Mimouche

Mostly a reader but I write sometimes

[mimouche4]

I've been a lurker for a long time and only started posting recently. Below is a list of my drarry recs. Well ... there is only one for now, but I plan to write more. Further down, are my fics, all darry for now.

Drarry recs My favourite short fics

My fics

In Your Mind - 25k

It’s been seven hours and (fucking) fifteen days - 1k

Keeping warm with Draco bloody Malfoy - 4k

[coppercatbird]

Wet

@drarrymicrofic | prompt: dream | wc: 50

Silky blond hair. Sharp insults, soothed now with sweet smiles.

A brush of his shoulder; a breath against his skin.

Harry woke with a gasp and a wet hand. Thank Merlin for soundproofed—he spied the open bed curtains in horror.

“No nightmares tonight, eh, Potter?” whispered an amused voice.

[coppercatbird]

Certain Peculiarities

@drarrymicrofic | prompt: dream | wc: 500 | rated: mild m

The dreams had begun years earlier. Sometimes lurid, all sweat-slicked skin and desperate moans. Sometimes sweet, hands clasped on dates—one time they went to the zoo. Sometimes a litany of nightmares: the tower. The bathroom. “I can’t be sure.”

The strange thing was, he always dreamt through Harry’s eyes. His own face, lust-blown pupils and pink cheeks; Harry’s thumping heart. Feeling a leap of hope in Harry’s throat as saw himself bite his lip, eyes shining down at a ring as he nodded. The same nightmares, tempered by Harry’s sympathy, regret, pride.

The dreams were an unconscionably cruel move by his subconscious. His mind healer suggested a dream diary; he stopped after a year. It hurt too much, seeing what he could never have, feeling things he knew Harry would never feel. He didn’t need a book about it.

—

A knock distracted Draco from his calculations; he scowled as Harry strolled in.

“Do the Unspeakables need a potion?”

“If they did, I don’t know why I’d know,” Harry said, grinning. Draco rolled his eyes. Less subtlety than an erumpent in a dollhouse.

“Why are you here, then?”

“For you,” Harry said, then flushed.

Draco stared, heart racing. He didn’t let himself speak.

“Right,” Harry said. “What do you know about dreams?”

Draco swallowed, refusing to remember the previous night’s dream: Draco in Harry’s body, licking his own scars with a lascivious groan, whispering into his own ear, with Harry’s voice, how he wanted to—he shook himself.

“Do I look like a dream expert?”

“No. But Hermione is. And I was doing some research”—Draco scoffed—“and she. Well. She found out. When I explained, she gave me a book.”

Draco leant back, arms behind his head. “And you need me to read it to you?”

“No, you tosser, I managed.” Harry’s smile faded. “But … I think you should read it too.”

Draco frowned, heartbeat thudding in his throat. “It’s about dreams.” 

“Yeah. And … other stuff. Anyway, I just—here. I’ll need it back, Hermione’d flay me alive if I—I’ll go.”

Looking far more cowardly than any Gryffindor should, Harry shoved the book across Draco’s desk and fled. Draco tugged it closer.

A Short Treatise with Various Observations and Theories on the Metaphysicks of Soul-Bonds and Certain Peculiarities of Shared Dreams

Draco stared, mouth dry, before noticing the scrap of parchment tucked inside.

Draco— If I’m wrong, this might be the creepiest gift you’ve ever received. I hope I’m right. Can we talk? Tonight, 7pm, my place. —Harry

Draco sat, hands shaking, and opened the book to the first page.

At 6:59, Draco stood, book in hand, at Harry’s door. He took a breath and lifted his fist to knock.

Harry opened the door, rumpled and beautiful. He looked hopeful. He looked frightened.

“They’re your dreams?” Draco blurted. “I—they’re your dreams.”

Harry smiled and reached out. His fingers threaded through Draco’s like on the trip to the zoo they hadn’t yet taken. “They’re our dreams, Draco.”

[artseamoni]

the highly requested "Ilya in Shane's jersey" art 👀

[l0vegl0wsinthedark]

Foundling

"That will do."

The buzz of chatter died instantly as Malfoy swept into the room. Whether he saw Harry standing there at the very back of the classroom or not, Malfoy gave no indication. He put down the stack of parchment he carried and plucked his wand out from behind his ear.

"I've graded the homework you handed in on Friday," Malfoy said, his voice barely heard at all. "I really do wonder whether those who write an essay without reading the subject material first think I can't tell? Miss Collins, come hand these out, please."

Sitting down behind his desk, Malfoy proceeded to open the attendance register and call out each student's name, glancing up each time.

"And where is Mr. Hinkly?" he asked when a girl raised her hand instead.

"In the hospital wing," the girl said. "He ate a poisonous toadstool."

