#Long Drarry Fic

[thusspoketrish]

WIPPET SNIPPET!!!

I'm almost finished with this massive Drarry story + art that I've been working on, and I'm a bit nervous (and so thrilled, really! haha) to share it with you all! To ease into it, here's a little snippet + my Harry for you. I hope you enjoy it! xx

Many thanks to my lovely friends: beta reader @youknowyoudid and alpha reader @dewitty1. Ya'll are keeping me sane as we cross this finish line together! Love ya both, MWAH!

Draco tries to put Potter out of his mind until the object of his thoughts appears in the arts and crafts room. 

Potter shuffles in, clad in threadbare joggers, a plain white t-shirt, and a dressing robe, his feet snug in slippers that have seen better days. Despite the late hour, he appears to have just risen from a deep slumber. The telltale signs of medication linger in the slight droop of his eyelids and the sluggishness of his movements. His eyes, however, betray a sharpness, a keenness that sweeps across the room before settling on Draco. 

Draco’s hand falters, and the paintbrush he’s holding slips from his fingers, clattering to the floor. He remains rooted to the spot, his gaze locked with Potter’s. There’s an unmistakable tension in the air as Potter slowly advances towards Draco’s Nest, each step measured, each movement deliberate. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Potter’s voice slices through the air, dripping with disdain, sending a shiver down Draco’s spine. 

His words, though slow from the effects of medication, carry an undeniable threat that causes Draco’s heart to slam against his ribcage. He lowers his gaze to the table, his hair falling like a drape to shield him from Potter’s piercing stare. The room feels suffocating; each breath he takes is a struggle against the rising panic and regret threatening to drown him. He grips the edge of the table, his knuckles white, desperate to hold onto the last shreds of his composure in the one place in hospital he thought was safest.

[faiell]

inspired by a scene from 9 1/2 days by @magpiefngrl

‘Harry?’ Urgent, clipped vowels, insistent at his ear. A cool hand shook Harry's shoulder, hot breath played on his cheek, and the smell of lavender tickled his nose. Without thinking, Harry raised his head and pressed his face at the source of the lavender smell, inhaling deeply. Dawn’s fabric softener brought him slowly back to himself. He opened his eyes to see he had his nose buried in Draco’s shoulder.

[rockingrobin69]

Yes

For my beloved @getawayfox. Happy birthday!

“I want you naked,” Potter said, nuzzling the spot under Draco’s ear, and Draco—

“Yes,” he whispered, “yes, anything,” pushing into the mounting pressure of his body, hands roving, raving, anywhere they could reach, under Potter’s shirt and up his back and down his sides, to his belt, to the curve of his arse and the pockets, sliding in, “yes, yes.”

Everywhere Potter’s fingers touched sparked under his skin. Constant tiny starbursts, dazzling. Then worse, his laughter, warm in the hollow of Draco’s neck: “Darling—”

“Yes,” Draco breathed. He was shivering with how much he meant it.

“Here. Let me,” fumbling with the buttons. Draco’s shirt was so ridiculously unimportant when all of this: lemon-apple shampoo and soft flannel, Potter’s body in all the fits and stalls he could catch. Whimpering, diving head-first into Potter’s shoulder, kissing, licking, sucking in gently and then not at all so. Potter was still laughing: “Draco!”

“Mmmf,” finding the will to detach, only to bring himself to look at bright green eyes.

“You’re so—” Potter stroked his cheek, then cradled it, looking—just looking at him, so close and trembling with excitement, or maybe that was the world, trembling, trembling. The light was in love with him too, Draco thought: in the delicate catch of each eyelash and in the curve of his lips and on the tip of his nose, every single part of him luminescent. Draco wanted… everything. Overwhelmed, overpowered, overjoyed.  

Whatever came out of his mouth was a yes. “Potter,” a gasp, and “in here,” pulling towards, ah, he hoped it was a bedroom—something hard at his back and then something softer. They found a mattress, found each other, writhing out of their clothes, spell-stuck together. Losing contact was in no way permissible, so they just kept on however they could: Draco holding Potter’s elbow as he shuffled out of his socks, Potter’s fingers skimming the skin suddenly cleared of his trousers, up and down his hipbone.

