After a particularly brutal summer that leaves him questioning everything he's ever believed, Draco decides to throw the ultimate tantrum: he’s going to work against his father and the Dark Lord, just to spite them. But what starts as a reckless act of defiance quickly spirals out of control. Before he knows it, Draco is leading a secret resistance group—the Order of the Serpent—with his Slytherin friends, all while trying to keep up appearances as the perfect Death Eater Malfoy heir.
OR
The one where Draco Malfoy throws a tantrum, accidentally starts a resistance movement against Voldemort, and falls in love with Harry Potter along the way.
Thank you for tagging me @virtuallola — No pressure tag to @lexi-leckstar and @coppercatbird
This is a snippet from chapter 14 of my current wip The Order of the Serpent (aka the chapter we’ve been waiting on for months and still isn’t completed 🙈)
Draco had always loved Quidditch. Ever since he was old enough to grip a broom, he’d lived for the rush of it. He loved the speed, the precision, the pride of the green and silver crest on his chest. But standing there, surrounded by his roaring House, he realized he couldn’t bring himself to care about the victory at all.
Draco had never been less interested in Quidditch than he was now. He was becoming rapidly, helplessly obsessed with the absolutely miserable expression on Potter’s face. Because while the others sang and laughed and celebrated him and his team, all Draco could see was Potter.
Potter, with that miserable, shuttered look in his eyes. Potter, who hadn’t spoken to him in weeks. Potter, who looked like he’d just lost far more than a game.
Their eyes met for the briefest of moments across the pitch. Just a flicker, but it was enough. Something in Draco’s stomach turned over. That was it. He couldn’t sit still anymore. He didn’t even care that his housemates were still celebrating or that the banners were still waving above his head. He had to do something.
And, luckily, he already knew exactly what.
The idea had come to him a few weeks ago, because of the Weasley twins, of all people.
Everyone had been at dinner when the first firework went off in the middle of the Great Hall. The explosion and blast of red and gold sparks scattering across the enchanted ceiling had startled everyone. Before anyone could recover, more followed. The air filled with crackling light and thunderous bursts of bright colour. Students screamed, laughed and applauded, while some ducked under the tables, others craned their necks to watch the chaos unfold.
Naturally, Draco’s eyes had wandered to the Gryffindor table. They landed instantly on a familiar black mess of hair. Potter was staring up at the enchanted ceiling, the fireworks painting a river of colours across his glasses. And then, just as another burst of light exploded overhead, Potter turned his head and their eyes met.
For a breathless, impossible second, the whole hall seemed to fall away.
It was like the moment stretched, time slowing, until it felt as though the whole world had stopped breathing. The Great Hall, the noise, the laughter, the chaos of fireworks exploding above them… all of it fell away.
All Draco saw was Potter. The bright colours framed him in a halo of shifting light. The reds and golds glinting against his glasses, sparks catching in his hair. And that smile... The kind of smile that used the whole face, that pulled at the corners of the eyes and deepened the dimples in his cheeks. The kind that couldn’t possibly be faked.
Draco thought it was beautiful. There were so many more adjectives he could have used: breathtaking, incandescent, impossible. But beautiful felt truer than all of them. It was simple, and it was devastating.
But then, just as suddenly as it'd started, the moment broke.
Potter blinked, as if abruptly remembering everything that had happened between them. The smile vanished so quickly it hurt to watch, and Draco could swear the room felt a little less bright without it. All of a sudden, the fireworks seemed duller and quieter.
For one aching heartbeat, Potter’s eyes lingered on him, carrying that same bruised kind of hurt that had Draco feeling uneasy for weeks now. Then he turned away and rejoined his friends, the light gone completely.
Harry quickened his steps through the dark, empty corridors, a bitter pang of disappointment settling on his tongue.
“Potter, wait!”
Draco’s long legs caught up with him in seconds. “What’s wrong with you?”
Harry spun on him, eyes blazing.
“Really, Draco? Is the mere thought of kissing me so horrifying you’d rather take a forfeit—an utterly humiliating one, at that?”
