harrypupperandhisownerdraco

[harrypupperandhisownerdraco]

The Beginning Of Sadness

[harrypupperandhisownerdraco]

(quietly joins the drarry renaissance)

[harrypupperandhisownerdraco]

obsessed with this draco honestly

picrew link here!

tagging @drarrymybeloved @drarry-picrew @stavromulabetaaa @lou-isfake 🥰

[harrypupperandhisownerdraco]

this is drarry

Marie-Helene Bertino

[harrypupperandhisownerdraco]

Harry: want to hear a Muggle joke?

Draco: okay

Harry: knock knock

Draco, politely: come in

[harrypupperandhisownerdraco]

Hi, if you are still taking prompts; A magically powerful Harry not noticing that his magic does things to make Draco happy. This can be pre-relationship or established relationship. Like it starts of with his tea being exactly as he likes and always the right temperature. Then evolves to rooms changing colour or weather changing or people being unable to invade Draco’s personal space due to an invisible barrier or something ridiculous. Btw Draco doesn’t notice as well.

anon.....you really killed me w this one. i’ve been so emo over this wyugeahrwiw might end up writing smth longer tbh bc this concept is literally the only thing that matters to me!!!!!!! i hope u enjoy i had so much fun with it ❤️❤️❤️

“Harry, you do it. Please.”

“No.”

“Please!”

“We’re fucking watching something, Draco!”

“So just pause it!”

Harry grabs the pillow on his lap and slams it onto the sofa next to him. Hermione can see dust rise in its wake. He pauses the telly. 

“Are you doing it?” Draco asks hopefully. Harry scowls at him. 

“Well you won’t shut up until I do, will you?”

“Definitely not.”

Harry disappears into the kitchen and Draco sits there looking smug.

“It’s kind of sick how you get off on bossing him around,” says Ron, his tone one of simple observation. His fingers are idly playing with Hermione’s hair, but she doesn’t think he notices he’s doing it. 

“If I’m not mean to him a few times a week I break out in a rash, Weasley,” Draco says blithely. “Besides, he makes it perfectly. I don’t know how he does it, it’s always exactly the right temperature and sweetness and all that. I s’pose his years as a house-elf for those Muggles gave him plenty of time to perfect the art.”

“You’re a twat,” says Ron. “And my mum makes tea better than him.”

“Well you’re just a pitiful little mummy’s boy, aren’t you, Weasley? We can hardly trust your opinion.”

“Hark who the hell’s talking,” Ron scoffs. “Least I’m not twenty-three and still calling my mum ‘mummy’ like the world’s biggest bloody ponce.”

Draco splutters but before he can retort Harry’s coming back into the room hovering four cups of tea that float placidly to each of them. Draco looks exactly like a satisfied cat as he takes his and Harry drops back down onto the sofa next to him. Not too close, but certainly not too far, either.

“Literally exquisite,” Draco declares after he’s taken a sip. Ron rolls his eyes.

“It’s just tea, Draco,” says Harry, and he grabs for the remote to turn the film back on. “You’re such a demanding little brat. Merlin’s fucking tits.”

But Draco looks happy and Harry looks suspiciously content as well. Ron turns to her and makes a silent gagging face. Hermione snorts and puts a finger to her lips. They’ve decided not to say anything yet.

*

“Wasn’t this place a lot … uglier last time?”

“What?” Harry says absently. He’s not listening — he’s got all his attention zeroed in on a stack of parchment he’s holding. They’d only barely dragged him along to lunch; earlier the captain of the English National Team had apparently owled him a great number of brand-new Quidditch plays and required Harry’s extensive thoughts and notes before their next practise, which was tomorrow morning. 

“Uglier,” Draco says emphatically, and Ron mutters something she doesn’t catch. “Remember? The walls were that tragic egg-yolk colour.” He shivers. Hermione thinks it might have been an honest-to-god shiver of revulsion. She also thinks she knows what’s happened, even though the extent of it surprises her.

“Maybe someone heard you whingeing and changed it,” Ron apparently can’t stop himself from saying with a snigger. Hermione elbows him hard and he shoots her a glare, mouthing, he doesn’t know!