“You,” Potter was saying, the dizzying brush of his stubble on Draco’s cheeks, “you’re just—”

Draco didn’t know what he was, and truly it couldn’t matter. Not right now. Not when Potter was pushing him backwards, climbing, all gracelessly graceful and recklessly stunning. It might actually have been stupefying, seeing as none of Draco’s frenzied limbs were willing to move. He let Potter take him all the way to the headboard (one hand at the back of his neck, the other trailing under his waistband, boxers still on, why was anything still—) just sat there all sack-of-potatoes and staring with sick adoration at Potter, Potter, so much Potter above him and all around him, Potter.

“Po—” the grunt punched out of him, Potter’s knee in his groin, then his laughter in Draco’s ear, “fuck, sorry, haha, I’m so,” and it, it, barely registered, any of it. Potter was crushing him to the mat and the whole world was spinning, erupting in flames or, something. Everything was three sizes too large and blistering hot. He wanted it so badly. God, he wanted, wanted, wanted, and Potter gave, Potter kept giving.

Skin to skin, both of them feverish, possibly mad. It burned so bright behind his eyelids, tingling everywhere, the crook of his elbow, behind his knees, the soles of his feet. The back of his neck, buzzing, the sweetly-sore spot under his jaw still damp. He was so… it was all so…

“Draco,” into the shell of his ear, “Draco, Draco,” singeing-hot, and Draco said, “Yes,” just kept saying it in non-words, in mewls and nips and frantic fingers, in moans, “yes, yes.”

The night seemed endless, star-bright. Half-rolled into the thin blanket, all his nerve-endings alight, and the room sang back to him in delight, in revelation. Potter, in his arms, a sweat-drenched cacophony; it was summer still somehow, under the thunderous rhythm of his heart, the lovely weight of this joy.

The flutter of the curtains in the barely-there wind was its own little song. Draco tapped along with his fingers: yes, yes.

[sitp-recs]

hi liv! do you know of any draco-centered longish fics??? thanks! i just love him so much

Hi anon, definitely! Here are my favourites:

Heal Thyself by astolat (T, 47k)

"Are you going for the course?" Lovegood asked. "You have the NEWTs.”

“What course?” Draco said, then, “No, don’t be ridiculous,” when he realized she meant the notice pinned up on the board he’d been staring at: Applicants To The Introductory Mediwizard Course For The Coming Term Shall Present Themselves In The Chief Mediwizard’s Office By August 24th.

A Room Up There (And You In It) by @the-starryknight (T, 59k)

When Preservationist Draco Malfoy was assigned to work on Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, he was excited to delve into the gorgeous Black family antiques. His excitement quickly ended when something in the House decided it did not like his presence one bit.

The Trouble with Wanting by waldorph (E, 60k)

Draco Malfoy is cleared of all charges; this is what happens next.

Tea and No Sympathy by who_la_hoop (E, 70k)

It's Potter's fault, of course, that Draco finds himself trapped in the same twenty-four-hour period, repeating itself over and over again. It's been nearly a year since the unpleasant business at Hogwarts, and Draco's getting on with his life quite nicely, thank you, until Harry sodding Potter steps in and ruins it all, just like always.

Among Ancient Pines by @graymatters (M, 74k)

Every day, Draco Malfoy tries. With every fiber of his being he tries. But he doesn’t much think about what he’s trying for. In his final term of Healer training, Draco is unfortunate enough to find himself on a plane, the only means of traveling to a small, magical town in rural Alaska.

Super Rich Kids by @thusspoketrish (E, 81k)

Draco Malfoy has become disillusioned by the glitz and glamour of the scandalous lives of the Post-Second Wizarding War Pureblood Elite. Enter: one existential crisis, one group of thieving cynical friends, and several terrible, terrible decisions.

A Thousand Beautiful Things by geoviki (M, 104k)

Draco Malfoy struggles with changed fortunes, shifted alliances, an ugly war, and an unusual spell, with the help of a concerned professor, an insightful house-elf, and an unexpected Gryffindor friend.

Nor All That Glisters by @sweet-s0rr0w (E, 110k)

Lonely and frustrated on house arrest, with no prospects for the future, Draco begins brewing Felix Felicis in an attempt to improve his lot. Just in the short term, of course. He isn’t a total idiot.

