#only harry

[hrrycake]

🌿💬🐰 ! ୧: ･✧⁺˳ ･ﾟ ⏱

[childotkw]

If there are more snippets you want to do, PLEASE! go for it! 😂

The head auror latched onto his upper arm, grip like iron as he steered Tom away from the direction of his desk and towards his office. Tom crushed the urge to snarl at the manhandling, reminding himself that murdering his boss was not the most stable of career moves.

Astley shut the door behind them, pointing to the chair in front of his desk in silent demand. Tom swallowed his first, extremely violent, response and stiffly obeyed. He watched with ferocious eyes as Astley rounded the desk and sat across from him.

The man met and held his gaze—a mighty feat, all things considered, and one of the few reasons Tom actually respected him—before releasing a gusty sigh. “Riddle - ” he began, and oh Tom knew that tone well.

His shoulders went as taut as a bowstring ready to snap.

“You’ve got to stop going after Evans.”

Tom opened his mouth, but Astley raised his hand. “No,” the man said firmly, rubbing his forehead. “Merlin’s tits, kid, you’ve got a fucking problem. You’re like a dragon with a bone. I don’t care what history you two have. I don’t care if you once pushed him into a puddle or if he dumped you or if you had a punch up in the Forbidden Forest or whatever it is that makes you pull that face whenever you hear the name ‘Evans’.”

Astley clicked and pointed at Tom’s face, “That look, right there. Cut it out. I know you’re young but you’re not actually five. You’re a professional, I expect you to act like it—and acting like a professional means you have to stop accusing Evans of crimes he hasn’t committed.”

Tom tasted blood from how hard he was biting his tongue.

Astley slumped back in his seat, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re a good auror, Riddle. You’ve got a good eye and you’re frankly the best recruit I’ve ever seen in decades. Your record and skills are the only reason you haven’t been written up for this yet—and because Evans, for whatever reason, seems more amused than annoyed at this circus you keep running.”

Of course he was, the prick. Evans knew.

Astley's face scrunched in consternation. “You need to put a stop to this. He’s an upstanding citizen. He’s the assistant to the undersecretary for Merlin’s sake. No one has ever so much as levelled a complaint against him—no one has said anything negative about him period.”

Tom scoffed, crossing his arms and pinning his stare to the wall. He was well aware that no one had ever said anything negative about Evans. As far as the world was concerned, the man was sunshine incarnate and flowers bloomed because of his smile.

“Listen, kid,” Astley said, his voice lower, less aggravated but still confused. It didn’t matter though, Tom already knew which camp Astley was in, and the patronising nickname did nothing but stir his ire. “Whatever Evans did in the past, you’ve got to let it go.”

“Let it go?” Tom repeated, scornful. He shook his head, standing and moving to the door despite not being dismissed.

As if it were that simple.

[basicallyahedgehog]

The Evolution of Soup (Or, How Harry Learned to be Loved)

Written for @drarrymicrofic prompt "soup." This is clearly not a microfic! This fic grew way beyond what I was expecting, but I love it. TW: Mentions of canon child abuse, mentions of character death, mentions of trauma, unhealthy relationship with food - not an eating disorder but please be careful, chronic illness unspecified. I promise it does get fluffy by the end! Read on AO3

Faint lines of light shone through the grate in the cupboard door as Harry curled in on himself, trying to ignore the pains in his stomach. He hadn’t eaten since that piece of bread at breakfast, the mud he had tracked in after weeding the garden earning him another day without lunch.

He fought valiantly against the tears threatening to spill down his cheeks as he processed the smells coming from the kitchen. His stomach had sunk this morning when he had opened the fridge, but he had thought that maybe Aunt Petunia would go shopping.

Instead, his worst fears had been realised - Aunt Petunia had not gone shopping, and now she was making soup from all the vegetable ends she had left in the fridge. Harry hated soup day, even though he had never tasted soup.

Soup meant it was the last food in the house, and freaks like him weren’t worth wasting it on.

