Dark!Drarry inspired by the idea of Slytherin!Harry
Tag: drarry
Draco likes it
( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
snorting through my sobs
potter, please.
you’re twelve. no one cares about a twelve-year-old enough to be archenemies with them except maybe voldemort but then again he’s also the man who agreed to live on the back of other man’s head.
weird notion of “most powerful wizardry”, if you ask me.
and really, potter, are you actually that dense
can’t you see it written all across malfoy’s unhumanly large forehead that he just wants to be bffs with you
are you sure you’ve never banged your head on the ceiling of that stupid cupboard because i’m thinking brain damage here, sir
ThIS
Draco, 8th year?? He needed to shake the war, and shake himself a bit. He decided to go into muggle London, because why not, everything else in his world was on its head. Then he saw it: the leather jacket. And well, wouldn’t that just piss off his dad, and everyone, and he needed to change. So he bought it. The smoking came along after. First it was after one too many drinks with Zabini. Then it became something that helped to fill the holes in his soul. But no matter how many drags he took, the smoke would always escape.
Until he went back to school. And shit, Harry must have done a double, triple, quadruple take seeing Draco sitting in an archway smoking, in a leather jacket with his hair hanging loosely around his face.
And maybe one day Harry took his Gryffindor courage and sat across from Draco. And Draco would sneer and tell The Chosen One that this wasn’t his Golden Throne, for Merlin sake could Draco just be in peace for once. But Harry wouldn’t leave because Draco’s voice lacked the usual venom. So they sat for a while. Day after day, which soon turned to weeks, and greetings turned to conversations, and insults turned to jokes.
The smoke still couldn’t fill the holes left in his soul, but maybe, just maybe, the small, warm seed of something else growing in his heart could.
And Harry would smile, because he felt it too.
imagine harry being harry and saying something sassy to ron and hermione but they don’t find it funny
then three tables across the gryffindor’s, they hear draco laugh
trying to cheer myself up with drarry ;A; who wears their glasses to bed, honestly
I have no idea what I was trying to achieve with that lighting but I Am Tired so it will have to do
So eighth year and McGonagalls put everyone that came back to finish up their last year in the third floor corridor or in the tower under the owlery.
But that part of the castle’s been abandoned for years so the heating charms are completely naff and it’s always too cold.
One night both Draco and Harry are in the common room after insomnia, for Draco, and nightmares, for Harry, kept them from their beds. They’ve pushed a couch up next to the main fireplace but it’s still fucking freezing.
Draco cannot stop shivering and is sitting right on the edge of the couch and holding his hands out to the fire. Harry’s leaning back, just wearing an old jumper and jeans he threw on, looking completely at ease.
Harry sat up with a start, the last swirling vestiges of his nightmare dissipating into the darkness. The loudest sound in the room was his breathing, coming out in heaving gasps. He no longer woke up screaming. He had trained himself out of it somehow, hating the worried expressions Molly would give him when he stayed the summer there, hating the awkward, helpless ‘you alright, mate?’ from Ron, hating the hugs and talks from Hermione. He screamed in his dreams and awoke with only silent gasps and the faint taste of blood from biting the inside of his cheek.
Harry pushed his blankets back and slipped out of the dorm he shared with Ron and Neville. He made his way to the common room, enjoying the feeling of the cold air on his overheated skin, cooling the sweat on his back and making him feel like he could breathe again. Ever since he had died in the last battle, he constantly felt he was overheating, like coming back from the dead had put his body into overdrive. Harry sometimes had dreams of being a phoenix and bursting into flames, heat and fire prickling under his skin, making him something new and yet old as well.
There was someone sitting by the fire in the common room, which had been stoked up high, flickering with red and orange light that didn’t seem able to pierce the cold room. He thought it was Ron or Ginny for a second but once his eyes focused Harry realized it was just the reflection of the fire off his white blond hair.
