reclist #older drarry

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curlyy-hair-dont-care · 2 years

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Still into you

"Ok, action." "Bad timing darling, Draco's on his phone watching Tiktoks. You might as well be talking to a wall." Harry laughs, poking his husband's ribs. "Stop it Potty, be nice to me," Draco mumbles, eyes glued to the screen. "Nice," Harry mutters, messing Draco's hair, pressing a kiss to his neck and resting his chin atop his head. Bickering and teasing ensue. "Yep, people. Those are my grandparents. Almost touching 90 but still behave like teenage sweethearts," I sign off the live session as my followers coo over these two in the comments.

@drarrymicrofic June Prompt #3 - Still into you

#drarry #drarry mircrofic #older drarry #modern au #they are still very into each other #they feature heavily in their grandkids videos #the followers love them #call them drarry #june prompts #song prompt #still into you #ri writes

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digthewriter · 1 year

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Holiday Drinks (and a bit of flirting)

Created for adventdrabbles prompt no. 20.

#drarry #drarry art #christmas #drinking #drinks #flirting #fluff #older drarry #artist: digthewriter #year: 2022 #community: adventdrabbles

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thedrarrylibrarian · 1 year

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Hello librarian! Your recs have given me so much joy already. I'm wondering if you can recommend any fics where they're both older - at least 35 or so? I've read Turn by saras_girl and am hungry for more I can identify with at this stage of my own life!

Aw, I love hearing that my little library and recs have brought you joy! I think you'll enjoy this list that I have already completed, but if you're looking for additional fics featuring Older Drarry, just send another ask and I'll look again!

Older Drarry

As always, if you find a fic you enjoy, please show your appreciation and leave the creator a kudos or a comment!

❤️ Lots of Love and Happy Reading ❤️

#older drarry #card catalog #lots of love and happy reading #drarry #harry potter #draco malfoy #harry/draco #draco/harry #rec list #drarry rec list #the drarry librarian

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coffeedrgn87 · 2 years

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This year’s WoD mini-exchange was my first year participating, except I don’t think the memo about “mini” reached me because I wrote my giftee 11K of middle-aged hot mess Draco and middle-aged thirst trap Harry getting together through a giant misunderstanding that, for a change, really isn’t their fault, not completely anyway.

This fic turned out nothing like I thought it would but I have thank my precious @nv-md for talking me out of a block and supporting a do-over. I must also thank my bestie @phd-mama for some keen insights, my cactus @phoebe-delia for effortlessly improving a conversation between Draco and Pansy and giving me alliteration advice, and my hedgehog @basicallyahedgehog for their keen eyes, running commentary and endless enthusiasm. Without these four heroes my giftee would undoubtedly still be waiting for her gift!

My sweet and wonderful and patient and amazing @shealynn88, have you any idea how excited I was to get you in the exchange, to create something for you? No? Well I was (and still am) so excited that I can barely contain myself. Please enjoy your not-so-mini-mini-WoD-exchange gift. 💜💜💜

Read “Sleepless At The Manor” on AO3.

Summary: When Draco finds himself inexplicably suffering from insomnia, the kind that comes and bugs him without rhyme or reason, he (reluctantly) turns to Harry Potter for help because, of course, he does. What follows is a rollercoaster right that ends in...well, you'll just have to read to find out what it ends in. ;)

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lilbeanz · 8 months

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Good morning ☀️☕️🍳

I woke up craving some older domestic drarry with dadbod!Harry and appreciative!Draco 😏

#drarry #harry potter #draco malfoy #lilbeanz #lilbeanzdrawings #hpdm #harry x draco #older!drarry #dad bod harry potter #harry potter fanart #hp #drarry fanart

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littlewinnow · 1 month

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Wanted to share a piece I did for harry/draco owlpost 2023 back in December! Drarry on an owl date :)

#drarry #myart #heee a bit of an older piece #i dont think i posted this on here before

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cluelesspigeons · 2 years

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This is written for the prompt ‘pale’ from @drarrymicrofic

Word count: 89

Drarry microfic: pale and lifeless

Cw: main character death

Harry’s once warm, tan skin had now a sickeningly pale undertone. Though his hair was still a mess his face, which used to show so many emotions, was now slack and lifeless.

