hujan bulan juli

DRARRY ●📍SEA, IDN ● 🇵🇸 ● 18+ ● She ● AO3 ● no racists, zionists, or terfs

[rainjulyx]

Here for drarry and @crimson-rainjuly for danmei stuffs. I'm attracted to sad things. Maybe something is wrong with my head.

[rainjulyx]

Prompt: dream. For @drarrymicrofic wc 240

.

“You acted almighty but you called for my name in your sleep.” Potter sat up, blinked sleepily, legs folded on the bed. Not for the first time since they were assigned roommates, Draco desired to hex his smug face.

“It's a nightmare, idiot.”

Potter casually stretched, shirt pulled up, showing a little more skin under the low light. His teeth glinted as he grinned. “Still, you think of—”

“You dreamt about Voldemort.” Potter's face dropped like rain. Draco's blood rushed in triumph. He won. “Exactly.”

“Prickly.” Potter shrugged. He fumbled through his drawer in darkness. Draco wondered if he should cast Lumos. Before he moved, Potter offered a vial. “Drink.”

Draco hated how small this place was. How there was barely a space between their beds. How achingly reachable Potter's sleepy face was. “Just fucking take it. I know it's subpar, but beggars can't be choosers. Unless you fancy weeping in my funeral in your sleep.”

“If it's your funeral, I'd celebrate.”

“Draco.” Potter's tone was too gentle to Draco's liking. He uncorked the vial, took Draco's hand, and wrapped Draco's finger around it. “Drink.”

Draco wasn't immune to the saviour's ability to command the universe to his liking, no matter how hard he tried. Potter was smug once again as Draco laid back down, mouth bitter from both the potion and Potter's audacity. “Now sleep. Try not to profess your undying love when unconscious."

“I did nothing of such.”

Potter, the giant menace, only laughed.

[drarrymicrofic]

An introduction and a farewell!

@drarrymicrofic is under new management!

We ( @coppercatbird, @orolin-writes and @angeldog5 ) are thrilled to be taking over moderation of this tumblr account and our discord Drarry Microfics community. This community has been and continues to be so important to all three of us, and we’re so excited to be here!

If you’re new to Drarry or to microfics, we want to welcome you! Micros are a fantastic way to dip your toe in, meet people, and start getting words down on the (paper or metaphorical internet) page. Our pinned post includes all the details, but a few highlights from the new mod team:

* 50 words is our “official” word count, but we encourage you to write as much or as little as your muse inspires. We see and love a huge range of definitions of “micro” here, and we want all of them!

* Whenever relevant, please note M and E ratings, major AO3 warnings (i.e. noncon, MCD, etc.), and/or hate speech so that readers know what to expect

* Our asks are open for prompts (word, song, or image) until further notice

* If you aren’t in the discord server, send us an ask for an invite! We post and chat about prompts, share micros, discuss upcoming events, and more

* We are planning some events starting this summer, so keep an eye out for announcements!

Finally, we want to offer our warmest gratitude for the incredible modding done by @citrusses, @maesterchill, @sweet-s0rr0w, and @tackytigerfic. You all did such an amazing job stewarding this community, and we are so grateful for all of it (and not even a little bit overwhelmed by the shoes we have to fill ☺️)

[rainjulyx]

Prompt: bond. Wc : 270 for @drarrymicrofic

.

“It's one of the moon magic.” His eyes matched with the smoke from his open mouth. And his skin. “Binding the ocean.”

Harry looked. Those foul, pale lips curled around a wretched cigarette. Harry's own tingled, a faint echo. It must taste bitter. Merlin.

“You know that the moon is magical, right? Werewolves? I know you're greatly confined within the limitations of your Muggle upbringings. But gravity, was it? I finished Muggle Science with an O—” I know “—interesting way to explain things beyond their understanding.”

“...”

“Stop gaping and flushing while looking at me.” Grey eyes firmly set to the sky like a devotee. “One might mistake it.”