Draco had pushed one end of the sofa right in front of the fireplace and sat on the edge of the plush violet cushion with his hands so close the fire had to hurt. Yet he was still shivering. Draco stared at the fire blankly, looking through the flames without seeing them. Deep shadows of exhaustion ringed his eyes, just as they had every day since this ‘eighth’ year had started.
Harry sat down on the other side of the couch.
Draco startled, jumping visibly, his hand twitching to his wand until he saw it was Harry and hesitated.
“Sorry,” Harry said softly.
Draco relaxed slightly, dropping his hand and glaring half-heartedly at Harry, “Merlin Potter, can’t you just go to sleep like a normal person?”
“I sleep,” Harry said pushing his glasses up to rub his eyes.
Draco snorted. “When?” he said acidly.
“Between nightmares,” Harry said, irritably pulling off his glasses and trying to clean the smudges that he had just made, “When do you sleep, Draco?”
Draco frowned, still put off by Harry’s use of his first name but Harry refused to go back to Malfoy or anything that had to do with their stupid childhood feud.
“Around three or four, if I’m lucky,” Draco said with surprising honesty.
Harry nodded and sighed, “Yeah.” He glanced at the fire but felt his gaze torn away by Draco staring at him. He raised his eyebrows in a silent question.
high school drarry aesthetics
❤ ❤ ❤
When anyone asks who the romantic in the relationship is, Draco always sneers and easily responds, “Potter. He’s a great sap.” Harry never objects, just smiles slowly and continues on with whatever it is he’s doing. He ought to protest, but this is a secret he keeps to himself.
One day Harry comes home from work and all the pictures he’s been meaning to frame are placed along the mantle of the fire place and along the halls. A few even make a guest appearance in the bedroom. Draco doesn’t say anything and he pretends that he hasn’t done anything at all. Harry smiles and kisses him and says thank you. Draco looks gratified but he never says, ‘You’re welcome’.
When gold and red flowers mysteriously appear around the flat, he gives Draco a quizzical look. Draco sniffs and goes back to his book as though nothing strange has occurred. When Harry touches the petals of one of the delicate things, Draco simply says, “Your flat is boring. And ugly.” They leave it at that but Harry grins.
After Harry spends the entire day up to his knees in a foul smelling bog, he tells Ron he can’t wait to go home, have a shot of whisky and pass out for the entire weekend. Instead he comes home to two wine glasses and a bottle uncorked, and he decides the wine is much better than the whisky, and the company much better than sleep. When he asks, Draco tells him how he’s been meaning to try this vintage for months. He only brought it out because he was thirsty.
Harry has always suspected that his boyfriend is a closet romantic, but it’s confirmed when he falls into a bed full of rose petals. Draco definitely blushes but puts on an air of indifference, as though he didn’t deliberately spread the petals himself.
“I thought it would make the room smell better. I know laundering is a foreign concept to you, but your Quidditch clothes are foul,” he says as he shuts the door and Harry kisses him.
Neither of them notice the smell of the petals at all.
At Christmas they put up decorations together and Draco teases Harry mercilessly for his popcorn garland. He’s drunk on spiked eggnog and keeps stealing Harry’s popcorn before he has a chance to thread it. When he pulls Harry underneath the mistletoe that he’s secretly hung, his face is flushed and he’s smiling like Harry hasn’t ever seen him done before. After they pull away from each other for a breath, Draco says ‘I love you’ in a great rush, as though if he doesn’t say the words fast enough he’ll lose them.
Of course Harry kisses him again, before he can ruin the moment.
So when people ask who the romantic is, Harry just smiles slowly and keeps quiet. He let’s Draco believe whatever he wants, because he’s a bit afraid if he points it out that Draco will get embarrassed and stop. It’s his own secret that his boyfriend is the biggest romantic he’s ever met, and he likes it that way. So yeah, maybe Harry is a great sap.
❤ ❤ ❤
Send help. I’m dead.
I love this..speaks to my Art Deco design roots.
YES. Yes. Give me barefoot striped shirt Harry forever. Yes.
shealwaysreads 