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lcdrarry · 5 months

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LCDrarry 2024 Round-Up Post | Week 2

On Sundays during our posting period, we won't post a new work, instead you have time to catch up with the works that posted during the week and hopefully leave lovely comments for our creators.

Happy reading, commenting and sharing! ;)

~Your LCDrarry Mods

PS: Please have a look at the author notes and tags on AO3 for additional information. Thank you!

PPS: Please share far and wide! Thank you!!

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Podfic

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"As You Wish" by Pineau_noir

Prompt: "The Princess Bride", 1987, Rob Reiner Written by: Pineau_noir Narrated by: Anonymous Podfic Length: 02:31:28 Rating: Teen and up Warnings: None

Summary: Draco was raised on a farm in the small country of Witshire; his favourite pastimes were flying on his broom and tormenting the hired farm boy. Though his name was Harry, Draco never called him that. On Harry's forehead there was a scar shaped like a lightning bolt, so Draco called him Scarhead.

Nothing gave Draco as much pleasure as ordering Harry around.

Or a story about fencing, fighting, torture, revenge, giants, monsters, chases, escapes, True Love, and miracles.

Listen to it now on AO3.

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Fic

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first, she fell

Prompt: "Anatomy of a Fall", 2023, Justine Triet Prompted by: @wolfpants Author: Anonymous Word Count: 1,648 words Rating: Mature Warnings: angst, referenced character death, open ending, referenced adultery, speculated murder

Summary: Harry's wife is dead. No one knows quite what that means.

Read it now on AO3.

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Caribou Garden

Prompt: Nature Documentaries (genre, any year) Prompted by: @meandminniemcg Author: Anonymous Word Count: 2,641 words Rating: Teen and up Warnings: None

Summary: Alone with his swotty, posh, nemesis-turned-colleague on an uninhabited island in the far north, cinematographer Harry Potter grapples with his inconvenient crush. A nature documentary-inspired fic with magical caribou migrations, dramatic landscapes, and only one tent.

Read it now on AO3.

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Twin Blades

Prompt: “Star Wars: Episode III - Revenge of the Sith”, 2005, George Lucas Author: Anonymous Word Count: 3,525 words Rating: Teen and up Warnings: lightsaber combat, nightmares

Summary: Harry advances a few steps toward Draco, who doesn’t move, only watches him approach with narrowed eyes. “If you’re so sure the Jedi have no power, duel me. If you win, your master will be proud of you.” Draco’s eyes glitter. “And if you win?” “We’ll find out, won’t we?” Harry raises his lightsaber, readies himself. “Come on.” Without another word, Draco lunges at him.

Or, a Drarry-flavored reskin of the battle on Mustafar.

Read it now on AO3.

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Slipping through my fingers all the time

Prompt: "Mamma Mia", 2008, Phyllida Lloyd Prompted by: @Azulaschild Author: Anonymous Word Count: 11,378 words Rating: Teen and Up Warnings: sex while on drugs, drinking

Summary: Recently-divorced Harry returns to Serenity Commune, site of his wildest youthful romps and the beginning of his recovery from trauma, to get out of a rut (and because Hermione made him). Unfortunately, sex, drugs, and dancing aren't all that await - he'll have to confront his past and what life might have been.

Read it now on AO3.

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Leap Year

Prompt: "Leap Year", 2010, Anand Tucker Prompted by: @DrarryMyHeart Author: Anonymous Word Count: 29,064 words Rating: Mature Warnings: None apply.

Summary: Draco Malfoy has come a long way. He has a successful business and a muggle-born high-flyer boyfriend.

One tiny thing - it's been four years and he has no ring. No matter, he'll take things into his own hands. Feb 29th is an Irish muggle tradition that he'll happily jump on. Archie (boyfriend) is in Ireland - he'll simply portkey over and pop the question.

One (LARGE) problem. The portkey office messed up and he's landed outside Harry Potter's pub.

The same Harry Potter that hasn't been seen for ten years.

*Big sigh.

Read it now on AO3.

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Runaway Groom

Prompt: "Runaway Bride," 1999, Garry Marshall Prompted by: @elskanellis Author: Anonymous Word Count: 30,044 words Rating: Teen and up Warnings: Arranged marriage (not between Harry and Draco), Infidelity if you squint (not between Harry and Draco)

Summary: OK, so Draco's feeling so nervous about his upcoming wedding to his fiancée Astoria Greengrass that he could faint. That's one of the pitfalls of an arranged marriage, right? Just because he's run out of his past three weddings, doesn't mean this one won't go ahead. He just has to keep his eyes on the finishing line, and ignore the sudden reappearance of Harry Potter, who seems to be determined to turn his world upside down. Again.

Read it now on AO3.

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Hope Is A Thing With Feathers

Prompt: "Thelma and Louise", 1991, Ridley Scott Author: Anonymous Word Count: 33,335 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator chose not to use Archive Warnings

Summary: Harry is disillusioned with the Aurors, his relationship with Ginny, and is tired of all the hero worship but feels trapped. Draco, still hated by the Wizarding world, decides to get away and shares his plan with Harry, his only friend. Harry jumps at the chance to go with him.

They share in the freedom of their adventure, but things don’t go according to plan. Amidst their misfortunes, they discover new talents, courage in the face of tragedy, and above all, love.

Read it now on AO3.

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Romancing the Dragon

Prompt: "Romancing the Stone", 1984, Robert Zemeckis Prompted by: Anonymous Author: Anonymous Word Count: 34,382 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: Action movie typical violence

Summary: Harry Potter writes romance novels from the comfort of his London townhouse, with the assistance of his beloved cat, Juliet. He does not engage in rescue missions, talk to dragons, or develop feelings for Draco Malfoy. That would be absurd.

Read it now on AO3.

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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.

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halloworhorecrux · 6 months

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Warning: slight NSFW and dubious consent at the end.

Where is the waking up married Drarry? Right here my friend

It's been one week of Draco being free of Azkaban. Ron and Neville are on Harry duty.

(You are telling me that Hermione does not have a schedule to make sure Harry does not bother *stalk*Draco Malfoy. Take your filthy lies out here. )

She knew he was flying and watching over that scrawny ferret since his trial.

Harry smells of the North Sea, and his hair has been even more of a disaster. The daily prophet calls him a Casanova because anytime he is seen, he looks disheveled, just shagged barely left the bed disheveled.

So its been a week, and they have been able to keep Harry away from Malfoy. Ron boasted to Hermione he is doing a brilliant job as they enter a bar where Harry is beelining to the white blonde head in the center of the dance floor. Dean Thomas is quick enough to rugby tackle him before he makes contact. Well fuck.

Pansy Parkinson saw the Saviour looking at her friend and did her best to stear him away to go somewhere else, literally anywhere else. Dear, sweet Draco is wasted and horribly clingy, so he tells her to "carry me Pans."

Like what the fuck, he is 6ft tall and yea maybe he weighs like a sack of bones that doesn't mean Pansy can carry him. Ever loyal Goyle decides he will take him . The problem is Goyle looks different ( he doesn't Harry just doesn't care) and so Harry sees a man trying to manhandled Malfoy, and just bulldozes everyone and disapparates with him to Las Vegas.

Draco vomits throughly on Harry's shoes.

The humiliation is enough that Draco decides he will just get Harry wasted too. So they continue their night blasted until they decide to enter a chapel and get married.

Potter I swear to hex and hold you, in sixth year bathrooms and ballroom manors, with a muggle pence and all the galleons in a malfoy vault. Till we fucking die together, i vow to never leave you alone, Potter"

Malfoy I swear to hex and hold you, in forbidden forests and any sea your stranded in, you use to find me every train ride but now it's my turn to find wherever you want to be. ill be there with you. I vow to watch you until we greet death, and even then, I won't let you go"

"Wonderful vows gentleman, with power vested in my by the state of Nevada I now pronounce you husband and husband"

"Merlin, where am I?"

"We are in the America's, and you should probably wake up. We are in loads of trouble, Potter. " Harry speaks his last name with relish and just enough posh that Draco gives himself whiplash, turning towards him

"Potter"

"Ohcome now, it's your name too, may want to use my first name sweeatheart"

"Sweetheart?" Draco's face is gobsmacked and it's glorious.

"Yes, baby?"

"Merlin"

"No its Harry, you screamed it enough last night"

The flush that begins at his chest travels all the way to the tips of Draco's ears.

"I-- I thought that was a dream"

"Dream about marrying me often, Potter?" Harry ask.

" sometimes, sometimes it's of our honeymoon, where you spend hours licking-"

"Yea, well as much I want you to finish that, the MACUSA is outside our door and waiting to charge us for illegally entering the country and some other minor charges"

Dracos eye grow huge, with fear mixed in because he was only recently released from Azkaban.

" No, No, don't fret love. I won't ever allow you to return there or any prison ever again. Do you hear me? I'll kill them before anyone puts a hand on you."

A nod " I trust you, Harry"

His name on Draco's lips is enough for Harry to say fuck it and begin to strip his cloak from his shoulders. Thank merlin Draco is still naked and filled with his cum leaking out.

A better version of this is if this happens before Draco's trial and he doesn't go to Azkaban at all. Whatever floats your boat

#harry x draco #harco #drarry #microfiction #just get married already

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aibidil · 6 years

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I was just reminded how I wrote a fic where Draco calls himself a “country gentlewizard” and wears tweed fucking robes and when @tdcatsblog was betaing she commented, “Are you sure you really want to go there? I’m imagining a cross between an inverness cape and a sofa” and I think that’s the best beta comment I’ve ever received. Please take a moment to imagine tweed wizarding apparel.

#country posh #country posh draco #tweed #a hag a hex a tale of redemption

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softlystarstruck · 3 years

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RAPTURE CLOSE, FIND JESUS

for the @drarrymicrofic prompt “guess i’m jaded” | G, 1.4k | read on ao3 | thanks to @moonstruckwytch for the beta ♡

“What’s rapture?”

“Huh?”

“What’s rapture?” Draco repeats, louder than before. The truck engine roars, a constant in the constellation of dusty towns they’re passing through, Chillicothe and Estelline and Leila Lake and Goodnight.

“Dunno. Why?” Harry glances over at Draco, one hand loose on the wheel and the other resting easy on Draco’s thigh.

