Did someone say rivalry?
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Did someone say rivalry?
Despair
A thing I love about The Cottage and “let’s be more honest & open with each other” is how Ilya looks softer, and more visibly queer. Both in clothing choices (imo) & behavior. He’s been wanting to be Shane’s BOYFRIEND and it shows.
And I can’t help but think “what if he keeps going down this path?”. Like, of course, in public he’ll still perform as Rozanov, Asshole Russian Menace.
He does like chirping other players on the ice, rile them up, and then show them time and time again that he’s the best player. That’s a huge part of him. But having to pretend he’s that cliché Straight Virile Man who has a different girl in his bed every night is getting more and more exhausting.
Time spent in private with Shane is like coming up for air. Because *Shane*, obviously, but also because he doesn’t have to pretend. He can wear the tightest, slightly-too-short tank tops and soft loose sweaters. The holes in his ears he got as teenage rebellion get used again to put pretty dangly earrings in them. The slight lilt he has in his voice when speaking Russian becomes noticeable in English too, when he teases Shane. There’s a hip popped, a hand on it, a brow arched, when he’s being sarcastic. That’s who he is, too.
It’s always been there, carefully, consciously hidden. And letting it out, even if it’s just in front of one person, his Shane, makes him feel whole, finally. At least for the time being.
And Shane? He’s trying to keep his cool but every little change (or more like, every little thing that Ilya doesn’t hide anymore) is making him fall more and more in love.
The possessive part of him is screaming “mine”, “no one else gets to see that version of Ilya and that’s good because he’s Mine”. But an even bigger part of him wishes he could show the world how Ilya is so much more than what everyone thinks. How bright he shines, when he doesn’t have to hide.
Shane’s terrified for both their futures, careers, but on some (most) days, when the sun catches on Ilya’s soft golden curls and jewelry, the urge to go out in public and kiss that beautiful man in front of a crowd is overwhelming. He worships him in their shared bed instead, but maybe, just maybe, when Ilya whispers “I love you” in his ear after they’re done, Shane thinks it could be time for a new plan.
For @drarrymicrofic prompt: “Letter 2” wc 800 // thank you @jungeatheart for your help
1.1.2005
Malfoy,
Robards tells me you’re joining the Auror Office.
France got boring?
Wanted to reach out before you start. Maybe we could find some time to clear the air? Grab a drink?
H.
4.1.2005
H,
Really? Just H? Am I not worthy of the additional four letters that spell out your name?
I would rather shove the Sword of Gryffindor up my arse than get a drink with you.
Draco Lucius Malfoy
10.1.2005
Malfoy,
I’m happy to ask Neville if he’d be prepared to loan the sword, if you’re keen.
Hope your first day went well.
Harry James Potter.
22.3.2005
Potter,
I suppose thanks are in order. I heard you stuck up for me with Watson. You didn’t need to.
Draco Lucius Malfoy.
24.3.2005
Malfoy,
Watson’s a dick. Don’t let him get to you.
Well done on the Troll case.
We’re going to the pub on Friday. You in?
Harry James Potter.
24.3.2005
Potter,
No.
Draco Lucius Malfoy.
12.4.2005
Potter,
Societal expectations dictate that when a colleague is going through a difficult time, one must offer a sympathetic word.
Bad luck on the redhead. At least you’re now free to seed your field—or whatever agricultural metaphor Muggles favour.
Draco Lucius Malfoy.
15.4.2005
Malfoy,
It’s sow your wild oats.
Not that it matters. Ginny and I weren’t together. It was a cover. We’re both gay as fuck and didn’t want it impacting our careers. We thought it would.
Thanks for reaching out.
It’s Robards’ birthday Sunday, so we’re heading to the pub tonight. Open invite.
Harry James Potter.
16.4.2005
Malfoy,
You missed out on a good night.
Harry James Potter.
17.4.2005
Malfoy,
Or are you just homophobic?
Harry James Potter.
19.4.2005
Potter,
Clearly, you are a defective gay if you’ve failed to recognise I’m about as queer as the sun is yellow.
I’ve simply opted to ignore your persistent requests for drinks.
Now, can you please send over the report for the Niffler case? I put the request in two days ago, and you’re starting to piss me off.
