Tag: drarry

dddraconis:

dddraconis:

honestly im not usually that into like post-hogwarts studying stuff because u know Harry Potter, King Jock would be right off to auror hq like the brave lil dummy he is – BUT i’m into the idea of a weird Magic Uni just for the vibes. that 1920s/1970s crossover that’s half brideshead revisited and half alan hollinghurst BECAUSE

– some sorta Oxbridge campus nonsense, all of them in these beautiful rooms and studies, and lazy spring afternoons lying on the lawns and passing books around. it would be just like Hogwarts except no one’s trying to kill them and there’s champagne

– stacks of records falling over in Harry’s room, jazz and hip hop and the occasional comedy novelty album that Seamus leaves tucked in there

– there’s no houses and no points and no competition and the war feels very far away, and one day Harry is trying to write an essay for his Matters of Life and Death: Immortality Post-Flamel class and Draco suddenly appears in Harry’s window, leaning in with the ivy and saying, “Oi, Potter, I know you’ve taken the last copy of the Upanashids out, give it” and Harry is too surprised to do anything but what he’s told

– Hermione deep into the Magical Law and its Theory course, but also spending Sundays idly teaching herself to levitate

– the on-campus co-op run by a witch with tea leaves threaded through her braids and at least half a dozen of the Divination students where everyone ends up hanging out anyway, gathered around big earthy teapots and desperately trying to finish their homework before class even though they’re hungover, and one afternoon Draco leans over Harry’s shoulders and says, “Merlin,” and fetches his quill, starts correcting Harry’s Aramaic grammar while Harry scribbles the conclusion

– Draco smoking in the bath, lying in the hot water with a thin line of sweat on his upper lip and an ashtray balanced on the side for him to tap his cigarette into, a book swollen with water damage beside the tub

– (probably entertains visitors in the bath too, Pansy barging right in to chat, Harry knocking on the door to tell him something and Draco lazily saying “come in” and smirking while Harry goes red and stares determinedly at the floor)

– boating on the river

bringing this back bc i was thinking about it again today in order to add

– some sort of pretentious play production, Luna paints the scenery and recites several dreamy monologues in it, Harry is roped in to play a very unconvincing Tree at one point, Draco ends up draped in a sheet and keeps complaining about it while smirking and clearly having the time of his life

– drunk in the student union bar and arguing about late 17th century wizarding philosophy (Hermione sweeps the floor with everyone, obviously)

– impromptu Quidditch matches that have to be kept relatively low to the ground because they’re quite close to a Muggle town, Harry ends up with mud smears along his knees every time

– Draco coming home with Harry from the pub when he’s drunk and insisting on staying over at Harry’s dorm – “don’t be such a bastard, Potter, what if I choked on my own vomit and died” – and then falls asleep all long-legged and sprawled serenely across the covers of Harry’s bed while Harry ends up having to take the couch, glowering at him across the dark room, throat dry

queenofthyme:

queenofthyme:

Do you think that Draco Malfoy knows he’s in love with Harry Potter? Because I have this head cannon that he doesn’t actually realise until that day in Malfoy Manor when he’s asked to identify him.

At first he tries not to look but of course he recognises Potter from the tiniest glance. He looks hideous, with all that swelling and the shiny red marks all over his face, so distorted that he’s almost indistinguishable. But not to Draco. Because Draco knows those green eyes. He thought he hated them, just like he thought he hated Potter. But just having Potter here surrounded by his family and fellow Death Eaters who surely want to kill him, or at least present him to Voldemort, Draco starts to sweat. “I can’t – I can’t be sure,” he tells them, avoiding Potter’s eyes as best he can, but as soon as he speaks he can feel them boring into him.

It’s not enough. Draco’s father forces him closer so that he’s face to face with Potter, with no way to avoid eye contact now. And Potter is searching Draco’s face, his eyes pleading for Draco not to give him away, asking him, drawing him in. But Draco’s already made up his mind anyway. Because he realises he doesn’t want Harry Potter to die. No Harry Potter can’t die. Because a part of Draco would die with him. It takes the threat of Potter’s death for Draco to finally realise he’s been in love with him this whole time. And despite all the choices Draco has made, all the punches he’s thrown on the other side of the fight, he wants Potter to win.

