cause I'm losing all control

India | Gryffindor | she/her

[gotoemopunk]

Happy birthday, Draco!🎉🎁🎂

[aemelia]

breakfast for @hollanovbingo // happy birthday @nebulastars я тебя люблю, мои друг! 🧡

[viria]

utter unawareness (Grimmauld Roommates AU)

[the-quasar-hero]

It’s extremely fucked up that some ppl try to make you feel stupid and immature for hoping for a better world. You say you want world peace and mfs think you need a pacifier; dawg, I just don’t want ppl dying from violence. This idea that ppl simply must die as casualties of war is misanthropic to say the least.

[art-alli]

Drarry

[supmilger]

The look of love

[incognitoburritto]

It's Okay To Be Weak Sometimes

for the @drarrymicrofic prompt: "Weak"

Crying wasn't a weakness, Harry told himself as he ducked his head and surreptitiously wiped his eyes.

Draco said that showing your emotions was a strength.

Hermione had shown him research about how repressing your emotions led to more issues.

Ron had just clapped him on the back and said, "Don't worry about it, mate."

But as Harry stood in the corner of the hospital room, knees weak from adrenaline and the sprint up the stairs, he didn't feel strong.

The sight of Draco in the hospital bed made his heart clench.

The sight of Draco bending low over the newborn, pressing a kiss to his downy head, then raising his eyes to meet Harry's and saying, "Come meet our son," unleashed three decades of repressed tears. As Harry clasped the man and child to his chest, he thought: I'll teach him it's okay to be weak sometimes.

[nsasquith]

For @drarrymicrofic prompt: “EX” wc 681

The sigh Draco lets out is long, dramatic, and not unlike that of a petulant child. He’s been like this all afternoon, moping about and sulking. The sigh concludes with him miserably chucking his tea collection into a cardboard box.

Harry, amused, watches from the corner of his eye. He feigns ignorance, absently chewing the end of his quill as he pretends to read The Quibbler, which becomes slightly difficult when something heavier lands in the box with a thud that echoes through the room.

It is, Harry supposes, a blatant bid for attention.

He submits.

“Alright over there?” Harry asks, biting back a smirk.

He sets the magazine aside and twists in his chair, only to find Draco glaring at him.

“Are you not in the least bit bothered?” Draco demands.

Harry considers the question, pursing his lips, then shakes his head nonchalantly.

“Nah.”

It earns him narrowed eyes and a sharp click of teeth.

“Ridiculous.” Draco throws more of his belongings into the box, each item landing harder than the last. “After all we’ve been through together, I would have thought you’d at least have the courtesy to pretend to be upset. I’m chucking years of happy memories into this box, and you’re just—just—what are you doing? Being no use is what you’re doing.”

Harry snorts, because Merlin, if Draco isn’t the most dramatic man in the world.

He gets to his feet, crosses the room, and peers into the box, where he finds a mug. Across it, in thick block letters, are the words Potter Stinks.

Pulling it out, Harry inspects the white ceramic and spots the faint crack line running down the side from where he’d once smashed it across the room after Draco had thoroughly pissed him off. His Reparos aren’t the best, admittedly.

“Happy memories?” Harry asks, arching a brow as he holds the mug aloft for Draco’s benefit.

“Yes, well, I was very happy when I bought that for you,” Draco says, jutting out his bottom lip and folding his arms. “However… I understand why it was not, erm, the case for you. Which is why I kindly took it back.”

He snatches the mug from Harry’s hand.

Harry rolls his eyes and shuffles through the rest of the box of belongings Draco has accumulated over the years. There are far too many knick-knacks and trinkets, and each one, yes, carries a memory.

The small empty bottle of Firewhisky they’d shared the night they first kissed.

The magnet they bought in France on their first trip together.

The Weasley jumper Molly made Draco—grey, with a gold D stitched into the middle.

“I suppose the rest are happy memories,” Harry agrees, offering Draco a softer smile.