“You fucking wish.” Harry lied, swallowed, tasting the stench of salty ocean. “Why did you call?” after so many years “—is this what you're up to? Locked yourself up in that creepy manor—” never was seen, never showed up “—trying to talk up the fucking moon like a lunatic?”

Those lips curled. It wasn’t a smile. Not on Malfoy. “Looked out for me, hm? One might misunderstand, you know.”

“I’m not joking.” Harry looked at the tide; the moon swam in it; a chaotic, wavering reflection.

“I’m not fooling around. I’m studying. The moon—” was reflected in your fucking eyes “—was gentle. But it bonded me. Accidentally.” Malfoy inhaled his smoke. “What can a human being offer but their soul?" Then, he finally looked at Harry. Tired and frail, devoid of colour. “Come here. Fix it.”

“What—how?” Harry frowned. Malfoy grabbed his jacket and pulled. Harry stepped closer, involuntarily inhaling the smoke. Bony hands with soft fingertips skated along Harry's nape. Sending shivers, blocking airways. Malfoy was so close that his eyelashes were countable.

“Like this.”

Harry gasped as his lips were caught between soft, tangy ones.

[001x456]

[rainjulyx]

For @drarrymicrofic prompt: charm. Wc: 280

.

Pain shot through Draco's cursed legs. “You're already holding my hand, it's gonna be weird if we aren't actually dying.”

“Charming. We're definitely dying, don't worry.” Potter sighed.

Draco couldn't get his eyes off the bleeding wound on Potter's lips. He wet his own to compensate for the need to fix Potter's. “Dying should feel grander. This feels like any other Tuesday.”

Potter's eyes, this close, were forest green in contrast to his grey skin, the gloomy wreckage of this building, and his dusty crimson Auror robes. “Maybe we really should retire.”

Draco's body felt heavy. His eyelids were drooping. He opened them when Potter let out a pained noise. “Maybe you and I have met, you know, in our past lives.”

“No,” Draco said flatly. “But I'll find you in the next life so I can torment you better.”

Potter let out a dry laugh. “You can't do it any better than this.” His rough hand was squeezing Draco's. They were head to head. If they really died today, the last thing Draco saw would be Harry Potter's annoying face. His long lashes. Half-burned eyebrows. His ashy cheek. His lightning bolt scar. Green eyes. His whisper, saying, “We won't die. I want to know how far you can torment me.”

“The saviour's word is my command,” Draco managed. He pulled himself with all his might to get closer, so their foreheads would touch. Potter tried, too. But Draco's body couldn't—in seconds, Potter's face blurred, and the world fell into darkness.

When Draco woke up, Potter was lying beside him, holding his hand.

“Dying, are we?”

Harry flicked his finger on Draco's forehead, then kissed it.

[rainjulyx]

Tbh this is taken out from my unfinished wip for a fest that I recently dropped out. I took it out here because I really loved this scene. Heavily influenced by Noah Kahan newest album - the song "Doors." For the @drarrymicrofic prompt : history. Wc: 450 tw: suicide theme, happy ending

—

Draco had the soft glow of dawn's light on Potter's fingertips imprinted in his mind, with the snowflake-like white mark on that fingernail. It was as far as Draco could see, in that hazy, cold morning, succumbed to gravity on the grass. Draco tried to keep his eyes open—despite his mind floating in space—to see the hand that lit up in gold as it touched Draco's cold nose.

That one moment remained intricately woven into Draco's soul, a closeness, as if Draco's skin was split open, all of his insides so exposed in every single breath, as he divulged and confessed, you know, I don't think I'll make it past twenty two.

Green eyes were the brightest light Draco ever saw, dimming the world behind them. Gentle fingers ran on Draco's hair, no, even if you don't, I believe in you.

Potter, a stranger, an enemy, was closer to Draco's heart than his own artery.