Draco can’t communicate all that with his eyes of course, but he sees something hopeful and forgiving in Harry’s when he finally answers his father: “I don’t know.”

for @l0vegl0wsinthedark and @tiedtogetherwithadagger who asked for a continuation in the tags (yes I read all tags ever):

“I don’t know.”

The words find their way to Harry’s ears easily, the voice
smooth like honey, so dissimilar to the raspy, choked teenage voice Harry
recalls as if it were yesterday. Even so, he knows it’s the same person.

He turns from where he leans at the bar to come face to face
with Draco Malfoy. They haven’t seen each other in years. And it shows. Malfoy
has aged well. Beside him is obviously Pansy Parkinson, although it doesn’t
appear as if the years have affected her at all.

He looks back to Malfoy and smiles at the bored expression
on his face. “What don’t you know?” Harry asks.

Malfoy rolls his eyes.  “Why I continue to let Pansy drag me to these
places.” It could easily be the truth if it weren’t for the twitch of his jaw,
giving him away.

Harry wishes he’d been able to eavesdrop earlier and know
the actual truth. Although he knows there’s a reason why it’s those particular
words that he heard above all the music pounding around them.

“What’s so wrong with these
places?”

Malfoy smiles now, or smirks maybe. It’s hard to tell with
such a flawless pointy face. “I often bump into people I know.”

And yet this is the first time Harry’s seen him. Perhaps he’s
been at all the wrong places. Until tonight.

“That doesn’t have to be a bad thing,” Harry offers,
wondering why he’s so eager to make friendly with his childhood rival. But really,
he knows. He tries to pretend. But he knows.

“And that sounds like my queue to leave,” Pansy speaks for
the first time. Harry had forgotten she was there.

Malfoy whispers something to her that sounds suspiciously like:
“Please don’t leave me,” but if it is, Pansy doesn’t listen. She laughs openly
at Malfoy, extracts herself from his grip on her arm and disappears into the
crowd of dancers behind them.

Harry watches Malfoy frown at her retreating back. He’d like
to see the return of that smirk/smile, or more accurately he’d like to be the
cause of it. He takes a breath. “What do you drink?”

Malfoy’s eyes flicker back to Harry, his jaw twitches again.
He ignores the question and strides past Harry to the bar. “Sailor Jerry’s,” he
says to the bartender. “Dry.”

Harry turns back around to the bar and picks up his own
drink – a vodka raspberry. He can tell Malfoy is eyeing him in judgement as he
takes a sip. It’s the only drink sweet enough for him to mask the flavour of
the spirit. He’s not so good with alcohol.

They stand in a silence until Malfoy’s drink arrives. He
takes a long sip and then shifts himself to face Harry completely, one elbow
leaning on the bar counter. “I’ll start,” he says. “I owe you an apology. I’m
not proud of many things in my past, including my treatment of you, both in the
war and at school. There is, of course, no excuse, but if you will allow me to
indulge, I was misguided and….scared. Petrified. Which brings me to my next
point. I also owe you my gratitude. I can’t thank you enough for saving my life
and also saving us all from the Dark – from Voldemort.” Malfoy takes a breath
and then opens his mouth as if to say more, but instead, closes it and takes
another long sip of his drink.

Harry watches Malfoy closely, waiting for the smirk, the
laughter, the punch line. Waiting for himself to wake up and realise it was all
a dream.  But no such thing happens.
Malfoy has genuinely apologised to Harry, and thanked him, all in one breath.
And Harry realises it’s what he’s been waiting for all this time. But he still
has one question. The question that has been gnawing at him ever since that day
in Malfoy Manor.  

“Why didn’t you give me away?”

Even though it was years ago, Harry doesn’t need to clarify
what he’s referring to. He can see the recognition in Malfoy’s eyes, just as he
did on that day.

Malfoy downs the rest of his drink and places it back down
on the bar gently. His eyes remain on his glass as he responds: “Because I was
in love with you.”

An involuntary outtake of breath falls from Harry’s mouth.
It’s not what he was expecting. He can feel his face heating up. How can Malfoy’s
remain so pale with an admission like that?