Harry would usually be the one to take the lead and get them a table when all four of them go out to eat together but today he’s too wrapped up in his Quidditch plays, so Ron steps forward and does it, which makes Hermione’s chest flutter pleasantly. He’d blush down to his bones if she ever said it aloud but he’s quite capable of being a leader in Harry’s absences. 

“Whatever happened,” says Draco pointedly as they’re led to their table, “it’s a great bloody blessing, I was genuinely unsure I’d have the mental fortitude to survive another assault like that on my delicate senses. And, I mean, this —” he gestures to the walls, which are now an admittedly pleasing dark teal above a white trim “— is stunning. It’s my favourite colour.”

“Is it? So weird they picked your favourite colour completely by coincidence,” Ron says, and Hermione elbows him again. Draco notices nothing and neither does Harry, although he does finally set the plays aside once they’re seated at the table.

“Are you complaining about the wall colour again?” he asks drily. They would both be extremely displeased to know they sound like an old married couple. Draco snatches haughtily at the paper napkin on the table and unfolds it to place over his lap. The first time he’d ever done this at a regular, decidedly not upscale restaurant Ron had taken it upon himself to spend the entire meal adopting a posh accent to match Draco’s and saying things to the waiter like “Don’t you have crystal?” while holding up a glass cup full of Pepsi and then commenting “These aren’t real silver, you know” after making a show of inspecting the titanium utensils. 

“I can complain about hideous design choices if I want to,” Draco tells Harry with his nose in the air. “Thankfully they’ve rectified it this time.”

On the other side of the restaurant, Hermione sees two employees talking, one of them gesturing at the wall with utter bewilderment. She doesn’t point it out.

*

“Twelve o’clock,” says Ron, nodding past Draco’s shoulder. “Some bloke staring you down hard, Malfoy.”

Draco looks excitedly behind him, but what Hermione takes more notice of is the way Harry’s face falls a little. She can’t help but wonder if he even realises it’s happened. She’s almost certain he’s aware of his feelings for Draco even though he still hasn’t said anything to her (and she’s been waiting months now, the effort of holding her tongue growing only more difficult by the day, and she knows Ron’s always seconds away from shouting at him) but she doesn’t think he knows how obvious he is. Draco doesn’t seem to know either, but she thinks that’s because Draco feels exactly the same way. She’d have called them morons, but she remembers too well how long it had taken her and Ron.

“What the fuck, Weasley,” Draco hisses, turning back around with a scowl that makes Ron laugh and Harry perk up again a little bit. “He looks like he hasn’t washed his hair in weeks.”

“Now, now,” says Ron, “mustn’t judge books by their greasy covers.”

“Then you go shag him if you think he’s so fit.”

“Maybe I will,” Ron says airily, as if he really is considering it, and Hermione can’t help chuckling and kissing his cheek. Then his expression changes to one of wicked amusement, which makes all of them look round to see the bloke coming their way. Hermione glances at Harry to find that — oh yes, he looks flustered and vaguely upset.

“Hullo,” says the greasy bloke to Draco as he comes up beside him at their table. He’s really not terrible-looking, but if she’s learned anything about Draco in the last couple years it’s that his standards amount to models and Harry Potter, so this man has almost no chance.

“Hello,” Draco drawls, reminding her fiercely of his younger self at Hogwarts. “I’m not interested.”

“Right little narcissistic bugger, aren’t you?” the man says. And now, finally, he’s begun to look as revolting to Hermione as he’d done initially to Draco — a repellent personality can do that. “Maybe I just wanted to come and have a chat.”

“Then why aren’t you looking at any of the rest of us?” Ron asks, sounding halfway between amused still and a little put off.

“Can you leave, please?” Draco interjects, cringing away from the man encroaching slowly on his personal space. And suddenly, as he looks on the verge of antagonising Draco further, he shifts his feet and slips, landing right on his bum with a yell of surprise. All four of them get to their feet to see, but there doesn’t seem to be any liquid or even slimy food for him to have tripped on.