Malfoy blinked. "How come?"

"Um. He was dared to."

At this point, Malfoy looked up and straight into Harry's eyes. Then he gave a little shake of his head as if it was Harry who had been stupid enough to eat a poinsonous toadstool on a dare.

Shutting his register and getting to his feet, Malfoy rapped the blackboard with his wand. Graceful, cursive writing appeared on the board.

"Rather aptly, we're going to be brewing Essence of Insanity this week," he drawled. "At sixteen, I'm sure none of you needs to be told not to drink this potion - even on a dare." Once again, Malfoy threw Harry that look of derision.

Harry realised he was scowling back at Malfoy, automatically crossing his arms and spreading his stance, assuming the same posture of intimidation he did while standing across from a suspect in the interrogation room.

"...and the ingredients are in the store cupboard as usual," Malfoy was saying. "This potion, if you do exactly as instructed, will take three classes to brew. You will hand in your samples on Friday. I want you all to make notes as you brew, especially if you do something incorrectly. If the mistake can be rectified, I will instruct you on how. If not, you will start over and come in during your free hours to make up for time lost so you can hand in your sample on time on Friday. As always, I expect nothing but your best work. You may begin."

Harry watched, quietly fascinated, as the students immediately set about their work with an air of reverent keenness that Harry had never felt in Snape's classes. Almost nobody spoke at all as cauldrons were set up, ingredients were procured, knives were sharpened and quills loaded.

The hem of his cloak sweeping the floor, Malfoy walked around the classroom, hands clasped neatly behind his back, with none of the malevolence and balefulness of Snape. His students were clearly quite unafraid of him; in fact, most of them seemed quite breathlessly deferential towards him.

Malfoy reached the student closest to where Harry stood, peering down at her chopping board.

"Good. Try chopping them a bit finer. And don't use the green part of the root."

Harry fully expected Malfoy to just ignore him and continue strolling through the classroom. But Malfoy looked up, and then just stood there, staring at Harry.

Harry nodded once. When Malfoy didn't nod back, he said, "I assume you received an owl from the Ministry? Explaining why I'm here?"

"Safe to assume I did," Malfoy said. "Or I'd have asked you to leave."

"Yeah, well, you weren't at breakfast," Harry said, scowling again. "That's when we were supposed to go over the brief for this week."

"You're tailing me around the school for a week to vet that I'm not secretly murdering or torturing anyone, yes?" said Malfoy, and the girl sitting there looked up, startled.

Harry's scowl deepened. "We'll discuss it after class."

"I'm teaching all through the morning up until lunch."

"Well, at lunch, then."

With a curt nod, Malfoy swept away.

~

Three days later, Harry was completely, without a doubt, certain, that Malfoy was upto something.

For fifteen hours a day, Harry tailed him. He followed him from breakfast to class to lunch to the staffroom; on his walks around the grounds and his visits to Hogsmeade. They had, twice, sat at the same table at The Three Broomsticks along with some of the other staff. They sat side by side at the staff table in the Great Hall during mealtimes. Harry had even conducted a very thorough search of Malfoy's personal quarters in the dungeons.

Absolutely nothing Malfoy did seemed out of place or worthy of suspicion, leave alone investigation. But Harry's intuition claimed otherwise.

Malfoy was a dedicated, patient, and surprisingly engaging teacher. His approach seemed to alter with the age of his students: with the first years, he was patient to a fault and quite lively. With the second, third, and fourth years, he commanded unwavering attention and constantly stressed the importance of minding every single instruction on the board. From the fifth, sixth, and seventh years, he tolerated nothing short of perfection.

Every single one of Malfoy's students seemed to be in awe of him. They hung on to his every word, preened when he rewarded them for a job well done, and looked genuinely ashamed when he expressed disappointment.

The other staff members seemed completely at ease around him, too. Malfoy rarely sat in his own office, preferring to grade homework and take his tea breaks in the common staffroom instead. He seemed closest to Professor Sinistra, and the two of them often read the day's Prophet together over their tea.

Malfoy was so normal and... nice. Why the hell was he nice now? And why the hell were none of the other staff members suspicious of him? Clearly, he was up to something.

Harry was extra irritated because on top of everything else Malfoy was very handsome and seemed pleasant towards almost everybody except Harry. So clearly he still hated Harry. The only explanation for this was that Malfoy was up to something nefarious.

Harry had tried reporting this to McGonagall. He'd been to her office every evening after seeing Malfoy off at the entrance to his quarters. He was writing his report for the Ministry, of course, but he wanted McGonagall to see what nobody else could.

"Nonsense, Potter," MCGonagall had said crisply when Harry had expressed his doubts. "Professor Malfoy is one of the most popular teachers in the school. Now, I know you're here doing your job on the Ministry's orders, but that hardly means you revert to behaving as you did when you were a student yourself."

