My Life In Stolen Memes And HP

I just dump my thoughts about everything here sometimes, but it's mostly Harry Potter. Sometimes other things. Also I have a gif of some geese up top so there's that | He/Him

[cannot-create-username]

Soooo I’m hoping tumblr can pull through on this one, can yall reblog this with your favourite drarry fics?

[theultimateswagon]

Absolutely. Presenting The List™, in no particular order but all worth reading:

The Best of Food

Hey, Potter

Head Over Heels

The Softer Side of Draco Malfoy

Here's the Pencil, Make it Work

The Standard You Walk Past

and my all-time favorite:

All Must Draw Near

[mohkja-blog]

at this rate they’ll never pass their newts (again)

[slitheriyn]

these two losers (affectionate) again

[theultimateswagon]

This is cute but I feel like the roles should be reversed

[kohiandie]

touch starved harry and practiced casualness draco is nailed, taped, stapled, laminated, into my brain.

scene from: 9-1/2 Days by magpie_fngirl!

[amtrax]

the creators struggle of "yes I absolutely made this for myself and I should absolutely appreciate that I made this thing that turned out amazing and be proud of it on that merit alone" vs "man it'd be cool if everyone liked this thing I made as much as I do"

[pukicho]

woke agenda killed my son. They came down and killed him with rocks. They bashed him with rocks.

[karasawr]

Somebody said muggle youtuber AU and I just had to

[quail-in-red]

For @geesenoises, based on her fic about hp wizards playing a muggle-themed dnd campaign

[cibeewastaken]

Years and years and years after the war

[trashcanprince]

🧹🧹

[geesenoises]

DnD: dungeons and draco

for @quail-in-red. this is just further proof that if anybody shows even the slightest interest in one of my dumb jokes, i crumble and perform like a silly jester at once. based on this post i made last year and rediscovered today about hp wizards playing DnD.

Dean didn’t give a lot of details when he invited Harry to his weekly dungeons and dragons game, but the last person Harry expected to see at the table was Draco Malfoy.

“We started a game together when we were, er,” Dean trailed off.

“When we were prisoners in Draco's house!” Luna finished for him brightly.

Malfoy didn’t say anything, just met Harry’s eyes stolidly and then went to fuss with the small pile of papers and cards in front of him.

Harry shared a look with Ron, who was already sitting between Dean and Hermione, and then sighed inwardly and took the last remaining seat between Seamus and Luna. He pulled out the premade character sheet Dean had owled him last week. It was wrinkled from having nearly been lost in a pile of post and then hastily shoved in Harry’s pocket before flooing to Dean’s flat. 

Harry looked around the table. Malfoy’s stack of papers was bigger than anyone else’s, even Hermione’s. And why did he have so many cards? There was a little wooden tray in front of him too. The dice in the tray looked iridescent, catching and reflecting the light. Trust Malfoy to have expensive poncy accessories. Why was he even here? Did he even like DnD? He’d grown up around magic his whole life; what did he need to pretend for?

“And so let’s go around and introduce our characters,” Dean finished. Harry had missed his whole introduction. “Since Draco and Luna have played before, we’ll start with them.”

Malfoy straightened up a little, carefully picking up his character sheet even though it seemed like he was so familiar with it, he didn’t need to reference it. “I’m Mike, a level three call center operator. I’m twenty-three years old, originally from Essex and just moved to London. I played football in uni, but am feeling less fit now that I have a job where I sit all day.”

Luna went next and spoke in a surprisingly deep voice. “My name is Archie, and I’m a level six IT consultant. I’m forty-six years old, originally from Norwich, but I moved to London for uni and never left. I’ve been married to my wife, Evelyn, for twenty years and we have two children and a cocker spaniel named Rosa.”

Harry stared down at the character sheet in front of him. He hadn’t looked at it before grabbing it in his rush to get here on time. It told him he was meant to be playing Grace, a 29 year old paramedic who’d grown up in London and recently broken up with her fiance after finding out he had cheated on her. She had a cat named Pomegranate. Harry didn’t know much about tabletop games, but there had been a group of kids that Dudley’s gang would sometimes target instead of Harry who had played. And what he’d overhead from their games didn’t sound anything like this.

“Hang on, these are just normal people; we’re all humans with muggle jobs. I thought we were playing dungeons and dragons, you know, with magic involved.”

Malfoy glared at him. “Weren’t you paying attention, Potter? Dean just explained the premise of our campaign.”

Harry didn’t want to admit to Malfoy he’d been too busy wondering what his dice were made of. He looked away from Malfoy to Dean. “Er, sorry. I was… distracted.”

Dean sighed but looked more resigned than irritated at having to explain again. “When I started the game with Draco and Luna, they got confused by the magic system because actual magic doesn’t work the way it does in DnD, so I made up a slightly different game we could play. We’re a group of Londoners in a recreational dodgeball league.”

“And honestly, Harry, it doesn’t feel right pretending to be of magical creature heritage for a game,” Hermione added. “Think of what kind of hurtful stereotypes we could fall into.”

“Okay…” Harry said slowly. It still felt strange, but now that he thought about it, he supposed he didn’t need to spend his Thursday evenings pretending to be part of a group camping out and hunting evil. Once per lifetime was enough without having to do it recreationally in the realm of imagination.

Harry smoothed out his character sheet again and introduced the group to Grace.

not sure if there will be more, but we're all shipping mike/grace right?

[lettersbyelise]

seeds of beauty.

Inspired by @trashcanprince's 'Draco has moles' art, which completely rewired my brain. If I only write Draco with freckles and moles from now on, it's entirely that art's fault.

About 800 words of Harry kissing Draco's moles. That's it, that's the ficlet.

AO3 link

Harry blames it on the detention.