Draco Lucius Malfoy.
29.8.2005
Malfoy,
Sorry to hear about your father.
Hope you’re doing alright.
Harry James Potter.
29.8.2005
Potter,
You’re not sorry. Neither am I.
Enclosed: a sickle. Have a drink on me. Because I fucking am.
D.
04.11.2005
Potter,
Been on field duty for three weeks and come back to find out you’ve acquired a fully-fledged boyfriend?
Have to ask if you’re okay.
Smith.
Really?
Draco Lucius Malfoy.
04.11.2005
Malfoy,
I went on one fucking date because he wouldn’t stop asking. Now he’s picking out wedding linens.
What are wedding linens?
Harry James Potter.
04.11.2005
Potter,
Sorry, but this is hilarious.
I’m actually crying. Robards sent me home. I’ve claimed exhaustion due to emotional instability.
You’re such a twat.
Draco Lucius Malfoy.
23.12.2005
Potter,
Did you really send my mother a Christmas card?
Draco Lucius Malfoy.
P.S. Where’s mine?
24.12.2005
Malfoy,
I only send cards to people who either
a) Saved my life or
b) Have a drink with me at the pub.
No, you can’t use the Manor lie because I saved you from Fiendfyre. We’re even.
Harry James Potter
29.12.2005
Malfoy,
Enjoy the bastard card enclosed. Your stupid puppy-dog eyes at work were sickening.
I expect a drink.
We’re going out on NYE. A bunch of us from work. I’m not taking no for an answer.
Harry James Potter.
31.12.2005
Potter,
Suck my dick.
Draco Lucius Malfoy.
31.12.2005
Totaly wolud if u gave me a chanc.
Hapy New Yr.
HJPotter <3
01.01.2006
Malfoy,
Something tells me I embarrassed myself on NYE?
My owl came back this morning, and the last letter I received was from you. Did I write you something?
Harry James Potter.
02.01.2006
Potter,
Pure blackmail material.
How about I show you on Friday?
One-time offer.
Leaky Cauldron—8 pm.
Draco Lucius Malfoy.
14.05.2006
Draco,
Sorry, I had to dip early this morning. You look beautiful when you’re sleeping. Might be the lack of talking.
See you tonight.
Harry James Potter
X
09.09.2006
Harry,
I’ve thought about it. I’ll move in.
I didn’t mean to react so negatively. But come on—I was balls deep when you asked.
I’ll pop over tomorrow, and we can discuss the details.
Draco Lucius Malfoy
XXX
19.11.2006
Draco,
You said I was moving quickly when I asked you to move in—and then you go and propose?
What a way to make a bloke feel special. Running off before I can answer.
Get home and do it properly. I’m not answering until you’re on one knee.
Yours,
The future Harry James Potter-Malfoy
XXX
24.12.2012
Love,
Don’t forget the milk.
Scorpius is adamant that we leave a full pint out for Santa. He says you promised him.
Such a bizarre Muggle tradition you’ve brought into our house.
Draco Lucius Potter-Malfoy
XXX
ENOUGH. it's 2026. all men must now have (at least) one of the following:
• beautiful eyelashes
• a homoerotic devoted guard dog dynamic
• nose ring
• tight mesh shirt
• bloodied & bruised panting slightly as they brace against a wall
• praise kink
• self-destructive obsession with never relying on another person
• beautiful hair
As a married person I do need to tell you all that Shane and Ilya do weird shit all the time.
They routinely have entire conversations where Ilya is very softly smacking Shane's foot the entire time. Shane enjoys the percussive feedback.
Ilya mispronounces the word "Application" and they just sit there mutually whispering 'Aaap-li-caaa-shun' at each other for the next thirty seconds.
Ilya comes up behind Shane while he's trying to make a smoothie and says 'HELPING HANDS' and puts his arms under Shane's armpits.
Ilya sees Shane undressing in the bathroom and yells, "Take it all off!"
Shane carries Anya into the bedroom and holds her over Ilya's chest and moves her paws and says, "Papa it is me. Papa it has been an whole hour since I ate. Papa I am so hungry and sad." then drops her on his stomach.
