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harry potter/draco malfoy, in before the end of pride month
also @chiquita-3
iām delighted you asked! š„° this one is my absolute favorite atm (tho tragically stalled due to fest obligations). hereās a snip!
The goods are kept in a false-bottom drawer of his trunk. A Notice Me Not charm is weaved around it subtly enough to pass the detection by Auror search spells. Draco takes stock during lunch break, when thereās no one in the dorms. There are three baggies of weed in the stash: one Cuban, reserved by some Ravenclaws, and two Algerian, as yet unsold. Itās decent stuff. Draco makes sure to sample the goods before selling, so he can give accurate recommendations. Cuban goes in smoothly, with gorgeous smell and taste, but makes one restless and irritable, and has a rough comedown; not his favorite. Algerian has a thick odor and burns the throat like spicy food, but itās very sweet and mellow afterwards and puts one down gently. Between the two, Draco would definitely choose the latter. But for Potterāand he still canāt quite believe it, though thereās nothing too strange about it, only that he hadnāt dare hopeāfor Potter, nothing but the very best would do.
After rummaging through the wares, Draco puts down an order for a full batch of Sicilian Gold. His absolute favorite, honey-scented and sweet on the tongue, it has never once made him cough; and it stirs such a complex bouquet of emotion: a dash of nostalgia and a pinch of melancholy with a generous serving of hope and something akin to love. A full batch holds ten baggies. One heād take for himself.
He scribbles a few other requisitions: amortentia, veritaserum, dreamless sleepāalways in high demandāgin, vodka, ecstasy, and for himself, a six-pack of lemon-flavored Muggle butterbear. Almost 50 galleons, altogether. But heāll make thrice as much.
The order and the money go into the bottom drawer of his trunk: the one heās enchanted as a vanishing cabinet. Usually it takes no more than a few hours for the supplies to come through, shrunken to 1/8 scale by the charm heās installed on the other end. But this time he added an āUrgent!ā to the foot of the order, just to be sure.
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thank you so much for asking! 🥰
return to sender is going to be an epistolary where harry and draco start corresponding through some two-way notebook kind of thing, either in 6th year or immediately post-war, pretending they’re someone else (someone they want to be), and falling in love like that. it’s been a while since i outlined it (kinda), and i’ve since read several fics that do something similar, but the itch has not been scratched, so there’s hope!
as for the anomaly, i posted a bit from it here 😊
so glad you asked, friend! ❤️ this is my favorite wip atm. here’s how it starts!
Everyone agrees the expedition is cursed.
On the first day, Investigator Wallace steps on a loose stone at the edge of the Anomaly and her arm sinks into it all the way to the shoulder. She uses one of the emergency portkeys to St. Mungo’s and none of them sees her ever again.
On the second day, the thestral pulling the wagon mysteriously bloats till its belly is thrice the normal size. At least, that’s what Lovegood and Potter report, as no one else is able to see the beast. Huffing and puffing against the interference from the Anomaly, and relying on Potter’s assistance to aim, Flitwick manages to vanish the gas from the poor thing’s guts. But they must leave it behind to rest and recover—which in turn leaves them with wagon-full of supplies and instruments they must now haul on their backs.
On the third day, Assistant Investigator Knightly drops the pensieve on the way to the tents, spilling all the memories stored within and breaking nine bones in his left foot. That’s another emergency portkey to St. Mungo’s.
On the fourth day, the student tent catches fire. Practically reduced to Muggles by the Anomaly, there’s nothing they can do about it other than stand and watch. No one’s hurt. But their sleeping arrangements suffer:
Bones and Lovegood, being girls, are assigned to Investigator Ray’s tent.
Draco and Potter, being boys, are assigned to Flitwick’s. And there’s only one spare bed.
(“there was only one bed” would’ve been the more honest title)
ahh, thank you so much for taking an interest! ❤️ it’s pretty much what it says on the label! here’s the beginning of it, if you don’t mind some first draft material:
Draco blinks, blinded by white light. It’s coming from everywhere, from nowhere. He’s on… a train station? Yes, it’s King’s Cross, in Muggle London. How did he get here? The last thing he remembers—
“Draco?”
Startled, Draco spins. The figure approaching him is blurry, because the light is coming from behind it, or from inside it. Still, Draco would know that figure, and that voice, anywhere.
“P-Potter?” he stammers, shielding his eyes. “What is this? Where are we?”
Potter solidifies. For once, he’s pristine. Cleanly shaved, neatly combed, his glasses gleaming, his clothes new and freshly pressed. But the thing that frightens Draco the most is the shocked terror on Potter’s face.
“Draco,” he repeats, his brows gathering as if he’s about to cry. “No.”
Draco steps back. “Are you real?”
“Yes.” Potter shakes his head. “No. I don’t know. But why are you here? You’re not supposed to be here.” His voice is on the verge of breaking. “I saved you.”
“You’re not making any sense, Potter. Don’t come any closer,” Draco adds when Potter moves towards him again.