Tears ran down Draco’s cheeks, a sob wrecking through his body. He took one cold hand into his own, squeezing it and hoping it would squeeze back like it used to.

They’d had a long and happy life together. Eventually one of them would leave. It was inevitable.

“I will meet you again very soon, my love.”

Prompt from July 26th

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basiatlu · 7 months

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Can Harry’s shorts be anymore shorter 🥵 😳🥺

Love the details in your drawing but not as much as Ginny 😉

Oh believe me, she’s equal parts sightseer & ultimate wingman ✨

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tackytigerfic · 10 months

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Fledgling

Some scrap words I won't be using for another fic, repurposed for the @drarrymicrofic prompt Hatch. Anyway, this is another dads Drarry piece (i know i know). Newborn Albus and newborn Scorpius, tired fathers, both recently separated. Harry struggling a bit with life as a parent. No major warnings that I can think of but do please let me know if there's anything. Unbetaed

ETA: actually re CW there is mention of an unwanted/unexpected pregnancy. Pls do proceed with caution if that's a tricky topic as I don't delve into it with the nuance it deserves. As to my stance, i am firmly pro-choice and it's not the sort of topic i usually take lightly.

Harry hadn’t thought the sling thing through before he left the house, and now his whole back is aching and he keeps whacking people with the unwieldy changing bag that won’t stop slipping off his shoulder. Albus is weeping noisily, one side of his tiny face pressed against Harry’s t-shirt, his new-blue eyes shutting and opening in bewildered exhaustion. Looking down into the sling, Harry can only see the fluffy top of his head, the fuzz of eyelashes, the slack weight of his plump cheek, but he can feel the tear-wettened patch of fabric spreading. They're both exhausted, the heat of summer making Harry's back prickle with sweat under the straps of the sling.

Harry's at the farmers market off Diagon, trying to buy vegetables. He doesn’t actually want to eat a vegetable, or indeed anything that involves chopping or cooking or making any sort of effort at all. In fact, what Harry wants is to go home and lie alone, in total silence, on the sofa in the back parlour, where the air is always cooler, and drink a very cold beer, and eat nothing but Monster Munch and Dairy Milk for dinner.

However Harry has to buy, cook, and eat vegetables, not just because he has to set a good example for his children, but also because if he dies of scurvy then he’ll be no better than his parents were, having a kid they were too young for, then going off and getting themselves killed. Though at least Harry's boys would have the Weasleys, which means they’d be loved at least, which is more than Harry was, and now his eyes are prickling with self-pity and guilt, and Albus is crying so hard he’s hiccuping, and god, Harry needs some sleep. But he won’t get any, because Molly can only keep James for another twenty minutes, and Harry has to get his grocery shopping done, and then it’ll be bathtime and bedtime and another broken night, and so the cycle continues, a relentless loop that might feel like a time-turner is involved except that Harry somehow manages to find brand new things to feel absolutely grim about every single day.

He sighs, pokes at a flabby-looking aubergine, then remembers how much work he’d have to do to make it taste good and just grabs some carrots instead. His hands are already full, the changing bag swinging and banging against his hip. Albus’s little legs are squirming in rage now, his whole body in muscular rolling motion against Harry’s chest.

“Please, baby,” he whispers, kissing the damp little head. “Please just calm down.”

He reaches for a butternut squash, and the bag swings forward and drops into the crook of his elbow, hitting the vegetable stall. Somewhere below him, a point he can’t actually see over the lump of screaming baby, he hears the hollow thumping noise of something falling and hitting the ground. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a cabbage trundling onto the footpath, then another and another. The man who works at the vegetable stall gets his wand out and starts Accio-ing the fallen cabbages, giving Harry an unimpressed look which he extends to the baby in the sling. Harry feels suddenly enraged, and he drops the carrots so he can bring his hand up in front of them, a protective shield against the horrible man’s disapproval, and now the other shoppers are staring too, a woman with a bored-looking teenager giving Harry’s strewn carrots a pointed look as she bends to pick them up off the ground.