Then the next day, when Potter diverted his gaze as he passed by, it felt like Draco's heart was being spat out like a slobber.

Maybe it was alcohol diluting the memory. How come there was no recognition in those eyes—other than enmity, the long surging disgust? Was it all a dream?

But Draco can't blame the alcohol, not when he has tasted the flavour Potter's plump lips from the mouth of the bottle. Not when he had the memory of those fingers delicately leaving chemtrails all over the lines on Draco's palm, and how they traced through Draco's purple, dead-like veins up to the space they disappeared in his arms, simultaneously warming Draco's skin.

He spoke as if he knew for sure how far Draco could still go. It was loudly told by the green in his eyes—which Draco barely saw as his sight were obscured by tears. And by his gentle whispers, not tonight, no, you will be alright.

It rattled Draco's soul. And his tired, faint heartbeat, making it shout loud and fast.

Draco did not take the leap then.

He was still here, breathing, albeit still heavily sometimes, thinking about that moment every night. When he was engulfed in anger, when he was decapitated by sorrow, when grief almost took it all, he held onto a forgotten history: cold skin on quivering pulse, and a soft spoken promise, you'll be alright.

And Draco was alright.

He was alright, he was alive long enough to hear the knock on his door, twelve years later. And it opened to the most earnest green eyes, framed by faint crows’ feet and thick eyebrows. Followed by an awkward smile, and a sigh of relief. It's weird, but, hey, I'm glad to see you.

[rainjulyx]

Two ghosts for @drarrymicrofic | 600wc

○

“Professor, how's your hair all grey at 30?” Malfoy's long fingers reached out to touch, it froze just a hairbreadth away. He smiled thinly and retracted his hand.

Harry stared at the single fleck on Malfoy's pale skin, a little crescent on the tip of his nose. “Thirty…”

Malfoy leans towards the fence, hair wild, swayed by the wind. Eyes reflecting the stars that he knew like the back of his hand.

Him, the same, always.

Any moment, his finger would point at a celestial object and recite its lore. And Harry would listen like he did years ago, in this very place, like a rerun. Back then, Malfoy had talked animatedly, eyes glimmering, youth etched in the way he slipped in immature insults between the lore—just to annoy Harry—pale skin under a thick Slytherin scarf. Harry remembered how he had smirked that one night, a day before graduation, his lips pink and wet. “Sinistra retired. I'll just take it, you know. Mcgonagall asked me.”

Harry had been young and stupid, he'd scrambled for excuses not to leave and begged McGonagall to let him stay a few more months after eighth year. He'd told himself he hadn't been ready for the world. Nothing more.

Little liar, you haven't even left since.

Malfoy moved, his pale long hair nearly swiping against Harry's face. A finger pointed to the sky. “You know how to find the Leo constellation?”

Harry shook his head. So, this was Regulus' night.

Malfoy described the constellation; introduced its brightest star; and asked… do you know that he was named after it? Then he recalled the stories he heard from Narcissa about the man.

Harry listened, patiently. Looking at his own hands, pretending he wasn't staring at Malfoy's long eyelashes or the little fleck on his nose. Or his icy grey eyes. Once Malfoy was out of things to say, it was Harry's cue. He asked, “So what about your namesake, professor?”

“Good question, you'd make my best student at this rate.”

“Better than Rose Weasley?”

Malfoy smiled, eyes faraway, maybe thinking about his most prominent student. “Never.” He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Harry watched, agonised as he waited, as if anticipating for a miracle to unravel. There, the little smile on those pale lips. Eyelids opening to showcase the light in grey eyes. Malfoy leaned on his side to face Harry. “Draco is a constellation. It's shaped like a dragon.”

“Dragon?”

Malfoy was so close. He must have felt Harry's breath this near. He must have heard Harry's bloodrush. He must have seen Harry's mess of heart written all over his eyes. Those lips, so near. Harry gulped, still this anxious, even after all these years, even after reliving this a thousand times and more.