Guilt trickles in as he realises how difficult this actually is for Draco, and he instantly regrets his cavalier reaction. He takes the mug gently from Draco’s hand and places it back into the box, then wraps his arms around Draco until they’re chest to chest.

Draco remains stoic for a moment, but when Harry gives him a small squeeze, he relents, threading his arms around Harry’s waist with a sad little sigh.

“Breakups are so difficult,” Draco says, his voice wavering. “I can’t believe it’s ended like this.”

“Draco, my darling, we have not broken up. You’re just getting a new Auror partner. Robards has just said that now we’re engaged, it’s not appropriate to continue working together.”

Draco hums. “Yeah… I suppose. Fancy Chinese for tea?”

Harry chuckles. He presses a kiss to Draco’s head and pulls away, grabbing the box and tucking it against his hip.

“Sure. Come on,” he says, catching Draco by the waist. “I’ll help you unpack in your new office.”

They leave together, and Harry pauses before shutting the door to look back at the desk Draco no longer occupies.

He supposes Draco is right. In some ways, it is a little like a breakup.

Then he remembers they share a home now, a life, a future, and Draco Malfoy is many things—

But most certainly not an ex.

[ira-dunfort]

Drarry Microfic: Retrograde

"Hey, Ron," Harry started, nervously tearing blades of grass out of the lawn some twenty yards from the Burrow's back door to escape the hubbub inside.

"Yeah, mate?" Ron replied. He dropped backwards into the grass, folding his arms behind his head, gazing up at the clouds drifting over Ottery St Catchpole.

Harry chewed his lip. "Do you think one could, I dunno, retrograde fall in love at first sight?"

Ron snorted. "Retro—er—what?" He didn’t sit up, but his eyebrows rose high enough for Harry to see from the corner of his eye.

"The, uhm, the Ministry had asked me to submit my earliest memory of Malfoy to a Pensieve so that they could do whatever it was with that, compare it, something about baseline establishment, I didn't quite follow. They—I, well—they made me watch, you know?"

He had been eleven again, saggy clothes hanging off his scrawny frame, standing in Madam Malkin's, only that he now knew where to look. There was young Malfoy, his expression shifting from bored out of his mind for having to stand still to fascination shimmering in his large eyes as they spotted Harry. Harry barely heard his words this time, only watched, as the prettiest boy he had ever seen tried his hardest to impress him and Harry wanted to shove at himself, make the unkempt boy in the memory step closer, reach out, pull Malfoy off that pedestal and ask to be his friend, ask him all about Quidditch and the sweets he liked and keep him close, forever.

The Harry sitting there with Ron plucked petals off a daisy, emotions rioting inside him, his heart rattling against his ribcage.

"Harry." Ron’s voice was careful. "Mate. You didn’t know you had a thing for the git?"

"No." Harry let out a breath that was almost a laugh. "I didn't."

Ron was quiet for a moment, then he flopped back down into the grass with a sigh.

Harry glanced at him. "Ron."

"Yeah?"

"Do you think he'll be back for eighth year?"

— written for the @drarrymicrofic prompt "retrograde"

[lostgloomz]

✨✨✨

[themarchingbeetle]

[coppercatbird]

Not Venus

@drarrymicrofic | prompt: retrograde | wc: 250

Harry gave an officious little nod and stood. “It’s decided then.”

Ron frowned. “We weren’t talking about anything, mate.”

“I’m going to do it.” Harry nodded again.

“Do what?” Hermione looked up from her book—honestly, who brought a book to pub night?

“I’m going to go talk to Malfoy. Draco.”

Ron spat out his beer. Hermione’s eyebrows shot up. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? Last time—”

“Last time was different,” Harry said. “I’m trying again. I don’t care if I’m bollocks at it.”

“It’s healthy to do things you’re not very good at sometimes,” Luna said as Ginny slid into the booth. “What are you trying?”

“He’s going to talk to Malfoy,” Ron said.

Luna frowned. “Oh, Harry, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“But you just said!”