Shane comes into the home office and grabs a pen off the desk and puts it against Ilya's cheek and says, "Any last words?" and Ilya says, "I wish I had eaten more dumplings."
Ilya spends an entire episode of House Hunters International with his hand down Shane's pants. It's not doing anything in there either it's just keeping warm.
Sometimes they are just mutually awake at three AM for No Reason and they go stand on the porch and stare at the empty street together.
Sometimes they are laying there playing footsie on the couch while on their phones (Parallel play) and Shane says, "Does your mouth ever do that squeezing thing. You know. When you eat." And Ilya says "Explain" and they spend the next ten minutes dissecting whether this is a Human Experience or a Shane Experience.
Sometimes Ilya will put his head on Shane's stomach and say, "Show me your boooones" and wait for Shane to lift his shirt so he can burrow under it.
I just think that we as a fandom need to embrace how Weird married people get about each other. From personal experience I am telling you it is SO FUN.
like we must never forget how much shane scares ilya. shane turns those big wet trusting brown eyes on ilya and gives him a little forehead smooch and ilya has to ghost him for six months because he’s so freaked out like aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa why are you acting like I’m a nice guy who can be trusted with your trust!!!!!!!!! I just thought it was hot to deflower the nerdy uptight virgin I didn’t know the nerdy uptight virgin was securely attached and thought it was okay to love with his heart wide open!!!!!!!!!!! those kinds of freaks should come with a warning label!!!!!!!!!!!
the river runs through us both
Prompt: river | for @drarrymicrofic | wc 400ish
Renoir Malfoy had gone to Albania in search of dragons and had found one—an animagus bathing in a river. He writes of the encounter in his journals: her scales were so deep and dark a green they were nearly black. When I first spied her, I knew I had transgressed. I knew the moment I laid eyes on her that my life had been cut in two. Everything that came before, and everything that would come after.
As a child, Draco likes this story. It makes him feel that the world is big and there are mysteries afoot, that there are powerful things out there somewhere, waiting to meet him. He listens to his father speak of their ancestor and gets the idea in his young mind that life can turn on the head of a pin. That sometimes, suddenly, you can be cut loose from yourself and all that binds you.
There is no river when he meets Potter, only the green landscape streaming by outside the window. Potter’s eyes are greener than the landscape and his hair is black as tar. Immediately, Draco understands what has happened: his life has been cut in two.
Eventually, Potter does it for real. A deep slash across the chest. All of his blood leaves his body in a searing gush and Draco thinks ah, there’s the river after all, and wishes Potter would bathe in it.
When the night is very dark, the copper in Potter’s skin sometimes reminds him of scales. Draco dances his thumb along the longest stretches, then the most delicate.
Harry has a nightmare. He wakes up confused; the roots of his dream are made of his veins. Draco holds Harry's shuddering body, his clammy limbs, and reads out an excerpt from Renoir’s journal: The world had broken down the middle, with she and I on one half, and all else in existence on the other.
Maybe it’s a curse, Draco thinks as he looks into Harry’s fevered eyes. Maybe a curse runs through the Malfoy bloodline that draws them to such terrifying monsters. Maybe this time, for us, its current will wash the stones and sticks and rot out to sea. It hardly matters what it is. What I am. What he is. We are on one half, and the rest is on the other. The river, Draco thinks as Harry's hands find his face, as his teeth find Harry’s lips, find the soft skin beside them, runs through us both.
come down
@drarrymicrofic | prompt: peak <3 | the last line of this is heavily inspired by a line in madeline miller's circe and I cannot take credit for it remotely but can make it drarry to the best of my powers::
Harry begins laughing so uproariously that he falls off Draco, and Draco is cursing and annoyed but mostly because Harry’s laughter is infectious and now they’re both laughing with cocks unforgivably hard and forgotten—they’ll get to their hard cocks later. No one’s going anywhere.
They've stumbled upon themselves—belly laughs and Harry snorts and Draco makes a noise like a honk, once, just the one time!—at the top of something and the fog is lifting and the rest is there, right there, spilled out infinite and visible beneath them.