“The biggest star in Draco's constellation is called Eltanin, or Etamin. Do you know that?”

Yes. I asked every night. You always answered.

“Is it time?” Draco asked, this time, his voice is caught at the back of his throat. He sounded awfully young and tired.

Harry looked away. Refusing to see it unfold. He had enough of this. He closed his eyes, and waited.

There was, mercifully, no sound when Draco dematerialised.

The tower was quiet. The metal fence was cold under Harry's hand. The winter was unforgiving. Draco's office was dusty and vacant. Rose Weasley has long since graduated.

And Harry was a tired sixty year old.

He came back to his chambers as the clock struck two, like the night before. And before. And before. He slept unwell, dreaming about Draco Malfoy and his youth. About the endless nights on Astronomy tower. About... about... about...

[pursuecrazylife]

This scene lives rent free in my head. The juxtaposition of Lingling being absolutely adorable, living his best life

Meanwhile, Ruan Nanzhu: 40k slow burn, brooding, major pining hours, starcrossed lovers, doomed by the narrative

Meanwhile, my brain short-circuited during this scene. I was convinced they would kiss, a scene transcending Chinese censorship

[rainjulyx]

Two ghosts for @drarrymicrofic | 600wc

○

“Professor, how's your hair all grey at 30?” Malfoy's long fingers reached out to touch, it froze just a hairbreadth away. He smiled thinly and retracted his hand.

Harry stared at the single fleck on Malfoy's pale skin, a little crescent on the tip of his nose. “Thirty…”

Malfoy leans towards the fence, hair wild, swayed by the wind. Eyes reflecting the stars that he knew like the back of his hand.

Him, the same, always.

Any moment, his finger would point at a celestial object and recite its lore. And Harry would listen like he did years ago, in this very place, like a rerun. Back then, Malfoy had talked animatedly, eyes glimmering, youth etched in the way he slipped in immature insults between the lore—just to annoy Harry—pale skin under a thick Slytherin scarf. Harry remembered how he had smirked that one night, a day before graduation, his lips pink and wet. “Sinistra retired. I'll just take it, you know. Mcgonagall asked me.”

Harry had been young and stupid, he'd scrambled for excuses not to leave and begged McGonagall to let him stay a few more months after eighth year. He'd told himself he hadn't been ready for the world. Nothing more.

Little liar, you haven't even left since.

Malfoy moved, his pale long hair nearly swiping against Harry's face. A finger pointed to the sky. “You know how to find the Leo constellation?”

Harry shook his head. So, this was Regulus' night.

Malfoy described the constellation; introduced its brightest star; and asked… do you know that he was named after it? Then he recalled the stories he heard from Narcissa about the man.

Harry listened, patiently. Looking at his own hands, pretending he wasn't staring at Malfoy's long eyelashes or the little fleck on his nose. Or his icy grey eyes. Once Malfoy was out of things to say, it was Harry's cue. He asked, “So what about your namesake, professor?”

“Good question, you'd make my best student at this rate.”

“Better than Rose Weasley?”

Malfoy smiled, eyes faraway, maybe thinking about his most prominent student. “Never.” He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Harry watched, agonised as he waited, as if anticipating for a miracle to unravel. There, the little smile on those pale lips. Eyelids opening to showcase the light in grey eyes. Malfoy leaned on his side to face Harry. “Draco is a constellation. It's shaped like a dragon.”

“Dragon?”

Malfoy was so close. He must have felt Harry's breath this near. He must have heard Harry's bloodrush. He must have seen Harry's mess of heart written all over his eyes. Those lips, so near. Harry gulped, still this anxious, even after all these years, even after reliving this a thousand times and more.

“The biggest star in Draco's constellation is called Eltanin, or Etamin. Do you know that?”

Yes. I asked every night. You always answered.