“There was a sign a while back.” Shifting towards Harry, Draco watches the flat horizon. “You were messing with the radio. It said ‘RAPTURE CLOSE, FIND JESUS’. All caps.”

“Oh, Jesus is that Muggle guy. But I don’t know what rapture is. Look it up?”

Draco glances at his mobile. “No service.”

“Damn.”

The edge of the road flies by Draco’s window, dizzying if he looks at it too long, so he looks out to the horizon. Against the impossibly blue sky wind turbines spin lazily, goliaths made small by distance. They’re headed to Amarillo, to a state park Harry picked randomly from a list, then it’s Draco’s turn to decide. He leans his forehead against the sun-warm window glass and thinks of Arizona. They haven’t been that far west, yet. But he wants to go so far he can put his feet in the sea. He wants to stand at the edge of the world.

“Sounds kinda like overture. Though I’m not really sure what that is either,” Harry says.

“It’s the orchestral piece at the beginning of an opera,” Draco replies, trying to keep his vowels from slipping into something posh. He rubs a hand over the knee of his jeans until Harry intertwines their fingers. “Or any other type of extended composition. Like a suite or a play.”

Harry hums and brushes his thumb over Draco’s hand, back and forth. Over the sound of the wheels on pavement a country song crackles through the speakers; the aux jack stopped working somewhere in Arkansas, two hours after Harry bought the truck with a wad of Muggle cash.

“What do you think it means, then?” Harry asks. More wind turbines appear along the horizon in front of them, and Draco searches for a cloud but finds none in the vast blue sky.

“Rapture. Rapture. Rap-ture,” Draco enunciates. The syllables sit heavy on his tongue, ill-fitting. “It sounds rather unfriendly.”

“Yeah,” Harry says, and he smiles over at Draco, who takes it like a punch to the gut. The smiling started in Little Rock, the hand holding in Texarkana. Kissing– kissing started at a drive-in movie theater in a town so small Draco doesn’t want to remember the name of it, not when he can remember Harry’s hands on his waist instead. He looks down at his mobile.

“Service,” he announces. “Let’s see.” The sun glints off his phone screen and he turns the brightness all the way up as a song with banjo starts playing on the radio. He silently reads the definition once, then again. “Merlin.”

“Christ,” Harry corrects, like he has been for weeks, so that Draco won’t stand out in Muggle places, even though his long hair and flamboyant hands would likely be clocked long before he’d say Merlin.

“No, that’s actually it. The Rapture– capital R– is the transporting of believers to heaven at the second coming of Christ.”

“They– they think he’ll come back? Wait, what about nonbelievers?”

“I'm not sure.”

Harry fiddles with the radio, bringing the volume softer then back up. “So they’ll just… fly right up in the air? Whenever Christ comes again?”

“Yeah.”

There’s a beat of road-rattled silence, then Harry bursts into laughter.

“Guess I'm jaded, but that’s– that’s ridiculous.”

Turning to look out the window, Draco squeezes Harry’s hand three times, hoping Harry knows what it means. “I mean, you killed a wizard that had a part of his soul living inside of you. I feel like that makes anything possible.”

“Draco. Look at me,” Harry says, voice soft. Grass flashes by the window in a beige blur and Draco watches it stubbornly. “Draco.”

“Hm.” Draco turns to face the windshield, looking at Harry through the corner of his eye, as though that will keep all his love and panic inside the boundaries of his body.

“Don’t start worrying that the Rapture is going to happen.”

It’s too late for that, when Draco’s chest is already tight with fear he’d inherited from his mother after the war. That panic is the reason he’s sitting in a rattling pick-up truck with Harry Potter at the wheel; maybe there’s somewhere it can’t reach him, though he hasn’t found it yet. Instead, he reluctantly fell into affection and then love, sometime before the land turned flat, and now he’s crammed full of emotions too big for his skin.

“Draco, really. It’s not something either of us believe in.”

“Well see, that’s the problem, isn’t it?” Draco is petulant but he doesn’t care. Let him have his panic, let it split him at the seams until he’s sobbing in Harry’s arms on scratchy motel sheets. At least he has that. Draco’s earthly possessions: panic and four t-shirts and Harry’s earth-shattering smile.

Eyes on the road, Harry doesn’t respond, but he smooths his thumb over Draco’s hand, again and again. The radio crackles then fizzes into static as they hit a dead spot, and Draco keeps his eyes on a line of barbed wire fence now running along the road. Eventually his eyes fall shut, helpless against the warm sunlight, and when he comes to the radio is playing again, something old-sounding.

“Mornin’,” Harry says, his favorite joke. The sun is lowering into the afternoon sky and Draco tilts his face towards Harry, too content to stop his smile. On his thigh their hands are still intertwined and Draco squeezes, one two three. For a moment Harry looks over to Draco and holds his gaze, and then–

“I love you.”

Panicked, Draco brings his knees up to his chest, curls his bare toes into the cracked green vinyl of the seat. Harry’s hand falls away. They don’t say this to each other. Draco thought they didn’t say this to each other. He takes over driving when Harry starts getting tired and gives him the better pillows at the shitty motels they stumble into and squeezes Harry’s hands three times. All added up, it seemed like enough.

He thought they didn’t say this to each other.

“Did you hear me? I said–”

“Yeah, I heard you.”

“Oh.” Harry’s shoulders go stiff, and Draco can’t look away. “Okay, I guess.”

“No, Harry, it’s not–”

“It’s alright,” Harry says, voice rough, keeping his eyes straight ahead. “It’s okay if it’s not the same for you.”

“No, I just can’t… I can’t.” There’s a dead animal coming up on the shoulder of the road and Draco stares at its unidentifiable black fur, because somehow that’s better than staring at Harry. The shape zips by and it’s just the horizon or Harry again. Draco chooses Harry.

“Everyone I’ve ever directly said I love you to, out loud, is dead,” he says bluntly. “Every single one. I’m not going to kill you.”

Harry turns to stare at Draco, much longer than he usually lets himself look away from the road; he’s a cautious driver. “You know that’s not how it works.”

“Somewhere in my brain? Maybe.” Draco exhales roughly. “But not the part of my brain that’s on fire, which is most of it. The loudest bit.”

Silence falls between them, or at least what constitutes for it in the truck: guitar through speakers and something in the bed clunking with every bump they hit. Harry tentatively reaches out and places his hand over Draco’s knee, and Draco places his chin on the back of Harry's hand, hyper aware of how delicate Harry’s bones are. How delicate Harry is, all things considered, just skin and bones and sinew strung together with breath.

“But you do? Love me?”

“I tell you all the time,” Draco whispers.

“What?”

“I tell you all the time,” Draco repeats, louder. A car passes them on the left side and he startles, staring beyond Harry’s profile. Underneath this sky it’s so easy to believe they’re the only people in existence, that everything is the roar of the engine and Harry’s eyes, green as the pine trees of east Texas.

“You do?” Looking over, Harry’s eyes widen. “Oh. Oh. You do.”

He squeezes Draco’s knee three times, and Draco kisses the back of his hand before looking forward, towards the horizon.

#drarrymicrofic #ficlet #drarry fanfic #drarry fic #hpdm #harry potter/draco malfoy #harry potter fic #hp fanfic #softly writing

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rockingrobin69 · 3 years

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Hot and Ready

Draco’s always had a sweet tooth. Ever since he got his first taste as a boy, he developed a particular palate – simply put, the sweeter, the better. Savory might work for some, others don’t care much for the difference; but Draco knew what he wanted, what he needed. What he fostered an unquenchable thirst for. Rich, heavy flavors, so deep, so full… the rush nothing else could induce. And now he was going for the very source, and the thrill was palpable in his every nerve ending.

He walked quickly, anticipation building in his abdomen, teeth absently worrying his bottom lip. It’s been so long since he’d indulged himself in something he truly wanted. Sure, he’s had his fair share of delicacies; Draco tried some of the best every country in Europe had to offer. Velvety desserts, mouth-watering confectionery, crunchy on the outside, oozing sweetness on the inside – addictive, divine, he’s really had the crème de la crème. But not this. He’s never had this before.

Cold hands tucked in his pockets, Draco could almost feel the excitement in the air. There was a scent, a… he inhaled deeply, entranced and jittery with want. The closer he got, the more restless he became. This was not what Father had meant when he said to be discreet. Going here – doing this – it was as far out of what was deemed proper as possible. But Draco was powerless against it, this desire, something he’d wanted for so long – or would have, if he knew he could have it. Not exactly Father’s idea of nourishment. Good thing Draco’s long past listening to that man. He stopped outside the address the note crumpled in his pocket declared, took a hasty look around, and waited.

If there was anything at all he found bizarre about this situation – standing outside his old ancestral home, waiting for London’s most elusive pastry chef’s wards to allow him in, then he didn’t let it show. In fact, ever since running into him last week in his bakery, Draco discovered he couldn’t actually fault this turn of events. It made sense, in a way, for his obsession to somehow wind around Potter, make him its epicenter. It always has up until now. Instead of diving into that old pool of misery, Draco closed his eyes and pictured it. He could imagine to the finest detail how it would look, how it would taste. The perfect bite. A decadent, luxurious, heavenly bite, a spectacular, fragrant, head-spinning bite –

The door opened and there stood the man of everyone’s dreams, probably the only thing Draco didn’t have in exception to the rest of the wizarding world. He was saying something, but concentrating was a struggle; the scent spreading from within nearly knocked Draco off his posh boots. Sweet, sweeter than he could ever hope, heavy, sensual – oh, gods. He was positively slavering. He didn’t know if he could wait much longer.

“Coming in?” Potter asked again, sucking on his lip, and there was a tiny drop of liquid chocolate on his chin Draco desperately wanted to lick. He shoved the notion away forcefully. He could only manage a nod before the door closed behind him, and then Potter stepped forward, far too close, and Draco forgot how to think. Good gods down below. Potter looked good enough to eat, and Draco was so hungry. Starving. Ravenous.

Hell, he wanted it for so long, fantasized about – not this, he never thought he’d get this, but something like it. Potter, looking at him with these eyes. The promise of his sweet, sweet treat, heady like nothing else. Desire trickled through him, igniting his senses, sharpening his instincts. It’s been years since he felt anything so vividly – the need, whole-consuming and destructive, rampant in the burning pit of his soul. Then Potter reached out a hand, like he could feel it too, and there was nothing else Draco could do but pounce.