Harry had just sat there feeling as though he'd been slapped.

"He's definitely up to something, Professor!"

"You follow him everywhere?"

"Yes."

"You've searched his quarters?"

"Yes."

"Have you found anything?"

"No, but--"

"Go to bed, Potter, it's another long day tomorrow."

Harry had gnashed his teeth and stomped off, wishing Hagrid weren't in France. Hagrid would have believed Harry. Maybe.

He had taken to staring at Malfoy's dot on the Marauders Map until he fell asleep every night. The sense of déjà vu was unsettling to say the least.

"Morning, Potter," Malfoy greeted him at breakfast on Thursday. "You don't look like you had a very restful night," he added, briskly buttering his toast. The tip of Malfoy's nose was pink, as were his lips.

Harry just glared at him and then poured himself a heaping mugful of coffee. "Whatever, Malfoy."

"You're determined to uncover something unappealing about me, aren't you?" Malfoy asked pleasantly, shaking his head lightly so that his hair slipped onto his face and caught in his pale lashes.

"I'm determined to uncover the truth, yes," Harry said, staring steadily through the brightness radiating from Malfoy.

"What an exciting prospect," Malfoy drawled idly, sipping tea, and turning back to the day's Prophet that was propped up, folded, against a jug of pumpkin juice.

That morning, Harry was in for yet another surprise. After putting up the ingredient list and instructions for a Wiggenweld Potion on the board, Malfoy clapped his hands and, to the great delight of the gathered first years, asked if they would all like to spend the first hour of the lesson collecting Moly and Wiggentree Bark for their potion from the school grounds.

It was a chilly November morning but there was still some sun as Malfoy led the group of tiny first years, stumbling over the hems of their robes, each clutching a little wicker basket and chattering excitedly, across the dew drenched grounds. Harry brought up the rear, his eyes never leaving the back of Malfoy's stupid, shiny head.

When Malfoy matter-of-factly walked into the Forest, the students didn't even pause or hesitate before following him. Drawing his wand, Harry went in after them.

There was a great deal of shouting and excited pointing as Malfoy stopped every now and then to point out a familiar potion ingredient. Whenever he asked a question, most of the students would jump up and down with an arm in the air.

They found Moly flowers and Wiggentree Bark after about fifteen minutes of wandering around. They were barely inside the Forest at all, and the trees grew far apart, letting sunlight filter in and dapple on their hair and faces. Malfoy reminded everyone to put on their gloves before touching anything, and then went around with a pair of clippers, helping the students collect their ingredients.

Harry stood leaning against a tree and watched Malfoy. He was soft spoken and kind and showed a fair amount of interest when a student pointed to something or asked a question. He did not, for one instant, remind Harry of the person he had hated for so long.

Malfoy himself was plucking and clipping up a variety of roots, berries, leaves and soft barks into his own basket, and after about ten minutes of foraging, he called the students to attention and announced that it was time to head back to class.

Overall, it was a very happy bunch of first years that trooped out of the dungeon an hour later. Ignoring Harry, Malfoy went around from desk to desk, Vanishing the contents of each student's cauldron and setting up the tables for his next class.

"So, you love your job," Harry blurted abruptly.

Malfoy smirked at him. "Are you very shocked?"

"Sceptical, more like."

Malfoy laughed, his eyes dancing. "What, you think I'm pretending to love my job while I secretly practice the Dark Arts and torture my students and poison my coworkers?"

Harry didn't answer immediately. "You're up to something, Malfoy. I can tell."

Malfoy stood up very straight, his nostrils flaring. "Very well. You can go ahead and prove it, then."

"I will."

~

Friday was the last day of Harry's mission. He was to head back to London after breakfast on Saturday, take the rest of the weekend off and hand in the report on Malfoy's activities on Monday.

It was all part of an ongoing, Ministry-conducted survey of exonerated/ex Death Eaters. Harry had put in a special request for Malfoy's file. It wasn't that he had hoped to find something bad, but then he supposed old habits died hard.

After dinner on Friday, he watched Malfoy disappear into his room with a feeling close to sadness. What he wasn't sure about was whether the sadness stemmed from not having found something terrible about Malfoy, or from the prospect of not seeing Malfoy again for who knew how long.

He went up to his room, and without undressing or getting ready for bed, he sat in the armchair by the fireplace with the Marauders Map. Malfoy's dot was firmly in place within his quarters. Harry huffed a sigh, pulled a quilt over his shoulders and waited.

He dozed off without meaning to and at just past 4AM he grunted himself awake. Scrambling up, he pushed his glasses back into place and peered into the Map.

