Popofsy - ☁️

being ellie’s doll(y) core ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

@clearheartgreyflowers for our joint brain rot !!

YES HELLO WATCH THIS #drarryasf “ib/ac: argentistic”

Soulbands

Draco’s soulband had appeared overnight when he was almost two months old, his mother always said. That when she came to wake him up in the morning he had a red ring in the middle of his right pinky. Somehow Draco doubted that. Besides, the red is so dark it might as well be black, the enemy band. It was clear his mother had worried about that too. She’d gotten it examined when he was home from school in first year. It didn’t help that visible before bonding soulbands were rare, and generally, a way to show how pureblood one was. Changing soulbands were even rarer and Draco wasn’t happy about it. 

People so full of freckles not knowing which one was the mark for their soul mark, people with no marks at all. People with only one mark considering themselves incredibly happy. Pureblood people who are full of freckles, like the Weasleys but also have visible soulbands and being equally happy about it. 

When Draco came back from Christmas in second year he saw Harry Potter’s pinky for the first time in a long while. There was a band there, the colour identical to Draco’s. He was sure there were several people with soulbands around their pinkies but Draco knew.

He told his mother about his theory but she said it was impossible since they both were males. His father kindly reminding her of the existence of queer people. 

His father had not approved either, but accepting it and approving it are different things. 

They’d had a long talk about that he still needed to produce an heir, no matter soulmate. His mother, however, looked at him like she’d failed, she made it very clear that she still loved him but also made it clear that producing a queer heir wasn’t what she intended.

They didn’t tell Voldemort about Draco’s afflictions towards Harry Potter.

Harry dated Cho and Ginny knowing they weren’t his soulmate. Draco couldn’t sleep.

Harry cursed him, Draco had to stay in the hospital wing for a week, the scars were irreversible and had joined his dark mark in permanent things on his body he hadn’t asked for. They were comforting though, however, his soulband had gone black. 

Draco hadn’t realised he’d fallen in love. And nobody had cared to tell him either. But easter 1998 had rolled around and Draco couldn’t give them Harry’s identity.  He had to but he couldn’t. Harry Potter was a name he said often. But he found that he couldn’t. Because if Harry died, something in him would die too.

He’d looked at Harry’s hand, looked at his left pinky, the band there, black with tints of red. He almost cried. 

The torture he endured from Voldemort afterwards was worth it. 

Draco had clung to Harry’s body on the broom, he’d cried, he was overwhelmed, tired, held himself together with the string of fate that was between him and Harry. In the last days, his band had started spotting clear reds. 

His mother didn’t give him up, knowing the depression her beloved son would be put it. 

Draco threw him his wand, Harry Potter couldn’t die.

In the summer of 2000, they were both at a midsummer celebration at Luna’s place. It was the first time they’d seen each other after Draco’s trial. The rest of the company was outside, Draco sat on the spiral staircase, staring out into space. Harry had sat down next to him, hugging his knees.

“I know,” he’d said and Draco had been confused. “What?” Harry had shrugged, “we’re soulmates aren’t we?” Suddenly Draco couldn’t breathe, he knew, “I think so, yeah,” Draco had laughed sadly, studying Harry’s face. Harry, the gentleman, held out his pinky and Draco hooked his own around Harry’s. They glowed for what seemed like forever before they finally settled down with a bright red. 

Harry didn’t let go but let their pinkies stay hooked. “How long have you known?” he asked, Draco shrugged, “since winter in second year,” Harry, now wide-eyed looked down at their fingers linked together and up at Draco again. “Why didn’t you say anything,” Draco retreated his pinky and looked out the window, “you’d hate me more,” after a beat of silence he continued, “Do you want to know the hardest thing about having a soulmate and knowing who they are? It’s not the separation in the beginning, not the endless nights lying awake, hoping and praying that someone was made for you. It’s… it’s the love. It’s too strong, and you can’t fight it. I’ve tried. Believe me, I’ve tried… but I’m always going to love you. And I need you to know that.” He stood, walked down to the bottom of the stairs before turning around, Harry hadn’t said anything, hadn’t tried to stop him, just, looked at him, “I’ve loved you since we were 13,” he held his right hand close to his chest, guarding it, “but you, you’re Harry Potter and you-” he cut himself off, biting his lip, looked over at Harry, “you, you deserve so much better than me,” 

He was at the door when Harry spoke up, “but I want you,” Draco stopped, sighed, “no, you don’t.”

“Yeah, I do,” Harry was now right behind him, “you don’t even know me,” Draco said, now turning, Harry took his hand, “then let me get to know you,” he smiled, running his thumb over Draco’s soulband, “let me wake up next to you, hang out with you, laugh with you, live with you,” Harry now took both Draco’s hands in his own, “let us blow the world away with whatever this soulbond thing comes with,” Harry whispered, fuck, Draco thought, this man will be the death of me, Draco smiled, grabbing Harry’s face gently, their lips met and it felt like home. They were together and they were home.