“Is it time?” Draco asked, this time, his voice is caught at the back of his throat. He sounded awfully young and tired.

Harry looked away. Refusing to see it unfold. He had enough of this. He closed his eyes, and waited.

There was, mercifully, no sound when Draco dematerialised.

The tower was quiet. The metal fence was cold under Harry's hand. The winter was unforgiving. Draco's office was dusty and vacant. Rose Weasley has long since graduated.

And Harry was a tired sixty year old.

He came back to his chambers as the clock struck two, like the night before. And before. And before. He slept unwell, dreaming about Draco Malfoy and his youth. About the endless nights on Astronomy tower. About... about... about...

[nsasquith]

For @drarrymicrofic prompt: “Fair” wc 385

It’s Saturday night.

Saturday night means three things. Chinese. Film. Sex.

It’s halfway through the chow mein that Draco realises this routine has been his life for at least five months, and never once has he stopped to consider what that might mean.

He looks around the living room of Grimmauld Place, noodles suspended halfway to his mouth.

His jumper hangs over the armchair—the one he left three weeks ago and never bothered to take home.

There’s the half-read book on the coffee table. He’d brought it over one evening when Harry said he might be late back from the Weasleys. Draco had assumed he would need something to pass the time.

He hadn’t.

His slippers sit abandoned by the fireplace. He doesn’t even wear them. Doesn’t need to.

Because he does the same thing every Saturday. He sits at the end of the sofa, presses his cold feet into Harry’s thighs, and eats. And when dinner is finished, Harry pulls his feet into his lap without thinking and rubs them warm.

Without asking.

Draco swallows.

“When did we get so domestic?”

Harry, mid-spring roll and only half paying attention to the film, shrugs. “Dunno. Why?”

Then, because only the line of thought makes sense to him, Draco asks, “Are you my boyfriend?”

Harry nearly chokes.

He sets his plate down. Pauses the film. Turns slowly.

“Really?”

“What?” Draco demands, his voice pitching higher. “I think it’s a fair question.”

They’ve never actually discussed what this is. Not properly.

Neville and Pansy’s wedding. Too much booze. A tumble into a bed that somehow neither of them has metaphorically left.

“It’s a stupid question,” Harry says. “Of course I’m your boyfriend.”

Draco blinks.

Harry scoffs, picking up a spring roll. “You’ve got a drawer in my bedroom. A toothbrush in my bathroom. You reorganised my chocolate frog card collection.”

“They were a mess.”

“Fair question, my arse,” Harry mutters, taking a bite.

Draco tries to suppress his smile. Fails.

Because Harry’s cheeks are pink. Because there’s a shy curl to his mouth, suggesting that this matters more than he’s pretending. Because he grabs Draco’s foot with his free hand and hoists it into his lap, as if it belongs there.

Because Harry Potter is his boyfriend.

Because apparently, that’s been true for quite some time.

[rainjulyx]

Prompt : fair for @drarrymicrofic | 650wc

Harry steps out of the door into the balcony. He takes a minute, facing the ocean. Imagine living by the sea, standing day after day against the endless body of water. The sea that always churns forward, as if trying to take the small house in.

“Potter."

Startled, Harry turns. His heart dropped to his stomach. His lungs fail to reach for the air. Harry stands there, motionless.

Draco Malfoy is standing in a white tunic, his skin fairer than a pearl, his pale hair long and flowy. He blends perfectly with the sea before him, the limestone cottage, and the golden sand.

Harry hasn't seen him in years. God. Since when did he becomes so, so—

Harry swallows. “What—where is this?”

“My house, remember? You barged in as an injured dog last night, then passed out.”

“I saw a—” Harry isn't sure. He wasn't really concious. And his wolf's memory is terrible. But he remember how he was drawn to a melodious singing. It reminded him of trainquil Hogwarts grounds in spring, and the Gryffindor common room. He felt light, enthralled. He dragged his injured hind legs through the woods, through the sands. He remember the fair, glowing skin under the full moon; the long, bright red fin contrasted with the dark water; and the long hair taken away by the salty wind.