Far From The Tree by aideomai (E, 112k)

The arrival of Harry Potter’s children—snapped back in time, the children themselves guessed, twenty or so years—was the most interesting thing to happen at Hogwarts for years.

All Life is Yours to Miss by Saras_Girl (M, 114k)

Professor Malfoy's world is contained, controlled, and as solitary as he can make it, but when an act of petty revenge goes horribly awry, he and his trusty six-legged friend are thrown into Hogwarts life at the deep end and must learn to live, love and let go.

What We Pretend We Can't See by gyzym (M, 131k)

Seven years out from the war, Harry learns the hard truth of old history: it’s never quite as far behind you as you thought.

Any Instrument by @dictacontrion (E, 131k)

Draco Malfoy wouldn't go back to England for anything less than an exceptional case. Being asked to figure out why Harry Potter can't control his magic might be exceptional enough to qualify.

There Is Always the Moon by @firethesound (T, 159k)

Draco's life after the war is everything he wanted it to be: it's simple, and quiet, and predictable, and safe. But when a mysterious curse shatters the peace he'd worked so hard to build, there's only one person he can trust to help him. After all, Harry Potter has saved his life before. Now Draco has to believe that Potter will be able to do it one more time.

[drarry-reccage]

To Be Like Geese by @writandromance (211k, M)

Tags: post-war, slow burn

As one, the ballroom bursts into action, multiple Aurors running towards Agnes then halting in their tracks, hesitant to touch her. The security attendants to the side of the stage sweep towards Harry, muscling him back towards curtained safety even as he fights to stay in the action. “No!” he yells, pulling at his shoulders, trying to loosen the Aurors’ restraint even while his eyes dart around the ballroom, following the commotion. He knows, beneath the adrenaline, that a dozen Ministry officials are already at Agnes’ side, but he can also see them hesitating to do anything. Hermione would likely refer to his current urge to join them as more of his ‘impulsive heroism.’ He has no clue what he would do if he reached the action. All he knows is that disappearing behind the stage curtains very much feels like the wrong answer. The muscled men don’t lessen their hold though, as they haul him off the platform. The last thing Harry manages to see before he’s separated from the chaos is Malfoy, wand pointed directly at Agnes, staring furiously and unblinkingly at her bloody form.

(Rec by @sweatersinthesummer)

[frm9pm]

mirror of ecidyrue book 3

[lcdrarry]

1 May 2024 | LCDrarry Fic

If The Boxers Fit (A Cinderella Story)

Prompt: "100 Girls", 2000 Prompted by: @DrWhoIsGinnyHolmes (AO3 & Tumblr) Author: Anonymous Word Count: 8,360 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Notes: I saw prompt #111 and had to have it. Thank you, dear prompter, for the opportunity to write this! I had lots of fun and I hope you will too. Many thanks to B and E for your beta and suggestions, you made this silly little fic so much better.

Summary: When Draco ends up shagging a hot, mysterious stranger in a broken Ministry lift and is left with nothing but a sexy pair of red boxers to remember them by, Draco’s friends go sleuthing.

Read it now on AO3.

Please help promote the fest by sharing your favourite submissions, so more people can enjoy all the amazing new Drarry works of LCDrarry. Thank you!

Creator reveals are on 15 June.

[kissmypoets-hp]

Fanfic Classics Series

🎨 Truth to Materials by lately and @toomuchplor

In which Harry learns to appreciate art and other pleasures of the flesh.

This fic changed my life!!! and gave me so much delight as somebody with a fine arts degree!!!

i've been making penguin classics-style covers for fics i have saved on my kindle, as inspired by zeziliazink and bubu0h’s works! art credits + bonus info under the cut :)

Artwork used:

"Seated Man, academy study" by Albert Edelfelt (1875)

is it just me or this could be older harry posing for draco?

Bonus cover?!!!

While I was looking for potential artwork to use for this fic, I found 𝘿𝙤𝙧𝙤𝙣 𝙇𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙗𝙚𝙧𝙜's work (NSFW warning for nudity/sex, but his work is vibrant and so, so beautiful!). I was looking for queer painters whose work captured a lively, loose sense of intimacy (which was the vibe I got from the fic) and his work was PERFECT for what I had in mind, but since his works aren't in the public domain I'd rather not upload what I made for myself on a public blog... though I'd love to show it (privately) to anyone interested so we can gush over how well Mr 𝘓𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘨's work fits the fic... in my humble opinion, at least 🤣 Anyway, if you've made it this far, you really should check out his website!