He didn’t give Potter a chance to change his mind; Draco backed him up slowly, firmly, hands helplessly threading through his hair, mouth rapturously clinging to Potter’s, breathing him in like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do. Potter was unbearably gorgeous, all big and dark and broad, his lashes so dark and so fucking long they cast a shadow over his cheeks. Draco wanted him, needed him, now, forever. Has been wanting him since forever. The center of his obsessions, of the world, of it all – so damned sweet – Draco couldn’t take it anymore. In a wild movement he yanked his hand from where it was hooked around the back of Potter’s head and planted it on his jaw, forcing it back. The neckline of Potter’s shirt fell low, and the view it exposed would have stopped Draco’s heart instantly, were it still beating.

“Well? What are you waiting for?” Potter panted in his ear, and Draco couldn’t resist the temptation. Sinking his teeth in he closed his eyes, overwhelmed by the sensation. Draco’s always had a sweet tooth, but never in his life – or his death – did he taste anything quite like this. He never wanted to taste anything else, ever again.

Day 5 of my Seven Sins of Drarry one-shot collection is all about - can you guess? that’s right, gluttony. It is very humbly dedicated to @nv-md, who’s been so supportive and wonderful, and who writes the best vampire-boyfriends fics which inspired me to push through when gluttony felt a little too on the nose 😂 Two more sins to go!

Day 1: wrath | Day 2: lust | Day 3: sloth | Day 4: greed | Day 6: envy

#drarry #fic #Seven Sins of Drarry #vampire draco #sweet Harry?#day 5: gluttony #fanfiction #RockingRobin69

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lilyrachelcassidy · 3 years

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Summer Nights (3)

A/N: INDEX

Warnings: alcohol, language, sexual alludes, and... that’s it??

Word Count: 3.7k

Tags: @war-sword @paradigmax @winnsmills @idkatee @bforbroadway @okaydraco

So her name was Y/N.

Draco couldn't help himself but wonder about her for the past few days, after their encounter in the restaurant. As he thought more and more of her, he decided she was more of a changeable person, judging on what he had learned about her; timid and coy one day in the lobby when he first arrived, and plainly confident on another when she approached him to return his fucking wand.

And did she believe in that fictive tale about him playing a magician? Did she sense his sudden abashment when she started to question him on the subject?

He blamed himself for the whole situation, which could have never happened if he only were more careful. He assumed he had lost the wand when his mother furiously dragged him back to his hotel room from the bar he had stopped by for a while. Perhaps, it was when he had handed the receptionist, Y/N, the letter, and it just dropped out of his pocket as he was taking an envelope out.

Fortunately for him, it found its way back. So he didn't have to trouble his head with that now, right?

One issue, however, stuck to his thoughts and vividly came back every time he glanced at his hand, only to see blurry words written with a hard-to-efface ink. Of course, by none other than Y/N.

A few days back, she had scribbled her name and a number on his palm, and since then, he tried to figure out what it was for. He knew he couldn't walk out to the city and stop people in the middle of the pavement to ask for an explanation for the note because it would be as irrational and bizarre as it sounds. The second thought was to ask his mother for an additional conjecture about that by sending an owl. But then he quickly remembered, he didn't have access to any of owls here and -- so and so -- he didn't know the address Narcissa was staying at.

So both options were excluded.

Soon enough, however, the situation cropped up. Someday around six in the morning, still sound asleep and immersed in the dreams, the strange, alarming sound rang up in his bedroom, echoing off the walls and waking half of the death of him as he heard it. He flopped off his bed with the sheets falling along with him, and he began looking for the source of the noise. Then he noticed: a white handset and a set of ten digits next to it; he picked it up -- it was only a hotel checking up if he needed anything.

From then on, everything lined up and made a perfectly logical sense in his head -- it was a muggle device to communicate with each other. If you were desperate enough not to meet up with somebody in the real-life, you were likely to click nine digits and either meet with the receiver's voice or voicemail on the other side. So here was a purpose of the number.

Draco also discovered these things were so-called phones. And they were sold in various forms and types like the models of brooms in the Wizarding World -- from less to most exclusive ones. Little did his consciousness helped him, but after an hour, he was already out in the city and walking next to the shops' exhibitions and searching for an electronics store to buy himself one of those.

Why did he want to buy the phone? He could lie and say that it was only in case of emergency. But admitting truthfully to himself, he felt a nagging curiosity about those devices and wanted to understand this part of the muggle world. And something, more of a hunch than reasoning, told him that he soon might be needing one of those.

Later that day, after wandering for almost an hour and stepping into some cafeteria for lunch, he was finally holding a fucking iPhone in his hand. It had a lot of fancy shining buttons and a small, black partly-bitten apple on the back, and some kind of virtual assistant (at least that's what he had heard from a salesman) Siri with a very posh British accent. Having been advised to purchase it, Draco did so even without a second thought.

He paid for it with some muggle money his mother provided him before her departure, and walked out of the store, having it packed in a nice paper bag with a receipt and a SIM card. He decided on opening it when he reaches his room, and meanwhile, look around the area for some entertainment or something in those terms, to preoccupy himself.

Actually, Draco hadn't been too much in foreign countries, and hauling him out to Muggle London was a miracle, much more to Muggle Paris. He could find a similarity, but it was much different here -- cars honking at each other at the traffic jam; countless shops with clothes; restaurants with delicious food; people babbling at one another in French but also in Italian and German, and English. It was chaotic; it was loud, and he had to watch his feet in order to not trip over by someone else.

Draco felt lost in that mess. Random people encouraging him to visit the shops he would never intend to drop by, strangers pushing him in a rush and mumbling indistinct 'Sorry' for stepping on his shoes, some even too bothered to even look at him. Partly, he wished he had never listened to Narcissa and instead spending time with Thoe, Blaise, or whosoever and talking about irrelevant stuff like the score of the last Quiddich match (Banchory Bangers against Falmouth Falcons) or about the latest affairs with the Ministry of Magic.

And what was he even doing here?

In mere seconds, he decided on changing a route back again to the hotel instead of meandering aimlessly and optimistically, waiting for some godsend to find.

What he wasn't, however, considering was actually finding some godsend in front of the revolving doors of the hotel building.

Yet again, as if some supernatural powers brought them to the same place every time, he was standing on the opposite side of the door where Y/N. It was the late afternoon, so instead of wearing the usual white shirt in the composition of black jeans, she had a green top and striped, yellow shorts with a small watch on her wrist.

She was turned, slightly to the side, so it was her profile he saw as she waved probably at one of her friends, smiling broadly. Draco never really paid much attention to the girl, especially to her looks, but now as his eyes roamed over her standing figure in those a little too revealing clothes, he felt a gulp forming in his throat. Her hair was falling on her shoulders, the beam plastered to her face, and she seemed to be a radiating sphere of positivity.

For the last time, she blew her friend a kiss, and then she was looking at him, infinitely shocked at the sight of him behind the window, staring at her. Draco blinked, snatching out of thoughts.

Y/N made her way out, gripping her big handbag and throwing it hastily on the shoulder and a glowing grin waving over her face again. "Nice to see you again," she said. "I thought you would call."

He furrowed his brows, detecting the faint trace of hope in her voice and feeling his heart take up on the speed. "Well... I was just about to. In the room. I bought a phone..." He lifted the sack in his hand. "...and was about to dial your number."

"Really?" she asked, slightly startled and happy at the same time. She brushed some of her hair behind the ear. "Didn't you have the phone?"

"I left it at home." It was the quickest lie he could conceive. He playfully rolled his eyes, indicating the slight amusement at his alleged absentmindedness. "Just heading back from the shop."

She laughed at that. "Right." Suddenly, her cheeks were covered in a light scarlet, and she dropped her gaze at her feet for three seconds, as if she was about to share something very, very secretive with him. Then she was eyeing him again. "Listen... I've just ended a shift. Maybe you would like to go somewhere? I promised I'll show you around the most interesting spots. Are you up to that?"

Draco contemplated, taking in a small breath. Some part of him really lingered to give it a shot and go out with her, seeing where it carries them, as spontaneous as it was. It wasn't a date, and she was practically a stranger, but... what kind of a stranger! A quiet voice in his head told him this was what kept him away from the idea; disclosing his doubts -- her sparkling with joy eyes and the effect she had on him. A mere fact of him pondering the question was pure evidence it mattered to him, and he definitely tried to kick in with a good impression.

That left him with no more answer than: "Yeah, sure."

For some reason, Y/N let out a sigh of relief and relaxed a little, looking as if she was about to hear bad news but heard the contrary instead. "Great!" she exclaimed cheerfully. A little too cheerfully, she realized, as soon as she spoke up because the embarrassment welled up on her face. Yet another blush brushed her cheeks, and she chuckled at herself. "Sorry. Bad habits from the reception."

Now it was his turn to chuckle. He liked it, actually, but obviously wasn't going to say that out loud. "Don't mind," he assured her. "Shall we--"

"Before we do," Y/N cut him in, already guessing the upcoming rest of the sentence. "I suggest you leave that stuff..." She pointed her finger at the bag he was carrying. "...in the room. We might be wandering some hours in the heat. So it might not be the best idea."

Draco nodded, silently agreeing with her pertinent advice. "I'll meet you downstairs in... five minutes, then."

She shifted a little, still grinning like a maniac and watching him with sparkling eyes. "Okay," she said, as Draco was making to walk past her, feeling the strangest hint of excitement creeping in his chest. As he was nearing the doorway, he heard her shouting behind his back, "I'll be waiting here!" And the tiniest of his rare smiles formed on his lips.

XOXOXOXO

"So tell me something about yourself, Draco." Y/N looked at him, a light of interest entering her eyes.

As decided, they had met up a few minutes later in front of the entrance to the hotel and then took on the route. Draco had asked her about any potential propositions of where there should go, to which Y/N only smiled mysteriously and said it was a surprise.

So now they were walking hand-in-hand, taking almost the same pace as they strolled in the rhythm of the roads. The buzz still could be heard, and people prattling loudly, but this time -- as Draco noted -- instead of crowding in the center of the noise, Y/N led him through some stealthy alleys only a real dweller could know about. There were still laughs and talks coming, but much quieter.

"What do you want to know?" he asked, not quite comprehending how he should answer her question. He had been in some relationships, some successful and some not, but no one had really paid much interest in him. Not really him.

