Drarry - Blog Posts

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Emergency commissions

Hi guys, I know I haven't uploaded anything here for a while or that I'm not very well known, but I'm going through a bit of a difficult time and I really need help. I'm studying dentistry and my parents are supporting me because my schedule makes it difficult for me to find a job, however, some things were way out of my budget and I really feel guilty. That's why I'm selling commissions at literally any price, I'm really desperate, I have no problem drawing something specific, I don't have many references, but I can ask for them if necessary. Really, if anyone sees this and can help me, I would greatly appreciate it.

I'm not a Drarry fan...but goshdarnit if the fanarts aren't good

of cabinets and cupboards

Draco can’t cook.

‘i can fix him’ ‘i can make him worse’ well I can pick him up like this

Strangers?

An au. Where Harry is the local sheriff, and Draco is a wanted criminal, who’s currently on the loose. Harry’s job is to capture him but surprise surprise it was his own heart that was captured. (Feel free to write about this if you want (this is me pleading for someone to write this)). This is like pt 1 of the illustration. I try to draw the part 2 maybe.

(This was kinda unfinished? But I lose my motivation a while ago (apparently sleep deprived can led you to that). I try to redeemed myself on the next piece instead)

This is part of a continuous story, you can read the first part here. Based off this prompt list by @peachydreamxx and @uncannycerulean

Another three for three!

<- previous

XXVI. Droplet

Drip. 

A drop, a twitch of  his eye.

Drip. 

Another, the rustle of fabric.

Drip.

Draco’s eyes snapped open.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

The percussion of water hitting the floor reverberated across his skull. With every droplet on the floor, cold and dull, the snap of wood, a fitting couplet.

A whine broke through the tune and a warm body covered his, heavy and real. He let the slow breathing hymn lull him to sleep.

XXVII. Grow

Draco had shown tremendous amounts of growth since the past year.

“Does this outfit say, ‘I’m a well-adjusted member of society?’” However, some things never changed.

“The blue looks good on you,” was Harry’s cute but unhelpful reply.

“God, you’re useless.”

XXVIII. Verdant

The courtroom was bleak and grey, exactly as it was last time.

Now there were verdant eyes that looked at Draco as he spoke. And so he knew this time it would end differently, no matter if the verdict were to be the same.

all entries read on ao3

This is part of a continuous story, you can read the first part here. Based off this prompt list by @peachydreamxx and @uncannycerulean

I'll catch up soon, but in the mean time:

<- previous

XXIII. Transparent

The pictures flashed on the screen, a unique sort of magic. Yet Draco’s disdain was transparent on his face.

“I thought you didn’t hate muggles anymore,” Harry said bemusedly.

“I don’t,” Draco spoke, sneer stuck on his face, “It doesn’t really go with the decor.”

It didn’t. The olde black house was not meant to hold anything so modern. So simple. So muggle.

“We should make it the statement piece.”

XXIV. Heated

Draco got home to find a piece of paper on the kitchen counter:

Busy with work I left food in the ice-box xo, HP

He took the left-over lasagna from lunch and placed it in the newest muggle addition to their home: the microwave.

He sat at the table alone with his reheated food still cold in the middle and tasting like an attenuated version of what it would taste like with Harry.

XXV. Brume

He braved the streets of Diagon Alley on a foggy morning, when he could blend in with the crowd.

He walked the cobbled streets, with the expectation of his most grim experiences coming to life, but the people simply walked by without a second glance.

Among the brume on the roads, he spotted him immediately. Horrible hair an immediate give away. Green eyes that could shine through the cloudiest skies, already trained on him—a picked up face in the crowd.

next ->

all entries read on ao3

This is part of a continuous story, you can read the first part here. Based off this prompt list by @peachydreamxx and @uncannycerulean

I missed yesterday so you get a two for one, yay!

XXI. Flicker

<- previous

Draco sat by the fireplace reading a book. The lights would flicker across the pages and he didn’t pay it much mind, assuming it was the work of the flames in the fireplace. It only became a matter of concern once all the lights completely turned off. The low golden light of the fire served as the only source of illumination. 

Draco froze on the couch, his book completely forgotten. The house was massive, he knew this deeply, intimately. Yet, with all the lights completely off, the room seemed too small. The darkness shrinking around him until only his small corner could abate it off. Until the fire burned out.

The wood burning was the only sure sign time had passed.

“Why are you in the dark?” Harry asked.

“The magic gave out.”