[handledwithgloves]

i just cannot do draco with a bob...

so many fics are like 'his shoulder length white-blond hair, longer than it was in school' like no, baby that's lord farquaad ToT

[thusspoketrish]

Harry | The Art of Getting By

[blackcathjp]

in eighth year, animagus harry unexpectedly transformed into a 3 month old black kitten.

the trio didn't understand why his animal form was so young, but he still had full capacity of his human abilities and magic. he roamed around the castle at night, avoiding other students and animals, but a group of slytherins took a liking to the cute little black kitten that lurked around the dungeons.

he visited the slytherins a few times a week, who set out water, food, and even toys for him. it was different being around them, far nicer than he expected - he was just a cute castle cat, not harry potter the savior. he hated being in the spotlight, but he didn't mind the adoration or pampering he received as a cat. he liked being cared for. he felt carefree and comfortable when they played with him, made him refreshed and relaxed the next day. he liked not having to think each day, be stared at, or live up to expectations.

maybe that's why he was a kitten. his magic sensed something, manifesting this form so he could feel like and be a child again. whenever he thought about that, he felt so much grief and sadness that his magic might be compensating for his childhood and teen years. on those days, it was easier to be in his cat form because he didn't have to think so much. and on those days, he found comfort in someone he least expected: draco malfoy.

draco was reluctant at first, deterred by a mysterious cat who seemed to understand him, purring or meowing at just the right moments as if they were talking. the cat hissed and placed paws on him whenever he said something self-deprecating, as if scolding him. he noticed how the cat politely refused others' attempts to pet him, but welcomed draco's affection, nuzzling and asking for more. it was strange that a cat would drag a blanket over to him when he so much as shivered, or nudge a goblet of water to remind him to drink.

he noticed a pattern: on the days harry potter skipped class, the kitten was found asleep in the middle of the day, curled up on draco's favorite seat in the common room. the next day, the cat was gone, but harry potter was there, softer and calmer, less twitchy and alert like he'd been days before. sometimes harry's hand would linger as he brushed against draco, reminding him of a soft cat tail wrapped around him.

eventually, it clicked.

the startling green eyes, the heart marking on one paw, the zigzag lightning marking on the other. it was unsettling to know the cat sleeping on his lap was harry potter all along, who's been secretly living among them the past few months, pretending. yet, he was thrilled to have his attention, to be his favorite, to have harry potter come back to him, every single time. it was such a heady thought, and now draco couldn't stop staring at harry potter, couldn't stop thinking about kissing him senseless.

"you're such an idiot, potter! you're a much better listener when you've got the whiskers on," draco accidentally blurted during an argument in potions.

harry's spoon clattered to the table. "what?"

"i know, you know," draco scrambled out, softer and quieter this time. "i won't tell anyone."

harry stared silently at him, before glancing away, blush high on his cheeks. "how did you know?"

"i didn't at first. but i must say, it's such a classic move of yours, following me around even when you're, well."

"you seemed really sad and lonely," harry whispered as he resumed his stirring. "but you became happier and kinder when i was like that. i felt really comfortable and safe around you, not like when i was with the others, and it made me like you. a lot."

"oh," draco whispered back, brain short-circuiting. "oh. well, i quite like you too."

to the slytherins' disappointment, the kitten's visits slowly dwindled down, along with draco's presence in the dorm. it was common to find him in the corridors, the library, or the lake, sometimes with the black kitten, but most of the time with a smiling, happy harry potter.

[rockingrobin69]

Food for thought

“I’m so glad you came,” Potter said with that look on his face. Draco felt himself clam, go small-small-small until his nose barely cleared the line of his shoulders.

“It’s,” he tried through a too-dry mouth, “no problem, really. Happy I could help.”

“I don’t know why it keeps doing that,” scratching the back of his neck with those big Potter-hands. The grandfather clock had been in the Black house for centuries. Now it was showing the right time again, and also, conveniently, no longer throwing darts at bystanders. “I swear it was working this morning.”

“Truly, a mystery.” Draco levelled a scathing glance at Pansy, who was sitting at the counter with a far-too-neutral expression. “Pans, if you wouldn’t mind, a word?”