“Well, you see, Mercury’s in retrograde right now, which makes communication difficult,” Luna said, eyes wide. “Disagreements are more likely, misunderstandings—well, you and Draco are already rather prone to those, aren’t you.”

“I don’t care how retro Mercury is,” Harry snapped, tossing back his pint. “I’m going to talk to him.”

**Three minutes later**

“Well,” Hermione said.

“That’s certainly not what I would call ‘talking’,” Ginny said with a grin.

Ron looked ill. “I can’t believe this is happening again,” he said, turning away from the sight of Harry’s hands trailing lower down Draco’s body. Draco’s hands were in Harry’s hair, unyielding, insistent.

“Oh, that’s all right then,” Luna said brightly. “Venus isn’t in retrograde, after all.”

[dambiex]

the problem with parents is that they are undiagnosed

[mimouche4]

Undercover

For @drarrymicrofic | prompt : Rule & Set | 518 words

“Wait,” Malfoy says as Harry picks up his coat. “We still need to agree on the details.”

Harry looks at him, confused. “We’ve already done that,” he replies. “Thoroughly,” he adds, rolling his eyes under his fringe.

Malfoy sighs, “Surely I don’t need to remind you that the success of an undercover mission depends largely, if not entirely on its preparation.”

 This time, Harry doesn’t even try to hide the eye roll. “Jesus, Malfoy. What else is more to discuss. We have our backstory. I’m Mark. You’re David. We are on our honeymoon. You made me go through every little details a million times already.  I feel I know Mark and David more than I know myself at this stage. We’ll be fine.”

Malfoy squirms on his chair. He is not looking at Harry when he says, “Rules, Potter.” He clears his throat. “We still need to...erm...We have to set some. You know. Rules.”

Harry frowns. It’s unlike Draco to fumble for words. “What do you mean?”

Malfoy gives him a look Harry knows well, the one that says, are you daft?

“Potter, we are husbands,” Malfoy says slowly. “on our honeymoon.”  Malfoy lets the words hang, probably waiting for Harry to figure it out himself. When Harry doesn’t, Malfoy drags a hand across his face, exhaling loudly. “They have to buy it, Potter. If they don’t, we’re done. You get that? Newlyweds usually ... you know. We’ll have to ... you know.”  

“What?” Harry says, even though he damn well knows.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. We’ll have to get physical, Potter!” He shouts. “Hold hands. Hug. Touch...Kiss. We need rules! Set boundaries. We have to agree on what we can do. What we’re comfortable with.”

“Oh.”  

“Tell me you realised that before you took the mission. Because if we are not believable, Potter, we might as well call off the whole thing right now.”

“Erm, yeah.. I suppose I knew we’d have to ...erm ...do some of that... but I hadn’t really thought about it until now,” Harry lies.

He did think about it.

He thought about it a lot.  

Malfoy studies him then reaches for a paper on his desk. “I—I made a list.” He fumbles with the paper. “To help us... set the ground rules for this.”

There are at least 20 items on Malfoy’s list. Harry catches the first few: holding hands, stroking back, stroking neck. His stomach flips as he reads the next one, running hand through hair.

Malfoy picks up a quill. His voice wavers slightly as he asks, “Are you comfortable with holding hands?”

“Yes,” Harry replies too quickly.

Malfoy doesn’t look up. He stares at his paper and draws a tick on it. “What about back stroking?”

“Yes.”

Malfoy draws another tick and Harry’s eyes flick to the end of the list where he reads, kissing (with/without tongue).

Oh God.

Oh sweet Merlin.

“What about—“

“Yes!” Harry says. “Yes to all of it.”

Malfoy looks up from his paper. His mouth hangs open. “I—I haven’t finished going through the list.”

Harry smiles. “That won’t be necessary.”

[slyssnakes]

kisses goodbye

[mimouche4]

@drarrymicrofic | 700 words

Prompt: Fair

September “Robards did what?” Ron splutters, nearly chocking on his beer.

Harry doesn’t want to say it again. He really doesn’t.