At five, soup meant hunger

Sweat ran into Harry’s eyes before he could wipe his brow, the air in the kitchen thick and cloying. He had been here for hours, chopping and frying and now carefully watching over the soup to ensure it didn’t boil over.

He definitely didn’t want it to boil over.

He gave the pot one final stir before turning off the heat and turning to set the table. He carefully placed three plates exactly in the centre of three placemats, three sets of cutlery placed exactly two inches either side of the plate. As he filled the water jug he dreamed of the apple and hunk of cheese that he had hidden under his cot, wrapped in a dirty napkin from lunch.

He kept dreaming as he served his family, quietly cleaning the kitchen as they ate, providing second and third helpings as demanded. Finally, finally, his Uncle and cousin retreated to watch tonight’s program, and Harry was about to slip away when a light hand fell on his arm.

He turned to see his Aunt holding out a small bowl, half-full of soup. “Eat,” she said, barely audible, eyes darting towards the lounge. “We can’t have you wasting away, people would talk.”

As he ate, Harry almost thought that she had looked concerned for him.

At ten, soup meant slavery and confusion

Harry watched Ron leave, the door banging shut behind him. He knew that his friend meant well, but the thought of eating right now…well, it was just wrong.

How could he, Harry, possibly think that he deserved to go to a feast when Sirius would never eat again? It was Harry’s selfishness that had killed his Godfather, he wouldn’t let it overtake him again.

The room grew ever darker as Harry drifted, unaware of the passage of time. His thoughts were already dark enough; a few shadows in the room weren’t going to make much difference. Harry had long-extinguished the lamps on the walls, the flicker of flame against the wall reminiscent of spell-fire as seen from the corner of one’s eye. There were demons he could not avoid, however. The movement of the curtain became the veil, the wind the whispers of the dead beyond it.

“Your fault, your fault, your fault.”

Harry continued to drift through the darkness, trapped by memories of the veil, of Bellatrix’s cackles, of Voldemort in his body. Gryffindor Tower ceased to exist; it was just Harry and the Hell that was his own mind.

A sudden CRACK had Harry crouched beside his bed, wand in hand. Not even in his mind was he safe.

“Dobby is being sorry, Harry Potter, Sir.” Dobby pulled at his ears, a tray of food floating beside him. “ Dobby didn't mean to scare Harry Potter, Sir.”

Harry forced himself to relax, resisting the urge to throttle the meddling House Elf. He could not, however, bring himself to speak, choosing instead to stare blankly at the creature in the middle of his room.

“The Wheezy is telling Dobby that Harry Potter is not wanting to join the feast. Dobby understands, yes he does. Crowds are too much when one is sad.”

Harry didn’t have the heart to tell the little Elf that he was not sad. Sadness was for the innocent. He had never been innocent, collecting bodies with every year that he lived.

“Harry Potter should eat, oh yes he should.” Dobby floated the tray onto Harry’s bed and then eyed him.

“Mister Sirius would not be wanting Harry Potter to stop eating, Dobby be thinking. Mister Sirius would want Harry Potter to keep living, even though Mister Sirius can’t.”

With that, Dobby spun, disappearing with another loud CRACK, leaving Harry with his thoughts and an unwanted tray of food.

It was only then that Harry took note of what his sense had been trying to tell him for the last five minutes — Dobby had brought him soup. Of course, it was fucking soup.

Sighing, Harry lifted the bowl into his lap, knowing that Dobby would be checking and reporting back to Ron. He loved his friend, really, but sometimes he thought life would be easier if it was just him. No one to care for, no one to lose.

But Sirius could never eat soup again, so he shovelled it into his mouth, not stopping until the bowl was empty.

At fifteen, soup meant penance.

There was a tiny man chiselling at his brain, and an elephant sitting on the rest of his body. It was the only thing that would explain the throbbing in his brain, the weight of his limbs and an ache that reached from the tips of his hair to the ends of his toenails.

That, or his body hated him. But he had already known that.

Groaning, Harry forced himself to reach for the parchment and quill that he had placed on his bedside table for situations such as this and scribbled out a note as quickly as he could without making himself scream in pain.

