[ boys boxing. ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ˎˊ˗ for the @drarrymicrofic october prompt: class. | title from kiss with a fist by florence + the machine ]
drarry | word count: ~900 | rating: t | warning: violence (in sport context)
_ _ _
It takes him seven months to move into Potter’s weight class.
Just after, he insists upon being first on his roster— Angelina clicks her tongue.
“You really want him to be your first in welterweight?”
Draco’s gaze is steady as his stance, certain as his posture.
“I rather insist.”
Friday Fight Nights at the Infieri Club are invitation-only.
(The course of their membership being thus: Angelina invited George invited Ginevra invited Blaise invited— with some amount of convincing & only with the assurance of some degree of personal gratification— Draco.)
He steps into the ring.
He knows Potter’s seen him box before, that heavy green gaze following him through victory and defeat, the black eyes and bloodied lips (and the sloppy Glamours that come after, hardly covering the damage, the shadowed bruises something coarsely covetous— cheap, thrilling, hot).
He’s not said a word. Seven months and not a single fucking word.
And still, all that watching doesn’t stop him now, eyes trailing the added bulk around Draco’s thighs, the muscles corded around his broadened middle, up and down his arms.
The ref has them step to center ring, hands raised, taped-up, bare-knuckled.
Draco’s determined to make him speak.
The bell rings.
“Potter,” he says, low in his throat, “funny seeing you here.”
Left hook. Right cross. Block.
“Though perhaps I should be less surprised.”
Jab. Slip. Block.
“You always were ready for a fight. More shocking that we haven’t properly come to blows before.”
Right hook. Uppercut. Block.
“Tell me, is this how you imagined it?”
Every other hit of Potter’s lands like it could break bones, the sensation that it could be worse, if he wanted. But Draco’s giving as good as he gets, landing strikes and weaving to avoid Potter’s counters.
It’s a point of pride, really. Being nearly as good as Potter, this early, novice.
And the thing is: he’s faster.
“Do keep up, Potter,” he says, a dodge sidestepping into a cross.
And the thing is: he’s infuriating.
He sees it, even through the steadfast silence— Potter’s getting sloppy, his movements losing the precision that comes from all that hearth-fire focus.
Still— even sloppy, even slow, he’s their defending champion for a reason.
The hook to his ribs is brutal, sharp, leaves him wondering at a break, certain of a bruise, and he sidesteps directly into a jab at his jaw.
Draco drops, grey flushing the edge of his vision, the taste of iron flooding his mouth. He gains his bearings around the time they’ve counted to four, his tongue tracing over the split in his lip, eyes finding Potter’s as he lights up in a sneer. He’s standing again by seven.
Potter’s energy’s been renewed in the interim, a series of blows falling from his fists in a rapid queue. But Draco hasn’t made it this far without learning a proper block, and by Merlin, he won’t be hitting the floor again.
He swallows, the metallic tang a gratifying cloy in his throat, as his Seeker instincts slip into overdrive.
Potter’s favoring his left arm, his right side more guarded. Draco feints, taunts him into striking with it anyway. Then, opening, he lands a cross, just to the side of his sternum, hitting the ribs congregated there, watching the pain ripple out as it crosses Potter’s face, as he flinches. Stumbles.
Draco feels his own breath heaving harsh through his nose, hot and heavy from his lips. A ringing’s revved up in his ears, and the fog has made itself a home in his periphery. Now or never.
The series of strikes being thus: a right hook to a left cross to an uppercut.
Potter half-blocks the first, pain twisting over his face, and the cross is more of a graze. But the uppercut lands square.
Draco’s not sure if the intermediary crunch is more knuckle or jaw, but it turns out it doesn’t matter.
Potter tumbles to the mat, catching himself on his palms before the momentum throws him wayside. He rolls, his shoulder blades settling solid on the floor.
Draco watches as he blinks at the overheads, a cord of blood flowing from somewhere between his nose and lip. The count reaches five, and he feels the possibility of it shock through him, ragged exhales be damned.
Potter lifts to an elbow at eight before laying himself down again, back pressed to the ground below.
Nine. Ten.
The ref strikes the mat, and the crowd seeps back into Draco’s awareness, a small legion of cheers near drowned out by jeering. His answering grin is vicious.
He steps to Potter’s side and extends a hand, which Potter, after a dizzy beat, begrudgingly takes.
Draco pulls him up, sharp and close, chest to chest.
“Not bad for a beginner, hm?” Draco whispers into the small space between them, air warm, lungs still heaving.
He watches Potter’s jaw tic, his brows cave to the furrow between them. The nose-lip blood is so red, and Draco finds himself blindly tipping towards it.
He realizes their hands are still locked as Potter gives him a small shove from the tether.
It’s almost a smile that ripples through him as he answers, coarse and quiet: “Fuck you.”
Draco’s every fiber is alight at once, and he sees Potter see it, a half-hearted shake of his head before loosing their still-twined fingers.
Draco practically shimmers. (After all— victory.)
“Why, Potter,” he hums, all heat. “At least take me to dinner first.”
A massive THANK YOU to everyone that participated by voting and/or sending in a rec to share!