Harry can’t bear it anymore, hating himself, hating the people shopping like their worlds haven’t come to a standstill like his has, hating the great fucking changing bag and the carrots and even, for one awful shameful moment, the crying baby, and he moves further down the street to where there’s a break in the stalls, a mercifully unoccupied bench, and a busker playing some sort of multi-horned instrument that is making enough noise to drown out Albus’s wailing. He sits, carefully, so Albus is higher on his chest with one plump cheek against Harry’s fast-beating heart, and closes his eyes.

“Here,” a voice says, and Harry opens his eyes to see a plume of green feathery leaves, a hand clutching… is it the bunch of carrots? And then he looks up, beyond weary now, and it’s Malfoy there, because of course it is. “I saw you dropped these.”

Malfoy sits down uninvited, just sags down onto the bench next to Harry and lets the bunch of carrots fall on the seat between them. Harry hasn’t seen much of him since school, though he knew Malfoy had got married, and he’d definitely seen something in the papers when the baby was born. He looks awful, Harry thinks, too pale even for him, with sickly blueish shadows under his eyes. His hair is long, curling round his ears, slightly damp at the temples from the heat. He’s wearing a shirt that has some sort of greyish white stain all down the front, and the points of his collar are soft and floppy in the heat, like a puppy’s ears.

“Please, make yourself comfortable,” Harry says.

“I just want some rest,” Malfoy says, and he stretches his legs out in front of him and tips his face up towards the sun, closing his eyes. His throat is one long bared line, and in the crisp afternoon light Harry can see the fine glint of stubble all along his jaw where he clearly hasn’t shaved in a while.

“This doesn’t quite seem like the right place for resting,” Harry says. “This one won’t shut up, for one.” He looks down at Albus, his throat tight, then back at Malfoy. “Sorry. For the noise, I mean. I’ve tried everything and he just won’t stop.”

“Oh.” Malfoy waves his hand vaguely in Harry’s direction, eyes still closed. “I can’t even hear him, really. It’s practically a holiday for me, hearing a baby crying that isn’t my own. Not my problem, for once. No, this one here is the reason I need a rest.” He opens his eyes as though it costs him effort, and jerks his head to the side. There’s a pram parked there, the old-fashioned silver chassis winking in the sun, gleaming hood drawn up to shade the baby inside. Harry can barely see through a haze of brightly coloured sun protection charms, anti-hex shields, and elaborate cushioning charms. The pram looks like something Harry had seen in old photos Petunia had, like a relic of some half-forgotten time, but Malfoy puts a hand out almost proudly and rests it on the handle, rocking the pram back and forth slightly.

“He’ll only sleep if the pram is moving,” he says, sounding grim. “And I’ve only just got him to doze off. If he wakes up now, I don’t think I’ll be able to bear it.” He looks at Harry, eyes wide, and places a hand to his mouth as though he wants to snatch the words back.

“Give us a proper look, then,” Harry says, and Malfoy gently lifts the shielding charms for a moment as Harry leans over a little to peer over the edge of the pram to see the baby. He's small and pink and not at all pointy, just a soft squidgy-looking bundle under a light summer muslin, with an almost invisible sheen of hair the same silver as Malfoy’s on his little head.

“That’s Scorpius,” Malfoy says, and he’s grinning a little, gazing distractedly into the pram as though he can’t quite help himself. Harry feels abruptly and surprisingly fond towards him. He’s seen that expression on his own face in countless photos of him with the boys.

“He’s cute. Interesting name.”

Malfoy goes pink, which makes him look a bit more like his old self, Harry thinks.

“It’s a family tradition,” Malfoy says stiffly. “And I happen to like it. And anyway, you can’t exactly talk, naming your child Albus.”