Lately, Draco's been toying with surrender, because the horrors are dark and very fast, but here—with Harry, at the top—Draco decides he wants the long walk down. The tripping and scraping of knees and the tiny twigs. He'll put flowers in Harry's hair. He'll fuck him until he cries. He'll wring juice from his lips and when those hot drops of juice roll down Harry's chin Draco will lick them and swallow them and live off them.
He's sick of being up so high. He looks at Harry—big mouth, weird laugh, bad hair, his beauty painful and true—and knows it's time to come down. He has Harry, so let him have the rest.
kinda gay for a man to sit with his legs far apart. what is all that space there for? another man?
"STAR TREK: THE NEXT GENERATION" S2E21 - "Peak Performance"
for kinktober… Harry/Draco/Zacharias 🤩🤩🤩
@oknowkiss, thank you for this delicious prompt! It really got me thinking. There are quite a few characters who are tall, pale, and blond. What if Harry likes to fuck them? What if Draco likes to watch (or help)?
💟 @kinktober-2025 day 26: cuckolding (I’m going out of order a bit) 💟 sofa sex, caught in the act, infidelity (consensual?)
Tall, Pale, and Blond
Harry Potter had a type.
Unfortunately, Zacharias hadn’t known this until after he was bent over Harry’s living room sofa, arse up, pants off.
Harry grabbed him by the hair and pulled. “Fuck, is this natural? Have you always been this blond?”
“W-What?” Zacharias spluttered.
“You’re so fucking pale.” A hand landed on his arse. “I bet you mark really easily.” Another slap, making him yelp.
“Harry, slow down —”
“Call me Potter.”
Harry kicked Zacharias’s feet apart, pushed on his lower back, forced him down. He lined up his cock.
“Potter,” he gasped. Harry slid in and immediately hit his prostate, barraging it, more like. It was fast, and it was hard. His hips dug into the sofa uncomfortably, but it wasn’t every day the Chosen One invited you back to his.
“Say it again.”
“Potter,” he moaned.
“No, angrier. And drop the r at the end.”
Weird kink, but alright. It wasn’t the weirdest thing Zacharias had ever been asked to do.
“Pottah,” he spat.
“Again.”
“Pottah… Pottah… Pottah!”
“Pottah, what the fuck are you doing?” said a new voice, and Zacharias’s head whipped up. Harry’s hips stilled.
Draco Malfoy came closer, rounding the sofa in slow, measured steps. Since when had he been there?
“You really are a slut.” Draco’s pale fingers curled around Harry’s throat. Harry’s eyes slipped closed. “I leave for three days, and I come back to this. Can’t keep your dick to yourself? Needed to find a nice, tight hole, hmm?”
“Malfoy,” Harry groaned, “I’m sorry. Couldn’t help it. Missed you.”
“Clearly not enough,” said Draco.
What the fuck kind of couples drama had Zacharias stumbled into? This was awkward as hell. They hadn’t even acknowledged him since Draco had walked in.
Harry started pulling out (thank god), but Draco stopped him. Zacharias felt Draco’s bony fingers grip his hips. He felt Draco moving him, pushing his arse back, impaling him on Harry’s cock.
“You wanted to fuck him,” said Draco, “so fuck him.”
He rocked onto Harry, helpless as Draco’s strong grip guided him. Harry met each thrust, tentatively at first, then gaining momentum until he was steadily pumping.
“Feels good, doesn’t it?” said Draco. “But not as good as me. You’ll never have better than me.”
Harry’s hips pumped wildly while Zacharias held onto the cushions for dear life.
“Come for me, darling,” Draco ordered, and Harry came, his whole body shuddering. Draco turned his head and devoured his lips. Harry moaned lewdly into the kiss. It was like Zacharias wasn’t there at all.
When they pulled away, Harry was panting, Draco’s saliva shining on his lips. Draco smirked, wiping it away with his thumb.
“Scram,” said Draco. He still wasn’t looking at Zacharias, but somehow he knew that message was for him. And well, he didn’t need to be told twice.
He hadn’t even made it to the door before the noises started up behind him. Harry moaning, begging, “Malfoy, gods, please, I’ll do anything.”
Zacharias grabbed his clothes and fled.
Also read it on AO3!