“The fuck ...?” the man says, getting back to his feet. But when he moved towards Draco, he only slips again, on absolutely nothing at all. Something clicks and Hermione looks at Harry: he seems as confused as anyone else (if obviously pleased).

She looks at Ron then, who catches her eye and lifts his brows like he’s thinking the same thing.

Draco’s suitor gets up once more and steadies himself, looking a bit dazed. Some deep animal instinct seems to tell him to stop trying, and with a wary glance at Draco he finally leaves.

“Well that was a bit of a fucking scene,” says Harry. Draco, coming out of his own startled daze, laughs.

“Yeah,” Ron says sarcastically, “wonder what could’ve possibly happened.”

*

“I really thought it was going to rain,” Draco mopes where he’s standing at the window. It’s grey outside but it definitely doesn’t look like rain and Draco appears so upset about it that Hermione actually feels badly, even though she’s quite glad for the clear weather. 

“Just shut the curtains,” Ron suggests from his place on the floor. He’s sorting through Harry’s collection of VHS tapes, trying to decide on a good Halloween movie. Not that he’s ever seen any of them, and Hermione suspects he’ll end up choosing whichever cover he likes best.

“It’s not the same!” Draco wails. “The thunder and lightning is all part of it, you uncultured pillock! The atmosphere is all wrong.”

“It’ll be just as good when we shut off all the lights and draw the curtains,” she assures him, but it doesn’t remove the look of disappointment from his face. It’s a pouty sort of thing that echoes the brattiness of his youth; she imagines a five-or-six-year-old Draco giving his parents similar looks when he wasn’t getting what he wanted.

 At that moment the front door opens and Harry walks in carrying two grocery bags, one of which contains alcohol, which Hermione can tell by the way the plastic is bulging around the cans.

“The fuck are you all doing here?” he says by way of greeting.

“You said eight o’clock, fuckhead,” Ron tells him without looking up. “But it’s fine, I’ve had time to pick a film and Malfoy’s had time to moan about the weather.”

“What’s wrong with the weather?”

“I wanted a storm!”

At that exact moment, a flash of lightning lights up the sky behind Harry where he hasn’t even closed the door yet. Seconds later a downpour begins, and then there’s a rolling crash of thunder.

Hermione’s eyes widen and once more she finds Ron’s gaze, who looks about as shocked as she feels. Draco, meanwhile, has his hands over his mouth and looks like a child on Christmas morning.

For the first time since his magic had begun picking up on Draco’s wishes and granting them of seemingly its own accord, Hermione sees Harry look suspicious. He peers behind him at the storm suddenly raging outside his house before slowly closing the door. When he turns back he looks directly at Hermione, who looks away quickly.

They set up the food Harry had gotten — all kinds of Halloween-themed sweets — and once everyone has their drinks (“Make mine,” Draco tells Harry, “you do it best”) and is comfortable on the two sofas in the room (Harry and Draco are, as usual, as close to each other as they can get without actually touching) they start the movie: The Thing, which Harry swears is one of the greatest horror films of all time.

Funny thing is, an hour and a half into it she looks over and, with a jolt, realises the two of them are kissing half-covered beneath a blanket. She elbows Ron, who positively beams when he notices.

“Fucking finally, dear sweet Merlin,” he whispers, the sound muffled by the continued rain and thunder. “I nearly hit him upside the head when he made it rain, are you fucking kidding me?”

“Shh!” Hermione hisses, though she’s smiling. “They’ll hear you. We’ll rag him about it tomorrow.”

A soft sound of laughter comes from the other sofa that Hermione identifies as Draco’s, and when she risks another peek after a moment she sees that Harry has a hand on Draco’s jaw, and that he’s smiling.

[harrypupperandhisownerdraco]

Let’s talk about the battle in the Department of Mysteries for a sec. So after the group gets split up, Harry, Hermione and Neville go one way and Ron, Ginny and Luna the other. The next time we see the latter group Ginny’s ankle is busted and Ron’s brain is addled. Luna says that the Death Eaters blew up a planet in the planetarium and hit Ron with some sort of hex.