“Hey, no,” Harry says. “I wasn’t being— I mean, sorry if I sounded sarcastic or something. I really do like it. There were three Harrys in my form, at my old school before Hogwarts. I would have loved something different. I always wanted a cool name like Rocket or… Trent or… McGuyver, or something. I’d have loved to be called Scorpius.”

“You’re making it worse,” Malfoy says, though his lips are twitching. “Trent? Honestly, Potter.”

Then, as if compelled by curiosity, he leans over towards Harry and gently eases down the side of the sling so that he can look in at Albus from the side. Harry wonders what the baby must look like, in this heat, having been crying for so long, but Malfoy’s eyes soften and he smiles into the sling like he’s forgotten Harry’s even there, and Harry feels that irrational glow of pride he gets whenever anyone admires his babies. He’s mine, he wants to say. I made him.

Albus, as though sensing he’s being looked at, takes in a huge gulp of air with a sweet little wheezing sound and then, miracle of miracle, falls silent.

Harry and Malfoy look at each other over the baby’s head.

“Oh my god,” Harry mouths, and Malfoy mouths back at him, pointing into the sling, “He’s asleep!”

Harry isn’t sure how long they sit there. He thinks he might doze off for a while, though he can’t be sure. When he opens his eyes, Malfoy is still there beside him, resting his head on the back of the bench, pushing the pram wheel idly with one foot so that the whole thing rocks gently back and forward. He must sense Harry moving, because he yawns hugely and then blinks at Harry, or maybe into the sun, which is now setting behind Harry. At some point, the street musician must have moved on, because everything has the quiet, winding-down hum of early evening.

“This idea might be utterly mad,” Malfoy observes in a whisper, since both babies are, miraculously, still asleep. “I don’t know, since I’m so sleep-deprived I think my sense of reason has been affected. But would you possibly like to do this again sometime?”

“What, present each other with root vegetables and then fall asleep next to each other on a public bench?” Harry asks, amused. “No one could ever say we don’t know how to have a good time, I suppose.”

“Are you lonely?” Malfoy asks abruptly. “You seem lonely. Is that okay to say? I was watching you, you know, trying to buy your vegetables, and you looked about as miserable as I feel, and guess what? I was glad. That’s why I came to talk to you. I don’t think I’d have got the courage up if you’d been just standing there in the sunshine all golden and dewy and— and healthy looking—” He waves a hand dismissively in Harry’s general direction, the gesture somehow taking in every exhausted cell of Harry’s body. "Which, by the way, you do. Which is bloody unfair. But you also looked absolutely bloody livid and like you were about to cry.”

“I was,” Harry admits, because if Malfoy is oversharing, he might as well too.

“And I was glad,” Malfoy finishes, with a vicious satisfaction, and sits back. “I would have assumed you’d be really good at this, like you are at everything. No, no, I don’t mean you’re not a good father, Potter, anyone can see you’re hopelessly devoted to your offspring. I just meant, you looked like you were struggling. That you weren’t enjoying yourself. It was… refreshing. Reassuring, in a way. Like I’m not the only one who’s not a natural at this.”

“Albus was an accident,” Harry blurts out, covering the baby's ears carefully with his hands, though he's so deep in sleep he doesn't even stir. “Ginny and I were already separated. She had taken the job in Wales. She didn’t even realise she was pregnant for months, because she was training so hard she thought that’s why she felt tired all the time. And when she told me, I was so happy. She was crying and crying, she hates crying, I don’t know if you know that about her, probably not. But she just couldn’t stop, these big tears sliding down her cheeks. She was completely in shock, and I didn’t care at all. I wanted him, so badly, straight away. I could barely believe I got to have him. It felt like everything I had ever wanted, and that was all that mattered to me at that moment. And now he’s here and it’s like I’m being punished for it. It’s so hard, Malfoy. I’m on my own most of the time. Ginny was meant to have them at weekends, but she’s so busy and I don’t really want them going all the way to Wales without me just yet. And Ginny can’t fly after a week of broken nights, it would be too dangerous. So it’s just me, most of the time, and I’m so bloody lonely. Some nights when I’m up with one of the boys I just stand at the window and look out, just to see if I can find another house with a light on, so I feel like I’m not the only person in the world.”

