Drarry - Blog Posts

tfw your fugitive ex breaks out of Azkaban

A little gift for @fw00shy 💓 a microfic written entirely in three word sentences. Also for the @drarrymicrofic prompt: blue.

2 August 2006. Department of Mysteries.

“Shouldn’t be here.” Draco sounds wary.

“Fuck off, Malfoy.” Harry laughs, loud. “Azkaban released me.” He smiles wryly. “Didn’t you hear?”

“You escaped, Potter.” Draco’s voice heats. “In broad daylight. Bit dangerous, really.”

“Yeah,” Harry grins. “Slaughtered sixty-two dementors. And Warden Umbridge.” He leans in. So, so close. Mouths Draco’s throat. “You miss me?” Voice muffled, gruff.

Draco’s eyes close. His shoulders slack. Relax, dip low. He breathes deep. “Not at all.” His eyes open. They’re dark, guarded. And he stiffens. “You’re not good. Potter, you’re not.”

Harry pulls back. “Careful,” he says. “I’d kill you. If I wanted.”

“Kill me then.”

Yet Harry falters. His lips part.

Draco’s mouth twists. “You wouldn’t, Potter.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t.” Harry laughs again. Shakes his head. Looks at him. “You look good. Draco, you do.”

“Thanks,” Draco says. He smiles unhappily. Gestures to himself. “I’ve gone official. Bloody Ministry official.”

Harry reaches out. Traces Draco’s collar. “Wearing Ministry blues. Who would’ve thought.” He grins, crooked. “Unspeakable Malfoy, yeah? Shouldn’t trust you.”

“Fuck you, Harry.” Draco eyes him. Voice rough, quiet. “Alright, I did. I missed you. Just a bit.”

“Didn’t visit me.”

“Didn’t want to. That first time… You looked dead.”

And Harry sobers. “Yeah, I know.” Harry watches him. Face cut-up, bloody. “Nicked a Portkey. To the tropics.” He smiles grimly. “I’m going away.”

Draco breathes in. “DMLE’s tracing them. They’ll find you.”

“Unregistered,” Harry says. “Sounds fun, yeah? Us, the ocean.” He laughs, gruff. “Come with me.”

“Merlin,” Draco says. Voice sharp, clipped. “It’s been years.”

“Only been three.” Harry looks down. “Still love you.” Closes his eyes. Takes a breath. Opens them slowly. “Prisoners are plotting. Ministry’s gone bad. We should leave.”

Draco pauses, considering. Bites his lip. “I’ve heard things. Whispers of things. I didn’t know…” Looks at Harry. “… who to believe. But now, I…”

“What is it?” Harry’s voice drops. Sounds low, gentle.

“I trust you.” Draco leans in. Thumbs Harry’s mouth. “Wish I didn’t. But I do.” Traces Harry’s lips.

Doors slam open. Voices yelling—loud, frantic. “Target in building. Agents, get ready.”

“Fuck,” Harry mutters. “Not enough time. I’ve gotta go.” Turns to Draco. “Coming with me?”

“Bloody hell, Potter. Yes,” Draco says. “Get the Portkey.”

the weed which strings the hangman's bag, by peachpety

A gift for @gryffindorhearts

A Wheel of Drarry Mini-Exchange 2.0

* * *

Rating: M || TW blood & injury || angst; hopeful ending; mild hurt/comfort; smoking

Lightning flickers in the clouds above the narrow alleyway. Harry counts three Godric’s-Hollows before the boom of thunder rattles his bones. The storm approaches quickly; the last gap had been five. He pulls up his hood, muscling a shiver into submission at the caress of soft cotton against his shorn scalp.

He had been slouched at the kitchen table, his curls a dark scattering of commas on the table around him, carving stripes into the label of an empty beer bottle with the shears, when the folded crane note had flitted through Grimmauld’s kitchen window.

Gallows | 20:37

His upended chair hadn’t even hit the floor before he Apparated.

Wind howls through the pub’s alleyway like the hollow note singing from the bottleneck of a stout. Another lightning strike bleaches Harry’s vision, but it’s the crack of Apparition a moment later that shocks him. His magic eddies in his palms, coiled and ready.

Thunder rolls, and Malfoy steps from the shadows, an agonizing emergence, each step a revelation that he’s alive—a scarred Chelsea boot, soft-worn jeans sagging below a Ramones t-shirt, his blond hair.

Alive, not dead.

Relief softens Harry’s muscles, followed quickly by clenching anger. “It’s been a fucking month.”

Malfoy chuckles blithely. “It’s good to see you, too, Potter,” he says.