Potter hangs his head and pushes his fingers under his glasses. “Christ. Jesus fucking Christ.” Then, “What’s the last thing you remember?”
Draco draws breath to answer—what a silly question—then realizes it’s not silly at all. “I… was headed down the… Grand Staircase,” he recounts as reluctant recollections line up in his mind’s eye. “But Nagini barred my way. I turned around—there was a witch in black, and—green light—”
Suddenly it’s hard to breathe. Draco pulls at the collar of his shirt, it’s choking him, his fingers too clumsy to undo the buttons. Potter mirrors his movements, clutching at his own chest.
“I’m dead, aren’t I?” Draco whimpers. He can’t get enough air. “I’m dead?”
“Yeah,” Potter says, sending Draco further down the spiral of panic.
But then it abruptly stops.
“Wait,” Draco says. “Why are you here?”
“I’m dead too.”
“No,” Draco whispers. It’s a greater shock than he could ever have imagined. Worse even than the news of his own death. “No, I don’t believe it.” And now he’s the one sounding about to cry.
¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Many thanks to @chiquita-3, @faiell, @chocolando and @mourningliliesmorningglories for tagging me! ❤️ See their intriguing WIP titles here, here, here and here!
rules: make a new post with the names of all the files in your wip folder, regardless of how non descriptive or ridiculous. let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have wips.
i, uh, have way too many files in my wip folder to reasonably list them all (would have to tag half of tumblr too), so i’ll be curating.
- Draco Malfoy and the Mirror of Erised, 1996
- Came back right (asked & answered)
- Harry Potter and the weed (asked & answered)
- The anomaly (asked & answered)
- A bit of a scare
- Return to sender (asked & answered)
- Plush
(all of these are drarry. i shared excerpts for some of them here)
(edit: links to answered asks)
no pressure tagging: @s0lifuge, @jupitersbetrayal, @garagepaperback, @slytherholic, @cavendishbutterfly @thisbloodycat @sleepstxtic and anyone who wants to play! ❤️
Harry Potter needs a hug. And he gets it. He gets all the hugs.
Hogwarts era Harry-is-a-Slytherin teeth-rotting Drarry sweetness with a possibility of hurt/comfort in future chapters. Itās a WIP, but with standalone chapters, like oneshots in a series, so enter with no fear of cliffhangers! It begins at the end of 3rd year.
Read on AO3
art by me! š
(show lines from the middle of 10 fics or wips & tag 10 people)
many thanks to @smugrobotics, @mourningliliesmorningglories, @slightweasel and @chocolando for tagging me! ❤️ treat yourself to samples of their wonderful work here, here, here and here!
all of mine are drarry ⚡🐍
the first five are posted, the other five are WIPs
please pardon my ever-expanding definition of “line” 😅
Any time, Potter [G, 3.5k]
It was a very small smile. So small that anyone else would’ve missed it. Confused too, pushing against an equally slight frown. But it was there, and it was enough to keep Draco seated a few heartbeats longer.
The Bubo [M, 35k]
Moving carefully behind his cover, Draco soon found himself within arm’s reach of Potter, who still clung to his Firebolt and looked dazed. Flushed from the exertion, with hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, a smoke stain over one cheek and a fresh cut on the other, he was the picture of a warrior returning from battle.
Draco wanted to lick him. Taste the salt and blood and victory.
Just a little liquid luck [E, 5.5k]
“Close, as in, I could be done in a minute, or close, as in, hanging by my fingernails?” Not that it’s a particularly significant distinction, but Draco has never heard so many words come out of Potter in a single conversation, and he wants to see how many more he can coax.
“Any. Both.” He speaks softly. So softly. “Tell me how close you are.”
“So you can beat me to it, Potter?”
The good ones are the worst [T, 0.5k]
“Jesus,” Potter hisses as Draco’s freezing feet find bare, warm skin.
“My hands are worse.” To prove it, Draco lays his icy palm over Potter’s tear-streaked cheek, then slides it down to his throat. Potter covers Draco’s hand with his own, dry and hot and bold. His pulse races like a little bird’s.
more than i can say [E, 11k]
Draco looks at Potter’s upturned face. It seems rounder, somehow, without the glasses: the scruffy kid who charmed Draco at Madam Malkin’s when they were eleven still discernible in the softness of his cheekbones. There’s a bit of snot under his nose and a bit dried froth around the corners of his mouth. His eyes are larger than ever, rimmed red, with long eyelashes sticking to one another in wet clumps. Draco has never seen anything closer to perfection.
The Yule Ball [G, 10k, wip for Spring Forward, Fall Back]
Malfoy lifted an arm straight up and spun under it, as if holding onto an invisible rope. His head lolled back, far enough for his hair to spill from his forehead like a sheet of rain, and for his pale neck to stretch in a long curve.
Harry didn’t know where to look. Every part of Malfoy’s body was in motion. And there was something… unsettling about it. Something indecent, something adult, something Harry wasn’t ready for.
provisional title: Harry and the weed [E, ???]
