#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.

[beloved-child-of-the-house]

Draco had got barely halfway across the Entrance Hall when it happened. He felt the Trip Jinx round his ankles before he saw his assailants, and he went sprawling hard onto the cold stone floor, the wind knocked out of him, his wand spinning away to clatter out of sight and well out of reach. He lay on his front, coughing and gasping with ugly laughter ringing in his ears.

"Nasty tumble, there Malfoy," jeered someone behind him. "You want to mind where you're going, or you could hurt yourself."

Draco pushed up onto his hands and knees, still trying to get his breath. There was no way he could reach his wand before they jinxed him again; he hadn't even seen where it landed. He never was any good at muggle duelling. He got one leg under him, bracing himself to be knocked flat again, and heard a shout from above him.

"Protego!"

The jinx bounced off the Shield, and Draco got to his feet under its protection. Harry Potter was striding down the marble staircase toward them looking like a thunderstorm. Halfway along he stooped and picked up Draco's wand. He hardly glanced at Draco as he passed him and marched up to the little knot of seventh years picking themselves up from where they'd been hit by the rebounding jinx.

"Think it's funny to knock people down, do you, McLaggen?" snarled Potter, glaring up at the biggest of the lot.

"Oh don't get your wand in a knot, Potter. It's only Malfoy," said McLaggen in the sort of tone you might use to say 'It's only a slug.' "No love lost there, eh?"

"It doesn't matter who it is! We're not doing things like that anymore," Potter said furiously. "We just got done with a fucking war, and you want to keep fighting? You lot want to keep it going just for fun? Well, I don't, and I better not see you do that again! Now clear off! Twenty points from Gryffindor!"

"You can't--"

"Too fucking right I can! Now get back to your common room!" And, perhaps because Potter was Head Boy, perhaps because he looked like he could spit nails, or perhaps simply because he was Harry Potter, they did clear off. Potter watched them go, then turned to Draco. He still looked quite angry, but he was clearly trying to gather himself, "You okay?"

Draco had grazed his palms rather badly from throwing his hands out when he landed; his left wrist and forefinger were throbbing mightily, and his chest still ached, but he shrugged, "Fine."

Potter grabbed his sleeve and pulled Draco toward him to inspect his injuries, "Liar. You should go to the hospital wing and get that sorted out."

"I'll live," said Draco, but he didn't withdraw.

Potter frowned at him, chewed his lip. "I heal it for you if you'd rather," he offered after a moment.

"If nothing else will please you."

Potter pointed his wand at Draco's bleeding hands, "Episkey." The scrapes vanished, and Draco felt the spell heal his sprained wrist and finger as well. Potter pressed something into Draco's hands. Draco's wand. Draco had already forgotten he'd picked it up.

______

Excerpt from my new fic Queen of the Weeds! Drarry, Rated E, 60K. This is a coming of age story about figuring out who you're going to be and what you're going to do after your life very publicly falls apart. Draco and Harry become friends and more after they both return to Hogwarts for their 8th year after the war.

This fic is not a WIP, it is complete. I will be posting new chapters on Sundays and Thursdays until the whole thing is up.

Also gratitude to Allie @oflights from whom I got the poem that I took the title from.

Edit: This fic is now completely posted! You can read all 10 chapters now now now! I hope you enjoy reading it, because it was such a genuine pleasure to write, and I'm really going to miss working on it! Get the whole story here on AO3!

[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.

[drarry-reccage]

Turn by Saras_Girl (300k, E)

Tags (quoting SG): some het, a lot of slash, some epilogue-friendly stuff and a lot of AU. 

“In the glimpse, you and I were friends,” Harry says softly. “Really good friends. Draco and I saw you all the time. There were four of us... me and Draco and you and your wife.” Harry hesitates and then presses on, throat dry, wishing he could think of a better way to do this. “Two couples,” he adds. Blaise stares, and Harry can see the expressions flashing across his face, far too rapidly to discern a single one. Finally, he pushes out a long, considered exhalation. “You mean to tell me,” he murmurs, voice light with incredulity, “that you and Draco were some sort of item in this glimpse... thing?”

Thoughts: Head forcibly empty, just silent, repressed feelings for this fic. I don’t think I need to say anything for Turn (or else I will fill this rec with bottomless keyboard smashing.)

(Rec by @kk1smet)

🎧 Listen to the podfic ver by Mab (ao3 / LJ) or by meems_toanend

[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

[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.

[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!

[isinuyasha-art]

[frm9pm]

mirror of ecidyrue book 3

[tackytigerfic]

Hello dear writer ! I am reading along First Watch of Night and absolutely loving it ! I was wondering about what the title mean or refers to ? Perhaps it is because english is not my first language but it is a mystery to me ahah

Thank you <3

Hello, lovely Anon! This is such an interesting question, thank you.

The title of this fic eluded me for so long. It never had one, in all the years I was writing, and even up until just before I was ready to post, I still hadn't hit on the right one. I usually just *know* when I find the right title, and it wasn't coming to me.

Some early notes I made are: Fierce as Electricity/ A Waste of Breath/ Sunward/ High Flight/ Golden Hour/ Upon Your Wrist/ Not Keeping Still (On the Move) (i was reading A LOT of thom gunn haha).