“Lumos.” The lights came back on before Harry even finished speaking.

XXII. Harsh

It would take a full day for the muggle light repairmen to install the Elect Tree City. Harry had the brilliant idea to stay out at London for the day to “have a proper date.”

For breakfast they decided to eat at a pâtisserie. They browsed different shops, bought many clothes (Draco), and carried many bags (Harry). It was a very simplistic day and they hadn’t done much at all. Somehow, Draco still had fun.

The change was immediately noticeable as soon as they opened the door. Overwhelming brightness hit them and it was much harsher than lumos.

When confronted with this, Harry replied, “It’ll do for now.”

next ->

all entries read on ao3

XX. Reverie

This is part of a continuous story, you can read the first part here. Based off this prompt list by @peachydreamxx and @uncannycerulean

<- previous

Walking among muggles stopped feeling alien around Draco’s third visit to muggle London. It became outright dull by his tenth, and was only ever interesting when Harry came along. Not because the crowds shifted toward Harry Potter like in the wizarding world, but because spending time with Harry had simply turned enjoyable.

They started to make grocery runs with each other, brainstorming what they (Harry) would make for mealtimes. 

Draco felt himself decay with the candied reveries of mundane domestic life turned into reality.

Harry side-eyed him as he added another bag of bonbons to their cart. So what if he had a sweet tooth?

next ->

all entries ao3

XIX. Heavy

This is part of a continuous story, you can read the first part here. Based off this prompt list by @peachydreamxx and @uncannycerulean

<- previous

After dinner, they moved to the living room as per their ritual. However when Harry had collapsed on the couch, he sank onto the cushions with a veritable weight.

Recently, it was clear he had become more exhausted. There were deep circles under his eyes and his hair was just that bit messier than usual. The way his shoulders slumped with unseen pressure carried him down inch by inch, day by day.

Draco stood behind him and sunk slender fingers vigorously on his shoulders. 

“Is there a problem, dear?” he asked, worry hidden within mockery.

Harry took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. A weary sigh left his lips before he spoke, “Auror training.” A repeated sentiment Draco had been subjected to ever since he moved into Grimmauld Place. Ever since they graduated, really. 

“Did real life prove to be too hard for you, my dear?” His fingers dug deeper, more meanly, as he found tense muscles.

Harry hadn’t bothered to reply. He sighed, a little more contently, as he laid his head on the back of the sofa. Little by little, as the night ebbed deeper and deeper into the lazy hours near slumber, a small portion of his heaviness seemed to leave with the time.

all entries next ->

Now also available on ao3

XVIII. Oval

This is part of a continuous story, you can read the first part here. Based off this prompt list by @peachydreamxx and @uncannycerulean

<- previous

“Glasses?” Harry asked from beside him.

With his eyes closed Draco reached for the floor, searching until his hands touched an oval shaped object. Then he silently handed it to Harry and went back to dreams of golden light and green eyes.

all entries next ->

XVII. Waiting

This is part of a continuous story, you can read the first part here. Based off this prompt list by @peachydreamxx and @uncannycerulean

<- previous

Since the beginning of the year, Draco had been waiting for his appeal to go through.

It had been fine having limited access to his wand during his eighth year. It was horrible, but he could live with it. He still had a bit of magic.

Once his sentence was abruptly changed to a strict no magic regulation once he graduated, had it become unbearable. 

He had managed it though. Found simple solutions to his magical needs and learned to live like a muggle, but live he did. Still, he was going to get his magic back.

As soon as he got a reply.

all entries next ->

XVI. Match

This is part of continuous story, you can read the first part here. Based off this prompt list by @peachydreamxx and @uncannycerulean

<- previous

“I have something to show you,” Harry said, then pulled something out of his pocket.

He held a jigsaw piece up to eye sight. 

It had no color to it, a blank puzzle piece.

“Where did you get this?” Draco asked.

“I told you I’d find it,” was all he said as he placed the final piece on their first garden puzzle. 

A perfect match.

It was also obviously not the original lost one.

“Did you make this?”

“Does it matter? The puzzle’s complete now.”

all entries next->

XV. Future

This is part of continuous story, you can read the first part here. Based off this prompt list by @peachydreamxx and @uncannycerulean

<- previous

The ambiguity of their relationship hung in the air. A limbo of the past and future.

Mornings they still had breakfast.

Now there was a gentle caress of hands as Harry made the food and Draco brewed the tea and coffee.

Nights they still had dinner.