Harry intentionally limited interactions with his undercover agents, but this was borderline negligence. And insubordinate and dangerous and...

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck me yourself.”

Harry's shoulders relax. “You wish.”

Malfoy leans against the opposite brick wall. He lolls his head back and juts his hips forward, watching Harry with hooded eyes. The cigarette tucked behind his ear flits into his hand, and he lights it with the snap of a Muggle lighter. The flame’s glow highlights his knuckles, mangled and bloody.

Harry’s magic spikes, warming his fingertips. “You’re hurt.” He reaches for Malfoy’s hand.

Malfoy jerks his arm away. “Don’t.”

“It looks fractured.”

“It is.” Malfoy cinches his grin around the cigarette, inhaling his cheeks hollow.

Harry exhales a curse. He used to believe that Malfoy bloodied and beaten was retribution, that his broken bones were recompense. It had happened often enough at the hands of fellow trainees, and once by Harry. Only once. Instead of vindication, he’d felt as he does now—nauseated and repentant at the realization that he was the only one who could beat life into eyes as dead as slate.

“I have the information,” Draco announces.

Harry straightens. “I’ll take you in,” he says in a rush. “We can debrief Robards—”

“No.”

Harry frowns. He’d been warned by his superiors, cautious tales of undercover Aurors gone rogue, good men and women who got too involved, who couldn’t separate the job from reality.

“There’s another meeting next month,” Malfoy says. “Bigger fish.”

The clouds light up, revealing Malfoy’s face in a kinetoscope series of flashes—earnest, focused, resolute. Like that day in Robards' office when he demanded to be given the mission and Harry was assigned point. Like later that same day in the showers when Harry was on his knees and Malfoy moaned Harry’s name like a prayer.

He’d left on assignment an hour later.

Smoke curls from the tip of Malfoy’s cigarette, an ephemeral rope cast asunder by the wind, as murky as the puddles peppering the cobblestones between them. Slick film coats the water’s grey surface, shiny with misshapen rainbows.

Like Malfoy’s eyes, Harry thinks madly. Alive, not dead. Alive, not dead.

“There are other Aurors—” he begins.

“This goes deeper in the organization than we thought—”

Harry’s plea raises his voice over Malfoy’s. “Others who can do this—”

“I can do this—”

“No!”

A flash and a boom announces the storm’s arrival seconds before the sky opens up.

Malfoy narrows his eyes, mouth twisting in the rain. “You think I can’t—”

“Of course you can!” Harry slumps against the wall. The bricks dig into his shoulder blades. “You’re the best agent the Ministry’s seen since the First War.” He punches his hands into his hoodie pocket and finds a siege of paper cranes. He wads them in his fist. “You’re”—brilliant, insufferable, everything—”a twat.”

Malfoy stares. Rain pelts his face and drips from his eyelashes. He summons a crumpled pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket, and in two steps he’s in front of Harry, Amazonian-tall and weed-thin. A crescent bruise mars his cheekbone.

“I only have one left,” Malfoy says softly. Blood pools in the inner white of his eye. It’s shaped like a heart, and Harry wants to drown in it.

“I don’t smoke.”

“Hey, blondie,” a greasy voice cuts through the rain. A Muggle bloke stands nearby—too close, Harry thinks. The man sways in a drunken cloud of stale beer. “You got a cigarette for me?” He licks his lips, leering at Malfoy, and Harry’s magical hackles rise.

Malfoy moves as if to offer, and Harry yanks his hand from his pocket, littering the stones with papers. He digs the cigarette out of the pack and puts it in his mouth. The taste is sharp and biting.

The drunk shuffles away. Harry wrinkles his nose and the stones beneath the man’s feet lift to trip him.

A sly grin slides onto Malfoy’s face. He crowds in closer, igniting the Muggle lighter, protecting the flame from the rain with a bubble of dry magic from his elegant broken hand. Harry cups his hand over Malfoy’s. His healing magic leaches into pale skin, knitting sinew and bone. With a deep inhale, he draws the flame onto the cigarette, smoke into his lungs, only to collapse into a coughing fit.

Malfoy’s smirk softens, and he sweeps his gaze over Harry’s face. He pauses, eyebrows furrowed, and in a swift movement he yanks the hoodie off Harry’s head. Rain wets Harry’s scalp, a pitter-pat beat matching Malfoy’s deepening inhales and exhales.

“Harry.”

“It’s been a month,” Harry rasps. “A fucking month.” He drops his gaze to his own feet. He’s not wearing shoes.