Potions was never his favourite class, but brewing potions in Snape’s dungeon as part of a two-hour detention has got to be a particularly cruel kind of torture.

Harry’s so bored his eyes keep wandering over to Malfoy, who’s sitting at the same desk as Harry, his long, pale neck outstretched to peer inside the bubbling cauldron in front of him. He waves his wand every so often above the gently simmering liquid, a muttered incantation on his lips.

The swotty bastard is so focused on his task, he’s not paying any attention to Harry. 

Harry swallows a twinge of annoyance. He’s raking his brain for something to needle Malfoy about—this indifferent, concentrated silence won’t do—when his gaze snags on a spot just above the top of Malfoy’s shirt collar.

There’s a mole there. 

Not even a mole. A freckle. 

A tiny, golden spot on Malfoy’s otherwise unblemished skin.

Harry holds his breath. Counts one, two… five such moles, dotting the back of Malfoy’s neck. There’s another one hiding behind Malfoy’s ear, half-concealed by the hair Malfoy tucks absentmindedly.

Harry holds his breath. He only notices he’s inched closer to Malfoy when he’s practically leaning over Malfoy’s back.

“Do you mind?” hisses Malfoy with a pointy elbow in Harry’s ribs. Harry sucks in a breath.

Holding his side, he meets Malfoy’s eyes over his shoulder. 

“I,” he starts. He places a hand on Malfoy’s arm—gentle, the touch light but firm enough to feel the warmth of Malfoy’s skin through his shirt, the hard muscle. 

Malfoy swallows.

“Can I—?” says Harry, leaning into him. 

“Potter…” Malfoy’s voice is thin and strangled.

“Let me,” says Harry. He nuzzles into Malfoy’s neck and mouths at the freckle.

Malfoy holds very still under Harry’s parted lips. He lets out the tiniest of whimpers as Harry’s tongue darts out to lick. Harry hears the sound through the mad thundering of his pulse in his ears.

Malfoy leans his head to the right, exposing the long column of his throat.

Dimly, as though he’s dreaming, Harry marvels at Malfoy’s unexpected compliance. Malfoy should be hexing him in the balls, not exposing his neck to Harry’s ministrations. Yet somehow it all makes sense, and Malfoy is as pliant, as soft, as a kitten held by the scruff of its neck.

Harry breathes against Malfoy’s skin. His exhale ruffles the downy hair on Malfoy’s nape. Malfoy shivers, gooseflesh breaking across his skin. Harry searches for the next mole—finds it in the soft dip of Malfoy’s neck. He closes his lips around it. Malfoy’s skin is so soft… It smells like something warm, clean, something that makes Harry’s insides feel swirling and tender. 

Harry’s never let himself consciously consider how soft Malfoy’s skin could be. But now that he’s touching him, he knows. He knows just how much he’s considered it. He has considered it a lot, every time he caught Malfoy showering after a Quidditch match, every time he helplessly looked as Malfoy rolled his shirt sleeves to perform a spell in Charms, every time Harry watched Pansy stroke Malfoy’s hair out of his face. 

Malfoy reaches up with a sigh, pulls on the knot of his tie to loosen it. When he undoes the top buttons of his shirt, letting the collar fall open over his collarbones, Harry wraps his hand around Malfoy’s throat with a low whine. Slides his hand underneath Malfoy’s shirt. Touches a raised nipple. Malfoy is leaning back into him now, panting, and Harry pushes Malfoy’s hair aside, kisses the last mole, the one hiding behind Malfoy’s ear.

With a growl, Malfoy turns his head around and captures Harry’s lips in a kiss.

Harry’s hands grip the back of Malfoy’s neck, his shoulders; Malfoy’s fingers thread in Harry’s hair and pull, pressing his whole body into Harry’s, all the long, hard lines of him, and Harry reaches for the remaining buttons on Malfoy’s shirt—

“Potter.”

Harry jolts back with a sharp inhale. Reality rushes back in—the damp, dark dungeon, the acrid, chemical smell of potions, the slow ticking of the clock on Snape’s desk.

Malfoy is glaring at him, sitting ramrod straight two feet away. His tie is done in a perfect Windsor knot, tight against his throat. His hair is unruffled. 

His freckles unkissed.

Harry blinks.

“Merlin, what’s with the heavy breathing all of the sudden? It’s not enough that I’m stuck in detention with you, I can’t even brew my Dizziness Draught in peace.” Malfoy gives his head an irritated shake and turns back to his potion. “Bloody Gryffindors.”

Harry stares back at his cauldron, which now emits an ominous yellow smoke. Most definitely not a successful Dizziness Draught.

Merlin, what was that? Harry’s still catching his breath from the intensity of his daydream.

From the corner of his eye, he sees Malfoy run a hand over his nape. A slow flush is spreading over his pale skin.

His long fingers linger on the freckle behind his ear.

Thank you @sassy-cissa for pre-reading this even when you were tired and sick, and @nv-md for the beta and comments! <3

[theultimateswagon]

oH HELL YEAH

[trashcanprince]

i realised that film draco has moles on his neck, so uh..

here’s harry realising it too

[daddiesdrarryy]

Draco: Wow, this is odd. I’ve never seen you this dressed up before, Potter. Are you going on a date? Who’s the lucky person?

Harry: …

Harry: I forgot to ask you, didn’t I?

[aropride]

i would have played pretend on the playground with all of u btw

[harlequinchaos]

[auroblaze]

Hm? Ian Flynn, the writer that worked on Frontiers, will work on this remaster too, you say?

Flynn? From Frontiers? With those cutscenes between Sonic and Knuckles?

Fascinating... 👀👀👀

[yagamimi-aka-mimi-deactivated20]

[theultimateswagon]

Holy shit Godzilla