It was as if an alarm bell had woken him up because even as Harry watched, Malfoy's dot exited his quarters. Heart now pounding, Harry sat up straight and watched as Malfoy steadily made his way up to the Entrance Hall and then out the main doors.

Harry ran to his trunk, flipped it open and yanked out his Invisibility Cloak. He threw it on as he ran out the door. Wand in one hand and Map in the other, Harry raced downstairs, thumping silently across the Entrance Hall and out into the freezing night.

Malfoy was almost at the edge of the Forbidden Forest by now and Harry flat out sprinted across the grounds after him. The moon slid in and out of clouds and owls swooped overhead, eagerly hunting for dinner.

Reaching the edge of the Forest, Harry slowed down, gasping for breath. Malfoy wasn't very deep inside the Forest yet and was moving very slowly. Harry lit his wand and made his way inside until he was close enough to hear movement.

"Nox," he whispered, as he neared a clearing and heard Malfoy's soft voice, along with another sound.

It was a sort of weak cry, rather like bleating or neighing; it sounded infantile.

"I know," Malfoy was saying, as the small cries grew longer. "It's sad she isn't here. But you've still got me."

Harry inched closer, stepping upto a gigantic oak for cover and then peeking around it.

Malfoy was in a small clearing with several enchanted lanterns lit up and flaoting all around him. He was standing in the centre of the clearing and seemed to be speaking to someone or something that was below knee level.

The tiny, helpless cries sounded again and Malfoy sighed.

"We should head back," he said firmly.

Stepping forward, Malfoy bent down to scoop something up into his arms. When he turned, the lights from the floating lanterns fell squarely on him, tall and cloaked, holding a...

Harry's mouth fell open.

It was a baby unicorn. Pure gold with a star on its forehead where its horn would eventually grow, the foal was absolutely exquisite. It was also very, very small - much smaller than the ones Professor Grubbly-Plank had showed them in fifth year. Quivering in Malfoy's arms, it emitted another one of its piteous cries and Malfoy shushed it gently.

Harry held his breath as Malfoy walked past him, following him after a safe minute or so. Malfoy's lanters had vanished but he had his wand lit for which Harry was grateful. As it is Harry stepped on a fallen branch, freezing as Malfoy looked around wildly, straight through Harry, his face oddly hopeful.

Harry waited until they were back in the castle and just as Malfoy tapped the wall to his room open, Harry stepped out from under the Cloak and said quietly, "Seriously, Malfoy?"

With a gasp, Malfoy spun around, panic in his eyes for all of three seconds until he registered Harry's presence, at which point he simply scowled, clutching his chest.

"Potter, what the hell?"

"A baby unicorn? That's low even for you."

Malfoy looked thoroughly confused. "Why is it low?" When Harry just shook his head, he looked down at the foal in bewilderment and said, "Wait, what do you think I'm doing here?"

"That's what I was going to ask you. I mean, killing grown unicorns is one thing..."

"Killing?!"

"...but to fuck around with an actual baby..."

"'Fuck around'?"

"A highly protected, Class XXXX creature--"

"Potter. Shut up!"

Harry shut up, his mouth still open in speech. Malfoy then sighed, and turned around saying, "You'd better come inside before my bones turn to ice."

The inside of Malfoy's rooms were wonderfully warm and glowed softly golden. As soon as the door slid shut behind Harry, Malfoy set the little foal down. Together they watched it cross the room on shaky little legs and curl up on a large, satiny bed in front of the fire.

Malfoy unclipped his cloak and hung it up before heading for the little tea station he had by his desk. Without speaking, he put together two cups of tea and brought them to a round, spindly little table by the fire. He sank into one of the two armchairs and huffed out another mighty sigh.

"You genuinely believe I'd hurt a wee little thing like this?" he asked quietly. Harry watched as Malfoy bent down and ran a gentle hand over the bright gold foal.

"Well, you're a potioneer and unicorns are highly sought after for their--"

"Potter. Enough." Malfoy looked tired. "Please stop. I've tolerated the way you've glared at me all week, waiting for me to cross some invisible line you'd drawn as a test, but please- just stop now."

Harry didn't know what to say, so he walked over and sat down opposite Malfoy.

"She was abandoned," Malfoy said, waving a hand at the foal. "I found her two weeks ago, and stayed with her nearly three hours in the Forest but none of the other unicorns came to claim her. I finally brought her up to the castle and hid her here because I didn't want her prodded and poked at. Every few days, I take her back to where I found her and wait to see if her calls are answered. No luck so far."

"What do you think happened to the mother?"

"I don't know," Malfoy sighed. "I just hope the poor thing hasn't died. I collected some of the baby's fallen fur and rubbed them around on the trees, hoping the scent will draw the mother back."

"What about food?"