“What?” Draco said, taken aback. “No, I just—”
“Then why didn’t you—”
“Not like that!” Draco blurted, surprising Harry into silence.
“I do want to kiss you,” he went on, softer now, “just not like that—not as a bet or a party game. You deserve better than that…”
He trailed off. Harry noticed the moonlight spilling through tall windows, the empty corridor, the held breath of silence.
“Something more like…” He murmured, eyes fixed on Harry’s lips.
Then he closed the distance in one decisive motion, pulling Harry closer. Their lips collided hard. Draco’s long fingers tangled in Harry’s hair, angling his head up until Harry opened willingly.
When they broke apart, both of them were out of breath. Draco rested their forheids together.
“That was…” Harry breathed.
“Yeah,” Draco said, dazed. “Long overdue, wouldn't you agree?”
Written for @drarrymicrofic Prompt: Overdue & Bet [200 words]
I’m turning this microfic into a longer fic on ao3. It’s pretty much finished, just needs some touching up. I’ll be updating every day or two so I don’t get overwhelmed lol.
For anyone interested, you can read it here! (It’s pretty dark, so please be mindfull of the tags).
Huge thank you to @lexi-leckstar for suggesting I make this into a longer fic! This fic literally wouldn’t exist without you, and I hope you enjoy it!!!
Also, @drarrymicrofic for hosting this amazing challenge (weekly no less!). Your passion for these two idiots keeps the community alive!
13th December 2025 || @drarrymicrofic || The Wheel of Drarry 2025
for : @thelionsstarwriter || prompt : "dream" || word count : 312
‘It does not do well to dwell on dreams and forget to live.’
But dusk breathes his name.
It offers a life so achingly distant.
I immerse myself in dwelling.
He is We are just a dream.
A foolish indulgence in hidden fantasy.
Concealed desire for the unobtainable.
It does not do well to dwell,
To nurture futile wishes
To cater in vain to idle hope.
It is a secret, unspoken.
That the shattered fragments
I use, to piece together dreams,
Are in your shades of grey.
Draco’s fingertips traced the verses as he read, cherishing each line. Shutting his eyes, a 19-year-old Harry Potter sat before him. Sincere, determined, and robust as ever. But his stare, so intensely green, burned into Draco as it always had done.
He understood, now, what burned- the wistfulness, the yearning, the hunger. Barely distinguishable from his own adolescent pining.
“You were rather dramatic at nineteen, weren’t you?”
A mess of dark hair emerged from beneath the duvet, and bright green eyes. They gazed fondly at Draco, squinting in the absence of their notorious glasses. Despite their years together, he was always rendered speechless by Harry.
“Sure, but you’ve been dramatic since conception, so don’t bother trying to make fun.”
Draco shot a smirk towards his partner and ran his fingers through the inky tresses.
“That’s fairly accurate,” He placed a kiss beside the lightning scar, “I like it. You should write another one since you aren’t so lovesick anymore.”
Throwing a muscular arm over Draco’s waist, Harry tugged him further into the sheets, burying his burning face into the dip above his collarbone.
“Reckon I’ve exposed enough of myself for today at least.”
Draco tossed the piece of parchment to the bedside and slid his hand to Harry’s lower back, a coy smile creeping onto his face.
“Not nearly enough, darling, you’re still preposterously overdressed.”
I really hope that you like it! This will be the first thing I've posted on Ao3 which is fun <3 I loved this prompt
Written for @megreads99 as a part of the @drarrymicrofic 🎡Wheel-of-drarry Christmas microfic exchange [500 words] | Rating: E
Prompt: Saccharine — Song: A Sunday Kind of Love by Etta James 🎶 — Also on ao3
Merry Christmas Meg, I hope you enjoy! ❄️🩵
Monday
Harry steps into the packed Ministry lift. The doors rattle shut before a hand forces them open again.
Malfoy slips inside, gaze locking onto Harry. “Good morning,” he says, flashing a saccharine smile, a stark contrast to last night.