He dragged her out to the corridor, only barely not by the ear. She had the audacity to smile. “Everything all right, dear?”

“None of that,” in a heated whisper. “That’s the third, Pans. How many times would you break Potter’s things just to have him call me?”

“If you’d bothered calling him yourself, I wouldn’t have to.”

“Pansy Parkinson!”

“Draco Malfoy.” Examining her fingernails with an exaggerated yawn. “Are you suggesting I’m messing with my own colleague? I would never.”

He rolled his eyes so hard his head hurt. “You’re not fooling anyone. Did you forget I actually know you? Potter does too. Soon enough he’ll figure out—”

“That he simply must take you on a date? I’d hoped so, yes.” With a cheeky wink: “Got to go, my show’s about to start. We’ll catch up later, yes? Still on for drinks on Friday?” and she left, the corridor and a flushed, slightly hyperventilating Draco, alone in Potter’s place.

“Erm, Draco?” from the kitchen. “I think I might’ve made too much pasta. Stay for dinner?”

Oh, he’s going to kill that woman.

After dinner, that is.

*

“You’re a life-saver,” Potter murmured, pretty mouth hanging open. On the sofa, Seamus was smiling so smugly, Draco could punch him.

Didn’t. Stood there, made himself small and wished to be not-here, not-now. “It really was no problem. The windows should shut properly now. Have you tried,” but it was useless, he knew why the windows were jammed, and it wasn’t poor maintenance.

His ‘friends’ were just out to get him.

Suppose they thought it was funny? Suppose… Draco didn’t know. Tried to curtail his mortification at being summoned here, again, in another attempt to humiliate him.

That’s what they were doing, right? That’s what this was all about. They knew how he felt about Potter, nothing was more obvious. It was there in pub nights and on their stupid hikes and that time they all went to the beach, it was in Draco’s eyes, in his hands always reaching out, never touching.

“Thanks,” Potter said, for the third time. “You’re so… It’s really fucking kind of you to. Take care of me.”

Startled, “I don’t—it’s just your windows, Potter. There’s no reason to get all sentimental.”

A loud noise: Seamus, snorting. “You boys are such a mess.” Shaking his head. “Anyway, this was fun. See you two Saturday!” and he disappeared, cartoon-quickly.

(Draco’s been watching cartoons recently. Mostly with Potter, late at night after their friends would leave; sometimes by himself, wearing the jumper he’d stolen and feeling rather pathetic).

“Are you by any chance hungry?” Potter asked from a surprisingly-short distance. He was right there, close enough to touch. Tittering on his tip-toes, like he had any reason to be nervous. “It’s only, I’ve ordered far too much food, and Seamus just. Erm. Left.”

Draco folded inwards, made himself as small as possible, so it won’t start leaking out, all this… foolishness. It was stupid. It would break his heart.

He stayed anyway.

*

“Thank you so much,” Potter rubbed his eyes, this half-grin on his awful, handsome face. “I don’t know what’s wrong with this house. I think it hates me.”

“I think someone does,” with a murderous look to Ginevra, who not only smirked, but also made a point of coming to see for herself. The cooker had stopped frying everything to a crisp, and should be safe to use again. Big whoop.

“That’s some quick spellwork,” she hit his shoulder far too hard. “Didn’t know you were so good with these.”

“Really,” incredulous. “You didn’t know.”

“And how lucky, that Malfoy could come over so quickly?” she looked between Potter and him. “Maybe you should move in. Easier for the next time something bends out of shape.”

Draco didn’t splutter, because he was an adult, but he must have looked rather pinched. “There won’t be a next time.”

“I’m so sorry,” Potter sounded miserable, standing there in his too-tight Quidditch top and those joggers that always rode too low, “god, Draco, I’m sorry I—”

“No!” he cleared his throat, had no hope of clearing his face of that awful, telling blush. “No, it’s absolutely fine. I don’t mind! I meant, I hope your things stop breaking all the time for no reason.”

“Oh. Don’t worry about it. I, erm, accidentally made too much curry, so—Gin, you were saying you can’t stay?”

Draco’s belly made a terrible gurgle. Oh, he’s going to kill all of them. Closing his eyes, he missed some of the encounter, and probably an evil grin from Ginevra.