"Oh, they're very easy to feed. Berries and roots and all sorts. They're herbivores and survive on things found very easily in the Forest."

"Where did you put her when I was in here for my search on Tuesday?"

Malfoy's lip quivered at the edges. "Under my unwashed laundry. Sleeping."

Malfoy seemed so...innocuous. Harry just sat there feeling as though he'd swallowed a whole flagon of Butterbeer. Warmth spread from his chest to his frozen fingertips, and in the soft light from the fire and lamps, Malfoy suddenly looked painfully beautiful.

"I'm sorry," Harry found himself saying, taking himself by surprise.

Malfoy looked as surprised as Harry felt.

"I'm sorry I've been trying to catch you out all week," Harry said. "I suppose I haven't grown up much over the past decade."

Malfoy smiled; he actually smiled. It was a knowing sort of smile with a gleam of amusement in it and Harry found himself smiling back sheepishly.

"Are you going to put this in your report?" Malfoy asked, nodding towards the now sleeping foal.

"No," Harry said. "But I do hope you find her mother. Or at any rate, find a way to look after her until...whenever."

"I'll look after her," Malfoy said softly.

"Right." Harry clutched the arms of the chair and after a moment's pause, pushed himself up. "It's almost- I should probably," he hooked a thumb at the door, "go."

"When do you go back?"

"In the morning," Harry said awkwardly. "So, you won't have someone breathing down your neck when you wake up."

Malfoy just smiled, and got to his feet.

"Good luck with your report," he said.

"Thanks," said Harry.

Harry was almost at the end of the corridor that led upstairs from the dungeons when he suddenly turned and bolted back. He tapped on the stone wall and it slid open.

Malfoy was kneeling by the foal and looked up in surprise. "Potter."

"Will you have dinner with me sometime?" Harry blurted.

Malfoy bit on his upper lip to hide a smile, gracefully rising and approaching Harry.

"Is this related to your report?"

"No," Harry mumbled. "It's just...dinner."

Malfoy held Harry's gaze for a solid beat before smiling that dazzling smile of his again. "I thought you'd never ask."

~fini~

[bridenore]

HD Clubbing fic recs

Here are a few drarry fic recs involving clubbing. Listed in alphabetical order, as always.

(Un)wanted by @aibidil [36k]

Ginny’s pregnant, then she’s not and Harry’s single. Harry, again with no family, doesn’t know what to do with this turn of events, or how to find a new life—post-war, post-Ginny, post-abortion—in which he belongs. He doesn’t expect that life to include dancing to the Backstreet Boys with Hermione and Draco Malfoy. A story of finding belonging in the unexpected.

An Aching Soul by @writcraft [14k]

I can’t help but wonder if Potter’s really as fine as he claims to be. There’s something strange about seeing the vanilla hero of the wizarding world eye-fucking someone across a crowded bar before slipping off into the shadows Draco Malfoy escapes to the Muggle world to avoid his parents, memories of the war and Harry Potter. However, some things prove harder to escape than others as Draco realises when his favourite Muggle haunt is rudely invaded by a post-war Harry who is struggling to cope with grief, growing up and the battle with his inner demons.

Blue Sunny Day by @firethesound [26k]

Years ago, Harry Potter disappeared from the Wizarding World. When Draco spots him at a club in Muggle London, well, he just can't resist the opportunity that presents itself.

Certified Mind Blower by @moonflower-rose [9k]

The sun rises as their night ends, and as good as it feels to be young and drunk and surrounded by his friends (even the ones whose names he can’t quite remember), Harry thinks it could be just a little bit better. And if Malfoy shows up at the club tonight, Harry might finally try to make it happen.

check this hand ‘cause I’m marvelous by @lqtraintracks [7k]

Harry’s had a crush on Malfoy for months now. But it will take a bar  full of his friends, some Firewhisky, wagers made on his behalf, and   Malfoy himself to get him to act on it.

Closing Time by @sweet-s0rr0w [18k]

Draco’s been invited to Neville’s stag party in Bristol, and he’s confident he knows what to expect. There’ll be too many Gryffindors, for starters, plus a few humiliating team-building activities, some dodgy clubs, and a truly preposterous level of alcohol consumption. But… a drunken Harry Potter climbing into Draco’s bed when he’s having a wank? No, he definitely didn’t see that coming…

Five Years by @shiftylinguini [4k]

For Draco, December means finding somewhere he can lose himself in the thrum of a crowd and the throb of music ― and Potter. It always means Potter now, too.

Got Me Started by kamaela [8k]

Malfoy said in a rush, “I don’t care about you.” “Uh, same?” was the only response Harry could come up with. Or: An unexpected partnership leads Harry and Draco to a sex club in Berlin. Harry doesn't quite know what to do with himself.