One idea we came up with in the group chat, which I still really love, was to describe the timespan of the fic in the title. So it's around eleven months in total, so it would have been something like 331 Days of Arrowless Time (because there's a theory that in the multiverse time is arrowless ie it doesn't move in one particular direction, linearly). I still think that is an excellent title but I have such a bad memory for titles and I knew I'd get it muddled along the way somewhere.

Anyway then i started reading a lot of war poetry, and was coming up with some i liked but again weren't right (What is Sunk/ Faces to the Foe/ Small Ways/ An Inward Sword). And then @sweet-s0rr0w started sending me links to poems she thought fit the vibe and one of the first was The Light of Stars by Longfellow, which I actually knew but hadn't considered as it was written before the period I was leaning into.

Within my breast there is no light

But the cold light of stars;

I give the first watch of the night

To the red planet Mars. 

It felt very good vibes-wise: to me, it's about resolution and strength through adversity. I also loved how he describes the qualities of warriors as "Serene, and resolute, and still/ And calm, and self-possessed" (Mars being the god of war in Ancient Roman mythology, thus uniting another special interest of mine) - it's the opposite of how I imagined my Harry lmao. Such bangers as "Know how sublime a thing it is/ To suffer and be strong" sealed the deal. In this fic, the characters are fighting a literal war, but they're also fighting against themselves, to be who they want to be, and both Harry and Draco tend to be hard on themselves, and deny themselves what they want in favour of what they think they deserve. Suffering and being strong is their default setting - in this fic, I look at how they can move beyond that. And despite the Longfellow poem asking "Is it the tender star of love? The star of love and dreams? O no!" - my fic is obviously about love, and the realisation of desires, and I liked the undercutting of the theme.

The first watch is also a military term - being on watch means you're on a specific duty for a set time. First watch I believe runs in the evening up to midnight? So it's quite symbolic, being on the alert into the dark of night, and doing your duty and so on. It felt apt for a fic about a war. And of course, this is a fic about time... so the word watch can have a double meaning 😆

All in all, the title is one I'm really happy with now I've decided to go with it - it's easy for me to remember and captures the mood I wanted.

Here's a link to a beautiful reading of the poem as part of the Poetry Out Loud series. And here's a link to the fic lol: First Watch of Night.

[thusspoketrish]

Harry | The Art of Getting By

[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.

[froidefille]

Day 9: a WIP

I have not anticipated I will break my one-fic-per-day rule on a WIP because I do not usually read WIPs unless they are from my fav authors. THEN @tackytigerfic have decided to give us an early Christmas present so I have two recs for you today! Recs under the cut <3

📚 First Watch of Night by @tackytigerfic

Draco/Harry, 54k out of the promised 275k (!), cat E

Chapters: 4/21

Summary:

Harry Potter defeated Voldemort at the Battle of Hogwarts on May 2nd, 1998. But what if he didn't?

📚 These Words of Mine by @dodgerkedavra

Draco/Harry, cat M

Chapters: 10/?

Summary:

The enchanted journals were supposed to be a bit of entertainment. A way to pass the time on tedious Auror missions. Neither one of them is supposed to disappear for two years and counting. But then, Harry never did anything according to plan.

Okay, that’s it for today, thank you for the prompt @hprecfest, @tackytigerfic and @dodgerkedavra for your amazing works and see you next time!

📚 First Watch of Night by @tackytigerfic

Well the answer to this question is easy – then we receive one of the best what if!stories out there. Guys, we got background Wolfstar! And I didn’t even ship it until like, a week ago. We get Sirius calling Harry his pup!! 😭 We got the whole new universe set up! One thing that worries me is that Wolfstar = no Teddy. But alas, there is the multiverse tag so I don’t lose hope xd

Just one little quote for you because I cannot get over what might have been:

Draco picked up his cup again. His hand was trembling, his face white and wretched. He didn’t meet Harry’s eyes. Harry didn’t want him to—didn’t want to have to look at him, still so familiar, so distinctive. Even now, it was hard to think of a time when they were friends; in Harry’s memory, it felt unreal, like a Muggle film he had once seen. It had started the summer after Sixth Year—long hazy days, a wet June leading into a wet July, and Draco coming round to Grimmauld Place with Andromeda while his mum was in Order custody. He and Harry had not one but two fistfights in the back garden, both of them panting and enraged, Draco’s mouth bleeding a little the first time, and then the second time wrestling each other viciously to the ground and struggling until they just gave up and ended up lying on their backs in the muddy grass, both of them defeated. And then, a tentative truce. Making endless cups of tea for Andromeda, sharing a compartment on the train back to school, the silence awkward until it wasn’t. Tedious days hiding out doing research in the Hogwarts library while Voldemort staged attack after attack after attack on the Ministry. Nights spent studying frantically, and then the two of them together, that whole long night of the Battle. Friendship. For whatever that had been worth.

😭😭😭

📚 These Words of Mine by @dodgerkedavra

Yet another one by @dodgerkedavra! I am on a personal mission to make them fandom famous. Their works are my fandom revelation of the year. Well, those and the existance of podfics in general 😅.

One thing that is super special about the fic (which is also the reason why there’s no wordcount provided) is its format. The story is about enchanted journals and the author made them come to life! Just take a look:

On that note I wouldn’t presume you can get emotional over written notes that are not even words but here we are:

It ends on a bit of a cliffhanger so I get a minor heart attack everytime I see AO3 notification ^^

[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)

[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!