//Just a little drabble for y’all, hope you like it :)). Totally didn’t ignore my schoolwork for this ;).

Word count: 979

Zai: out.

don’t bite the hand that fingered you or whatev they say

I made a quiz, its 36 questions, and y’all, I play-tested this, I got feedback, I hyper-analyzed, its good. I wasn’t like, I was gonna just let hogwarts houses die but apparently y’all be like,,, not knowing what a slytherin or hufflepuff is no shade and if all these quizzes are gonna ask you this question anyways: this is it. Idiot tested. Idiot approved

take it here! or copy paste if you need to https://uquiz.com/oz0xOu

Drarry + Eighth year + The Patronus Charm

Draco’s patronus is a doe.

A fucking doe. Not a snake, or a dragon, or the sharp fins of a great white. A small deer.

A microscopic female deer. He’d worked so hard for this moment. He’d reluctantly spent hours upon hours with his former nemesis- and savior of the Wizarding world- studying and practicing a charm he should’ve mastered years ago.

Draco is a master at magic- or so he deems himself- so the fact that he hasn’t been able to conquer the patronus charm is more than aggravating. That’s what led him to finally give into Potter’s incessant requests that they practice together. He’d rudely barged in on him one day in the Room of Requirement, and at the sight of the faint, flicker of a white wisp that exited Draco’s wand, the secret had been discovered.

“Just let me help you,” Potter insisted, and Draco had scoffed.

“I don’t need your help, Scarhead.”

“You know, I don’t have the scar anymore.” He’d flashed a facetious grin, lifting up tendrils of hair from his forehead.

“Okay, then, Saint Potter. You’re just a regular twat, now.”

“A twat who wants to help.”

“Fuck you.”

Draco had stomped out, thoroughly ruffled. How dare Potter offer help to him? As if testifying on his behalf wasn’t enough. Draco didn’t need any more favors. He didn’t need any of it.

But that wasn’t the end of Potter’s prying. Every day, it seemed, he found little excuses to spend time around Draco.

“Be my potions partner?”

“Are you fucking serious? You’ll drop my marks.”

“Maybe I need your help, you blonde prat.”

“You have a sick sense of humor, Potter.”

Nevertheless, they brewed that day’s assignment side by side.

“Care to study with me?”

Potter had approached him in the library. He’d been peacefully studying for his NEWTs until a familiarly annoying presence slid into the seat across from him.

“No.”

“Please, Draco. I need your help. I’m going to fail transfiguration.”

“You just called me Draco.”

“Yeah, I figured since were friends now, I should call you by your first name.”

“We are NOT friends, Potter.”

He smiled a quirky little grin that caused something inside Draco’s stomach to lurch.

“Okay, my not friend. Now turn to page 450; that’s where I’m struggling.”

And so on, and so forth.

Draco had eventually given in to Potter’s endless badgering and met him on the grounds after curfew to practice.

“It’ll be easier outside,” Potter promised, “where you can feel the freedom of the breeze.”

The freedom of the breeze had done nothing to quell Draco’s failed attempts that night.

It was extremely vulnerable, the number of times Draco had allowed the f-word to escape his frustrated lips. At one point he’d thrown his wand at Potter, who’d suggested he just needed to “think happier.”

Nothing made Draco happy anymore. Not since the war, which had resulted in the imprisonment of his father and a depressed mother. He’d only been pardoned himself because of Potter, a shame that he’d had to live with daily.

But on the contrary, he’d began to catch himself smiling more and more during their practice sessions. Potter would comment on their budding friendship; Draco would tell him to sod off.

And Potter would laugh. It was a peculiar sound, a dancing rhythm from his grin that sent Draco’s head reeling. He’d never noticed the small dimples in his cheeks, or the way he folds his lips when he’s concentrating. Little details that left him wondering what else he’d missed about Potter all these years.

Today, Potter had said the usual. “Hey, friend. Ready to cast a patronus charm today?”

Draco had shrugged. “Sure.”

“You didn’t tell me to sod off.”

He shrugged again, and a wide smile lit up Potter’s face. “I told you we were friends.”

His eyes were a vibrant green, a certain shade that only revealed itself when he smiled. Draco felt his belly expand, radiating a weightless sensation throughout his entire being.

Suddenly, he could cast a patronus.

The white wisp he was used to seeing morphed like smoke into a bright shape that contrasted brightly against the night sky. At first, he couldn’t tell what it was, squinting his eyes from the light.

He noticed Potter’s heated cheeks first.

Confused, Draco had studied the silhouette until he realized exactly why Potter was blushing.

A fucking doe.

A doe.