"Uh, you know. Where do you hail from, what are your hobbies, why did you come to France? Whatever you want, actually." Y/N chortled, offering him a small smile of encouragement. The sun rays were smoothly emphasizing her beauty; skin glistening under the daily light. Draco couldn't help himself but think of how her hands would feel on his shoulders and--

'Focus Draco,' he scolded himself for drifting far, far away with his imagination.

"Well," he started. "I'm from England, what you can guess by my accent. I play piano, learned Italian and Spanish, and...you know, basic stuff." He omitted the part he was a captain of his Quidditch team at school for almost five years which was his biggest pride. "My mother forced me to come here."

"Oh," Y/N seemed to be a little surprised by his confession because she made a fish-like face. "Didn't you want to come?"

"Not quite," Draco admitted truthfully. Before she was able to ask him for a reason for that, he outstripped her. "Had a tough time lately. My friend...died."

Y/N stared at him, mouth slightly agape, and in an instant, her expression turned from cheerful to a regretful one. "I'm sorry," she said, massive uncomfortableness visible on her face.

He shrugged, making his faultless poker face to the game as if it didn't affect him at all -- blank and uncaring. But it hit him. Always did. He didn't like to talk about his post-war experience; even recalling it in his mind was torture.

'If she only knew,' Draco thought. 'She wouldn't be so eager to get acquainted.'

Before he could pay off with as much interest as she did to him, Y/N was gesturing excitedly to the name on the corner of the building, located right next to the extensive, artificial beach with impeccably clean water. There were quite a few people enjoying themselves and sitting on the warm sand, but not throng as Draco could expect from a place like that. "Here we are!"

Not only the sand, but a minibar was there as well: a small deckhouse in the midway of the shore and pavement; a few wooden stools; and the bartender who was shaking a cocktail mixer in his hands.

Shortly after, however, the man behind the counter noticed them approaching. He shot Draco a brief look, and then his gaze landed straight at Y/N, who also perceived him glancing at her. He seemed to be happy at the sight of her, and his eyes swept momentarily over her figure, perhaps identifying if it really was a person he thought it was, and then he gestured for her to come closer. Y/N seized Draco's forearm, tugging him to come along with her, and Draco, left without any other choices, followed.

Y/N began speaking something French with him, and he heatedly answered her back in a sort of enthusiastic voice. Apparently, they must have known each other because, after seconds, they started joking around, laughing, and patting each others' shoulders like old friends. It took quite a moment, but the bartender eventually focused his attention on Draco, who was standing next to Y/N and was trying to make any sense out of the conservation. The man asked something, curiously arching his brow yet again at Y/N, who flushed suddenly. Clearly flustered with his question, she playfully smacked him at the top of his head and turned to face Draco.

"Sorry for that," she said, putting both of her elbows on the countertop and making a slight pout of guiltiness. "It's just an old friend of mine. I used to come here a lot in the past, so we know each other... pretty well, I guess."

That arose Draco's curiosity, and he didn't miss a chance to ask her. "Don't you come here anymore?"

"No." The readiness of this reply surprised him a little bit. She bit her lip and let her eyes drift at her shoes, which -- Draco noticed -- was her typical reaction when she was nervous. "I... I used this place to meet up with my boyfriend. My father didn't approve of our relationship -- he assumed there was something iffy about him and that he had bad intentions." Chuckling dryly, she tried to cover up her emotions, though the sadness was hitched to her voice. "He was right. He used me and then dumped me, saying it meant nothing."

Although he felt an urge to hug her, he held it back and stared at her, not really knowing what to say. Should he console her by telling her the man was a pig and she clearly deserved better? Or should he keep silent, only proving himself to be a good listener? It was very confusing for him to be around girls who cry and complain and expect reassurance in their words. He witnessed Pansy weeping a lot of times, but she was the one to instruct him what to do by throwing herself at him and lingering in the embrace. But Y/N was new to him, and it was no easy way to find out what she wanted him to say.

"Sucks," he uttered under his breath before the awareness kicked in.

What the fuck, you dolt?! Is it how you want to comfort her?

Fortunately, Y/N didn't receive his words as critically as he because her eyes lighted up, and she giggled softly. "Yeah... But I learned from that. I try to be warier now."

The bartender poked her suddenly on the shoulder, making some mumbling and incomprehensible sound. Y/N nodded and slightly tilted her head to have a better view of Draco. "Jean asks if you want a drink. He recommends Brave Bull. Brags that he can do the best one in the country."

"Mhm... Let it be it," he agreed, giving up on his usual liquor and dipping into more muggle-like specials. He attempted to force a smile on the lips, trying to give it more of a tone of a request than a demand.

She reciprocated the gesture, and then she turned to her friend, leaning casually against the bar and expertly translating the conversation. He only nodded, smiling, and grabbed the nearest bottle of some booze to pour the contents into the glass along with some other ingredients.

"Here you go," the bartender, Jean, tried out his amateur English, but remnants of French accent could be heard. He laid two glasses of alcohol -- one fiercely brown; the other one, blue with a cocktail umbrella inside -- on the countertop and grinned. Before Draco could take out some cash to pay, Jean's voice echoed again, still with a little stammering accent. "Free!"

Y/N and Draco made their way to a nearby bench, both calmly sipping their drinks and looking at the horizon as the sun set down, disappearing out of your sight. It was strange for Draco how comfortable he felt in her presence; the comfort he hadn't experienced for years in anyone's company. Although he was aware you had met a few days ago, something in your relationship gave him enough space to be himself. And he liked it.

Draco chanced to glance at Y/N, and she was already looking.

"I like coming here," she started hastily, as to conceal she was staring. "It's calming."

As an excuse to tear their eye contact, Draco scanned the beach again, and he could definitely get her point. The place was nothing but charming. "Agree."

"You know... It was my inspirational area when I drew. I first found it when I got into a huge fight with my father. Since then, I have used it as an escape from the outer world. It was a mistake that I shared it with my ex, but... you seem to be a proper person."

Draco didn't miss the compliment, and a barely visible blush danced on his cheeks. He felt his pulse speeds up, heart pounding at the sudden realization of their proximity. "You drew? Is it past tense?"

"Yes." Y/N nodded swiftly, grunting. "I love to capture the moments I find beauty in: people, places, specific objects. I even aspired to go to art studies. But..." She exhaled deeply, preparing herself to continue. "...they are too costly. My father says so... I don't blame him; I know he tries. But I stopped myself from having hopes."

Draco listened, and the pity churned his stomach. Taking a nip of his drink, an idea popped up in his head. "Do you have those drafts?"

"Right now?" Y/N asked, shocked, to which Draco responded only with a short nod. "Yes, I usually carry them --er-- in my bag. I had to throw them away... but I just couldn't."

"Can I see?"

Surprisingly, for the first time, as Draco saw, reluctance appeared on her face. She deflated, apparently battling with doubts. "Ummm... Yes." And then she slipped her hand into her motley bag, rummaging intensely. After mere seconds, she finally found what she was looking for -- the set of papers bound neatly around by a fine twine and clip, to the additional perseverance.

Y/N passed him, what seemed to be many hours of her solid work, and he examined them closely. What Draco could say is that he wasn't an expert in the field, but he unconditionally believed that those sketches required a lot of talent to draw as precise as they were. He was in awe, really -- the accurate contours given the best preciseness; the attention paid even to the smallest details; gradings made with soft touches of a pencil. The drawings presented a lot: random people walking in a rush, natural landscapes, some sculptures lined up in front of a building, even the least relevant objects like shoes or an apple. That, of course, didn't discourage Draco from watching further -- he flipped the pages, soundlessly, and a little too fascinated to utter a thing.

"And what do you think?" asked Y/N, nervously tapping her fingers on her thigh and (unnecessarily) preparing herself for a flow of criticism. Her gaze darted between Draco's face and the sketches.

"I... think you have a gift," he complimented her, weighing the great truth in his words.

"Really?" Y/N asked him in disbelief, blushing profusely. "Thanks! But --er-- you can take them if you want. It'd be easier for me to know I give them in the good hands than throwing them away."

The 'good hands' comment flattered Draco, and he felt almost honored to accept the offer. "Yes. Thank you." He buried the works deeply in his pocket.

He would definitely make good use of those. He had a plan.

XOXOXO

A/N: Okay, hi everyone! It was supposed to be longer, but I decided to divide it into more chapters with less word count instead. Nothing is happening yet, but you can already feel some tension, right? :D The next chapter is going to be super, super short. So I might be posting it within two days or so??? Idk yet, and it’s not a promise because I have a nice surprise (spoiler! a new one-shot) coming and a few requests to answer, so it might also take a moment. But please, stick with me :D If anyone wants to appear on the tag list, write in comments, DM, or wheresoever!

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phoebe-delia · 3 years

Text

Space Race, Yall

I was prompted "space cowboys" a few days ago and I decided to run with it. Enjoy!

The Marauder touched down on the ground, kicking up red dust. Landing the ship used to be Harry's least favorite part of flying; at first, his instinct had been to fight against the pull of gravity, but Captain Lupin had taught him the art of using the force to his advantage, a guide to a smooth landing.

With a turn of the keys, the engine ceased its vibrating roar. Harry put on his high-crowned, wide-brimmed hat and cast a protection charm to shield himself from the potentially toxic elements on the foreign planet. He'd learned that lesson the hard way when he'd landed on Kuragin for the first time; the noxious fumes of the uninhabited planet made him nearly lose consciousness.

Harry stepped off the ship and relished the way his boot left a footprint. He smirked as he surveyed the area: empty and ripe with potential. To the untrained eye, the planet would look like a wasteland. But the greatest kingdoms could be built from nothing but rubble. The Minister would be pleased; with some charmwork, this would make for a great expansion site.

Being a Ministry-hired Explorer meant a life of solitude, but Harry wouldn't have it any other way. There was nothing quite like the rush of finding a completely uninhabited planet, imagining all the ways his country could improve the lives of its citizens.

Still, Harry knew better than to assume that a place was uninhabited simply because it appeared empty at first glance. His home planet, Hogwarts, had been diligent about educating its citizens about the horrors of colonialism on Earth. Seizing land through subjugation and slavery and violence, humans of the past had been barbaric, inhumane.

Now, exploration and expansion was still an accepted practice, but taking populated land from another group was strictly outlawed.