Flare. Bed. Sorry. H xx

He placed both quill and parchment back on the table, knowing that his owl would deliver it to the right person. Shutting his eyes against the light streaming through the open window, he tried not to think of all of the things that he wished he could have written, if only he had the energy.

I’m sorry that I’m cancelling again. I don’t know why you put up with me. You deserve so much better. I love you. On my next good day, I’ll kidnap you from work and we can spend the whole day at the beach, just the two of us.

Harry was contemplating the pros and cons of a drink of water when he heard his front door open. He supposed that he should be more alarmed, but if he was being invaded, he wouldn’t be able to hold them off for even one second.

Besides, he was pretty sure he wasn’t being invaded. Or at least, not by anyone unwelcome.

Soft footsteps sounded up the hallway, and Harry turned towards the door just in time to see it open.

“Hey, love.” Draco’s voice was soft in a way that it only was on Harry’s worst days. “Bad day today?”

“Mmmff,” said Harry, nuzzling into the hand that was carding through his hair.

“Here,” said Draco, holding out a small vial. “Drink this first.”

Harry downed the pain potion in one swallow before returning his sore head to its place under Draco’s hand.

“‘M sorry.”

“Shhh, love. Never apologise for a bad day,” Draco replied, tucking the blankets tighter around Harry with one hand, even as his other hand continued its soothing motions through Harry’s hair.

Harry’s heart swelled until he thought that it would burst out of his chest. Almost two years, and he still didn’t know what he had done to deserve this man. How he had ever believed that Draco, sweet, giant-hearted, ever-giving Draco, was evil?

“Did you want to try to get up, or do you need more sleep?”

“Sleep?” Harry wasn’t sure what he needed, all he knew was that his headache was easing and his eyelids were heavy and that everything had seemed a thousand times better the second he had heard Draco’s key in the lock.

Draco chuckled, a fond look in his eyes. “You sleep, Darling. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

As he succumbed once more to the ever-present fog at the edges of his brain, Harry felt a feather-light kiss in his hair, followed by another one on his temple. He fell asleep with a smile on his face, hand curling towards the one person who could make everything ok.

The sun was high when Harry woke again. His limbs remained heavy and sore, but his head no longer felt one second away from falling off, so he took his nap as a win. Moving slowly, Harry pushed himself up into a sitting position, shoving pillows behind his back to support his body weight.

Thus situated, he glanced around the room, noticing the lack of clothes on the floor, the fresh jug of water beside his bed, and the vase of flowers on his dresser. Just what had Draco been up to?

As if Harry’s thoughts had summoned him, a blonde head peeked around the edge of the door, a body following as soon as Draco had seen that Harry was awake.

Harry reached for him, drawing Draco into his side. “Decided to clean my house while I was sleeping, huh?”

Draco’s ears pinkened, even as a mischievous twinkle appeared in his eyes. “Well, we can’t have the Gold Boy living in squalor, can we?”

“Hey!” Harry chuckled, half-heartedly swatting his boyfriend.

Draco’s eyes softened. “Feeling better?” he asked, bringing one hand up to card through Harry’s hair.

“Much, thank you,” Harry replied, leaning his head on Draco’s shoulder. “I think just having you here helps.”

Draco hummed, handing Harry a glass of water. “You don’t need to try and cancel our dates every time you have a flare-up, you know. The whole point of going on a date is to see you.”

“But…” Harry trailed off, not knowing how to voice his tumultuous thoughts. Draco grasped Harry’s hand, waiting in silence for him to be ready.

“What if seeing me, like this…what if you decide it’s too much? Or not enough? That I’m not enough, I mean.” Harry ran his free hand over his face, avoiding Draco’s gaze. “Our life will never be spontaneous, Draco. We could spend a year planning a holiday and I could still end up in bed the whole time. My house is a mess half the time because I don’t have the energy to clean it, and I’ll probably never hold down a proper job. I’m just a burden. You deserve so much better, Love. You do so much for me, and I-”

Harry was cut off by a gentle finger on his lips, quickly replaced by what was probably the most tender kiss he had ever experienced. He finally allowed himself to look at Draco and saw only love and adoration shining from his silver eyes.