“Robards paired you with Malfoy?” Ron repeats slowly as he stares at Harry in horror.

Harry nods.

Ron’s mouth falls open. “What the fuck.”   

“It’s only for a few months. For training. Until we earn our badges.” Harry sighs. “Apparently we are ...compatible.”  

“Fuck, mate. How’s that fair that you of all people get stuck with the bloody ferret?”

Harry stares into his glass as he might find the answer there. He drains the last of it. It leaves a sour taste in his mouth.

Ron is right. It’s not fair. It fucking isn’t.  

October Harry hears them. Malfoy must hear them too--the snickers, the barely muffled snide remarks – “He doesn’t belong here. ...Unacceptable. ... should never have been allowed to enrol...Bloody unfair.”

The other trainees are not exactly discreet. He sees their sneers behind Malfoy’s back, the way their mouths twist in disgust as he walks past them. Malfoy never rises to it, pretends he doesn’t hear, keeps his head down.  

He works the hardest out of them all.

That takes courage, Harry thinks.

January Harry startles awake. He blinks, disoriented. He turns his face and sees Malfoy beside him, sitting in silence, a finger to his lips.

What--?

“Shush,” Malfoy whispers.

It comes back to Harry then. The stakeout. They’ve been sitting here for hours, trapped in a space no bigger than a closet, waiting for God knows what. “Shit, sorry. I must have dozed off,” Harry muttered, yawning.

“Tell me something I don’t know, Potter.”

 Harry rubs his face. “I’ll take over.”

“It’s fine. I’ve got it. I’ll wake you if anything happens.”

“Come on, it’s only fair. I’m not letting you do the whole night.”

“Potter, I’m not tired. You sleep more. You need it.”

Harry wonders how Malfoy knows, but he does need it. The night before had been hard, as it still is sometimes, riddled with nightmares and insomnia.  He tries to stay awake, he really does, but his eyes are heavy and soon enough his head drops. It lands on Malfoy’s shoulder.

Malfoy is stiff but does not push him away.

He smells nice, Harry thinks before drifting off.

March “Why’d you do that?” Harry calls after Malfoy as they leave Robards’s office.

Malfoy doesn’t slow and Harry has to catch his arm to stop him. “Malfoy.”

“What?” He turns and looks at some vague spot behind Harry’s head.

“Why did you cover for me? Why did you lie? You didn’t have to do that. I’m the one who screwed up.”

“I don’t know. It—it didn’t seem fair.” Malfoy meets his eyes then, “We’re a team. Aren’t we? Isn’t it what partners do?”

Harry’s chest tightens.

May The Auror uniform is dark navy. Harry traces the golden embroidered words on his heart – Junior Auror Potter. He smiles then heads to the Leaky.

The pub is a sea of dark navy uniforms. It’s loud and joyful, and Harry feels alive.

Pints are raised, backs are clapped, congratulations are shouted across the room.

Harry loses track of how many pints he had. His head is fuzzy, he’s happy.

“Congratulations, Auror Potter.”

Harry jumps. He turns and sees him. Draco’s smile is big and bright. Harry’s eyes drift down to the words stitched into the fabric—Junior Auror Malfoy.  Blue suits him. It really fucking suits him.

Merlin.

Alcohol is pumping through Harry’s veins, warm and reckless. He steps closer.

“It’s unfair how good you look in this.”

June “It’s against regulation, Harry,” Draco says as he pushes him away.

Harry chases his lips. “Just one kiss.”

Draco rolls his eyes. “No”

“Jesus, you’re uptight. You’re ridiculously strict when it comes to rules, you know that. How am I supposed to resist when you’re there walking around all day in your bloody uniform.”

Draco rolls his eyes again but his mouth twitches upwards.

“Life’s unfair,” Harry whines. “Can’t a guy kiss his boyfriend?”

Draco freezes. He stares at Harry with wide eyes, then walks straight towards him, grabs his face in both hands and kisses him.

Okay. Fine.

Maybe not so unfair after all.

[lilykonya]

Who's a good boy?