Recs are sorted by length. Tried my best to tag the creators based on their known Tumblr accounts, but I couldn't find everyone. If anyone does know an account for the ones untagged, drop a comment and I'll edit the post!
ON WITH THE RECS!
=====
📚 rational economic actors by @yellowfork
Explicit | 8k words | 2025
Rec'd by @the-forbidden-forest: This is Draco Malfoy in all his best unhinged glory. I love him and I love Yellowfork.
Additional major tags/themes (via reccer): Coworkers, Draco Malfoy is obsessed with Harry Potter (and his new forays into gay sex), First time bottoming
📚 Spoiled Little Brat by @appleslightning
Teen | 9k words | 2024
Rec'd by @suzieburself: Hogwarts professors with the perfect petty relationship. The dialogue is crisp and the characterization is perfect. If Draco doesn’t make you want to laugh, cry, and punch him, is it really Draco?
📚 The Venice Job by nishizono
Explicit | 25k words | 2007
Rec'd by @scarredsnake: Auror fic with fake dating, drarry who act like they hate each other guts (they're smitten with each other and just don't know it yet) and a harry who is definitely not gay! (he doesn't have internalized homophobia, he just ""isn't gay""). I loved this fic because it's so drarry in a nutshell, and draco is hilarious, annoying and a little shit overall. Also it's a good case fic!
📚 Hissy Fit by @dysonrules
Mature | 28k words | 2010
Rec'd by @ira-dunfort: Parselmouth Harry is an Auror, Draco is not, but a registered snake Animagus. They are ordered to work together to solve a series of crimes, for wich Harry does all the legwork while Draco hangs around his neck, talking his ears off.
📚 Rookie Moves by peu_a_peu
Explicit | 75k words | 2023
Rec’d by @its-the-allure: The funniest thing I have ever read, ever, fic or trad pub or anything else. This is a must read!!!!
📚 Socratic Methods by @thecouchsofa
Explicit | 79k words | 2025
Rec'd by Anon: Couldn't get enough of the back and forth between the two of them (especially during the first "event"), and the sexual tension they're dancing around makes it that much better.
A second rec by a different Anon: The banter in this one needs to be studied! I laughed out loud so many times and I loved how the relationship progressed
📚 From Clouds To Rain by @shewhxmustnxtbenamed
Explicit | 106k words | 2025
Rec'd by Anon: From Clouds to Rain is one of my all time favorites for banter! It’s a cozy Muggle AU where Harry is filling in as Draco’s assistant. It’s just SO MUCH BANTER, and all of it is SO CUTE and I just AH I love it. Draco is so soft, even when he’s trying to be cold and stoic and just their dynamic is AWESOME
Additional major tags/themes (via reccer): Trans!Harry, angst and fluff and smut, angst with a happy ending
=====
Reminder to consider all tags and warnings before engaging with a work, and hit that back button if at any point you become uncomfortable with the content. Don't like, don't read!
things that always make me happy: serial commenters. there are three types
1) reading a longfic chapter by chapter, leaving an increasingly emotional comment on every chapter, descends into keysmashes near the end: outstanding
2) read one fic by accident, clicked the author name, now working steadily through the backlog and commenting on everything, I wake up to an AO3 inbox full of enthusiasm: precious beyond words
3) the longterm serial commenter whose comment begins with I don’t even know this fandom but because they have followed me from somewhere else: stunning. humbling. magical.
these are all *chef’s kiss* and I want to add one more:
4) left a comment a while ago, comes back and leaves another comment on the same fic, telling you that they’re coming back to reread the fic: angels. blessings. lifesavers.
Not me just realising ‘I hear the walls repeating, the fallin’ of my feet and it sounds like drumming’ is Orpheus literally hearing his previous attempts to save Eurydice
The walls aren’t echoing his voice back like an sound chamber, he is hearing his past attempts to save her.
As for the drumming, hes been walking that road over and over, so much that his footsteps are now loud enough to sound like drums
so is this why jack wolfeus looked so overwhelmed and terrified when he sang these lines. because he knew? is this why he was so heartbroken when singing that he wasn't alone, that the road echoed his song? because he knew it was all him?
everyone always surprised when you can learn bits of information about them from the characters they make... dearly beloved. you took a lump of clay with no form and shaped it with your hands and thought you wouldn't leave fingerprints? what hubris! you leave scraps of yourself in everything you make. sometimes it's a lot more than scraps but just for you i'll pretend i didn't notice
Title: Night Owls
Rating: E
Word Count: 5.9k
Tags: Post-Hogwarts, Getting Together, idiots to lovers, house-sharing, Auror Harry Potter, Auror Draco Malfoy, Misunderstandings, Sex Dreams, owl content, wanking, POV Multiple, Round Robin
Summary:
Tuppence didn't know a lot about human relationships, and whether they had intricate mating rituals the way owls did.
All she knew was that ever since Harry moved them into that new house, the unpigmented man's feathers seemed awfully ruffled, and Harry had become obsessed with nesting and preening.
Sneak peek:
So Potter moved in, with his enormous owl, and his insane broom collection, and his sad little Hogwarts trunk, and that was that. Three months, Draco reminded himself, watching Potter bend down to put his shoes on the rack. Draco could cope with anything for three months.