Harry Potter Gives a Shit by talithan [58k]

“Where are you headed?” “No place special,” Draco fumbled, and flushed further. But then: “I can change that,” said Harry Potter.

In the Shadow of Your Heart by @lqtraintracks [51k]

And thus began the very strange circumstance of their fake dating in public and real fucking in absolute secret. It was, with no comparison, the weirdest relationship Draco had ever been in – which was to say, it wasn’t one.

Let’s Dance To Joy Division by @femmequixotic [12k]

Let the love tear us apart, I’ve found a cure for a broken heart…

Meet Me At Midnight by xErised [16k]

Four Slytherins—including a drunk Malfoy with glitter in his hair from the clubs—have piled into Harry’s car. It’s shaping up to be a strange Uber shift. Or: when Harry and Draco found solace in long drives, midnights, and in each other, fourteen years after the war.

Never Mind the Bollocks  by @the-sinking-ship [118k]

If someone told Harry six months ago that by autumn he would be single, living on whisky and toast, and dancing the night away with Draco Malfoy, he would have told them to get their head checked. And yet, here he was.

Passing Strangers by @lettersbyelise [53k]

Five years after the war, Harry, listless and depressed, stumbles upon  Draco Malfoy playing the violin in an underground bar in Muggle London.  The catch? Draco lost his memories five years ago. Ignoring his friends’  advice, Harry befriends an unwitting Draco, overlooking the fact that  their mutual attraction might not survive if Draco’s memories return.

Serpentes by xErised [29k]

It’s a shame that Draco Malfoy looks so good stripping in a club with stolen snakes, because Auror Harry’s got a job to do. 

something unholy by @avigethblogs / avigethwrites [25k]

It’s 2006 and Harry finally has the picture-perfect family he always dreamed of. If only he knew how to keep his business clean.

Take These Lies by @pennygalleon​ [19k]

There’s a portrait of his godfather in Draco Malfoy’s potions shop and Harry needs to know why. But that’s not why he keeps coming back.

Things We Do by @the-sinking-ship [16k]

Drinking, dancing, and the sorts of decisions made after one too many shots of vodka.

Too Good At Raising Hell by @the-sinking-ship [87k]

When Harry Potter walks into Draco’s nightclub looking like trouble, Draco can’t stop staring. He really ought to train his dick not to react so enthusiastically to red flags, but where would be the fun in that?

I hope you enjoy these stories as much as I did!

[nsasquith]

For @drarrymicrofic prompt: “Bond” wc 888

At first, it was the same brand of coffee.

Autumn — Staff Room

“All gone…” Harry laments, speaking to no one in particular as he peers into the empty coffee jar.

“Ah, Merlin’s ball sack,” comes Malfoy’s voice over his shoulder. “That other stuff is rubbish.”

Harry turns to him. “Er, yeah. Suppose you’re right.”

Malfoy looks just as horrified by their agreement as Harry feels.

Then it was the same type of quill nib.

Winter — Library

“I know I’ve got one in here,” Harry mutters, rummaging through his briefcase.

“Alright, Potter?” Malfoy asks, peering up from his side of the table.

“Favourite quill nib broke, and I can’t find any spares,” Harry replies.

Two seconds later, Harry feels the sharp tap of metal bouncing off his head and then onto the desk.

A spare quill nib.

“They’re my favourite too,” Malfoy says, as if that is a perfectly acceptable reason for throwing a nib at him.

Harry nods at Malfoy. “Ah, thanks.”

Malfoy gives a small, shy nod back.

After that, it was the same book.

Spring — Hogwarts Grounds

“Hermione tells me I need to read more,” Harry says. “And I do, only it’s fiction. Which apparently isn’t enlightening enough.”

Malfoy chuckles lightly. “I won’t disagree with Granger, but I do love a good novel. What are you reading?”

They come to a stop by the Black Lake, and Harry is suddenly thrown by how the morning sun dances across the water, bright and pale as Malfoy’s hair.

“Potter?”

Harry blinks. “Oh, sorry—I’ve just finished reading the third instalment of The Rising of the Coast, and it was—”

“Third?” Malfoy cuts in with a frown. “That’s not out until the end of the year.”

“You’ve read The Rising of the Coast?”

“Have I read The Rising of the Coast?” Malfoy repeats incredulously. “How have you got the latest instalment?”

Heat blooms across Harry’s cheeks. “Erm… the publisher sent me a copy of the manuscript.”

Malfoy looks pained to say it. “Lucky sod. I can’t wait to read that.”

“Well…” Harry starts cautiously. “It’s in my quarters, if you want to borrow it?”

A ghost of a smile touches Malfoy’s mouth. “I suppose I might.”

Then came the same realisation.