← Day 2 | Masterlist | Day 4 →
per my last letter
[ boys being brazen & stubborn & stupid about each other. ⋆˙⟡ feat. one delightfully charming barn owl. for the @drarrymicrofic august prompt: switch | summer bingo - epistolary, enemies to lovers, idiots in love (completing my superstar bingo! ☆) ]
drarry | word count: ~1.5k | rating: t | warnings: n/a excessive use of the word ‘fuck’
_ _ _
Potter:
Find attached your most recent letter.
Unopened.
Correspondence is not necessary at this time.
Kindly refrain.
Owl returned post-haste.
Forego any efforts at response.
Formally, DLM
. . .
Malfoy—
I know you’ve been sending my owl back with undeliverable notices. (Might be worth switching your stationery. The slips the post-master uses are more turquoise than teal— just for the record.)
Fortunately, your parole officer was more than happy to be of assistance.
Coy little trick with the first letters, there. ‘Acrostic’— did you know that?
Anyway, as before:
Could I stop in to review some of the details of your sentence? I know I’m not formally affiliated with your case, so you’re not like, legally obliged to. But it is rather urgent, so don’t be a dick.
I eagerly await your response.
-hjp
. . .
Fuck off fuck off fuck off fuck off fuck off fuck off fuck off fuck off fuck off fuck off fuck off fuck off fuck off fuck off fuck off fuck off fuck off fuck off fuck off fuck off fuck off fuck off fuck off fuck off fuck off.
P.S. Give your barn owl my regards. She’s been a much more amenable interlocutor— and cleverer, too.
Formally, DLM
@drarrymicrofic | switch | slight nsfw | au
Luna always seemed to have just the right advice. Harry's life lately consisted of work, attempts to reignite his passion for guitar and a lot of cozy yet lonely evenings.
– It's like I'm running in circles and nothing makes sense yet it's still and fine.
– Sometimes it's good to switch things up a little. Try going somewhere you've never been or a new hobby.
– Any place you can recommend?
– There's a witchy bookstore with great pastries in the north central part of the city, opened half a year ago. Whenever I feel shitty their hot chocolate works wonders.
•
It's 9 am on the weekend and while most people peacefully rest in bed he's already up and strolling the streets, taking pictures of moments. Trail of thought inescapable – back to the beautiful blonde man he met at Theo's club BDSM party two months ago. The event sadly was an anonymous one. No names, no contacts exchanged. He didn't find a note on the bedside table and social media gave him nothing. Oh what a night it was! His grey eyed muse had the most beautiful voice – both speaking and moaning, whispering, begging. Harry loved obedience that came from safety and the desire to give pleasure. Always played into rewarding such with gentleness and caring leadership, pushing the partner to the edge but never too far.
His muse was a perfect match – strong-willed, gentle, powerful, enchanting and gorgeous. Everything felt right, from soft giggles when they've escaped the club to a goodnight kiss after.
He honestly should have woken up first and cooked breakfast after that good of a session and sex, but oh well. Here he is – alone and miserable in his longing. It's ridiculous really, he never felt that way about a person he just met.
A blackbird on the umbrella someone left near the store, an elderly couple sharing a croissant... speaking of pastries, there's the witchy bookshop Luna told him about. It's quite early, is it open?... He's in luck today it seems.
The place is giving magical library with a hint of alchemical study vibes. As a fantasy lover, he's totally in love. The range of authors and genres is honestly remarkable – quantum physics, mythology, culture and language, biochem, herbalism, energy work, tarot... Speaking of cards. A particular deck catches his eyes and he doesn't think twice. It's been years since he used one but teenager Harry was at it every day and quite successfully so. Mom is a little witchy after all... Okay, maybe not a little but he never got too deep into the craft. Just basic protection, cleansing and cards.
His stomach makes a sound worthy of a whale. That's what you get for not being hungry before leaving the house. Time to pay and eat.
– Excuse me, where's the checkout for the book section?
He looks up and freezes when the man behind the counter turns around. It's him. Harry's gaze drops to the name tag: Draco. Suits him.
– ... Near the entrance, but you can pay here too. What can I get for you?
There's no way Draco didn't recognise him. There's a strain in his voice, not a scared or angry one, more anxious than anything.
– What would you recommend? I'm in the mood for a sweet drink and some savoury breakfast.