But Kuragin would be a prize; Harry was lucky to have reached it before a rival Explorer from another planet got his greedy, posh little hands on it.

Suddenly, a large rope wrapped around his arms and midsection, tightening and pulling him backward. Harry fell to the ground with an oof and struggled to rise back to his feet. His hat had fallen off his head during the fall, now sitting just a couple feet from his trapped body.

He didn't need to hear the cackle to confirm where the rope had come from, but it certainly squashed any doubt he might've had.

"Sorry, Potter, but I'm afraid Truiepets has this planet all, well...tied up."

Harry struggled under the binds, undulating his arm enough to cast a wandless, nonverbal slicing spell to both free himself from the rope and retrieve his hat. He didn't miss the brief widening of his attacker's eyes as Harry jumped to his feet with ease.

Other than the standard wand and lasso, Draco Malfoy's Explorer uniform was unlike Harry's own. While Hogwarts required its Explorers to wear black steel-toed boots, trousers, a button-down shirt, and a badge, it seemed that Explorers from Truiepets dressed in a uniform reminiscent of old English military garb. While it lacked all the same accouterments and the iconic red color, the striking midnight blue military-style waistcoat, black trousers, and high boots gave the rival Explorers a much more posh, distinguished look than Harry's own country demanded.

And, when paired with Malfoy's mischievous gray eyes and taunting sneer, it made Harry's blood boil.

Harry glanced around for Malfoy's ship, wondering how he'd missed it in the initial sweep of the planet. "How'd you get here? Where's your ship?"

Malfoy smirked. "Portkey, of course. Surely you've heard of such a device?"

"How--how did you set up a Portkey connection to an unowned planet?"

"You see, Potter, when your little toy ship landed here, it set off the wards on my planet to alert us that we had an intruder."

"You set up wards on Kuragin? But Truiepets hasn't made a proper claim yet! You can't land on an empty planet and call it yours! That's a violation of intergalactic law!"

Malfoy cocked his head. "But that's what Hogwarts was going to do, right? Send you here to look around and then have you scurry right back to report your findings before claiming it for your own?"

"Y-yes, but that's in congruence with generations of treaties!"

Malfoy raised his eyebrows. "Congruence? My, what an advanced word for you, Potter. Someone's been reading big boy books!"

Harry scowled. "Cut the shit, Malfoy. What's your planet up to?"

"We're looking out for our own interests, Potter. We merely decided to speed up the process."

Harry huffed. "You won't get away with this. Hogwarts won't let you. I won't let you."

Malfoy moved toward Harry, leaning so close their breaths mingled.

"Bring it on, Potter."

Suddenly, Malfoy stepped back and retrieved a quill from his pocket. He winked as he was pulled away by the Portkey, disappearing as quickly as he'd come.

Harry raced back to his ship. As he turned the keys and felt the engine growl back to life, a surge of adrenaline coursed through his body. He firmly steered the ship into the air and broke through Kuragin's atmosphere with a pop, racing through the sky.

#drarry #space cowboy au #draco malfoy #harry potter #drarry fic #drarry fanfic #drarry squad #draco lassos harry #in french; truie means pig and parts means farts so truiepets means pigfarts ;)#iykyk #avpm reference #pigfarts #draco and harry #harry and draco #drarry fanfiction #drarry ficlet

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vivithefolle · 4 years

Note

Hi Vivi, can you share some thoughts on the "Hermione deserves to be/should have married to XYZ because she is way too good for Ron" mentality of this fandom??

I’m gonna copy-paste a Quora answer of mine, because recycling is important!

Claiming that Ron is “out of Hermione’s league” is a statement rooted in sexism, classism and probably a bunch of other -isms.

It might seem like I’m just throwing buzz-words around but let me explain.

First off, the sexism.

Oh, the sexism.

As I’ve pointed it out in yet another one of my answers (I’m so sorry for drowning you all in a plethora of links), Ron is very much a female-coded male character.

Ron is emotional, wears his heart on his sleeve, has anxieties and inadequacies, walks off in order to cool down, has a temper, puts other people before his needs, and pretty much adopts Harry when he rescues him in the second book. He’s the Heart of the Trio: he doesn’t rely on sole logic, he can believe something without proof, he is sensitive and thus is the easiest to hurt emotionally.

Whether you call it a “beta male”, a “wuss”, “defying gender roles” or a “soft boy” is your own business, but the core of it is that Ron doesn’t meet the standards for people’s vision of a “desirable” masculine figure.

The little things Ron quietly performs in the books - when he helps Harry into his pyjamas in Chamber of Secrets because Harry’s arm is bloop; when he’s worrying about Hermione’s whereabouts in Prisoner of Azkaban; when he helps Harry unwind after his visions in Goblet of Fire; when he puts food onto Harry’s plate and wakes him up from his nightmares in Order of the Phoenix; when he beams that Hermione was “perfect, obviously” when she passes her Apparition test - all those caring gestures don’t seem like much, but if you bother to think about it, they paint an enormous picture.

Who gets Hermione to stop overworking while making her feel good about her accomplishments? Who comforts Harry from his nightmares and cares for him in the dead of the night, when nobody is awake? Who makes sure his friends are healthy and happy? Who wards off the dark and depressing thoughts, be it with his fists or a joke?

It’s Ron.

When you think about it, “traditional masculinity” in Harry Potter is as much frowned upon as “traditional feminity” is - which sometimes bites Rowling in the butt when you remember how she obviously seems to consider that Hermione and Ginny are the only desirable kind of girls.

Vernon Dursley? The entrepreneur “king of the household” prejudiced suburbian middle-class Dad? Fits in the usual tropes of traditional masculinity.

Dudley Dursley? The typical “boys will be boys” spoiled middle-class only child who’s the apple of his parents’ eyes and even takes up boxing, as if he wasn’t traditionally masculine enough.

Draco Malfoy? See Dudley, but toss in “upper-class posh aristocrat bully who doesn’t like to get his hands dirty so he has henchmen do it for him because he’s too rich for this sh-t”, would remind you of a few Christian Greys or Gatsbys.

Dolores Umbridge? Oh no, cat pictures, decorative plates, talks to teens as if they’re babies and PINK, SO MUCH PINK!!! So disgustingly feminine!!

Rowling very much frowns upon traditional gender roles - with Molly Weasley being an exception because Rowling feels very strongly about being a mother, and relates to Molly a lot.

Right - so, being a beautiful mess of paradoxes and contradictions (a “soft boi” who also punches bullies in the face, a fussy mother-hen who swears like a sailor, a tall athlete with badass scars on his arms who’s nurturing and sweet; in short, a wonderfully human character), Ron is obviously going to be a polarizing character. You painfully relate to him and get defensive when he’s criticized, you feel his characterization hits a bit too close to home so you hate him, or you disregard him completely because you can’t see anything “special” about him…

Now, onto another very, very sexist point that is often made.

People say that Hermione “deserves better” than Ron, often claiming that they “aren’t intellectual equals”, then citing Harry (who is mistaken as being some sort of slumbering genius but honestly, the kid is really a bit daft) or Draco (since apparently, being rich must equal to being intelligent) or, god forbid, Snape (because he’s a teacher and teachers are meant to be clever).

Soooo, I could go the loooooong way and pull out all the receipts that prove that none of these characters are perfectly intellectually matched to Hermione…

Or I could go the long way and simply give you this: this obsession with finding an “intellectual equal” for Hermione reflects the mentality of “women are not allowed to be better at something than their husband”.

Yep.

A woman has to be all-around pretty good at everything, whereas a man has to be the absolute best in his area of greatest competence (surely better than any puny female!) with a help-meet there to compensate for his weaknesses. People are very, very uncomfortable when Ron and Hermione reverse this dynamic. Hermione is extremely intelligent and dedicated to intellectual pursuits, but is complete pants at things like self-care and people skills. Ron is bright enough to keep up with her and strong in her areas of weakness.

Even if Ron was as dumb as a sack of rocks (he’s not), his other virtues are more than enough to “justify” Hermione loving him. (Because she needs an excuse?) But no. A woman has to be with a man who outdoes her in her area of greatest strength. - credit to @lytefoot

People don’t want Hermione to be with a man who’s her “equal.” They want her to be with a man who can be The Man so she can know the contentment of being The Woman.

But, with this sexist line of thought, how do we justify how Ron is supposed to be such a bad match for Hermione? Because if it was just about mere sexism, Romione would surely be more popular. Imagine! Ron happily raising the children, being a house-husband and proud of it, while Hermione is out there fighting for justice in the wizarding world! What a power-couple, defying norms and gender roles and not being the least bit conscious of it, prime OTP material for sure! So why do people still want Hermione to put Harry, Draco, or god forbid², Snape in Ron’s place? Is this an irrational hatred of redheads? An Harmionian’s delirious wet dream? A failure to separate the actors from their characters?

It’s all this and, quite frankly, something more: the inherent classism that comes with Ron’s status as an explicitly working-class coded character.

I know, I know, “Vivian! Calm down with the buzzwords, you’re starting to sound like an online pretend-feminist magazine!”

Or “Come on, people who don’t ship Ron and Hermione together aren’t all sexist or classist!”

Of course, of course! I know that! I’m not implying that!

But some of the “reasons” why they claim that Ron and Hermione can’t work - are extremely classist in nature, that’s just it!

Come on, think about it! What are the Number Ones arguments people always pull against Ron? Or the most common Ron-bashing tropes (look at fanfics and watch the number of stories that use at least one of those)?

Ron is stupid/mediocre

Ron is lazy/useless

Ron resents his wife’s hard work/success

Ron is a homophobe

Ron is a drunkard

Ron (the big prude who at 16 had never kissed a girl and sees a first kiss as the prelude to a wedding) is massively oversexed and cheats on Hermione with anything that moves

Not only do these “reasons” completely ignore ALL OF RON’S CHARACTERIZATION - except for the “lazy” bit but come off it, all teenagers are lazy and Hermione’s the exception to the rule - but it matches perfectly with the negative stereotypes associated with working-class white men in fiction.

It’s also very funny to note how many (assumedly middle-class or financially secure) fans look down on Ron for being “whiny” or “greedy” when he expresses the desire to have money of his own, or blame his parents for “not knowing when to stop” or “being irresponsible”, or even look down on them for being “too proud to accept help”!! Also how shocked people are when Ron dares to stand up for himself when Hermione or Harry act badly towards him. How dare this country boy not listen to the wisdom of his social “betters”?