“And are you now?” Harry whispers, his voice coming out in an
uncertain waver, as if it were he who were confessing such secrets, instead of
the other way around. “Still in love with me?”

Malfoy looks up from his glass and finally meets Harry’s
eye. His expression is unreadable, and his words are steady as he responds: “I
don’t know.”

The sharp contrast to the teenage iteration of the same
words all those years ago causes Harry to smile. Malfoy’s matured. He’s no
longer the scared boy making all the wrong choices. He’s just a man. One who is
smiling back at Harry now, the expression fitting his face more comfortably
than any smirk or scowl Harry has witnessed on it before. And Merlin, Harry
hopes he can make this man fall in love with him all over again. Only this
time, he’s ready to fall too.

cieliavalentine:

Draco groaned as the brick wall grazed the already chafed skin of his shoulder blades over and over, the sting somehow nothing compared to the bolts of pleasure, electrifying and razor sharp in their intensity, shooting up every last nerve in his body.

 Harry’s hands tightened, pads of his fingers digging into the soft flesh of Draco’s thighs, his hot breath ruffling the silver hair matted on Draco’s forehead. 

 "Harder,“ Draco bravely demanded; the sheer force with which Harry was already driving into him was enough to make his teeth chatter – but then, Harry would never deny him more. 

 The green eyes gleamed with something so uncharacteristically wicked that for one moment, Draco’s breathing faltered, catching in his throat. And then he didn’t have time to think anymore because Harry hitched one thigh higher, planted his feet more firmly and began pounding into Draco, savage and unforgiving, with a series of low, goosebump-inducing growls.

 Draco moaned, loudly and shamelessly, one hand tangling in the thick black hair, the other clenching on Harry’s damp back.

 Harry threw his head back and snapped his hips with a nearly violent strength, and Draco, shaking all the way down to his tightly curled toes, whimpered into his neck, begging in desperate whispers for Harry to stop and not stop and slow down and go quicker all at once, his arse helplessly quivering and clamping down around Harry’s throbbing length with each merciless stroke.

 Harry always fucking did this to him – only Harry could march into the Department of Mysteries like he belonged there, pull Draco away from his work, strip him naked and fuck him up against the wall like it was the absolute fucking norm. 

 Only Harry. 

Sweet Merlin, why are you perfect? I DON’T UNDERSTAND HOW YOU CAN STRING WORDS TOGETHER SO BEAUTIFULLY. Thank you again, @l0vegl0wsinthedark for joining me on this 30 day roller coaster. You’re such a fucking gem and I LOVE you.

Day 9 was “wall sex” and I totally skipped a day because I’m the worst but I’m gonna plow through and like maybe I’ll get to it idk????

l0vegl0wsinthedark:

samifers-pet-hellhound:

HEADCANON: Harry is one of those dorks that talks into a banana pretending it’s a phone, except he does it ALL THE TIME. Like, every single time there is a banana in the house, Harry just /has/ to pick it up and go “hello?” And one day Draco is just completely fed up, so he charms the bananas to talk. So Harry picks up a banana and says “Hello?” and the banana answers, “Hey, dude, how’s it going?” and Harry screams and throws the banana across the room. Draco will tell the story at parties for years to come.

Harry screaming and throwing a banana which then shrieks as it sails across the room– I can’t, I’m done

julietsemophase:

harryptter:

Okay but imagine Harry going to Draco for occlumency lessons because he knows Draco is good at it, like the war is over now so they should learn to get on, and he doesn’t like not being able to protect his thoughts. 

Draco agrees, on the condition that Harry teaches him to cast a patronus charm. 

They practice a few times a week, and Harry is shocked by how patient and gentle Draco is compared to Snape trying to teach him. Sure, he’s still snarky, and irritating, but this time it’s endearing. As time passes, they start to spend more time together outside of their private lessons, and Harry thinks he might be falling in love.

The next time Draco is teaching him, he lets him right into his mind, and at first Draco is confused, because Harry’s occlumency has been improving, but then he sees the intention and sees how Harry feels about him. 

And when Draco next tries to cast a patronus, it works. And it’s with that memory in his mind, of Harry trusting him and caring, of Harry loving him. 

I LOVE THIS LIKE 100000%!!!!!!