also just a heads up that i am completely revamping this account now that i’m back. i was previously siriusslyriddikulus and yes, i will still be posting harry potter related stuff, but now it’ll be alongside my other interests.
i will most likely be posting more harry potter shorts, and i might even try writing for a few other fandoms too.
I just put together a new work on ao3 that has everything Drarry related that I’ve ever written. So, if you’re interested in reading more, follow this link!
The first prompts after a long break are always a bit rough, so please bear with me, anon.
~~~
“Watch out!” Harry cried as he sailed through the air. He had completely lost control of the sled underneath him, and now he was hurdling right at Draco who was putting the finishing touches on a snowman. “Abandon ship!” In a last minute attempt at saving the snowman, Harry rolled off of the sled, knocking Draco over in the process. Unfortunately, the now weightless sled sliced right through the middle of the snowman. It’s head hit the ground with a muffled thud.
“That was a close one,” Harry panted from his spot on the ground. Draco, however, did not seem concerned with the fact that Harry could’ve died.
“You murdered my snowman!” He accused, already sitting up and brushing snow off of his very expensive coat.
“Did not!” Harry argued. “I just gave him a haircut.”
“His head is on the ground.”
Harry sat up and looked at the decapitated snowman. “Well, yes,” he admitted with a guilty look on his face, “but his head was entirely too big to begin with.” Draco shot him a nasty look which only encouraged him. “Like father, like son I suppose,” Harry finished with a shrug.
“Oh, you’re going to pay for that, Potter.” But Harry knew what Draco’s next move would be, and before he could even finish constructing his snowball, Harry was running away to find shelter behind a nearby tree. “Come out, you coward!” Draco called after him.
“Not while you have that lethal weapon in your hands!” Harry stalled for time while he rolled a snowball of his own.
“So The Boy Who Lived is afraid of a little snow, is he?” Draco teased. Harry could hear him getting closer, but now he was ready for him. As soon as Draco was within firing range, Harry jumped out from behind the tree, aimed, and-
The first prompts after a long break are always a bit rough, so please bear with me, anon.
~~~
“Watch out!” Harry cried as he sailed through the air. He had completely lost control of the sled underneath him, and now he was hurdling right at Draco who was putting the finishing touches on a snowman. “Abandon ship!” In a last minute attempt at saving the snowman, Harry rolled off of the sled, knocking Draco over in the process. Unfortunately, the now weightless sled sliced right through the middle of the snowman. It’s head hit the ground with a muffled thud.
“That was a close one,” Harry panted from his spot on the ground. Draco, however, did not seem concerned with the fact that Harry could’ve died.
“You murdered my snowman!” He accused, already sitting up and brushing snow off of his very expensive coat.
“Did not!” Harry argued. “I just gave him a haircut.”
“His head is on the ground.”
Harry sat up and looked at the decapitated snowman. “Well, yes,” he admitted with a guilty look on his face, “but his head was entirely too big to begin with.” Draco shot him a nasty look which only encouraged him. “Like father, like son I suppose,” Harry finished with a shrug.
“Oh, you’re going to pay for that, Potter.” But Harry knew what Draco’s next move would be, and before he could even finish constructing his snowball, Harry was running away to find shelter behind a nearby tree. “Come out, you coward!” Draco called after him.
“Not while you have that lethal weapon in your hands!” Harry stalled for time while he rolled a snowball of his own.
“So The Boy Who Lived is afraid of a little snow, is he?” Draco teased. Harry could hear him getting closer, but now he was ready for him. As soon as Draco was within firing range, Harry jumped out from behind the tree, aimed, and-
A snowball smacked him in the back of the head.
“Hey!” He exclaimed, shaking the snow out of his hair. “No charming the snowballs! Foul play!”
“You knew who you were messing with when you started this war, Potter. I don’t play fair.” Draco mimicked Harry’s “innocent shrug” from earlier, but his hands were empty, giving Harry the perfect opportunity to-
With a snap of Draco’s fingers, a pile of snow fell off a tree branch and onto Harry’s head.
Harry couldn’t even be angry about it because Draco was laughing, his eyes shining with amusement, and Harry loved him like this.
But he still had to get him back.
“That’s it!” He took off running, knocking into Draco with enough force to land them both on the ground again.