Malfoy vanishes the cigarettes and draws Harry to him with a firm hand to the back of Harry’s neck. Harry goes easily, melting into Malfoy’s comforting solidity and warming magic, tension slackening like a stayed hangman’s rope.

Alive, not dead.

“It’ll grow back by morning,” he mutters into Malfoy’s shoulder. “It always does.”

Draco chuckles. “Good. We can’t have you looking like a naked mole rat when we debrief Robards tomorrow, now can we?”

Harry’s heart shudders in his chest like paper cranes in the rain. “Fuck you.”

Malfoy guides Harry’s face to whisper against his lips, “Fuck me yourself.”

And he kisses Harry’s smile.

* * *

For the brilliant and wonderful @gryffindorhearts! It's been a long time coming and I apologize for making you wait, but FINALLY here is your gift! Writing this was an entire journey...and while the fic is short, the path was long and I thank you for your patience in allowing me to travel at my own pace.

Big thanks to toluene and @wheezykat for the beta & encouragement. It takes a village y'all and I'm blessed.

Thanks to @hogwartsfirebolt and @drarrymicrofic for this gift exchange - it's wonderful!

READ ON AO3

embarrassing taste in men

when you want to beat each other up but also wish to be boyfriends?? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ tricky

Remembering the War: It doesn't get easier as the years go by. But at least they have each other.

Created for the Drarry Discord Server's Drawble Challenge, March 2020. Thanks go to this month's hosts, @potter-art and @ana-iliad.

Prompt: 'Remember when...'.

Art restriction: Earth tones/browns.

before I desided to draw smth with naruto I was drawing a little series with drarry and porn hands, there’re my fav pics from it, maybe I’ll finish it lateeeer

List of Quidditch rules, pinned in the Gryffindor changing room.

1.       No hexes or jinxes! McGonagall WILL dock house points!

2.       Put your equipment back, gits. The school elves have complained twice already.

3.       Don’t showboat, people! Nobody needs to see you hanging off your broomstick.

4.       Snogging the Slytherins is strictly, and entirely FORBIDDEN. This means you, Harry Potter!

💥

For the @drarrymicrofic prompt of forbidden. As always, brilliant fun.

Ron groaned and buried his face in his arms. Across the crowded common room, his best friend had just interrupted what appeared to be a rather impassioned rant by a certain dramatic blond prat by kissing him square on the mouth. It was, horrifically, an extremely effective strategy.

When she saw the source of his distress, Hermione reached over, patting him on the head in what was probably intended to be a comforting gesture. “At least it’s better than fighting,” she said conciliatorily.

Ron glanced back up to see that the pair were now snogging enthusiastically and grimaced.

“Is it?”

For the @drarrymicrofic prompt Better Than Fighting

Change of tactics

Split lips, rough kisses.

Bruised knuckles, tight grips.

Against the door, against the wall, against each other.

“Better?” Harry asked.

Draco bit down hard. “Define better.”

Harry’s fists clenched, even as he dragged Draco closer. This was new—different, but the same, in some ways—and habits were hard to shake.

“This.”

Inspired by @drarrymicrofic’s prompt ‘better than fighting’

written for the @drarrymicrofic prompt: Dangerous by Big Data, Joywave. (a sherlock reference? in a drarry microfic? more likely than you think.)

“My flat. Come if convenient. DM.”

Harry frowns and sets his phone down decisively, leaving the text unanswered.

A minute later: “If inconvenient, come anyway. DM.”

Harry’s lips almost, almost, quirk in amusement but he flattens them quickly and takes a swig from his pint, ignoring the text. He had meant what he had said the last time they had done this. It was the last.

Another text: “Could be dangerous. DM.”

“God damn it,” Harry mutters, even though he can already feel his heart accelerating in anticipation. Whether it’s the adrenaline high he’s addicted to or it’s Draco himself who’s the addiction— Harry’s no good at resisting temptation.

Downing his pint, he throws a few sickles onto the bartop, and pushes his way out of the pub and into a nearby alley. He palms his wand and apparates to Draco’s, blood singing, a euphoric smile playing at his lips.

Drarry microfic: "Dangerous"

The Detection Charms on Draco’s Knockturn Alley flat activated just after midnight, startling him awake like a cold-sweat nightmare.

He switched on the lamp, then shook the bare shoulder of the man sleeping beside him, his rising panic making him rough. Draco’s escape plan did not account for him. Merlin, he’d been a fool. A besotted, reckless fool.

“Potter, wake up. We have to go. Now.”

“What’s going on?” Harry mumbled.