Yet there were heated glances shared across the table, every look a promise.

Afterwards they still built their puzzles.

With the addition of kissing. Lots of kissing. Draco no longer felt worried Harry would catch him staring since the other would do the same and then they would kiss again.

The lines blurred and Draco didn’t know which ones he was crossing. Hunted with the mistakes of his past and the fear of the future, he chose to enjoy the limbo. To live within their gap and be happy with the present.

all entries next->

XIV. Burning

<- previous

The firewhisky swished in the crystal tumblers yet again.

They must’ve been his family’s old relics since they didn’t seem to be Potter’s style. The blow of glass was too intricate; details Potter wouldn’t bother to take note of, the weight of it on their hand.

Potter’s attention likely laid on the liquid inside, hot and ready, burning from inside out.

Much like Draco’s attention laid on Potter as he raised the tumbler to his lips, soft and red, gulping down fire. Like the fire licking Draco’s insides, burning him inside and out.

Much like Potter’s hands by Draco’s side, golden and steady, fumbling from his thighs to his hip. Everywhere Harry touched, through the fabric and his skin, down to the marrow of his bones and his soul, was burning.

Potter’s lips on Draco’s, red and ready, engulfing them in fire. Harry was swallowing every tangled detail of Draco’s, imprinting them on his tongue. The taste of him was all consuming like Fiendfyre in secret rooms. Like firewhisky in living rooms. Like the heat burning inside Draco.

next ->

prompt list all entries

XIII. Beware

<- previous

Draco missed the writing in small script:

Beware to only add .05mml of bauldee extract at a time.

“Fuck,” is barely out of his mouth before the cauldron in front of him blew up.

“Draco?” Potter yelped as the crashing sounds of feet on wood descended towards the temporary lab. He stepped through the door, hair a mess, glasses nearly falling off, and chest heaving with each breath. “Are you okay?”

“I almost died again but it should be fine,” he replied nonchalantly.

“Draco!” Potter yelled once again and started moving forward.

“Stop!” Draco immediately shouted and Potter at once obeyed. “Vanish the potion vestiges, they’re lethal.”

“What the fuck,” he whispered but still complied all the same. “Everything’s good now?”

“It should be.” Draco brought a hand to his forehead—he hadn’t even noticed how sweaty he’d gotten—and continued moving it toward his hair, brushing it softly. When he pulled his hand back, locks of hair came with it.

“Shit.”

next ->

prompt list all entries

XII. Bear

<- previous

Potter stood in the living room, keenly staring at their first jigsaw hung on the wall.

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news but that puzzle piece is never going to be found,” Draco said from the couch.

“Why are you so sure?” He asked turning around to face him.

“It’s a tiny piece lost in a big world,” Draco replied without looking away from his book.

There was a pregnant pause before Potter declared, “I’m going to find it.” Draco scoffed but looked up at Potter; who had been staring at him intently. “You’ll see.”

next ->

prompt list all entries

XI. Forgotten

<- previous

The end of the war wasn’t long ago yet it still felt like decades had gone by. Even further in the past were his early years at Hogwarts. Every once in a while, Draco would think back to the boy he used to be. There’s lots he felt regret for. 

But deep inside, he still sometimes missed him. The way he used to not have to worry. The future, something in the distance he needn’t bother with. Back then he felt on top of the world, untouchable.

Above all he felt jealous. The way his younger self could so easily feel joy in a way he would stop being able to. Angered at how it became like letting himself stop to bask in glee would sever his presence in the present. So those jubilant moments had to be hidden away.

Later to be forgotten. 

Or were they stolen from him?

next ->

prompt list all entries

X. Scene

<- previous

The living room walls began to form a mosaic of jigsaws. Each of them depicted different scenes: landscapes, more gardens, some of architecture, and a memorable one of a kneazle. Yet with all these idyllic images on the wall Draco’s eyes were always drawn to the picture in front of him: Potter on his knees as his eyes rapidly searched the table for the right pieces. 

Through all their differences they somehow managed to work together. The images started appearing faster, the piece count started to go up, and they continued to build in harmony. Draco’s attention went back to the puzzle as Potter placed the last piece.He added it to their museum as Draco thought, What an odd scenery we must make.

next ->

prompt list all entries

IX. Puzzle

<- previous

“I found this today,” Potter said over dinner.

From the other end of the table he grabbed a box and shook it. The rattling noise caught Draco’s attention and he raised an eyebrow at Potter. 