Harry looks down, so Malfoy can't see his face. Then—oh, fuck. This shirt—no, this tunic, it's the same as Malfoy's. This is Malfoy's. Oh.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Harry looks up, meeting Malfoy's eyes. It's lighter than ice, so light, as if they are incandescent.

This is not fair. Of all creatures, Harry has to become this rugged monster under the moon, where Malfoy becomes one out of a fairy tale.

“And?”

“What?”

“Explain, Potter, why the hell did you transform like a feral dog, get yourself injured, tresspasssd my wards, and fainted in my deck?”

“I didn't know it was yours! And you were singing! I was only following it!”

“Did you take a wolfsbane?”

Harry looks away. “No.”

“That is the stupidest shite I've heard in my life. And I've talked to a fucking troll before. Why. The. Fuck?”

“None of your bussiness.”

“It sure is when I had to drag you inside my house. Mind you, you were three times my size, and my floor is all bloody. I had to throw away my clothes—”

“Who in the right mind dragged a whole wolf into their home? What if I was a bad monster? Look, who is stupid now?”

“You're not the only one with heightened sense.” Malfoy licks his lips—pink tongue peeks out. “Now, why?”

Harry clears his throat. “It's the anniversary.” Of Battle of Hogwarts. Malfoy gets it anyway, with the way his stance change. A wind passes by, the turquoise sea doesn't give up reaching out to them. Should they embrace it? Malfoy can swim. But Harry will drown. “I just didn't want to think. I Apparated to an inhabitated island. No one is supposed to live here. But a Muggle was somewhere in the woods, did you know that? They shot me.”

“It definitely isn't inhabitated.” Malfoy crosses his arms, frowning. A fringe of pale hair falls on his temples. Merlin, Malfoy's lips are the perfect shade of pink. He is so fucking fair, it's unfair. Harry is fucked. Malfoy's tunic had the widest neckline, showing off his perfect, tantalising colarbones.

Harry feels like he would taint Malfoy, if he was to touch him. So he looks away. “I didn't know, really.”

Malfoy corners him. “You were being extremely careless, Potter.”

“I know.” Malfoy smells like cinnamon. He's so close. His skin and neckline—Abort, now. “Uh, thanks for your care. I, uh, will come back to return your shirt—tunic.”

Malfoy's voice is light, swirling. It's his singing voice. “Bring sweets and wine.”

Harry finally looks up, meeting Malfoy's light eyes directly, close up. Dazzled, foolish, and exhilarated at once.

[nsasquith]

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

[angeldog5]

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.

[duchessdulce]

Sixth Year: In the Corridors

(Part 12)

For @drarrymicrofic | prompt: peak | word count: 564

“So, I hear you’re single again,” Potter said. Rubbing it in Draco’s face. Gloating. Draco scowled at him instinctively. Then, belatedly, he tried to school his features as he lifted his chin with proud disdain.

“Yes, there are just so many girls out there, Potter,” Draco sniffed. “And a peak male specimen such as myself is always in high demand. I don’t want to limit my options just yet.”

“Um, right,” Potter said. He seemed to falter at that. Probably at the reminder that he, unlike Draco, was completely hopeless when it came to girls. But then he seemed to rally himself for another attack.

“So, are you going to Slughorn’s Christmas party?” Potter asked.

Draco tried not to wince visibly. Potter was far too skilled at hitting him where it hurt. He must know that Slughorn never invited Draco to any of his little parties, and the exclusion only made Draco yearn more desperately to be included. He never could stand to be left out of anything.

Draco inspected his fingernails and aimed for nonchalance.

“I’ve got the Slytherin party to plan,” he said. “It’s a lot of responsibility, being a prefect and all. I don’t think people who aren’t prefects really understand how much the teachers rely on us to take care of these sorts of things.”