So, obviously, because our Heroine can’t go with a Nasty, Mediocre Working-Class Man, she must be paired off with someone of Proper Status: say, a Hero that was raised in a middle-class home and might be a bit psychologically damaged but it’s nothing all those gold coins in his vault can’t fix; or this Rich Posh Aristocrat who actively rooted for her death, he’s a little bit eccentric and has some exotic pet-names to call you, but I’m sure you’ll learn to love him and will unearth the gold coins in his bank account… I mean, the heart of gold that lies within the surface; oh, why not a Way Too Big An Age Difference Teacher if you’re looking for a “cultured man” who has zero things in common with you; we can also bring Convenient Plot Device Famous Rich Foreign Athlete if you want some diversity and you don’t feel original!

But we can’t - oh, we mustn’t let her be with this Terrible Working-Class Boy! His brothers are fine, they have money, they have jobs, so they’re obviously Not As Mediocre. But let our precious Hermione be with this Just-Got-Out-Of-School hooligan? She can’t possibly be in love with him! You’ll see darling, you’ll get bored eventually! He’s too mediocre for you, you deserve a man who outclasses you - I mean, who can provide for you! You’re a fragile little flower who scars people for life when she’s not happy with them, what makes you think that this boy can possibly handle you even though he’s done so for the past seven years?

You wanted it, you got it.

People are shallow, have misconceptions about Ron’s character that they are unwilling to correct or use classist and sexist arguments to try to make it so that either Ron is the Devil himself / Hermione is a higher kind of being that can only orgasm if sufficiently “intellectually stimulated” / what-have-you.

#vivi answers #ask #ron weasley #hermione granger #romione #ron weasley defense squad #ron weasley defence squad #sexism #classism #hp meta #fandumb #hp fandom

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sitp-recs · 4 months

Note

Hello! Not sure if you'll respond but I thought I'd ask about it anyway.

Would you happen to know of any fics with a very complex characterization of Draco and Harry with a bit of gut wrenching situations? Preferably older D&H after the war. I'm even open to tragedy, even cheating(?) and just something that is out of the ordinary. I know I'm shit at explaining this but, I'm just like, craving a fic that has adult problems, where one/both of them are at a moment of life where things are complex. Maybe H left D a while ago and married someone else, and then after a few years he sees him again and is just lost in a haze of "what if I hadn’t?" or "what to do with myself now?" because getting back with him isn’t easy? I'm sorry for this weird messy ask but you are the first person who came to my mind who I thought could help me out? Sorry for rambling so much! It's definitely alright if you can't find anything like this of course! Have a great day!

What an interesting ask, anon! I’m a bit picky with gut-wrenching themes but I do love myself a thought-provoking, mature fic. It’s about the implications and complications amirite 🤌🏼 this list is a personal take so I’m not sure it is what you’re looking for, but here are some fics that came to mind when I read your ask. Pls mind the tags before jumping in. I’d be very curious to see what my followers rec too!

Kissed by Pie (M, 12k)

Draco Malfoy was attacked by a rogue Dementor on the night of his Azkaban release. He self-exiled to Muggle London and opened a late-night chocolate shop called Kissed.

Poor Unfortunate Souls by DoubleApple (E, 19k)

Draco is a potioneer. Harry is trying to save his sex-challenged marriage. Everything is a mess, but at least there's an octopus in the lobby.

Unfinished Business by cupiscent (E, 20k)

Ten years after the War ends, Harry and Draco still haven't got their act together. But maybe it's not too late.

Stain of Silence by brummell (E, 28k)

After the war, Draco serves out his sentence in Harry Potter's house.

He Who Must Not Be Normal by lettered (E, 41k)

Potter has fame and fortune and posh clothes and all he wants is a simple life. Draco has a flat and a cat and a steady job and all he wants is a complicated life. Which makes you think this story has something exciting like body-swapping, but it doesn’t.

On One's Knees by pir8fancier (E, 34k)

The war is over and to the victors go the spoils. If you are triggered by infidelity, this is not the fic for you.

REVOLVEVLOVER by firethesound, zeitgeistic (E, 46k)

The work Harry does is justifiable. It’s justice. He works for his country, and his country is a republic—the magical side, anyway. It’s not laudable work, it’s not work he’s proud of, but it’s necessary work. Harry has always taken the necessary jobs that no one else has the stomach for. It’s just that he’s never deciphered a kill sheet and seen Draco Malfoy’s name on it.

Nightingale by michi_thekiller (NC-17, 60k)

God loved the birds and invented trees. Man loved the birds and invented cages. -Jacques Deval

Super Rich Kids by trishjames (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.

Merlin Works in Mysterious Ways by lordhellebore (M, 82k)

When Harry is forced to form a Blood Bond with Draco Malfoy under threat of death, he thinks his future will consist of a cold home and sexual frustration. But when a group of left-over Death Eaters decides to stir trouble, their lives change completely – and it takes them both some years to figure out whether it’s for better or for worse.

Danse Russe by Frayach (E, 140k)

True Love. Soul Mates. They're just words until put to the test. Harry and Draco have a bond that was forged in the hell of the post-war years and pulled them both back from an abyss of nihilism and self-destruction. Nothing can break it, or so they believed. But True Love can demand sacrifices too great to bear and deeds too terrible to justify.

Plus 2 fics I haven’t read but can vouch for the authors as I’m very familiar with their work:

Unhook the Stars by jad (E, 70k)

Seventy-thousand words of pornographic discourse between two boys-turned-men that still haven't learned how to communicate like normal people – with words.

Freedom to be by Quicksilvermaid (E, 170k)

Harry Potter is the Boy Who Lived. 12 years after the war, he's become the Boy Who Lived For Everyone Else. He has the perfect wife. The perfect house. The perfect job. The perfect friends. Only nothing feels perfect.

#asks #anon #Drarry reclist #complex stories

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drawlfoy · 4 years

Text

Colorblind

masterlist request guidelines yes ma’am i’m back

pairing: draco x gryffindor!reader

request: yes! thank you kind anon :) this is the first request that really got me out of my writer’s block so i appreciate it!

summary: soulmate!au where the entire world is black and white except for your soulmate. y/n’s situation is a bit...unconventional.

warnings: swearing and a little gore but it’s not explicit at all and just a mention

a/n: helloooooooo everyone! i know i’ve technically been “back from the dead” for nearly a month now, but this is the first time i’ve decided to jump back into writing. i’ve been working on the wonders of ohio bit by bit and have been horrified to see just how much my writing has deteriorated since last summer (when i was writing 1k words+ a day). i’d like to get into writing genuine original work during this quarantine, so i’m using my blog as a chance to polish up my own writing and work the kinks out before i touch my original ideas. thanks for being so patient with me !

music recs: figure 8 from peach pit, don’t delete the kisses from wolf alice, and bad things from cailin russo

word count: 3,098

Y/N frowned as she stirred the honey into her tea, watching the sugary swirls as they dissolved into the bottom of what she had been told was an amber drink. Her best friend, Tina, sat across from her in her snug Gryffindor robes, energetically recounting just how beautiful the color blue was.

“I had no idea, Y/N,” the brunette gushed, her cold triangle of buttered toast lying long forgotten on her plate as her hands added animation to her story. “You have to see it. He told me that the red in our robes brings out my eyes too--something about the color wheel and how green is opposite of red--and we made each other hold up our things so we could see what color its meant to be...honestly, it was such a dream...”

Even though Y/N was thrilled that Tina had found her soulmate in the convenient place of the Ravenclaw house--really, she was ecstatic for her friend--she couldn’t help but feel a little sad. She did quell the bitterness and envy that threatened to crawl its way up out of her throat, instead choosing to sit and pretend to listen as her own thoughts trailed off with a vacant smile on her face.

She’d been alive for 16 years, seen everyone there is to see at Hogwarts, traveled to every country that had a sizable young magic population, and had let her parents submit pictures of her to wizarding families all across the globe--only to still live in a dull world of simple blacks, whites, and greys. Friends like Tina had told her vibrant stories of the stunning hues of green, blue, red, purple, and gold, but Y/N had no way of knowing what they actually looked like, relying instead on her parents’ soft explanation of green as the color of life, blue as the color of peace, red as passion and anger, and yellow as the feeling of the sun hitting your skin after a long winter.

Infuriating. She despised the security questions she had to fill out to open her Gringotts account (What’s your soulmate’s surname? What’s your favorite color?) and the unimpressed look of the goblin teller as they quietly conferred with her parents (”Sir, we rarely have complaints over this--statistically speaking, soulmates are found by the time a wizard or witch is old enough to handle money...).

In other news, her love life was barren and dry, and at the end of the day, it was better to just not dwell on where she fell short.

“I’ll stop going on about me,” Tina said, finally reaching down for her breakfast. “I want to hear about you. I’m so sorry that you have to put up with that crabby posh Daddy’s boy in Potions. You have my moral support. Always.”

“You mean Malfoy?”

Tina quirked an eyebrow as she took a sip of her own tea. “Yeah. Y/N, I have no clue how you’ve gone so long without being put off by that wanker. He’s so annoying. I know you don’t believe me, but you’re about to see for yourself in...erm..” She made a show of checking her pocket watch. “Less than an hour.”

“He doesn’t seem that bad,” Y/N countered. “I’ve spoken to him once or twice in the library. Doesn’t have much to say, but he was cordial. I’m not horrendously upset that we were assigned to be partners.”

“Did he know you were a Gryffindor?”

“I have no idea. Neither of us were wearing our robes, so I couldn’t tell you.”

Y/N’s friend rolled her eyes dramatically. “You’re going to be singing a very different tune come lunch. Trust me.”

<^>

The wooden stool that Y/N was perched on was uncomfortably wobbly as she waited, albeit a little nervously, for her potions partner to arrive. It had been an unwelcome selection process--or perhaps, lackthereof--that began with Slughorn reading off a canned speech regarding house unity and the importance of bridging the gap between old rivalries and ended with groups that consisted of one Slytherin and one Gryffindor and directions to create an immaculate Draught of Peace.

Not her favorite way to spend a Friday morning, but she admitted to herself that it could be far worse. She could be paired up with one of Malfoy’s goons--Crabbe or Goyle--who were by far much more obnoxious.

A slight movement in the corner of her eye pulled her attention back to the present. Y/N started at the dark figure standing by the empty stool next to her.