They ended up sitting on the floor of the living room, about a thousand jigsaw pieces scattered across the coffee table. Draco began by sorting each different piece and Potter began by building the border. There was no picture on the box, there wasn’t anything on the box. It was a regular wooden box, who knew where Potter had even found it.

Each week, every Friday after dinner, they rendezvous by the coffee table and had a go at the puzzle. Little by little, an unfamiliar picture began to form. At first there were only bursts of color on a dark background: a bit of periwinkle on the bottom right, hints of lavender sprouted near the center, and sunflower yellow peeked near the top border. 

As sections came together the picture became obvious: a simple manor garden. 

But there was a hollow spot near the top left. 

“Of course you would find a puzzle box with a missing piece.” 

“This is going to hunt me for the rest of my life,” was all he bothered to say.

Even so, Potter placed a sticking charm on the unfinished puzzle and hung it on the mantle of the fireplace. 

The next day he brought a new puzzle.

next ->

prompt list all entries

unmatched ship dynamic: "i've done terrible things in the past" x "all i care about is who you are in the present"

VIII. Crystal

<- previous

Turned out having breakfast with Harry Potter also meant having dinner with him.

The bastard eased Draco into it. “I’m making curry tonight, you want some?”

Spiraling out of his control, Draco went from rarely seeing Potter to twice a day. Potter’s cooking being just as good at night as it was in the morning was the only upside. 

The rising daylight was accompanied by, what Draco regrets to acknowledge, was amiable silence as they prepared for the arduous days ahead of them. The nighttime was accompanied by actual conversations. It start menially: a bunch of “how was your day?”s and “who do you think will win Quidditch?”. Then Potter would bring up a memory from their eight year and Draco would start gossiping about their old classmates.

On it went, from polite chatter to affable talk then friendly banter—or from an outside perspective: verbal war. 

“You almost murdered me once,” followed by: “Like you wouldn’t’ve.”

“You were a prick in school,” proceeded by: “You weren’t?”

One night they finished eating and Potter asked, “You want a drink?”

Draco, exhausted and always susceptible to alcoholic bribes, said yes.

Potter took out firewhisky from the liquor cabinet and poured it into two matching crystal cups.

Their conversations reached their inevitable climax: quasi-flirtation. Perhaps it was the heat from the liquor—the heat radiating off of Potter—but the air felt tight-knit with tension. It might have been Draco’s imagination warping the way Potter smirked around his glass. The light from the room refracted off the crystal somehow made his green eyes shine even brighter.

“Draco,” his name coming out of Potter’s lips sounded indecent, like intruding on a tender moment. “I’m glad you’re here.” 

Draco pretended he said it with sober fondness and not drunken impulse. He allowed himself this one thing.

next ->

prompt list previous days

VII. Yawn

<- previous day

After the first accidental encounter with Potter in the kitchen, they kept running into each other. At first Draco thought nothing of it. He got in, made his tea while Potter’s loud machine worked, got his breakfast, and got out.

One day, Potter said, “I made extra, want some?” And Draco stayed around while they ate in silence.

The next day it repeated and before he knew it, they started eating breakfast together.

Draco would go in while the growling machine spat out coffee and the frying pants sizzled. He made tea while Potter loaded their plates. They atd together almost like in school but now at the same table. Across from him, Potter’s hair was still a mess but he wore his sleeping clothes; still bare feet and eyes red from sleep.

Throughout the meal he’d yawn and zone out. But everyday he was in the kitchen and everyday Draco showed up.

next ->

prompt list previous days

VI. Floral

<- previous day

Draco was not distracted, and certainly not whilst brewing his potions. Draco wasn’t many things but if there was one, it would be his dedication. But that day his mind was lingering. On a soaked shirt sleeve and lips on a ceramic mug. On green eyes swirling inside verdant liquid.

So instead of adding a teaspoon of bog moss, he ended up using a tablespoon. He had to scrap the whole thing but the potion was easy enough to make if one was paying attention. It was a simple error to fix without much trouble. Except for the smell.

Draco, in the immediate range of the cauldron, was hit with a facefull of green fog. Eyes watering as he coughed deliriously, he didn’t notice Potter had walked into his temporary potion’s lab. 

There was a strained inhale of air before he spoke a bit muffled, “What happened?”

Draco looked up from where he was dying on the floor. 

“Nothing to worry, just a little mistake.” 