“Harry, you’re going to ruin this coat!” Draco said, struggling underneath him.
“Didn’t your dad buy you that?”
“Good point. Carry on.” Draco stopped struggling, and Harry pinned his arms over his head. “Alright, you’ve got me. Now wh-” he cut off as Harry’s lips crashed into his.
Harry took it slow, wanting to memorize every aspect of this moment. The sound of Draco’s breathing, the warmth of his body pressed against Harry’s, the way the snowflakes clung to his already fair lashes, making him look like some kind of snow prince. Harry wanted to memorize it all. He knew this would be one of those moments that they would always look back on.
Eventually he pulled away, and they stayed there for a minute, faces flushed, breaths coming out heavy and uneven.
“I wish we could stay like this forever,” Harry said softly, brushing a strand of Draco’s hair away from his face. It was so peaceful. He definitely was not expecting it when Draco flipped him onto his back before planting another quick kiss on his lips. Then, all too soon, he was standing up, brushing himself off, and offering Harry a hand.
“Nice try, love, but we’re still having dinner with my parents tonight.”
This short story is heavily inspired by Rainbow Rowell’s new book Wayward Son. If you haven’t read it yet, I highly recommend it.
This is a story about depression, so if that is not something you are comfortable with, you should scroll past. There may be a part 2 at some point.
Draco couldn’t shake the feeling that something was very wrong.
The war was over, his parents were both alive (even if his dad was in Azkaban), and he had finally, FINALLY won the boy of his dreams. Everything was right in the world. Everything should feel right. But there was something very, very wrong.
Harry wouldn’t leave their flat. He hardly ever ate, he slept constantly, and he never showed enthusiasm for anything anymore. The worst part was, he’d stopped letting Draco near him. Every time he tried to kiss him, hold him, touch him in any way, Harry just shrugged him off. Draco walked on eggshells every day, always afraid that this would be the day that Harry dumped him for good.
Granger had called it depression.
“Think about it,” she’d said one night as she, Ron, and Draco huddled in the kitchen of his flat, “he never got a chance to fully process everything that he’s been through, everything that he’s lost. It was always about defeating Voldemort. There was no time to comprehend what he was feeling. I think it’s just all catching up with him.”
Draco tried his hardest to understand what she was saying, but depression wasn’t a word he heard very often. Wizards didn’t get depressed, or if they did, everyone pretended like they weren’t. Depression was a muggle illness as far as the wizarding world was concerned. ‘
“He’s the hero of the story, but the story is already over. This is just what happens after,” Ron supplied, though Draco guessed he was putting it in simpler terms more for his own comprehension than anyone else’s.
“The rest of us all had family to help us get through the after effects of the war, but Harry doesn’t have his parents, he doesn’t have Remus, or Tonks, or... Sirius.” Hermione looked pained with every person that she listed. She crossed her arms over her chest, and Draco could tell that she was aching to do something, anything to help Harry. She was the one who always fixed their problems after all.
“What can I do?” he asked her. Her eyes softened as they met his. It was a look that Draco never really thought he’d get used to seeing directed at him.
“Remind him that he still has you. Ron and I will keep reminding him that he still has us and the rest of the Weasleys, but I think he really needs you right now.”
Draco felt a pit growing in his stomach. Hermione obviously hadn’t noticed that Harry wanted nothing to do with him anymore.
“And we’ll all try to convince him to talk to someone. A professional. A therapist,” she added. “Love is strong, love won us the war, but I think it’ll take a bit more than that to fix this.”
That was three hours ago. Draco had spent every minute since Ron and Hermione left researching and learning everything he could about depression, and even though he was nervous, he was finally ready to try.
“You up, love?” he asked, pushing open the door to their bedroom. “I brought you some tea.” There was no response from Harry, so he moved around to the other side of the bed where Harry was laying, covered in a mountain of blankets. He carefully set the coffee mug down on the bedside table before sitting on the edge of the mattress. “Harry?” Draco reached up to pull down the covers enough to see Harry’s face. His eyes were open.
“Go away,” he mumbled. Draco ignored the sting that came with the emptiness in his voice.
“I brought you some tea,” Draco repeated.
“I don’t want it.”