“Excuse me,” Malfoy said simply, placing his satchel on the table in front of them and sitting.

Y/N sent him a weak smile as she unrolled her parchment and began reviewing the ingredients.

“I don’t mean to sound brash,” she began as she sorted the ingredients at their table, “but I’m pretty good at Potions. If you want to, you can just read the directions while I prepare everything.”

He seemed like he wasn’t quite listening to what she was saying, instead his eyes, unfocused and slightly cloudy, were settled on her braid that snaked around her shoulder.”Er, yeah. Sounds good.”

“Okay.”

As the pair began, Y/N couldn’t help but notice that Malfoy looked tired. His normally pristine and glowing skin looked dull and lifeless, decorated with dark eye bags under his slate-grey eyes. She was struck with a sudden desire to ask if he was alright but decided against it. The furrow in his brow as he glanced over the directions reminded her that they were simply partners for the week--and that Slytherins generally got into a hissy fit if people tried to act too buddy-buddy with them too quickly.

“Add the moonstone until it starts to steam,” he said after a few moments, apparently not noticing that she was already emptying the powdered moonstone into the cauldron. “Stir until completely dissolved.”

“Add syrup of hellebore.”

“Stir until the consistency is akin to cream.”

This went on for the rest of the lesson--Malfoy softly instructing her while Y/N consulted her own set of directions, just in case. As she worked, she couldn’t help but notice how unusual his hair was. It was unlike any other white she’d ever seen before--instead, it had some kind of warm hue to it. Y/N knew that no one her age actually had naturally white hair--Malfoy clearly had some iteration of “blond”, whatever that meant--but all the other light haired wizards she had met had slightly grey tinges in their hair...not whatever he had going on. She shrugged it off and kept stirring.

An hour passed by much quicker than anticipated, and to her surprise, Malfoy never said anything even mildly irritating. Y/N stored this tidbit of information away with the interest of asking Tina why she thought he was such a dickwad.

“I think that’s all we have to do today,” Malfoy said once they had added the porcupine quills and set the lid on for the night.

“We really let it sit here until Monday?” she questioned, reviewing the parchment one more time. “That seems a little excessive.”

“Well, it’s not like--” He began waspishly before he took a breath and cast his eyes to the ceiling. “Er, I mean, I know that Slughorn casts a preservation spell on them over the weekend. There’s really no other way to do it without booking an entire day.”

“I guess that makes sense.”

He sent a surprisingly soft smile her way. It appeared that they had finished earlier than the rest of the students and had a couple more minutes until they were dismissed, so the silence around them was tense. Y/N decided to take a risk and ask something she assumed everyone, especially someone as allegedly ostentatious as Malfoy, liked talking about.

“So,” she began casually, twiddling her thumbs under the desk, “Have you found your soulmate yet?”

The few moments of complete and absolute quiet that followed after this question prompted her to send a glance over to Malfoy, who looked...completely stricken?

“Er....” His eyebrows furrowed as he looked her up and down. “Yes?”

Y/N had never had an interaction so awkward as she waited, tense and very weirded out, for him to just go ahead and pose the question back to her so she could break the ice and complain about how she’d searched far and wide for her soulmate and failed--but it never came. Malfoy just stared at her for another few heartbeats before he shut his slightly gaped mouth and turned to pack up his belongings.

Not another word was exchanged between them until Slughorn officially announced that they were all dismissed as long as their brewing stations were spotless.

Malfoy was out the door before she even had a chance to say goodbye.

<^>

“So?” Tina sat at the edge of her seat, waiting for her friend to relay all the details of her potions adventure.

“Super weird,” Y/N answered. “He was nice. Didn’t say anything mean about my house or parents or wealth or anything. I asked him about his soulmate, though, and he totally clammed up.”

Tina’s eyes narrowed as she shifted on her bench and drew closer. “I haven’t heard a whisper of anything about his soulmate. Poor bloke probably doesn’t have one. I’m not surprised...no one deserves to be stuck with him forever.”

“No, that’s not it,” Y/N countered. “First of all, he’s not bad. I told you. Second of all, he told me he had one and looked at me like I was stupid for not knowing. It was weird.”

“I wouldn’t sweat it. He probably thinks he’s so important and sought after that all anyone talks about is him and was just offended that you didn’t know, I guess. This is what I mean. He’s such a prick.”

“Maybe.” Y/N found herself looking over to the Slytherin table, her eyes stopping on the curiously colored hair of a certain 6th year. He seemed especially down, hardly touching the spoon in his stew and choosing to look like the definition of angst instead.

But in a very attractive way she admitted to herself. There was no denying it--Draco Malfoy was beautiful, in a tragic sort of way, like how paintings of imaginary places that you’ll never be able to actually visit for yourself are beautiful.

His eyes snapped up to meet hers, jarring her out of her whimsical train of thought and bringing a blush to her cheeks. For once, she was relieved that no one could see her in color.

<^>

By the time Monday rolled around, Y/N was feeling more and more uneasy about her whole situation. Malfoy ignited some kind of weird feeling deep inside of her--almost like butterflies--as he absentmindedly tapped his lips with his quill, studying the directions sheet in front of them.

“How was your weekend?” Y/N asked, her voice a little pitchier than she would’ve liked. He arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow at this, hardly even bothering to glance her direction.

“The usual,” he drawled. “I studied, mostly.”

“Nice. Way to keep us all on our toes.”

The slight smile that stretched across his face and the dimples that followed nearly made her knees weak, her hand shooting out to grasp the edge of the table before they gave in. “Yeah. You know me. The wild card.” His voice seemed bored, but she was just glad that the words coming out of his mouth weren’t entirely insufferable.

Y/N sent him a soft smile, fiddling with the edges of her robes. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Tina watching them intently.

“We only have to stir it 12 times counter clockwise and 14 times clockwise and add the unicorn horn powder before we let it simmer until Wednesday,” Y/N mused as she finally tossed the parchment back on the table. “Easy work. We should be done in about a half hour, give or take.”

They made quick work of the directions, the smell of their potion taking an amiable lilac like scent.

“I think that means we didn’t royally fuck it up,” Draco offered as she rolled her sleeves back down and settled into the stool next to him.

Y/N smirked at him, a glimmer in her eyes. “We? Don’t you mean me?”

He laughed stiffly before immediately sobering up and packing up his things. “Sure. I’m going to ask Slughorn if I can leave early. See you.”

With that, he got up and left her alone. At face value, Y/N didn’t expect the situation to mean that much to her, but it left a bitter taste in her mouth and stung more than expected.

Shake out of it, Y/N, she chided herself. What does it matter, anyways?

<^>

A knock on her dorm room shook her out of a particularly thrilling study session for her DADA exam, whose notes she promptly shoved into her satchel at the suggestion of a welcome distraction.

“Come in!” she called.

The door opened to reveal a particularly devious looking Tina. “I come with questions.”

“Please distract me from that tragic exam tomorrow,” she moaned, throwing herself on her bed. “Anything is better than thinking about it.”

Tina’s lip quirked as she settled down next to her friend. “It’s about your dear Potions partner.”

“What about him?”

“Don’t think I didn’t notice how you were looking at him today.” Tina propped her chin up into her hand. “You like him.”

“I most certainly do not!” Y/N said hotly. “I mean...I think he’s cute, and his hair reflects the light in this really cool way, but no! I’m not an idiot!”

“Of course you’re not an idiot,” Tina soothed. “He’s objectively a very pretty person. No harm in appreciating that. And now that you’ve spent a little more time with him, and you’re realizing that maybe he isn’t an arsehole, I could totally understand why you’d develop feelings for him.”

“Don’t be ridiculous!”

“How am I being ridiculous?”

“He’s already found his soulmate, Tina. I’m not masochistic enough to want to pine after a boy who already has his person.” As the weight of the words sunk in, Y/N could feel her chest tighten for just a moment. Tina just kept watching as she moved to gently wrap a hand around her shoulder.

“So say I do like him, just a little bit,” Y/N continued as her voice grew softer. “Say I actually let myself develop feelings for him even though I know there’s no way he’s my soulmate. Say I actually give in and have to see him every day knowing that he’s in love with someone else. Don’t you think that’s a little too much for me? I want to find my soulmate! I don’t want to mess around with anyone unless it’s with them.”

Her friend was quiet, but she moved her arm to wrap around Y/N’s frame.

“I’d just really like to find my soulmate already,” Y/N finished up. “And I’m afraid that they’re not even out there. So, no. No detours allowed.”

Tina smiled a little at this, sitting up to instead pat her friend on the back. “You’ve always been the more focused one. I respect that. But I am saying that there’s no harm in seeing other people while you wait.”

Y/N shrugged. “Yeah. Fairs. Now, I hate to say this, but I have a list of spells a metre long just waiting to be memorized for the exam tomorrow. I’d love to tell you the rest of all my gushy secrets once that’s taken care of.”

“Of course!” Tina kissed her friend on the cheek and skipped off. “Just don’t go too crazy studying. I still need a best friend to bitch to at breakfast.”

“No promises!”

<^>

“Add a little more powdered moonstone,” Malfoy instructed from her right, “Just until it starts to boil.”

Y/N went to reach for it, catching a glimpse of her partner on the way. There was something just so magnetizing about him, something so delicate and stunning. She couldn’t help but feel a quick twinge of envy for whoever his soulmate was.

The sound of the moonstone slipping into the potion pulled her back into reality, and she quickly stirred to avoid an unwelcome explosion.

“And now the chopped gillyweed.”

Y/N turned to their stockpile of ingredients, only to see whole cloves of gillyweed.

“I have to confess something,” she said, still stirring vigorously. Malfoy snapped to attention so quickly it almost made her jump. “I’m shit with a knife. Can you chop it for me? I have to keep stirring this anyways.”

What looked like disappointment flashed across his face for just a moment before he stood up and reached for a knife. “Sure.”

Y/N nodded and turned back to the concoction, careful to make sure that the moonstone wasn’t clumping together at the surface as she waited for Malfoy to be done with the gillyweed.

“Fuck!”

Y/N turned to see Malfoy’s hand covered in--no way.

His hand was covered in blood, as was the knife that was held tightly by his right hand.

“Fuck, fuck, can you hand me a towel?”

Y/N couldn’t help but stare as the words from her parents floated back into her head (Green is the color of life, blue is peace, red is passion and anger...).