“Wow,” Malfoy says. “That is a lot to be carrying around with you. Emotionally speaking, I mean, though it looks as though you’re overburdened physically too.” He eyes the changing bag with distaste. “Honestly Potter, are you a wizard or not?” He swings a hand over the bag, and Harry sees the tip of his wand sliding into his hand before Malfoy does a complicated little shivery wand movement over the bag. Then he sets his wand tip to the shoulder strap of Harry’s sling and performs a mild sticking charm, giving the sleeping lump of Albus a little pat before he sits back again. “There, that should hold until you get home.”

“Home…” Harry feels a familiar lurch in his stomach, the knowledge that he has forgotten something crucial but can’t quite put a finger on it. “Oh my god, Malfoy. I was meant to be at the Burrow to collect James at five o’ clock. What time is it? No, don’t tell me, I don’t want to know. If I’ve made Molly miss her Witches’ Institute meeting she will hex me sideways.”

Harry stands, Albus wriggling and grumbling at the sudden movement and then subsiding back into sleep. The sling feels secure, more comfortable around the tired muscles of Harry’s shoulders. He grabs for the changing bag, which he lifts easily with one hand, the dead weight of it now lightened.

“Wow, Malfoy. What was that charm you used on the bag? It’s actually manageable now.”

“It’s a variation on the Feather-Light charm. Same principle and same incantation but a slightly different wand movement. Makes the results a bit more stable.”

“Nice.” Harry slides the strap of the bag onto his arm. “You’ll have to show me. Next time?”

“Next time,” Malfoy said, then grins, a sudden and charming smile that shows his nice teeth and makes him look younger and somehow softer. He has a dimple, Harry notices, tucked right into the dip next to his lip, easy to miss unless you’re really looking.

“Great, I’ll owl you. And Malfoy— Thanks. For the bag, and listening to me, and… well, everything.”

“And for the carrots.” Malfoy picks up the bunch with a flourish, the delicate green fronds quivering at the movement as he hands them to Harry. “You mustn’t forget those.”

“Well, I think I’m going to get a takeaway,” Harry confesses. “But I shall make sure to put these carefully into the salad drawer of the fridge so that they can moulder away gently there for a few weeks.”

“As is right and proper,” Malfoy replies, very seriously, then the slight quiver of his lips turns to a grimace as a squawk arises from the pram.

“Once more unto the breach,” he says, already moving towards the pram, reaching in to where the blanket is rippling from tiny kicking legs. “I’ll see you soon, Potter.”

“Good luck,” Harry says, tempted to pat him on the back or shake his hand, but catching himself at the last minute and realising how odd it would be to just start touching Malfoy all of a sudden.

He sets off for the Leaky, hoping that that queue for the Floo won’t be too long. At his chest, Albus sleeps on, and Harry feels the tension leave his shoulders, somehow unburdened.

#Not to start going on and on about craft #but it's incredible how much i've learned about writing in the few years since I started creating fics #i feel much more in control of my process #and also find it easier to work and rework a piece #it's been so useful since i started writing original work #good for patches of writer's block too #as i can go back to older pieces and see how I can tweak and mould them into something closer to what i want them to be.#i mean it's a constant learning process right?#but it does feel like i *am* learning #which is very fun #anyway #drarry #drarry microfic #rowing and writing

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digthewriter · 2 years

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Drarry | While Waiting For Dinner.

Older!Drarry. | While they wait for the house-elves to bring dinner, Harry lights up the room with candles, the Muggle way. | Created for Jae's Monthly Drabble Challenge # 196, Prompt: Light.

#drarry #drarry art #older drarry #drarry fanart #harry/draco #draco/harry #while waiting for dinner #candles #love #sweet love #year: 2022 #art #my art #challenge: jmdc #no one will talk about the matching jumpers #artist: digthewriter

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