“Draco?” Potter came closer, and he smelled like lemongrass and thyme, and like Potter, and like summer, “Would, erm, would you like to stay for dinner?”

Why were the gods testing him this way? He tried to go small-small-small till he wasn’t noticeable anymore, but Potter was too close and Draco’s heart was crushed open. The weight of his want, which had to be so clear on his face, this absolute agony. And nothing he could say but, “Yes, yes,” and hide behind his fingers, and endure it.

The worst part was, Potter was a great cook.

No: the worst was at the end of the night, when he kissed his cheek so, so gently.

Draco went home, and buried himself in his duvet, and swore to never play the fool in these games anymore.

*

“This is so embarrassing,” Potter announced into his hands, “I don’t know what happened, it just. Won’t quit it.”

His shower curtains were singing. Non-stop.

“I,” Draco swallowed, and his ribs nearly cracked with it, “didn’t k-know you were such a… big Celestina fan.”

Couldn’t hold it in: laughing so hard he was crying, and Potter was laughing too, shoulders heaving, so bright and so wonderful Draco’s teeth ached. They both ended up on the floor, winded and flushed. Draco loved him so much it was frightening.

“I,” he almost said it out loud, covered his mouth with a hand.

“What?” Potter, laughing. He took Draco’s hand with both of his, tried to pull it away, “What, what were you going to say?”

“Nothing!” in a tiny squeak. “Potter!” when he basically climbed in his lap, still laughing, laughing.

“You have to tell me. I made your favourite biscuits, so you have to.”

“You—did?” confused and bright-red in the face, “Why? Was someone supposed to come tonight?”

Potter’s eyes were so big. “No?”

“So why did you…” Potter always had too much food not due to a lack of planning, but his heart, that huge thing. “You cook when someone comes over.”

“Yes,” Potter agreed. He was so close and so warm. Baffling.

“So who did you bake the biscuits for?” who was responsible for this evening’s prank, he meant, for this torment. Whom should he thank or perhaps curse. Potter blinked his pretty eyelashes, then one big hand came to cup Draco’s face.

“You,” he said. This tiny, shy voice. “I made them for you. I was hoping you’d come. Might have… erm… cursed the curtains a bit.”

Draco would have gasped, but Potter’s hand on his cheek. “What?”

“Well… you never come when I invite you, only when something’s broken, and I, I, wanted to see you.”

No, that didn’t clarify anything. “Why?” Draco asked, and his voice was small too.

Potter huffed something warm on his face. “Because I like you, silly. You must have noticed? Everyone else did. They’ve been driving me bonkers and… they were right. I should have just been honest with you.”

His heart was racing, raucous in his chest. “You know they’ve been playing us. The clock, the windows, the cooker, everything that went wrong, it was them.”

“Not this time,” Potter said. His mouth was so close, so red and so stupidly gorgeous. Coming even closer. “Draco, can I…”

Instead of making himself smaller, Draco went big. Chest expanding, arms sending out and reaching, touching. He kissed Potter before the stupid git could even move, and then they were snogging, wet and sloppy on the bathroom floor.

It was stupid. It was perfect. Behind them, the curtain were still humming: a cauldron full of hot, hot love…

Had to stay for biscuits, right?

For my lovely @orange-peony who gave me a brilliant prompt from this list. Hey, you could do it too!

[sitp-recs]

hello loveliest liv :) it's almost semester break for me which means a lot of time for reading drarry! (...as if i haven't been procrastinating all term reading drarry anyway... but shhhh)

so i am coming to you, my most trusted drarry reccer, cup in hand, begging for some lovely, long, plotty recs, pretty please? i'd take anything you have to offer (except for horror-themes they make me queasy ups)

sending love x

Hello my darling! Ahh how nice, you deserve a lovely and chill break full of Drarry treats! I can’t wait to leave on vacation in early August myself 🙏🏼 I did two lists with long, plotty recs (here and here) but it was a while back so I thought I’d add some more. I haven’t read much this year tbh, but really enjoyed these long-ish fics. Happy readings!

your braids like a pattern by @hoko-onchi-writes (E, 31k)

Harry soldiers on with the get-to-know you activity, noting each counsellor's interests and repeating their names. Harry’s eyes land on Malfoy. He’s the last counsellor in the circle. One blond eyebrow is arched, his smirky mouth turned up at the corners. That can’t be good.