Let’s take a moment to examine that. If the curse that hit the planet had hit any of the kids, they’d be dead. So the Death Eater probably missed, hit the planet ahead of them, injuring Ginny. But here’s the important part: the one who actually gets hit by the hex? Ron.

Why is this important? Because Ron is consistently described throughout the series as tall. Like, every time Harry sees him after the beginning of summer he’s described as having shot up. Again. On the other hand Ginny is described as “the small one” by Bellatrix Lestrange. But Ron is behind her. I don’t know if you know this but tall people can run really fast. I am not particularly fit but I am tall. And I can pour on the speed when my adrenaline’s up, which I have no doubt was the case for everyone in the Department of Mysteries. But he’s behind her.

Because he did that deliberately. He kept his body between the Death Eaters and the girls. He shielded them from their spells. Because those he cares about are more important to him than his own life.

I don’t know, I just think about this a lot.

[harrypupperandhisownerdraco]

“Mr. Sculpture, have I seen you before ?”

[harrypupperandhisownerdraco]

just imagine draco and pansy wearing this 🐍🐍

[harrypupperandhisownerdraco]

Were James, Sirius, Remus, and Lily even there? ...No.

You read that correctly.

I just came to a very grim realization that makes a ton of sense. (Note: This might have been realized by others as well.)

We know that in the Tale of the Three Brothers, Death’s main goal was to kill the brothers right? He was pissed because they had cheated him and he wanted to take their lives once and for all.

And so he gives the eldest brother the wand, knowing that someone would end up killing him for it. The youngest brother knows what Death is up to and takes his Invisibility Cloak, much to Death’s reluctance, so that he can hide from Death until he’s ready to face him. And the middle brother? The middle brother was given the Resurrection Stone.

And what did the stone do?

It brought back his wife (sort of) and gave the brother such a huge desire to be with her that he ended up taking his own life.

Pfft. Can you imagine? The sort-of-kind-of appearance of your dead loved one convincing you to go die.

Hahahaha…ha…yeah…

And here’s where it gets dark.

We know that Harry was willing to die for his friends because he’s a noble git whose face pops up in the dictionary next to the word: “self-sacrifice”.

The only thing he was missing was the stigmata. (In fact, I’m surprised Jo didn’t put something like that in; she wasn’t exactly subtle about it.)

Anyway, we know that Harry begins walking to the forest and though he is determined, he also begins to have second thoughts:

And then he activates the Resurrection Stone - the stone that Death intentionally used to kill the second brother.

And what happens?

Harry’s loved ones appear to him, though they look odd (and that’s important; we’ll come back to that later) and they’re totally fine with him dying and even convince him that they’re proud of him for what doing what he’s doing, that it doesn’t hurt at all, and that it’ll be quick.

So in conclusion, the four people who have gone above and beyond multiple times to protect this child are completely fine with him dying.

I mean Lily, the woman who leapt in front of her child and demanded to be killed in his place, only tells him that he’s been brave and doesn’t say anything else. The woman who repeatedly pleaded for Harry’s life supposedly stands there and just lets him go die.

Yeah, that’s in character (//sarcasm).

But of course, that’s not Lily, is it?

It’s not James.

It’s not Sirius.

It’s not Remus.

I don’t even think it was the middle brother’s wife.

I don’t think that the Resurrection Stone brings back your loved ones at all. I think it shows you whatever it can to convince you to die.

That’s why James, Lily, Remus, and Sirius were all described as looking different than how they had died. (As opposed to say Nearly Headless Nick who looked exactly how he looked when he died, semi-detached head and all). And why the wife of the brother was described as looking/acting odd as well.

They weren’t really there. They were basically magical holograms who said what they needed to say so that Harry wouldn’t have any second thoughts as he marched towards death. And Death. 

Because who greets him?

That’s right, Death himself.

I mean Dumbledore.

I mean…no actually there’s been this really amazing theory going around for a while now that Dumbledore = Death and it actually makes a lot of sense.

Especially if you add my theory that Dumbledore intentionally gave Harry the Resurrection Stone so that when he was about to die, he would see magical holograms of his loved ones who would convince him that he was making the right choice, that it wouldn’t hurt, that they were proud of him, etc.

