#summer bingo

[zairaalbereo]

I can’t quite believe we get more Joe and Nicky soon, being awesome and badass and in love. ❤️

[getawayfox]

50 words for @drarrymicrofic prompt Brave, hitting these from my bingo card: First person POV, Outsider POV, Crackfic

I’ve been trapped in Harry’s sock drawer for weeks.

Frankly, it’s insulting. He faced Voldemort with less hesitation.

I’m an engagement ring, not a secret.

Too pretty to be hidden.

I deserve daylight.

Love.

A hand.

At last, the drawer opens.

Light hits my emerald just right.

I sparkle.

Finally.

[hodgepodgebooks]

@drarrymicrofic | 420 words | Summer Bingo prompt: Wet | squares completed: omegaverse, “Good boy”, and Outsider POV

I’ve always been admired — it’s why I’m in a place of great honour and recognition. The current Lady Malfoy runs her slender fingers over me when she passes, telling her ladies about my origins in France, my one-of-a-kind craftsmanship.

When the two men fall onto me, a tangle of limbs and rough hands — nothing like the elegant grace the young Malfoy heir normally displays — I’m aghast.

Fighting, on me? I’ve never.

The dark haired one moans, the sound low and keening. He bares his throat as he’s pressed firmly upon my middle. My cushions depress and I wonder if I’ll ever plump the same as Draco balances his knee on my edge, leaning over his paramour.

Really, discretion is lost on this generation.

“Potter… Harry,” Draco gasps as Harry surges up, latching his mouth on his mating gland.

I jolt my right foot forward, trying to unseat the wayward men. Draco repositions firmly on top of me, knees on either side of Harry to effectively sandwich him between us. Harry’s dripping sweat — an unexpected heat stealing over him — that’s transferring to my lovely silk damascus skin.

I push my pillow out from under Harry — his head snapping back, eyes going wide in shock — but it only exposes his throat for Draco to gnaw on. I buck upward, all legs leaving the floor, cushions ruffling, but other than rubbing Harry and Draco together, I achieve nothing.

“I think your sofa wants us to fuck.” I most certainly do not!

Draco flips Harry, presses his face down into me without a care that he is desecrating a priceless heirloom. Suddenly, I’m being further assaulted by a fifth limb that’s been exposed. A sticky limb.

“So fucking hot. You were made for me. Your scent,” Draco sucks in a harsh breath, “your arse,” his fingers are buried in Harry, “all of you.”

Harry’s leaking all over me, a wet spot on the head of his small limb spreading a thick substance across my pale green silk, ruining me.

“Yes, Draco, please.”

They grunt and groan over me, the liquid leaking from both of them seeping onto me, dripping from my ornate wooden detailing to the floor.

“Good boy.” Harry grunts at the praise as Draco’s teeth embed in his mating gland.

I’m drenched and utterly horrified.

—

Draco smirks every time he passes, while Harry appears sheepish. Try as she might, Lady Malfoy cannot Vanish my shame — the stain imprinted on my middle cushion. She covers my beautiful silk with an undignified throw blanket.

[lqtraintracks]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Explicit  Words: ~850 Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter Characters: some poor schmuck named mcmannis who I made up and who is never getting any Additional Tags: Alpha/Omega, Possessive Sex, Coworkers to Lovers, Auror Partners Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Desk Sex, Anal Sex, Knotting, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Dirty Talk, Name-Calling, POV Harry Potter, POV First Person Summary: Idiot coworkers to idiot alpha/omega fuck buddies. Yearning, what yearning? A/N: For @drarrymicrofic ‘s Summer Bingo! I checked off four boxes: omegaverse, coworkers, Harry POV, and first person. The over-arcing prompt is wet. (Terrible title is terrible!)

[lupine-trees]

lessons in magi-horticulture | no. 1: mind your manners.

[ when all magical woodland weather goes wayside, harry & draco are the unlikely duo sent to deal with it. they try not to get too wet. ☁︎‎‎‧₊˚☔︎︎ || for the @drarrymicrofic prompt: wet || summer bingo - weather event, mystery, unusual jobs, present tense ]

drarry | word count: ~760 | ⋆˙⟡

_ _ _

The Forbidden Forest behaves exactly like every other they’ve investigated.

At the treeline, (one side open field, the wild barley and sawgrass of Hogwarts’ outer grounds; the other, the shaded woodland, wilded and waiting), the temperature drops.

Stepping inside means rain. Not mist, not drizzle— downpour. Hard, heavy, and inexplicably heft from the weather on the opposite side.

Harry slips back into the sunlight, rivulets running down the ridge of his nose, dripping indiscriminately from his curls. He pulls his glasses from his face, dries them on his shirt, itself tucked inside, safe beneath his robes.

He glances up and Draco is stricken by unfiltered green.

“What do you make of it?” Harry asks.

Draco drags his gaze away, tree-ward.

“Hard to say, from this side. Seems rather like the rest of them though.”

He points to the nearest plants, then gestures at the vegetation further in.