Harry bites his lower lip, irritation simmering beneath his skin.
Tuesday
“Dad, look what we got!” Albus announces, lifting an enormous bag of sweets.
“That looks delicious,” Harry says, smiling at them. “Who gave you those?”
“Mister Malfoy was at Andy's” Jamie answers proudly. “We call him the sweet-man.”
Harry forces a thin, bitter smile, "I'm sure he enjoys that."
Wednesday
Harry raises his hand to knock when Narcissa’s door swings open.
“Goodbye, sweetheart.” She kisses Malfoy’s cheek, then notices Harry. “Oh, hello darling, you’re early.”
Malfoy brushes past, eyes lingering with sweet venom. "Hello darling."
Harry clutches the expensive wine tighter in his hands, heat crawling up his spine.
Thursday
Interviewing an elderly witch after a robbery, Harry tries to comfort her.
“Thankfully, you’ve got excellent magical insurance,” he says.
She nods. “Oh yes, the young man who sold it to me was sweet as sugar. Do you know him?”
Harry grits his teeth. “Yes. Unfortunately for me.”
Malfoy.
Friday
Harry sits at his usual table, waiting for lunch, when a plate appears before him.
“I didn’t order this.”
“It’s from him,” the server says, nodding toward the door. Malfoy’s grin is wicked before he slips away.
A card rests beside the treacle tart:
A sweet for my sweet.
Saturday
Hermione nudges Harry. “Isn’t that the sweetest thing?”
Malfoy has both Scorpius and Albus slung over his shoulders, spinning them in triumphant circles after their little-league Quidditch match. The boys shriek with laughter.
Harry’s heart lurches traitorously, warmth blooming where irritation should be.
He looks away repressing a smile.
Sunday
Malfoy barely clears the Floo before Harry’s on him, shoving him hard into the sitting room wall.
“You’ve driven me mad all week,” he growls, dragging Malfoy down into a desperate, furious kiss.
Malfoy’s answering laugh is breathless. “I’ve been perfectly sweet.”
Harry crowds closer, thigh pressing between Malfoy’s legs, swallowing the soft sound that escapes him.
“Saccharine,” Harry says against his mouth.
“You’d rather I be mean?” Malfoy murmurs, fingers curling in Harry’s hair, tugging sharply. Harry’s answering moan is embarrassingly high, heat sparking low and wild.
“At least then it’s real,” he hisses. “Nothing about you is sweet.”
Malfoy grins, wicked and triumphant.
“Nothing?”
He pushes Harry onto the sofa, kneeling between his legs with deliberate slowness. Harry’s breath stutters as Malfoy unzips his trousers, freeing his cock with deft fingers.
“Are you sure?” Malfoy asks, licking a maddeningly slow line up Harry’s length. “I’m certain some part of me can be sweet.”
Harry tries to retort, but Malfoy’s mouth closes around him, hot and relentless. The words dissolve instantly. “Oh—God—Draco—” Harry’s head falls back, overwhelming pleasure winding through him tightly.
“So—so sweet,” he gasps, finally surrendering to the truth he’s fought all week.
“I’d fuck Potter, marry Potter, then fuck him again before we inevitably kill each other.”
Harry gasped.
He’d snuck into the Slytherin common room, expecting schemes, not Malfoy’s voice echoing through a circle of eighth-years playing some party game. He absolutely wasn’t prepared for such filthy yet intriguing words tonight.
*
“Fuck, marry, kill: Potter, Weasley, Longbottom.”
Draco smirked, satisfied, when a small gasp sounded behind him at his answer. He could practically feel Potter hovering under his cloak.
“Of course you’d say that,” Pansy teased, “you’ve been in love with him for eight years.”
Another gasp. Draco's smirk dropped instantly.
Written for @drarrymicrofic Prompt: Eavesdrop [2x 50 words]
Harry's greatest mistake wasn't loving Draco Malfoy, it was giving up on him. Now, in the aftermath, he sits with a broken man, trying to piece him back together. It's a hopeless task… or is it?