Ha! Take that! Potter was surely writhing with shame now, at the reminder that he, unlike Draco, had not been granted the coveted status of prefect.

“Oh,” Potter said. “Is the Slytherin party on the same day as Slughorn’s party?”

“What?” Draco said dumbly. Because the truth was, there wasn’t any Slytherin Christmas party planned. He would have to get on that, now.

“It shouldn’t be on the same day, because not all the Slytherins will be able to go,” Harry reasoned. “Some of them will be at Slughorn’s party. Your friend Zabini, for one.”

Right. Well…

“Of course it’s not on the same day,” Draco said dismissively. “That would be poor planning. We thought about these things.”

“Oh, good,” Harry said. “So do you want to go to Slughorn’s party with me, then?”

Draco blinked. He’d heard Potter say some words, but they didn’t make any sense… And then it clicked. Of course. Potter was making fun of him. Well. Two could play that game. He’d just have to call Potter’s bluff.

“I would like nothing better,” Draco said sweetly.

Potter’s eyes widened behind his stupid round glasses. His mouth moved, but no sound came out. Draco chuckled inwardly. Oh, he really got Potter good with that one.

“Er. Great!” Potter finally got some words out. He sounded short of breath. He must be really panicking since his little joke hadn’t gone how he’d expected.

“So…” Potter said, “I’ll meet you outside the Great Hall at… at seven?”

Draco chose that moment to take a page out of Pansy’s book and flutter his eyelashes. Potter choked at the end of his sentence and had a small coughing fit.

“Sounds lovely, Potter,” Draco said. “I look forward to it.” And then Draco turned and flounced away, leaving Potter still wheezing behind him.

“Er. Right!” Potter called after him. “Me too!”

Draco didn’t bother to reply or turn around. He just kept walking, a smirk twitching on his lips. He’d won this round, and he was sure Potter knew it.

Ten points to Slytherin, Draco thought.

***

Read previous part here

[acanadianmuggle]

@drarrymicrofic - peak - 100 words

“But it doesn’t make any sense.”

Potter’s brows knit together over eyes so deeply green that Draco can’t help but avoid their full intensity.

“It’s magic, Potter, and adheres to the Briggs-Headley Theorum of -“ Draco starts as Potter shoves his fists into his hips and Draco suddenly has to start not looking at a new piece of Potter’s anatomy.

“I hate this.”

“Understood, but we still have to go to the peak, which is where the -“

“It’s in a pit, Malfoy. Peaks are at the top of mountains, not the bottom of crags.”

“It helps to think of it as inside out.”

[fluffyunderneath]

The Devoted Gentleman

Drarry | 79k | Explicit | Regency AU

!! It's finished !! 🎉🎉

Should anyone be looking for a Drarry meets Bridgerton type fic, this is my (now fully complete) humble offering 😌❤️

The tags: Regency romance, Drarry meets Bridgerton, Like Heyer but Gayer, Regency cant, Dinner parties, Rake Harry, Jealous Harry, Men in breeches, Pining, FwB, Decade long situationship, Grovelling, Angst with a happy ending, Smut.

The summary:

For as long as he can remember, Draco has been in love with his best friend. But at nine-and-twenty, he has finally had enough of dangling after the impossible.

Harry is a notorious bachelor and will never return Draco's affections, at least not in the way he craves. It's high time Draco extricated his heart from its current untenable situation and took charge of his future. His new plan is simple: he'll find himself a husband.

Of course Harry, Draco's closest and most devoted friend, will help him to find a gentleman worthy of his hand…won't he?

Undying gratitude to those who came on this journey with me, whether it was in my docs, listening to me whinge in DMs or following along in the comments - I appreciate you all 🥲❤️ @upon-poppyhills @jungeatheart @mihorina @captaindingdong @yellowfork @lexi-leckstar @lettersbyelise @rainjulyx