“See how the foliage at the edge has grown thicker? Rather like a barrier, don’t you think? While if you look beyond them, rather than dense, they’re tall.”

He turns and finds Harry’s spectacles back where they belong.

He prompts: “What do you suppose that means?”

Harry pauses a moment, eyes flicking back into the depths of the forest, trees and undergrowth all dark and verdant and humming like a harp-string.

“They’re reaching,” he answers.

Draco inclines his chin, approval tugging at his mouth.

“I’d wager. The question, then, is what for?”

“You have a theory, I expect,” Harry says, hands tucking into the damp of his cloak pockets.

Draco huffs, flicking his wand without a sideways look, the, “Exaresco,“ slipping quietly beneath his breath before he goes on:

“A few, actually. Though I’m hesitant to explicate them before I can delve a bit further into the results of the field labs.”

Harry rolls his shoulders appreciatively beneath his newly-dry robes, the feel of Draco’s magic like soft static on his skin, but gratitude doesn’t make him less gauche.

The toe of his boot finds the very edge of the phenomena, traces the exact line where dirt becomes mud.

“Sounds like you don’t have much of a clue at all, then,” he says.

Something temperamental tics in his jaw, juvenile and goading in spite of himself. The things is, there have been rumors. His gaze lifts, gleaming. “Thought Neville taught you better than that.”

Warmth sparks angrily in Draco’s middle, settles at the soft spot behind his ears— finds other reasons to crawl up his throat.

To the first point:

“A bold accusation from a Ministry man reduced to imploring my assistance,” he says, grin lofty and sharp enough to give away the Malfoy of him.

He tempers it, wets his lips. Harry’s eyes drop, a mere moment, to the movement. It’s enough.

“And, for the record—,” the grin sidles back, the shape of it gone something smaller, insinuating, “—Neville is an excellent teacher.”

It’s Harry’s turn to flush, and when Draco steps toward him, closing distance, he falls back one step, two. His heartbeat goes frantic, unhelpful.

“What are you—?”

Draco’s hands find him, fist in the front of his robes, and

shove.

Harry stumbles backwards, and suddenly there’s ivy at his ankles, brambles and knotgrass behind him, below, knocking him from his feet.

The rain slides like a heavy sheet over everything, slaps against the earth and anything between without reticence.

He disentangles himself with effort, entirely inelegant, catching thorns in his palms and along the edge of his cloak for his troubles.

When he manages back through the veil, on hand and knee, soaked through and shivering, the slant of sunshine is almost mocking.

“Malfoy,” he snaps, “what the fuck?”

Draco doesn’t laugh, but he comes very close.

“Terribly sorry,” he says, turning on his heel and striding back toward the castle. He calls over his shoulder, “You see, my teaching methods are rather more unorthodox.”

He rounds, just once more, taking in the sight, wand twirling absently in his fingers. Harry’s scowl sparks a familiar feeling in his chest, and the delight at his fury should perhaps cause more concern. Alas.

He casts the spells in quick succession:

“Expelliarmus,”

& as soon as the wand is free from Harry’s palm:

“Accio.”

The holly snaps to his fingers with a satisfying immediacy.

He doesn’t intend to keep it, of course. In truth, he’ll likely hand it over before they even reach the Headmistress’s office to report.

But in the meantime:

“If you’re so concerned with pedagogy, Potter,” he hums, “I suppose you ought to figure out how to dry yourself.”

⋆˙⟡

[bcxsanson]

[aniimamundi]

For @drarrymicrofic prompt: rebuild

Wc: 217. Filling the summer bingo squares Draco pov, down and out, present tense, rated T

Harry's hands cover his eyes ("It's a surprise!" wide grin, bright eyes). Draco plays along. Because he loves Harry. Though nothing seeps through his dull fog of melancholy these days. Not even Harry.

He smells the earthy, sweet scent of oak and hazel first. Familiar. Comforting. Then the putrid, burnt undertones register. Remnants of dark magic that linger still. Wisps that hover past the destruction, the cleansing fire.

He flinches.

Surely not! Harry is not this cruel. And he can't be this clueless.

He opens his eyes. They're in a wide field. Scorch marks on the grass. Low hills. Distant forest. Fields and trees that were once dear. The Manor is gone. Only heartbreak remains.

"I bought the land back."

Whatever for? Draco stares at him incomprehensibly.

Harry comes closer and holds his hand in both of his. Tenderly. Like it's an easily startled woodland creature.

"We can start to rebuild."

He wants to retort with something cruel. Because what Harry just said is cruel. Whether he realises it or not.

"Potter." It's the only bit of harshness he can manage before he folds at Harry's expression. "Harry...you can't...we can't rebuild the manor. It took hundreds -"

Harry shakes his head. "Not the Manor. I meant a home. We can rebuild a home. Here, if you like."

[mina-m]

𝓢𝓾𝓶𝓶𝓮𝓻 𝓫𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓸 ✨ 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓰𝓮𝓶𝓼 ✨

& Honestly, these clear films are EVERYTHING