“We have about three minutes until the people outside dismantle my wards.”

Draco jerked open the drawer of the bedside table and fumbled through it to find the stirring rod that was charmed into a Portkey. The thought of shadowy figures watching them through the windows, listening, made him shudder.

“What people?”

“Aurors, I assume. For fuck’s sake, move—unless you want to do some fast talking about why you’re naked in my bed.”

Harry didn’t move. He watched Draco pull on his trousers and slip his arms into his button-down with obvious disappointment. Draco avoided his eyes.

“I thought you said you were doing Potions research.”

“Well, the Potions part is true,” Draco said wryly.

He threw Harry’s clothes at him before grabbing the satchel that was always packed and ready. Beneath his bare feet, the floorboards began to vibrate from the tendrils of magic creeping over his wards, seeking a crack.

“Draco, what are you—”

“Not now! Are you coming with me or not?”

Harry’s gaze flickered over Draco’s face, then he nodded and gathered up his clothing. Draco felt his knees weaken with relief.

“Where are we going?”

“Kyiv. Then we’ll Apparate a few times to make sure they’re off our trail.”

Draco crawled across the rumpled bed until he was straddling Harry. He smelled like sex and the cheap Firewhisky that they always sipped in Draco’s draughty lounge, talking, circling around each other, until their veins burned with it and they couldn’t hold back any longer. It was the closest thing Draco had to predictable in his unpredictable life.

“What the fuck have you got yourself into?” Harry whispered.

Draco wrapped one hand around the satchel handle and the other around on the back of Harry’s neck, pressing the stirring rod against the knobs of his vertebrae.

“Something dangerous. Something I can’t walk away from now.”

He wasn’t talking about the illegal Potions lab in the attic.

With a whispered word, Draco activated the Portkey.

Written for the @drarrymicrofic song prompt, "Dangerous" by Big Data ft. Joywave.

The Dateless

“Lost your friends Potter?”

“They’ve ditched me.” Harry replied morosely, wondering what had possessed him to plonk down next to Draco Malfoy of all people. He blamed his traitorous friends for ignoring him. “Sickeningly loved up the lot of them.”

Draco screwed up his nose in disgust at that, an action which combined with the alcohol induced pink flush across his cheeks Harry absently noted was kind of cute. Wait, what? Harry glared down at his champagne glass. How many of these had he had?

“No date then?” Harry asked, when it became apparent that Draco wasn’t going to initiate any further conversation.

Draco smirked slowly and raised his left arm just enough that the sleeve of his sky blue dress robe slipped back to reveal the reddened edge of his dark mark. 

“With this glowing endorsement branded into my skin you’d think suitors would be throwing themselves at me wouldn’t you?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Alright you arse, I get it — let’s talk about something else.”

“Oh? What makes you think I’m going to waste any more of my evening talking to you?” 

Draco’s tone was cutting but Harry didn’t miss the way his gaze dropped, could almost feel the caress of his appraisal across his body. Already this ministry ball was seeming a lot less dull.

“Why not? We’re both here tonight, together.” Harry drained his glass and stood. The room was too hot, too loud and he’d spotted a secluded balcony earlier which looked perfect for what he had in mind. He extended his hand to help Draco from his chair. “What have you got to lose?”

@drarrymicrofic prompt: Waste It On Me by Steve Aoki ft. BTS

𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔲𝔫 || 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔪𝔬𝔬𝔫

Spring

Under the slowly awakening trees the dappled sunlight softens their edges. One nymph-like in his beauty, all cheekbone and pale arches, weaves spring flowers into his sleeping lover’s curls. Long dark lashes against golden skin flutter open and green eyes glitter up at him. Their lips are kiss-bitten; pink and full like the blossoms all around.

@drarrymicrofic prompt: Androgynous

Regulus *after he caught Draco and Harry making out*: *points at Draco* 2nd cousin *points at Harry* son

Regulus: this is incest

Snape: well, you Blacks would know that

Draco:

Harry:

Regulus:

Based on chapter 118-119 of The Golden King by @maladaptivewriting

(I just thought of this and had to share)

Draco always calling the Slytherin's names in French like "Theodoeoe" and they just go along with it, As the whole school questions why he doesn't say "potter" normally, the Slytherins sigh and ignore...

jegulus death drarry birth

Let me have it, guys First hp drawing and it's a quicky doodle. 

Hearing people's gay awakenings is crazy to me cause a lot of people have a character that made them start to figure it out. I found out I was queer though Gacha Life YouTube videos. The things a drarry glmv could do to a bitch.