“That’s it, faggot,” he whispers coarsely when Draco manages to open his throat. “That’s all you’re good for, isn’t it? Fucking Death Eater trash.” And so on, and so forth. It never goes beyond words, not with Sallow. Unlike his sister, he doesn’t have the guts for physical violence. Hesitation trembles in his hands as he holds the back of Draco’s head, thrusting shallowly, gently. When Draco chokes, Sallow lets go at once.
It gets quite a bit rougher with others.
A bit of a scare [?, ???]
“No—I have to tell you—”
“Now now.”
“But I—”
“Potter.” Draco squeezes Potter’s wrist harder.
The insolence in Potter’s eyes, barely kept in check by decades of maturity and Draco’s authority as a healer, reminds Draco so vividly of their school days that his own heart stutters. “You’re alright,” he repeats. “There’s time. Right now, you need to rest. No excitement. Understand?”
Draco Malfoy and the Mirror of Erised, 1996 [T, ???]
Memories he has not visited in years crash into him like a towering wave. The mirror and what he saw in it—how he fell ill with shock—how he went back a week later for another look despite it, only to find the room empty.
Shakily, he stands, his wand at the ready. This room, this bloody room, it always listens, always watches. He feels its unscrupulous gaze like cold fingers on the nape of his neck. The three-legged desk—it’s made for children, half the normal size, and he’s sure it’s no accident. He’ll have to get down on all fours and possibly crawl on his belly to get through to the mirror. Fitting, for a worm.
title TBD [M, ???, wip for Spring Forward, Fall Back]
“You know I grew up with Muggles, right.”
“Everyone knows everything about you, Potter, whether they wish it or not.”
“Right. So. That’s why I don’t know if er… is it… normal, in the wizarding world, for two boys to be dancing?”
“There’s wizarding world,” said Malfoy cryptically, “and then there are worlds within worlds within it. In this school,” he said, “I doubt anyone would bat an eye at it. But on a ball hosted by my parents, you’d sooner find me dancing with a raging acromantula.”
“Is that why you were so upset about that thing Saemus said? Because your parents wouldn’t approve?”
“Approve?” Malfoy laughed. “Let’s put it this way, Potter. If your favorite reporter snaps a picture of us and my father sees it, they’ll never find my body.”
tagging: anyone who wants to play! and @s0lifuge, @letteredlettered, @fastbrother, @bewarethesmirk, @phoebe-delia, @moonflower-rose, @arcanumancy, @ghostofnoir, @epitomereally, @thehoneybeet ❤️❤️❤️
Many thanks to @s0lifuge and @starquestingfordrarry for tagging me! 💕 See their first lines here and here!
Rules: share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. If you have written less than ten, don’t be shy and share anyway!
- The hands of the grandfather clock on the other end of the deserted common room hadn’t moved since the last time Draco checked, though he could swear it had been minutes.
- from Any time, Potter - Draco drew the barbs of his crow-feather quill back and forth over his lips.
- from The Bubo - Draco hesitates in front of Potter’s door.
- from Just a little liquid luck - They don’t know how to act around one another, now that their old lives hang in tatters. But they know they have to be around one another.
- from The good ones are the worst - “Mmh,” says Harry, hugging the large pillow tighter. Muscles dance under the dark skin of his back like moonlit ripples over calm water.
- from Spicetober 2024 - “Professor Moody!” In the sudden silence, all eyes turned to Professor McGonagall. She pushed past the crowd. “Is that… a student?”
- from A Ferret’s Sensibility - Harry sensed trouble the moment the telephone rang.
- from Telephone and Post - “You slimy bastard.”
Startled from a deep reverie, Draco almost drops his book.
- from more than i can say - One hallway, two spiral staircases, three turns, and they were lost.
- from Draco Malfoy and the Mirror of Erised - By the time they reached Madam Malkin’s, Draco was exhausted.
- from Bruised
tagging: you! yes, you! please come play with us? 💕 and also: @slightweasel @holygnocchi @chocolando @izroan-ff @smugrobotics @mourningliliesmorningglories @lizziedrip @fastbrother @teacup-tai @erin-orolin 💕
many thanks to @smugrobotics and @mourningliliesmorningglories for tagging me! 🥰
3 ships I like: drarry, scorbus, sebinis
First ship: Saren/Nihlus from Mass Effect 💔
Last song heard: The Nightingale from The Witcher 3 soundtrack
Fave childhood book: Winnetou 🥹
Currently reading: HP & the OotP, Difficult Loves by Calvino, 77 Dream Songs by Berryman, and The Rise and Fall of DODO by Stephenson
Currently watching: Fellow Travelers (for those who saw this same answer three months ago: yes, still. i am very slow)
Currently consuming: chamomile tea with milk, the ultimate evening drink 👌✨
Currently craving: 30 hour days, please?
Pets: a teenaged tuxedo cat aptly named Silly
who’s up for playing? @slightweasel @holygnocchi @chocolando @izroan-ff @lizziedrip