Draco hesitantly reached a hand up to run his fingers through Harry’s messy black hair. Harry didn’t let him get that far before he slapped his hand away.
“God, can’t you take a bloody hint?”
Draco swallowed and stood up, putting some distance between them. “I wanted to talk to you about something. I’ve been feeling concerned about you lately, and I wanted to check in because you seem to be feeling down.” These were all words taken from help sites that Draco had read through. They felt stale coming out of his mouth. They felt like exactly what they were- words from a computer, not from a loving boyfriend.
“What the hell are you on about?” Harry glared at him, and Draco was surprised at how much it comforted him. He was used to getting these looks from Harry from all those years at Hogwarts together. This was familiar territory. This was something he could work with.
“How can I best support you right now?” he tried another line from his research.
“By leaving me alone!” Harry spat. “I don’t even know why you’re still here anymore!”
“I live here.”
“You don’t have to.”
“Are you kicking me out?”
“You should be running Draco!” Now Harry was sitting up, his hair almost as wild as the look in his eyes. “Look at me. I’m a mess. I can’t even find the motivation to get out of bed anymore. I’m pathetic. You don’t have to stay here for this. You can leave. Go find yourself a real hero to fall in love with because that isn’t me anymore.”
“You’re not pathetic. You just need some help. I want to help you. You’re not alone in this.” Draco’s heart was racing a million miles a second. He didn’t even know what he was saying anymore. He probably should just back off, leave him alone, try again another time, but he stayed right where he was.
“I don’t want your help.”
“Too bad.”
“You don’t understand!”
“You’re right! I don’t, but I love you, and I want to help you get through this.”
“We’re done, Draco. You’re free. We’re done.” There it was. The words he’d been dreading for the past month. He thought they would destroy him, but he wouldn’t let himself be destroyed, not when Harry needed him.
“Fine. We’re done. I’m still going to help you.”
“NO!” Harry’s eyes were watering now, and Draco was having trouble seeing through his own tears. “I don’t want you to babysit me, Draco. I want you to be happy.”
“I can’t be happy anywhere without you.” That did it for both of them. The tears broke through and started streaming down both of their cheeks. Draco collapsed onto the bed, unable to stand any longer. He opened his arms and Harry fell into them, and he let Draco hold him as they cried together.
“I’m here,” Draco whispered into Harry’s hair. “I’ll always be here.”
Hi!!!! Can you write a Drarry ficlet where Draco grows out his hair and Harry looses his ever loving mind over it (and eventually snogs him senseless against a wall ;) )
Okay, so I know it’s not exactly what you asked for, but this is what happened when I read your prompt. Maybe there will be a sequel where they snog against a wall?
~
Harry’s legs bounced anxiously as he sat in an abandoned hallway. It had been years since he’d been back at Hogwarts. It had been years since the war had ended in this very school, years since he and his classmates had come back to finish their education, and years since they had graduated, all going their separate ways but still keeping in touch. Ron and Hermione were engaged and both working for the Ministry. Ginny was training to try out for the Holyhead Harpies. Luna had taken over as editor-in-chief of The Quibbler. Neville had become the Herbology professor at Hogwarts during the last school year after Professor Sprout retired.
After graduating from Hogwarts, Harry started to train to become an auror, but he only made it through the first year before he decided he couldn’t take it anymore. It was Hermione who had reminded him of how great he was at teaching Dumbledore’s Army, and it was she who suggested that he study education when he went to University. She and Neville were the reasons that Harry was here now.
Harry met up with Neville at the Three Broomsticks at the beginning of June to celebrate the end of Neville’s first school year as a professor and Harry’s graduation from University. That’s when Neville told him about the job openings for the next school year. Both the positions for Defense Against the Dark Arts professor and Potions professor would be open.
So here Harry sat, waiting to meet with Headmistress McGonagall. He didn’t know why he was so nervous; he knew the interview was a formality. McGonagall had practically told him at his graduation that if he ever wanted to come back to Hogwarts, all he had to do was ask. Maybe it was the being back part and the memories of everything that had happened here that made his hands shake.
He was saved from falling into the pit of memories that he had worked so hard to shut out when he heard the echoing sound of footsteps getting closer. He was not expecting the sight that greeted him when he looked up.