Summer — Malfoy’s Classroom

“You’ve got three jars of lizard livers,” Harry says. “Though I think you should only write down two. This third one looks off.”

“Pass it here?” Malfoy asks.

He takes the jar, pops the lid, gives it a cursory sniff, gips, then Vanishes it sharply with his wand.

“Remind me not to let students help themselves next year. None of them ever put things back properly.”

It’s the end of the school year, and Harry is helping Malfoy count stock in his Potions supply cupboard. From where he’s squatting on the floor, attention now meant to be on the number of lizard tongue jars, he looks up at Malfoy instead.

Malfoy is scratching away at his clipboard, all heavy focus and sharp jawline, silver eyes glimmering under the low amber light of the single lantern as he counts empty vials.

It hits Harry then that he has two months without this.

And he doesn’t like that.

Not one little bit.

“Any plans for the holidays?” Harry asks, hoping he sounds more confident than he feels.

Malfoy shakes his head. “Nope. You?”

“Taking you out on a date.”

Malfoy looks at him, and the arch of his brow does nothing to hide the pink blush spreading across his cheeks.

“You asking me out from the floor of a Potions supply cupboard?”

“Erm… yes?”

Malfoy considers it for a moment, then grins.

“Alright. Wear a tie.”

Finally came the same future.

Autumn — Harry’s Quarters

“Get off me, you—Draco, stop it!” Harry laughs, making no real effort to stop Draco from attacking his neck with kisses.

“It’s your fault,” Draco groans as he finally pulls away. “You’re too fit.”

“We’re going to be late.”

Harry drags himself out of bed, avoiding Draco’s half-hearted attempts to pull him back in. He starts to dress, unable to stop himself from looking at Draco now that he can.

He can look at Draco all he wants, and Draco can look at him too, and they do that a lot these days.

Look and touch and kiss and spend an exorbitant number of hours between the sheets together.

“Let’s skip dinner,” Draco says, propping himself up on one arm. Moonlight cuts through the window, drowning him in white, making him look even more ethereal than he already is. “Let’s go down to the kitchens later and bring food back.”

“We need to show our faces in the Great Hall at some point, you know. People are starting to talk,” Harry says.

However, the thought of spending another night in bed with his boyfriend does sound appealing.

“Let them talk, Harry. We’ve nothing to hide. Right?”

Underneath the question is a faint thread of unmissable worry.

Half-dressed, Harry kneels on the edge of the bed and leans over Draco. He kisses him once, slowly.

“I’m not hiding you from anyone, Draco. It would be terribly inconvenient to do that for the rest of my life.”

He feels the curve of Draco’s lips against his own.

This is what a bond really is. A hundred small moments, quietly choosing the same thing.

[incognitoburritto]

Eternity

A second micro for @drarrymicrofic prompt: bond. WC: 50

"How long?"

"Forever."

"Be more specific."

"Until we die."

"That's not long enough."

"Harry, there aren't bonds that last beyond death."

"I'll create one."

"If anyone can, it's you."

"You'd want that?"

"In every iteration of existence there is only you."

"That's a yes?"

"Bond us through eternity, my love.”

[darlingirly]

A Very Veela Problem

@drarrymicrofic | wc: 298 | prompt: bond

Harry had only had two pints, which wasn’t nearly enough to explain why he was openly staring at Draco Malfoy after weeks of trying his absolute hardest not to do exactly that at work. 

He blamed the Veela thing. Honestly, it was unfair. The long white hair spilling over Draco’s shoulders. The pale skin that seemed to shine at his throat where his collar sat open. The sharp line of his jaw. The—

“Mate,” Ron said, following Harry’s gaze. “Do you want to relax a bit? You’ve been making googly eyes at Malfoy half the night.”

Harry flushed. “What? Everyone thinks Malfoy’s fit. He’s part-Veela.”

The table went quiet.

Draco, who had been bickering with Pansy over something, looked over very slowly. “Pardon?”

Harry gestured helplessly at all of him. “Come on. The shining hair. The glimmering skin—”

“Potter.”

“—the mouth, obviously—”

“Potter!”

“What?”

“I take suppressants.”

Harry blinked. “What?”

“For the allure,” Draco said. “I have since eighth year, when I started presenting. No one here is magically compelled to find me attractive.”

Ron choked on his beer and Pansy made a small, delighted sound. Blaise sighed and handed her three Galleons.

“Oh,” Harry said.

Hermione leaned forward, eyes bright. “Actually, if Harry is perceiving Draco’s Veela traits without being influenced by allure, that might suggest a mating bond—”

Draco went completely red and looked away.

“—and judging by that reaction,” Hermione finished, crossing her arms, “Draco seems to have known.”