Potter raised an eyebrow but, smartly, chose not to comment. Then he waved his wand and the thick fog vanished from the enclosed space. However, the stink still lingered. As if it had absorbed onto every surface, Draco could feel it seeped into his skin. He urgently wanted to go upstairs and shower, to scrub at his skin until it peeled off and took the horrible stench with it. Then Potter waved his wand again and the air in the room shifted. 

The atrocious smell was gone. In its place was now a curiously floral tone. It took a moment for Draco to place the smell: honey and citrus. Potter’s refreshening spell smelled like honeysuckle.

next day ->

prompt list previous days

V. Hang

<- previous day

He’d used the floo at the Leaky to get to Diagon Alley. Only to find out the ingredient he needed was out of stock. Deciding it was a nice day out, he stupidly chose to walk around muggle London. 

It wasn’t a completely terrible idea at first. After many exploration trips, the loud car noises had stopped alarming him and muggle pedestrians weren’t very unlike the wizard ones. At least the muggles didn’t cast hexes and jinxes at him while he passed. 

It was one drop and then water was pelting from the sky. The few muggles that were still in the streets fled indoors or pulled out their umbrellas and with no better choice, Draco hurriedly hid under the overhang of a random building. 

It was there that Potter found him, some unknown time later. He had an umbrella in one hand and a stupid grin on his face.

“Got caught in the rain?”

“How did you even find me?” Draco asked.

“Do you want to go home or not?” Draco had already become impatient with the storm and Potter’s attitude. Saying nothing, he walked away towards the nearest secluded area. 

Potter hurried behind him and Draco’s hair only had a brief moment to soak before Potter stepped up next to him and blocked the rain. 

They walked side by side, Potter having to hold the umbrella at a weird angle to cover both of them. Draco as the taller one did nothing to help as Potter’s sleeve, out of reach from the umbrella’s protection, got drenched. Once they reached a deserted alleyway, Potter reached with the same arm that had been exposed to the water.

The next moment, he apparated them back to Grimmauld Place.

next day ->

prompt list previous days

IV. Pathetic

<- previous day

Draco laid in bed. He stared meaninglessly towards the ceiling, brooding the whole pathetic situation he’d found himself in. If he let himself think too hard, all his life would start to look it too. So he didn’t. 

He thought of that morning and of Potter’s lips on the ceramic mug. Of last year and Potter’s lips around a spoonful of food in the Great Hall. Of Potter’s messy hair, from the early morning and the late nights at the Quidditch pitch. Of Potter’s bare feet on the kitchen floor and the showers of the eight years’ dorms. He thought of it all and bottled it up like his potions. He stored them on a dusty shelf in his heart, to be soon forgotten.

He closed his eyes, the last thing he saw was his green blanket. That night he dreamt of Potter’s green eyes and in the morning he’ll remember his pathetic besotted heart.

next day ->

prompt list previous days

day 4: pathetic

drarry microfic, 333 words

The weight of the curse is heaviest in moments when Draco catches Harry looking; his gaze a loaded, lonely thing across the High Table.

It should remind Draco of a time when they, too, were only children in this very same room—but years have softened the edges of Harry's glare, turned the devoted heat of his hatred into another, a sweeter form of passion altogether.

It's just Draco's luck that Harry is too scared to word what Draco can't—no Malfoy of his proclivity has been able to properly court, or even voice whom they desire. Not until they've produced an heir.

Threads of fate and duty woven together, always, always for the likes of him, cruel where they mark bleeding lines around his heart, as if he doesn't have enough.

Still, Draco's eyes must not lie. Nor does the returned fondness of his touch when their fingertips brush and linger over a cup of sugar. But Harry's gaze just keeps shifting between his porridge and Draco, one corner of his smile sad, and Draco wonders how he doesn't notice when he's studied his every move for years.

It's pathetic—really.

Luckily, there are things even Draco's ancestors hadn't thought of.

Because it's been years since Draco has known; it's this, him, and if Harry hadn't approached him for help, taken that potion, Draco would have rather chosen to die with the curse, with lonely nights and an empty house, for all he cared—if it wasn't with him.

The curse made it so that he couldn't have any of it—but when Harry rises from the table with his hand on his swollen stomach like he does each morning now, a tiny sprout of hope springs inside Draco, too, as if he were the one carrying their child. That in three more months—he might just get it all.

Threads are easy to weave into new shapes, after all, once something as simple as a sprinkle of chance joins your side.

Here is how Draco impregnated the living savior of wizardkind.

drew a scene from The Superfluous Man by the amazing peu_a_peu <3