Because we know that Dumbledore wanted Harry to die. Harry was raised like a pig for slaughter. Note: He didn’t want Harry to be dead. He just wanted Harry to go through the action of dying so that Voldemort would be destroyed.

And so Dumbledore added this little detail to make sure that, well, the job would get done. 

So in conclusion:

Centuries ago, Death wanted someone to die. He gave the person a stone that made an image (just an image) of his loved one, which convinced said person that he needed to die.

Centuries later, Death wanted someone to die. He gave the person a stone that made images (just images) of his loved ones, which convinced said person that he needed to die.

[harrypupperandhisownerdraco]

[harrypupperandhisownerdraco]

important for AO3 writers

So a while ago I asked staff at AO3 why it was that I could post a work, update it with chapters, and have it appear no higher than tenth, ever, even with new chapters, on a busy fandom. I finally got an explanation. 

“If, however, your work is appearing below works that were already visible, it’s possible you’re running into an issue that occurs when a work is posted between 12:00 AM and 5 AM UTC - works posted during this time frame cause the system to believe the work has had a posting date set manually. (Normally you would do this by ticking “Set a different publication date” in the posting form.) This also applies to works that were initially saved as a draft on a date previous to the day they are posted. Works that have been backdated are assigned a default time of day, which may be earlier than the actual time you posted the work.”

So don’t post during that time. It just HAPPENS to be between 5 pm and 10 pm Pacific time so posting things after dinner is RIGHT OUT if you happen to live on the west coast of the US. That’s between 8 pm and 1 am east coast time.

So until they fix this (and it’s been going on a LONG time, they’re working on it but it’s a massive code overhaul, apparently) I’ll be posting fics OTHER times.  This means if you’re posting a long, multichapter work, posting the first chapter in the evening can screw up the entire rest of your posting. Posting a draft before posting for reals will also keep you from being at the top of the list. And this probably explains why some of my fics have done better than others.  What does this look like? Someone posts at, say, 4 in the afternoon my time. I come along and post around 8 pm, which is pretty typical for me, but it gets marked as “set manually” and given a time much earlier in the day, and thus appears behind everything posted that day. So it’s never on top, people start reading down the list, think they’ve seen everything that’s at the top, and don’t poke any farther.  So for writers, DO NOT POST BETWEEN  12:00 AM and 5 AM UTC. Google will translate, just plug in 12 am UTC and it will pop up your local time in most places.  For readers, realize this exists and that you’re probably missing something. Scroll back if it’s between those hours, and after those hours. 

And at some point they’ll fix this to something less arcane.

[harrypupperandhisownerdraco]

Harry and Draco at the library 📚 

[harrypupperandhisownerdraco]

How so? For starters.

American finance grew on the back of slaves

Economic Consequences of Segregation

GI Bill: White male affirmative action program

Predatory Lending in Black Communities and Black Wealth

African-Americans With College Degrees Are Twice As Likely to Be Unemployed as Other Graduates

America’s giant wealth disparity is driven by a history of racist redlining

Black Graduates From Top Colleges Face Discrimination In Job Search, Salaries

A Black College Student Has The Same Chances Of Getting A Job As A White High School Dropout

40 Acres and a Mule Would Be at Least $6.4 Trillion Today—What the U.S. Really Owes Black America

Racial Bias and Interstate Highway Planning

Race, Opportunity and Uneven Development in Urban America

Racial Bias in Hiring: Black Sounding Names vs White Sounding Names but please white people, tell me how you’re the true targets of racism.

[harrypupperandhisownerdraco]

what the absolute fuck, they’re no even hiding their racism anymore,

there’s literally no valable explication they can give in court for that and chances are they’re probably going to be left off the hook,

i’m fucking mad fuck the police, we need change

This country couldn’t be any more ridiculous. You literally can’t do ANYTHING in America as a Black person without risking arrests. Freedom is nothing more than a punchline.

[harrypupperandhisownerdraco]

sick of my own skin

[harrypupperandhisownerdraco]

top 25 reasons why harry’s got a reserved bed at mungo’s