“Fine, I knew,” Draco snapped. “But I didn’t say anything because Potter is not obligated to—”

“I don’t feel obligated,” Harry interrupted, heart hammering. “I think I’m just… er, well, interested.”

Draco’s mouth parted.

Harry looked at Draco’s flushed cheeks and his beautiful, vaguely worried face.

Draco swallowed. “In what?”

“Dinner?” Harry said. “For a start.”

[coppercatbird]

Wait It Out

@drarrymicrofic | prompt: bond | wc: 500 | rating: mild m

“Good news first, or bad?” Ron asked.

“Good,” Harry blurted, just as Malfoy said, “Bad, obviously.”

They glared, then turned away, hands clasped.

“Good news: it’s time-limited. The curse is for newlyweds to get to know one another. It’s not permanent. You’ll just have to wait it out.”

Malfoy sighed. “The bad news?”

Ron cleared his throat; he sounded amused, which Harry thought was a little rude. “We can’t break it, unless one of you fancies giving up your magic.” They both blanched. “The bond’s tied to your magical cores. If it were a permanent bond, maybe we’d try, but the risk of magical core damage—”

“How long, Weasley?”

Silence. Ron coughed; Harry could hear his attempt to restrain his laughter, the tosser. “One year.”

Malfoy gaped. “You expect me to hold hands with this cretin for a year?”

In the corner, Bill cleared his throat. “There are ways to … create distance.”

Harry saw Malfoy’s expression and somehow, he knew.

“I’m not shagging Malfoy!” Harry all but shouted. “I’ll hold his bloody hand for the rest of my life before that!” His face was hot. He didn’t like Ron and Bill’s dubious expressions.

Malfoy sighed. “I cannot believe I hired you as a curse-breaker and you cursed me.”

“I can’t believe your family has a dodgy sex-curse artefact!”

“Really? It seems rather in character to me, which is why I hired professional fucking curse-breakers!” Malfoy sighed. “l’ll pack a trunk.”

Harry frowned. “You’re … coming to Grimmauld?”

“Did you wish to move into the manor for a year?”

“Godric’s gonads, no.”

“I assumed. Come on.”

Harry ignored Bill’s knowing glance and Ron’s barely disguised leer as they left St Mungo’s. It only took Draco ten minutes to pack, despite having one hand clasped in Harry’s. Another few minutes to figure out how to Floo together and they stood in the drawing room of Grimmauld Place.

“I’ll show you to the guest—fuck.”

“Yes, I won’t be needing a guest room,” Malfoy said, tone dry. “Please tell me you have tea?”

Harry nodded. “Even some posh stuff.”

Harry didn’t mention that he’d seen what brand of tea Malfoy preferred in the manor kitchen and bought it, daydreaming about how impressed Malfoy might be if Harry were ever brave enough to invite him over. 

Malfoy didn’t look impressed. He sighed, running his wand hand through his hair.

“I’d like to try something.”

Harry waited.

A pause; a breath. A tug of their joined hands and they were chest-to-chest, Malfoy’s hand in his hair.

“This is just pragmatic,” Malfoy said. “I’d rather like privacy in the loo.”

“Right,” Harry breathed. “Pragmatic.”

“Making tea will be easier. Dinner, too.”

“Yes. That makes sense.”

“We’ll just … determine the boundaries of the curse. Experiment.”

“I like experimentation,” Harry said.

—

Draco looked up from between Harry’s thighs. “Curse ends tomorrow,” he murmured. “Am I moving back into the manor?”

Harry grinned, fingers in Draco’s hair. “Are you kidding? I couldn’t bear to be that far away from you.”

[everchanging-obsession]

The look of love

[viria]

utter unawareness (Grimmauld Roommates AU)

[marz-rm]

watch me draw every photoshoot of Connor as Hollanov

[naw-sya]

- Do you think we're together in every universe?

*get ready to screenshot to catch your AU* ❤️💚

[naw-sya]

For all those who asked 💕

[nsasquith]

Forever?

Forever.

A massive thanks to @cherylelani for her artistic advice and support.

[coppercatbird]

Weight on the Forefoot

@drarrymicrofic | prompt: ball | wc: 50

Draco sprawled, shocked from the blow.

Infuriating feet danced round his head. No finesse, but plenty of instinct; no shortage of raw skill.

“Gloating’s unbecoming,” Draco sighed.

“I’ll gloat later. Winner buys dinner—curry?”

“Italian.” Draco bounced up, smiling. “Your footwork’s improving.”

Kiss, laugh, dodge.

“Stay light. Let’s go again.”

[jungeatheart]

I’m so impressed by how much story you managed to fit into just 50 words. That takes real skill! Wow.

[aaliyahsparrow]

"Chokehold", Hudson Williams [from Heated Rivalry] for BVLGARI #GoldAndSteel Collection

May, 2026

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