“Oh, Love,” Draco whispered, gathering Harry into his chest. “You are so much, Darling, but you will never be a burden. I knew what our life would be like that first day I kissed you, Harry, and I want it even more now than I did then. I don’t need clean houses and spontaneous holidays, I just need you. Even if you do smell like you haven’t washed in days.”

Harry chuckled wetly. “Yes, well, yesterday wasn’t good either.” He didn’t need to see Draco’s pointed glare to feel it. “And yes, I will owl you next time.”

“Good,” Draco said, placing kiss after kiss in Harry’s tangled hair. “Now, you are going to eat something, and then we will have a long, warm bath together. Sound good?”

“Perfect.”

Harry burrowed into his nest of pillows as Draco hurried out of the room, off to arrange Merlin knew what for Harry’s lunch. He would never know how he got this lucky, but he thanked Merlin every day for the incredible man that he got to call his boyfriend. Which reminded him —

Harry had just closed the drawer beside his bed when Draco returned to the room, a steaming bowl in each hand. Harry raised his eyebrows. “You made soup?”

“Technically, I flooed Molly and asked her to make your favourite soup. I just added a heating charm when you were ready for it.”

Harry gaped at him. “You brought me a pain potion, cleaned my bedroom, and then willingly flooed to the Burrow to ask Molly to make me soup?”

“One day I will get it through that thick skull of yours that I love you, and that means looking after you when you don’t feel well.”

Harry laughed, grabbing Draco’s hand and kissing it. “I love you too, you sap. Now,” he said, patting the bed next to him, “come and sit.”

“You must be feeling better, you’re getting bossy,” Draco said, dodging Harry’s punch. “Soup?”

“In a minute,” Harry replied, turning to rummage under his pillow. “I wanted to give you something first.”

“Harry, you don’t have to give me any-” Draco cut off as Harry turned back towards him, a small box in his hand.

“Harry,” Draco whispered, his voice trembling. “What?”

“This isn’t really how I had imagined it,” said Harry, smiling ruefully. Reaching for Draco’s hand once more, Harry flicked open the box, revealing the simple platinum band inside, etched with intertwining leaves.

“Draco, Love.” He paused, willing the tears to wait. “I had it all planned out, this perfect picnic in your favourite place. But life isn’t perfect, is it? Life is full of curveballs, and pain, and bad days, but through it all, you have never once complained. Even on my worst days, when I’m angry at the whole world, you can make me smile. You know my demons, and I know yours, and yet you still choose to love me, fiercely and quietly, every day.

“I love you more than I ever thought possible, my darling. I was going to ask you to move in with me, and then I realised that that wouldn’t be enough. So please, Draco, marry me?”

Harry resisted the urge to wipe the tears from his eyes in favour of keeping Draco’s hand grasped firmly in his as he searched his boyfriend’s face. Suddenly, his hand was empty, but he had no time to feel bereft before he had a whole armful of Draco.

“Yes,” Draco gasped, kissing Harry’s cheek. “Yes.” The other. “Yes.” His lips, firm and unrelenting, pressed against Harry’s as one arm snaked around Harry’s back, the other already tangled in his hair.

“Oh Merlin, you utter nutter, I can’t believe you just proposed in your bed, during the worst flareup you’ve had in months.” Draco laughed a little hysterically. “Only you, my Love. Only you.”

Harry just grinned, slipping the ring onto Draco’s finger. “So is that just a yes to getting married, or will you move in, too?”

“Only if you eat your soup,” Draco replied, holding Harry tightly against him.

The soup went cold and unnoticed beside the bed.

At twenty, soup meant family, and home, and love.

[jmnkitty]

BLUE ICONS + HARRY AND TAYLOR

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[jugheadsstuff]

justin bieber hat + harry styles layouts

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[flower-feast]

ooi, não sei se você atende a pedidos, mas tens alguma header pra esse icon do harry?

[louufetus]

harry layouts (꜆˶ᵔᵕᵔ˶)꜆

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