Harry smiles softly and the storm in grey eyes calms down. He notices a hint of redness in his ears and cheeks and oh, gods, it takes everything in him to bite down the grin. The memories are rushing in, huh? He's so sweet behind the facade. Harry always found it interesting how special preferences translated to everyday life – Draco was like that during the scene too: a gentle touch paired with clear guidance and he softens immediately, listens even if defences are still up. He's extremely guarded actually, but that time seemed like a "don't want to use my brain" night. Harry gets it, having had a fair share of his own. Draco finally regains some self-control, scanning his books and deck.
– Then I would recommend our seasonal lavender and orange peel hot chocolate, smoked cheesy chicken sandwich and almond croissant.
– Delicious, – Harry admits, looking him right in the eyes, – let's do that. I’ll take a seat.
Draco has already switched to a more workplace suitable persona yet Harry can sense the mix of amusement and irritation on his skin.
– That would be… thank you. There's a cozy spot near the window there, don't worry about the cold – you’ll be right next to the heater.
– Such a warm welcome has already defeated the last frostbite.
Harry smiles again but this time Draco only politely returns the gesture and resumes to his work.
Once the hot chocolate and food are placed before him however, everything changes. They're alone here except for the two workers in the front of the bookstore. Nobody can hear what they're talking about.
– Your order…
– Harry. Harry Potter. Sorry, I didn't properly introduce myself – you were gone by the time I woke up.
– It's fine, – Draco shakes his head, long hair in a thick braid, couple of strands in the front, silky and magnetic, he wants to run them through his fingers so badly, – I wasn't polite either. I’m Draco, the owner of this place.
– Do you always work the bar or it's just an incredibly lucky day?
– The latter, usually I’m managing the whole thing, looking for independent authors. The deck is a beautiful one, by the way. How did you find this place?
– A friend recommended it to me. Luna Lovegood, she comes here for the chocolate. Speaking of…
The third sip explains everything. That's some actual magic – the balance, the aroma, an overwhelming feeling of comfort. Like being wrapped up in a blanket during a cold night.
– Brilliant.
Draco smiles for the first time today, sincere and content.
– Wait until you try the food. Luna is one of our regulars, I’ll give her a discount next time. Who knew you two were connected?
– Didn't foresee it in your magic ball?
– … Is that how you believe divination always works? And here I thought you’re an experienced reader.
The snark is almost attractive, damn it. Harry smirks, nodding towards the chair.
– I also read expressions and tone quite well, some call it professional distortion.
Draco sits opposite, relaxed and calm. It seems the startle has passed and now they're on equal footing, which only makes the conversation better.
– Are you in counseling, med field or something?
– Good guess, try again. I'm curious if you’d get it. A hint – I do work with people a lot on a daily basis.
Draco accepts the challenge. Scans him for a few seconds. Harry frowns – there it is again, the piercing gaze suitable for anyone but the bookstore and café owner. Someone has a story. Normal people would think he's a teacher or a social worker, even desire for control makes sense. Fits the profile. Draco takes a careful look at his left shoulder that is slightly lower than the right, and looks around to analyse the table he has chosen. Then initiates eye contact and within seconds Harry feels a wave of tension, the chilling one, making him lock in immediately. Draco smirks. Oh, he might actually get it right, that would be the first.
– Either you're an investigator or a part of the security service. Probably something to do with organised crime, if I had to take a guess.
Harry manages to control his expression. Of course the guy he actually liked for the first time in years is not so simple.
– What gave it away? The eye contact just now?
– Your flat, – Draco shrugs, voice quiet yet stable, – never gave it much thought until you challenged me, but there's as much personality there as convenience and ability to quickly dispose of everything and be gone. Or make it seem boring.
So he's smart, with an eye for detail, beautiful and has a willpower to match his? How is that fair!
– Please tell me you're not one of ours, I wanted to take you out on a date.
Harry sighs, defeated. Draco blinks, suppresses a laugh.
– Not anymore, I only consult from time to time now.
The ID slided to him on the table almost makes Harry choke on hot chocolate. Agent Draco Black indeed. But the number and lack of a second stamp suggest he’s an expert, not a part of an active team. Anymore. The ID hides in Draco's pocket.