À Bon Chat by @oknowkiss (E, 35k)

Draco Malfoy didn’t intend to lead a life of crime after the war. It’s just that being good had turned out so incomprehensibly boring. Now he's thirty-five, a fully redeemed member of society, the darling of the wizarding social pages, and a newly minted consultant for Gawain Robards' Investigative Research division. In his spare time, he enjoys good whisky, casual sex, and moonlighting as an art thief.

Truth to Materials by @toomuchplor, lately (E, 54k)

In which Harry learns to appreciate art and other pleasures of the flesh.

this heaven of mud by @garagepaperback (E, 94k)

winter, 2002: Draco Malfoy is absolutely fine, thank you very much. summer, 2008: Harry Potter is, er- well, not good exactly, but definitely better. Yeah. Better than before. A love story told in two somewhat unreliable parts, over six years. Featuring secret shagging, to friends, to the 'how is it fair for someone to say your name like that' sort of friends, to, finally, someone you could call a home.

Never Mind the Bollocks by @the-sinking-ship (E, 118k)

If someone told Harry six months ago that by autumn he would be single, living on whisky and toast, and dancing the night away with Draco Malfoy, he would have told them to get their head checked. And yet, here he was.

Beholden by @faith2wood (E, 123k)

Draco Malfoy might not be a killer, but it turns out he's an effective painkiller. If stopping pain was all Draco's touch did, things might not be so complicated, but either way Harry can't afford to be choosy.

[themoon-andits-stars]

Lipstick Stain

Harry finally met up with Ron and Hermione, running his hand through his already unruly hair and sighing as he approached. “Where have you been?” Ron asked, raising an eyebrow in question.

Harry shrugged, waving a hand in dismissal, “I just got caught up.” Hermione leaned in, eyes narrowed. She brought her hand up to tug on the collar of his white undershirt. “What is on your collar? Oh my- is this lipstick?”

Harry’s eyes widen and his cheeks begin to flush. “W-What? I, erm, what?” He stutters as he begins to fumble with the collar of his shirt unable to hide the stain now.

“Nice hair Potter! You get into a potions accident?” a voice calls from down the hall, distracting them from the stain on Harry’s collar. Draco stands with his posse, arms folded across his chest, and a smirk playing on his lips.

His pink stained lips.

[colesawicn]

happy father’s day to them 🌊☀️

[dodgerkedavra]

Love Will Abide [LCDrarry 2024 Fic Claim]

Love Will Abide by yours truly

Word Count: 41,025

Rating: E

Archive Warning: Major Character Death

“Bristol is that way.” Potter points, then returns his hand to steady the pistol. “You can make it by nightfall.” A grimace flickers across Potter’s face. “Tomorrow, anyway.” “I’m rather hungry,” Draco admits. The faint, gnawing sensation is the least of it, really. His chest hurts and there’s emotion balled up in his throat. Draco’s entire being is teetering on the edge of a phenomenal collapse. Potter glances in that wary arc again, and his eyes return to Draco’s. Harry Potter owes Draco nothing. He’s well aware of that. But being in Potter’s presence is tearing his resolve to shreds. Potter looks clean. He looks beautiful and decently fed and in control of himself, and Draco wants nothing more, nothing, nothing, than to throw himself on Potter’s mercy before his crumbling mind does it for him. “I haven’t eaten in two days,” he continues. A smile he can’t control splits his dry bottom lip, and a huffed giggle sneaks past his lips. “Doesn’t sound very long when I say it out loud, does it? It feels long.” “I’m letting you go.” Potter keeps the pistol aimed at Draco’s chest. “So go.” “All right. Look, Potter—” Oh, no. Is Draco going to cry? If he starts, how will he stop? “First, it’s me, Draco Malfoy. You know me. And even if you don’t feel—” “I know it’s you,” Potter interrupts. “Here’s the thing, Malfoy. If I feed you, then every rough sleeper you talk to about it is going to show up here looking for a free meal. And this is not the Leaky Cauldron.” “Well, the Leaky Cauldron didn’t have free meals. It was a pub.”

I need you to know I pulled my car over on the side of the road two minutes before claims opened so I wouldn't miss this. Unrelatedly, I did a lot of sobbing, but trust me. I know. But trust me.