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You know what I want?? A fic where Harry is Indian and obvs he knows nothing of his father's culture cause the Dursleys exist, but when he gets to Hogwarts and the Patil twins realise that, and they share things with him. Like, I don't really know much if anything about Indian culture, but can you imagine Parvati and Harry both dressed in proper Indian clothes at the Yule Ball? Oh, they would've been unstoppable
From top left to right: Celaena Phantomhive (third year), Ciel Phantomhive (fourth year), Luciel Phantomhive (fourth year).
From bottom left to right: Ron Weasley (first year), Hermione Granger (first year), and Harrison Potter (first year).
A/N: I realize that Celaena’s not the same year as the trio, but she looks too done with life to be a first year (lmao).
A/N II: Ciel and Luciel are three years ahead of the quartet.
Credit in the pics!
A special kind of grace
Outside the window, a soft roar, much like a snare drum, reverberates across the sky. A soft trickle of rain descends from somber clouds. Incandescent lightning illuminates the sky and is shortly followed by a deafening rumble.
Draco is, however, in his own safety cocoon inside. He is in his favourite sweatshirt, a warm blanket over him, with his source of comfort. A soft warmth curls up within him. He is safe. The room is cast in warm hues, wooden planks amber and walls illuminated in a faint light. He’s light-hearted. More light-hearted than he has been in a while.
He tilts his head to the side, a small, small flutter in his chest. Tousled hair, tan skin, beautiful eyes. He is caught off guard by the way the candles hovering over the table reflect over his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose. Caught off guard in a way that he often was, simply by how beautiful he is.
Harry. A knot forms in his stomach. It’s a moment he has to himself. A secret one.
A more soft, slower tune flows from the instrument. The final note. It echoes within him, overthrows the whispers in his mind of the recent nightmare he had, calms him down. He shifts closer to the brunet, “One more?”
Harry lifts his brows at him in soft amusement while he uncurls his fingers from the fretboard of his guitar for a moment, the corners of his mouth curve into a small smile, a soft glint in his eyes, “One more, only for you, your majesty.”
A soft laugh forces its way up his throat and the brunet grins at him which causes yet another flutter. With a slight shake to his head, he replies, “No more quips,” He inches closer to the brunet, brushes his fingertips over the strings, which creates a very soft tune.
Draco’s heartbeat quickens for a moment, “Oh, what was that tune? It was a new one, you were sort of secretive about it,” A beat, “I’m sure you must’ve figured out the chords by now,” He breathes in a laden, quivering breath, “can you play that for me?”
An uneven breath stutters out his mouth, a tense on his shoulder, his composure shifting ever so slightly while he rightens the instrument and his fingers curl around the fretboard.
He plays the first set of notes in a swift movement, the softest glint in his eyes with crinkles by the side, “If you insist.”
He inhales while his eyes flutter close for a brief moment, yet his fingers continue the movements over the strings, creating a slow, melodious tune, “Aayi aaisi raat hai joh, bohot khushnaseeb hai. Chahe jise door se duniya, wo mere qareeb hai–”
Draco mouth is caught open in a small ‘o’, his brows lifting for a moment, eyes widening in surprise. The words weren’t familiar yet his voice, soft and beautiful, entrances Draco.
He can’t comprehend the words, yet he can figure out that the song is about love and the wonder of it. Of that one person. Once more, he is caught off guard. Caught off guard by his voice. Caught off guard by the way he stares into Draco’s eyes with fondness and an emotion that Draco can’t place.
“Aankhon mein teri, ajab si ajab si adayein hai –”
Music flows from the guitar like a spring. The notes float, and blossom, tiptoeing on the sound of rain. It echoes, in the room and somewhere within him, and if he focuses, he can hear his own heartbeat.
Harry brushes the ringing strings, sure, strong. He is much, much confident now and his voice captivates Draco over and over.
If he could, he would stay in this moment forever while his traitorous heart falls in love with Harry Potter more and more. With the crinkles by the corner of his voice, his voice, the way his fingers move over the fretboard.
“Tere saath, saath aaisi, Koi noor aaya hai. Chand teri roshni ka, halka sa ek saaya hai. Teri nazaron ne dil ka kiya joh hashar. Asar yeh hua. Ab in mein hi doob ke ho jaon paar. Yahi hai dua. Aankhon mein teri ajab si, ajab si adayein hai –”
A moment. He finishes it with a soft hum, the corners of his mouth stretching into a content smile, his eyes fluttering close for a moment as the music slows and, in a beat, ceases.
“Beautiful,” Draco, for one, is certain that he can’t form coherent, sensible sentences, “It was beautiful and it’s–” A beat, “it’s safe to say that you’ve rendered me speechless, for once, Potter.”
He lifts the guitar, places it on the floor right next to him with a soft snort as that typical, small, mischievous smirk graces his features, “Oh, now that would be a first, Malfoy.”
Draco lifts his brows, directing a half-hearted stare at him. He was friends with him now, yet even now, Harry Potter could manage to send his heart in a frenzy, “Irrelevant,” A moment, “now that song – that was hindi, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, it was.”