– You counsult… Forensic expert?
– Close. Profiler.
Oh, shit – is probably written in his eyes because Draco lets out a laugh. So an almost retired agent with a small business to his name… Judging from his character, either a conflict with the higher ups (half of it that is, Draco's still a consultant which is telling of his skills) or mental health problems. There's always a third option – disappointed in the system but can't put down the “craft” completely. Profiling in particular is one of the most addictive specialisations.
Before he manages to come up with an obscene joke about choosing wisely who'd satisfy your sub needs better, Draco gets up.
– I’m free after eight pm today or on Sunday. Tell me if you need to reheat the sandwich.
There’s a number on the card Draco left on the table. Handwritten, with a heart. Nothing changed drastically – he's still the sweetest in some context. Maybe it's for the best that in other ones he isn't – every attempt to build an equal, profound relationship failed because he felt a huge power imbalance. Something tells him, it's worth a shot this time. Draco's worth taking a risk.
– I’ll pick you up at eight thirty for dinner, send me an address.
He sends Draco a message and walks out, croissant in hand – he's definitely visiting Luna to buzz in her ear about the encounter. Without some details, of course. The reply forces a stupid grin onto his face. Nah, he’ll give it his best – that's one in a lifetime chance, he doesn't need the cards to tell him that. He feels it.
You 10:35
Hello again handsome, be a good boy for me and add my number. Won't survive losing you again.
Draco 10:38
If you weren't all that, I’d block you immediately. Make this world a peace offering and don't hit on people like that.
You 10:41
I’m only interested in you, sweetheart. Steak or fish for dinner?
Draco 10:42
You. Here's an address.
He's taking him to a nice place first anyway, but it's good to know he's not the only one hungry. However a date needs to happen first, a proper one – there's a much better way to make an impression than the one he chose that day at the party. The store gave away a lot of his owners’ preferences too, so they're going to hear some live instrumental music and have amazing meat dishes tonight.
– Morning, Hannah. Can I make a reservation for the evening? For two. The best table you got and some fancy dry red recommendations will be cherished.
•
Draco shows up in black silk shirt that has an opening in the back and Harry almost forgets his manners for a few seconds. Asshole. He knows what he's doing for certain.
– You seem distracted, – Draco says with a smile in his voice, – I should be a better date it seems.
Long pale fingers wrap around his wrist on the table and Harry realises he's losing this round completely. It's a rematch of the party, isn't it?
– Didn't know you had that bratty side to you.
– Disappointed?
– Delighted. I was only distracted by your beautiful neckline and shirt, don't take it close to heart.
A kiss to the wrist melts Draco in seconds. He hides it well but Harry notices and for now leaves him be, time to enjoy the moment – food and music are top tier today.
In his eyes, however, nothing compares to Draco. His strong, beautifully arched back and shaky thighs marked with hickeys, honey like moans warming up his soul. The way he sighs in pure bliss, kissing him gently after they both collapse on the bed exhausted. Harry brushes his cheek with a thumb, something light and hopeful stirring in his chest.
Sometimes it's good to switch things up a little.
Wait a minute... Did Luna actually mention the witchy bookshop by accident?
The suspect of organized crime is currently asleep on his pillow.
Parent trap au, except this was part of a big illustration but I drew the whole thing on a canvas in low resolution and realized too late, so I only saved them 💔
Applied behavior analysis has long been considered the gold standard. Now, people who have been through it are pushing back.
"Based on data gleaned from the nearly 10 million military dependents it insures, the U.S. Department of Defense has repeatedly called the evidence supporting ABA “weak,” noting there is no research to determine whether the small number of participants who show improvement — 15% — do so because of treatment or simply because a child has matured. After a year of the therapy, the department reported to Congress in 2019, 76% of 16,000 participating autistic children saw no change, and 9% worsened."
Okay before we get anyone on here saying "water is wet", here are some other bullet points about the article.
The article uses proper terminology and actually defines stimming, masking, and many other words that neurotypical people may or may not know (re autism)
The data that the article is based off of includes first hand accounts from autistic people who have gone through ABA. The researchers even used ASAN (autism self advocacy) as a resource! Actual autistic people shared their stories!!! And they believed us!!!!!