Harry’s patronus is a stag.

And Draco’s is a fucking doe.

His stomach lurches; he thinks he’s going to vomit. He drops his wand and without a word runs back to the castle.

“Draco, wait!” He hears faintly, but he refuses to turn around. He’d rather die than see his face again. This is a fucking nightmare.

***

Borrowing Pansy’s wand turns out to be more of a hassle than he initially believes. He’s forced to do a lot of things the Muggle way, as he can really only use it when she’s not.

It’s still better than facing Potter.

He avoids him at all costs; ignores his voice shouting down the corridors after him. Studies in his dormitory. Keeps his eyes on the floor, aimed oppositely of those fucking green irises, that smile...

Two weeks pass, and Draco’s doing a fine job of remaining invisible. He’s almost forgotten the feeling of flurries in his abdomen, the soft gaze of Potter’s stare. The fact that his patronus is a fucking doe. And the implication of what that means.

He hasn’t tried to perform the charm since, but something tells him he won’t be able to. It’s a nagging feeling in his gut, and he admittedly doesn’t like it.

He hasn’t been sleeping properly either.

This is what drives him to sneak out, throwing the covers from his insomniatic body and frustratingly stalking from the common room. He doesn’t know where he’s going, just that he needs some fresh air.

He finds himself outside, in the very spot where just a few weeks ago he’d been so happy and elated that he’d performed his very own corporeal patronus.

Now, he sits alone. If he’s honest, that hurts a bit.

The breeze tickles his cheeks, and there’s a slight freedom that comes from that.

“Fucking Potter, always being right.” He mutters to himself, wishing he hadn’t ended up here. Wishing he wasn’t thinking about stupid Potter.

“Hey, I’m not always right.”

Draco starts as Potter’s very form seems to appear from thin air beside him.

“What the fuck, Potter? How did you-“ His face is a cross between confusion and embarrassment, and his heart is pounding.

Harry lifts the invisibility cloak, revealing his secret. “I needed some fresh air.”

“Why are you always where I am?”

Harry chuckles. Draco swallows, and it’s a hard knot in the back of his throat.

“You’re so fucking stubborn, Draco.”

Before he can respond, Harry pulls out the familiar length of hawthorn from his pocket. He extends his hand, and for a moment Draco’s gaze snaps up to meet a set of vibrant green eyes.

He gulps, drinking in the sudden presence of what he’d denied himself for weeks. His stomach begins to inflate. His blood tingles. He’s drawn not only to the wand before him but also the hand that’s holding it.

He reaches his fingers forward, wrapping them around the base of the wand. He hesitates, nervous at the sudden proximity.

But it’s Potter who slides his hand from the wand and instead rests it on Draco’s hand.

“Potter, wh-“

“Your patronus is a doe, Draco. And mine is a stag. And that means something.”

His stare is piercing. It cuts through every guarded wall Draco has spent the past few weeks constructing.

“Potter, it doesn’t-“

“I wasn’t finished.”

Draco silences. The assertiveness startles him.

“It means something. For you, and for me. Magic doesn’t lie, Draco.”

His fingers trace soft circles around his hand.

“I know you’ve been avoiding me. I’ve missed you.”

He rubs a gentle caress along his forearm. Draco doesn’t dare move, or breathe for that matter.

“I want to see where this goes, Draco. I don’t care what it takes. I... I want you.”

“You do?” Draco’s voice is a whisper, barely audible even in the crisp night atmosphere.

“Is that so hard to believe? We all made mistakes, Draco. People died because of me. But that’s just it. We’re not in the war anymore. It’s over.”

Those eyes are peering at him again.

“I made more mistakes than you.”

“You saved my life, Draco. If it weren’t for you lieing at the manor, I would’nt be here.”

“It was nothing.”

“It was everything.”

There’s a silence that rattles Draco deep within his core. Because maybe he isn’t nothing. Maybe, to Harry, he could be everything.

He doesn’t have time to contemplate this, because Harry is leaning forward. His eyes have fluttered shut, and Draco doesn’t have much experience with this but he knows what’s coming next.

Harry’s lips are soft against his own.

The patronus feeling ignites a fire that courses through his veins. He knows he could perform the charm. He knows he will never fail at it again.

When they separate, Harry’s smiling. Draco can’t help but smirk playfully.

“You know, I really thought my patronus would be a shark.”

Harry laughs. “Why?”

“Because they’re mean. And they eat people.”

“But you do neither of those things!”

“Are you sure about that?”

They spend the next few hours just like this. Laughing, and smiling, and being everything together.

harry: do you want to know your gay name?

draco: my… gay name?

harry: yeah, it’s your first name —

draco: oh, ha ha ha, very funny harry —

harry: *gets down on one knee* — and my lastname

draco: oh — oh my god

breakie☀️☁️🍴