Draco laces his fingers together as he inches further closer to the brunet, slightly breathless, his heartbeat a quicker than before at the closeness, “In that case and since it was such a beautiful one, I want a translation.”
A beat. He stares right into Draco’s eyes, his lips parting and pupils dilating. A moment. Two. He clears his throat, casts his eyes to the other side of the room, “No.”
“What do you mean, ‘no’?”
He squints at a point on the wall above the mantel while he taps his fingers over the instrument, “Oh, I mean no, you want to hear it in hindi?” He tilts his head towards the blond, “Plus, it won’t hold the same meaning if I translate it for you.”
“Harry,” He places his hand over the brunet’s warm, calloused one and rubs his thumb in slow, circular motions on the back of his hand for comfort, “I want you to translate it anyway or – or I will fight you.”
Harry tips his head back and laughs. A boisterous, carefree laugh. It causes a familiar warmth to curl up in his chest. He could hear that sound forever too, “No doubt, no doubt.”
“Indeed,” Draco moves to his side, interlaces his fingers with the brunet’s, rests his head on his shoulder, curls his fingers around his arm and in that moment, his laugh ceases, “now, can you –” He whispers in his softest voice, “can you translate it for me?”
He shifts in place with a soft sigh, lifting his hand to Draco’s hair, carding his fingers through it with a casualness of someone who does it often.
"It starts off with ‘Aayi aaisi raat hai joh, bohot khushnaseeb hai. Chahe jise door se duniya, wo mere qareeb hai. Kitna kuch kehena hai fir bhi hai dil me sawaal kahi. Sapnon mein joh roz kaha hai’, wo firse kahu ya nahi?’”
He trails his fingers over Draco’s back, rubs small circles over it, “It translates to – It’s such a fortunate night for the one whom the world desires from afar are close to me now,” He whispers in a soft voice, “I have so, so much to say to him yet a few doubts linger in my heart. I want to confess to you, the way I do in the dreams I have, yet I’m not sure if I should say it out-loud or not.”
A small knot forms in Draco’s throat. “The verse that follows translates to – In your eyes, is a special kind of grace. With you, my heart soars the way a kite soars in the sky. You’re the wind, my heart is the kite.”
Draco lifts his head from his shoulder at the words “Alongside you, there is a special light and even the moon, in front of that light, your light,” A delicate blush blooms on his cheeks when the brunet’s face inches closer to his own, “is a subtle shadow.”
He stares right into his eyes for a moment. The back of his fingers brush over Draco’s cheek. A moment, “Your gaze pierces my heart and now, the only wish I have –” He turns his head to the side and his eyes flutter close, “is to drown in your eyes.”
“Can you –” Draco pauses mid-sentence, his voice soft and a touch uncertain while he rubs his thumb on the back of his calloused hand, “can you sense it, too?”
Harry turns to face him once more, lifting his brows in confusion, a glint in his eyes that Draco’s hasn’t witnessed before and for a brief moment, he was silent, his mouth simpering, “Sense what?”
Draco raises his hand to his cheek, traces his fingers across the oh-so familiar cheekbone while his eyes flutter shut as his heartbeat quickens once more, “You can’t confess, perhaps or you might not share the same sentiments with me,” He clinks his forehead against his, “yet, if I don’t confess, I might lose you forever.”
“Draco.” He whispers, voice faltering, slightly out of breath. He lifts his own at to clutch Draco’s. A single tear trickles down his cheek. Draco wipes it with his thumb while his heart breaks in his chest.
It’s a vulnerable moment for both of them.
“I’m in love with you,” Draco confesses while his fingers trace the brunet’s jaw, warmth returning in his stomach, “you cause my traitorous heart to beat a bit louder in my chest. You’re the brightest source of light in my life."
He peers right into the beautiful, emerald green eyes, “In your eyes, is a certain kind of grace too. A beautiful grace. Sometimes when our eyes are caught in each other, in our secret moments, the only wish I have, is to drown in them too. Drown in your presence. Drown in you forever.”
Harry leans closer to him, the corners of his mouth curving into a small, small smile as he whispers, “So, drown in my eyes while I drown in yours.”
BRO YOU GOTTA MAKE AN INDIAN SLYTHERIN HARRY HE'D BE THE BEST HARRY IN THE WORLD
BRO I ALREADY GOT A FACE CLAIM LINED UP FOR REFERENCE AND IM ALREADY DRAWING UP SKETCHES. IM GONNA MAKE THIS BITCH BADASS
I give you my final Drarry (older) headcanons! Took me a few days, but I did it! I’m so happy with how these turned out. This is pretty much how I picture Drarry (minus comic style).
Also forgot to mention for Harry: Bump in his nose from when Draco broke it.
Enjoy bonus notes 😂 please don’t repost!
As someone who headcanons Harry Potter to be of Indian descent it pleases me to think that his name is actually Hari, and that Aunt Petunia just Anglicized it because foreigners.
According to the interwebs, ‘Hari’ is a Sanskrit name meaning... Lion.
So yeah. Hari the mixed race savior of the Wizarding World.
This is probably the closest I’ll get to my mental picture of Harry. Nowhere to go but up from here 😂
Now to perfect my Drarry dreams