It explains WHY autistic people have a hard time with ABA, which is incredible. Not just the fact that it's akin to training a dog, but the psychology of it, and how it's overstimulating and degrading
There's a part that does quote from Auti$m $peaks spokespeople, BUT it's because they're leading into how neurotypical parents see ABA most often as a "saving grace" to get a "normal child" and then goes on to tell more about how autistic children perceive ABA, both during and after treatment
One family's story tells of how a mother noticed her autistic son would actually hide when she went to turn the computer on for ABA therapy (this was during COVID lockdown) and how she realized something was off because of that. She canceled ABA and found an alternative (called Floor Time) where the child actually directs the play, and the therapist/teacher goes along with what the kid wants/does!
There's a really cool bit on why ABA is usually the only thing available to parents, and the answer is Shitty American Healthcare/Insurance Companies!
It notes that ABA therapists don't really have strict training requirements. You can do a quick online course and become an ABA therapist. It does not require a college degree. That should horrify you.
There's another parallel study with its own data coming out in 2025
Honestly, this whole article is a gem. Remember, while "water is wet" studies seem trivial, we need them in order to get our side of the story taken seriously. Research with credible data that backs up what we've been saying is important!
TL; DR?
Huge study with lots of input from autistic people tells us ABA sucks!
Thank you for this addition. A better encouragement for this article than I managed!
For @drarrymicrofic prompt: “switch” wc 500; MCD if you squint (in the canon timeline, but not here)
Harry considers the two choices ahead of him, as presented by Dumbledore.
“Board,” Harry repeats, “or go back.”
“That’s right,” Dumbledore says.
Harry considers the train, for he knows who else sits on there. He can still feel Draco’s sweaty hand slip out of his. Draco wouldn’t let go of Goyle.
Mind made up, Harry stands. Because he wills it so, a switch appears next to the train. Harry cranks it.
The train blows its horn in warning. Harry jumps aboard and starts his search. Finally, he comes to a compartment bearing a lone figure.
Singed and slouched, Draco Malfoy rests his temple against the window. When Harry lets himself in, Draco turns his head. He doesn’t react, or at least can’t possibly look more miserable. Draco doesn’t even seem to care when Harry sits right beside him.
After what feels like (and could actually be) forever, Draco speaks: “Where’s the train going?”
“I don’t know.”
“Everyone else disappeared.” Draco swallows audibly with an uneven breath. “I think they’re going somewhere else.”
“Maybe, yeah,” Harry quietly replies.
He pulls the Elder Wand out of his pocket. Draco never relented his mastery, if Harry understands everything right. It belongs to both of them. With the wand laid across his palm, Harry offers his hand to Draco. Draco takes it. He’s still warm from the Fiendfyre. They’re neither here nor there—not dead or alive. Not really, but kind of.
They close their hands together around the wand. The train speeds up. Harry never rode an airplane, but he has a feeling this must be what take-off feels like: pushing back into his seat, his diaphragm tensing, and anticipating that sudden switch to weightlessness.
It becomes too much. Harry squeezes Draco’s hand as tightly as he can and clenches his eyes shut. The weightlessness hits, and Harry is catapulted forward into a dreadful float.
He lands somewhere. The only certain thing remains Draco’s hand tightly in his, squeezing back.
Harry no longer feels the wand between them. Instead, something tugs on his clothes.
A woman does, pinning his robes. The sensation of Draco’s hand vanishes from Harry’s, but Draco stands on the stool beside him. He fixes Harry with a haunted, startled look. Other than that, all the markings of war are gone.
“All right,” the woman fitting Harry says. “That’s you done.”
Harry pays for his school robes, and then waits in the shop’s front room. Draco emerges from the back a few moments later, pays as well, and then joins Harry where he stands. Harry can’t believe how little they once were, and are again. How vulnerable; innocent.
“My mum will be waiting for me,” Draco says in his high, prepubescent voice. “You have an owl, don’t you?”
Harry’s throat squeezes. Hedwig is just outside the shop.
“Write me,” Draco tells him. “We’ll. . .we’ll start figuring this out.”
Trying not to cry, since that’s too embarrassing for an eleven year old to do, especially on his birthday, Harry nods. “Okay.”