“It’s red.”

“Sorry, what?”

“Your hand. It’s red.” Now that she looked closer, she could see hints of colors that she’d never seen before in him--a soft hue that reminded her of first kisses and the scent of roses in his cheeks and lips, a warm, sunny glow in his hair, and a cool, startling color in his eyes that seemed like the color for getting thrown into a cold lake on a summer afternoon.

He was staring right back at her, his eyes wide and his breathing quick.

“It’s you, isn’t it,” she breathed. “It’s been you all along. If only you hadn’t worn those blasted black suits all the time instead of your robes..”

The corners of his mouth crinkled into a smile.

“Ms. Y/L/N, step out of the way,” Professor Slughorn interrupted, rolling up his sleeves and getting his wand out. “Draco, boy, this looks deep. Get on up to the infirmary now. Don’t dally.”

“Meet me,” he whispered as he made to leave. “Tonight. In front of the library. I guess we have some things to discuss.”

“Yes, yes, I guess we do.” Y/N cheeks were hurting from smiling, and as he left the room, the color fading from her vision, she had never been so content to be in pain in her life.

final a/n: hi everyone :) welcome back! can’t wait to write more! sorry if this was a bit of a trainwreck...i haven’t written in a long time and this is the first thing i’ve done since college apps. all feedback is appreciated! thank you! also apologies for any plotholes or spelling errors! i wrote this in a day and i know it’s a little messy oops

#draco x reader #draco imagine #draco x you #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy x y/n #draco x y/n #draco #draco malfoy #draco x oc #draco malfoy x oc

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missdawnandherdusk · 4 years

Text

Country Girl

Muggle!Reader X Draco

London Boy

Summary: Draco has your heart and you have his, a muggle and a wizard, but what happens when you take him home... to America, to your very muggle parents, and your very muggle small town?

A/n: As promised here is some ridiculous fluff and shenanigans between these two dorks. Also, this gets very southern very quickly, so as a disclaimer: none of this is meant to offend anyone at all, it’s just simple writing fun. I know a lot of you come to Tumblr to destress from the news, so this is free from current events and can even be seen written around circa 2010 if you want. I love you all and let me know what you think because I love being validated your comments and reblogs

“Um, do you maybe want to come with me back home?” The question was timid as it left my lips.

“To America?” He raised an eyebrow looking up from his workstation where he was currently brewing Amorentia—not that he used it, but it brought comfort to me and worked surpassingly well in a diffuser.

“To put it broadly, yes.” I smiled, knowing he had no idea how expansive America really was. “I’m off for the summer and my parents have been nagging me nonstop to meet you, and well it’s home,” Shrugging I hopped up on his desk and he eyed me warily, moving some things out of my way.

“How long?”

“Well I suppose you could apparate back any time you like, but...”

“How long?” He pressed again.

“A week?” I was almost afraid of his reaction.

Not that I was afraid of him, but I knew him well. He liked order. He like routine. Everything had a place and he preferred it if it stayed in that place. Which included him, in London.

“I understand if you don’t want to. I know it’s a lot. Muggle parents, Muggle girlfriend, America...” I trailed off looking down. “Just thought I’d offer.”

“Love,” he tilted my chin up. “If you want me to go with you to meet your parents, I suppose I can manage a week,” he smiled.

Happiness fluttered in my chest as I threw my arms around him.

“Careful dear,” he scolded, easily pulling me into his arms, carrying me. “This stuff takes forever to wear off and I’d rather not have you drugged for the next few hours.”

“Could be fun,” I giggled, nuzzling into his neck.

“You say that now,” he chided, a smile evident on his face.

_____________________________

“Now, they don’t know that you’re a wiz,” You reminded him. “And I’d rather not have to obliviate my parents, so if you could— “

“You act like I’m a teenager Y/n, I’m not stupid,” Draco rolled his eyes.

You raised an eyebrow at him. A challenge.

“And, a very fair warning: I am very...posh compared to my parents,”

Draco laughed; the word so unfamiliar to your lips and your American accent. Nor could he imagine in any way that someone would regard you as posh. He loved you, of course, but a lady was something you were not—not that he didn’t treat you like one, but that was beside the point.

But nothing you said could ever prepare him for what waited at your doorstep. Not the hours on a flight. Not the ride back in another muggle car. Not the songs on the radio. Not the conversations he had with Hermione and Harry unbeknownst to you.

“Pumpkin!” An older man in a buttoned-up flannel pulled you into his arms. His drawl was thick, making yours sound almost normal. “You are too pale darlin’ ain’t enough sun over there in England,” he chided, a huge smile on his face.

“Oh nonsense,” your mother replied, her drawl having more of a twang. “She’s just fine. Our little Georgia peach,” You face went a little pink as you blushed.

“Momma, Daddy, this is Draco,” he heard more of a drawl slip into your words and Merlin was he in trouble.

“The Brit,” your father scrutinized him for a moment before the smile returned. “Pleasure to meet you son,” he held out his hand.

“The pleasure is mine, I assure you,” Draco almost purred, shaking your father’s hand.

“Oh Lord, hear that accent,” your mother fawned. “No wonder you fell for him, Y/n,”

“Mom,” you whined, turning a shade of red.

“Well come in you two, you must be exhausted from the flight.”

Draco should have taken your warnings more seriously. Maybe you should have eased him into more. Because a very Muggle farmhouse in the middle of the country with your very American parents was something he was not prepared for.

The floorboards creaked under his socks—shoes left by the front door—as pictures hung on the wall, a lot of them of you in various childhood phases: fishing, in trees, driving your beloved Jeep, posing next to a dead stag—that one made Draco snort, if only Harry knew. There were also tiny little ‘t’s all over the wall that Draco just didn’t understand the meaning of. Were they to ward something off? Was it a collection? Did they stand for some name he wasn’t aware of?

“Y/n, you go on with your mom and fix up dinner,” Your father nodded you two off to the kitchen.

“Dad,” You warned, a familiar look in your eyes.

“You worry too much.” Your dad shook his head. “Now, go on,”

You paused a moment, your stubborn streak flaring before you disappeared into the house, leaving Draco alone with your father, feeling quite anxious.

“Come on in, boy, sit on down and tell me about yourself,” Your father beckoned him to sit on a well-worn leather sofa, a knitted afghan thrown over the back.

Draco knew how to keep light conversation—a perk of being a Malfoy—but this? This he had no idea how to do. Your father seemed to pick up on that as he chuckled.

“So, you like my daughter, do you now?” He asked, his eyes holding the same shade as yours.

“Yes sir,” Draco nodded. “Very much,”

“Yeah, we think she's something else,” Your father shook his head, chuckling. “Her daddy's girl... mama's world.” His face became hardened, serious, “She deserves respect and that's what she'll get ain't it, son?”

“Y-yes, of course,” Draco stammered. “Always.”

The smile came back to your father’s face and Draco felt like he just passed some sort of test.

“Well, y'all, run along and have some fun while you’re here. Just keep her safe. She’s got a knack for trouble,”

“Oh, I’m aware,” Draco chuckled.

“Dinner!” Two voices called from somewhere else in the house.

“Comin’ darlin’,” Your father called back, standing. “Shall we?” He gestured for Draco to go first.

........................................

“Was that so bad?” You asked later that night as you got ready for bed. It was different, seeing you flit around the room with memorized paths and actions.

“One of the most bizarre things I have ever experienced,” he confessed. “But I have to admit, your mother is a brilliant cook,”

You laughed.

“Oh, tell her that tomorrow, she will love you to pieces,”

Your drawl was coming in thicker the longer you lingered home and Draco began to understand the fascination with his accent, because your drawl did something else to him. The small room you were in was yours. A true work of art that was merely shadowed by your room in London. The soft blue tone room was calming as fairy lights were strung and antique furniture filled the room. Dried flowers and various paintings and posters filled the room matching the quilt spread underneath him.

You came over to his sitting position on the bed, nestling between his legs. His hands slipped up the backs of your thighs and you swatted him.

“Behave,” you hissed. “You have no idea how long it took me to convince Daddy to let us stay in a room together. I’d like to not lose that battle on the first night.”

“You has to ask your dad for permission to sleep with your boyfriend, in your room, as an adult?” He raised an eyebrow. “And I thought my parents were strict.”

“Oh, you don’t know the meaning of the word, pretty boy,” you smiled and draped your arms around his neck.

“I think I quite like this side of you,” Draco grinned.

“You ain’t seen nothin’ yet,”

“For the love of my sanity please use proper English,” Draco dismayed to your amusement.

“Fine.” You rolled your eyes. “You haven’t seen anything yet,” You dropped your drawl easily.

“You know what? Never mind,” Draco grinned, causing you to laugh harmoniously.

Never once had Draco ever seen you be a morning person, except now. The sun filtered in through the flowing curtains and your eyes fluttered open, landing on his.

“Mornin’,” You greeted.

“Good morning,”

“You ready?” There was a mischievous look in your eyes.

“For?”

“Well, I don’t think you’re quite ready to meet my friends, so I thought today we could go fishing.”

“Fishing?”

“Well, it’s not deer season so... we can’t exactly hunt. But it is fishing season.”

“There are seasons for you to kill wildlife?” He asked, watching you get ready.

“Yeah?” You paused, looking over at him. “Helps keep the animals from being over hunted while still keeping up the sport and population down. Daddy and I do it more for the population, not the sport,” Your smile was soft. “And venison is to die for when momma cooks,”

After a breakfast that Draco would be craving for the rest of his life, you loaded up the Chevy pick-up truck (you had informed him) with bait and poles and against his better judgement, he got in.

_____________________________

“I’m gonna seriously have to thank Hermione for takin’ you shoppin’ beforehand,” You grinned, eyeing Draco in a short-sleeved Henley and khaki shorts. “Knowin’ you, you only own suits and dress pants.”

“I own t-shirts,” Draco refuted, clinging to the door handle for dear life as I meandered the backroads towards the lake.

I rolled my eyes and turned onto the trail that would take us to the docks.

“This isn’t even a road!” Draco dismayed. “It’s barely dirt!”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s what four-wheel drive is for,” I grinned. “And honey, I fear the day someone takes you muddin’.”

“Mudding?” He asked skeptically.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it,” I smiled, chuckling darkly, imagining the pristine Draco Malfoy anywhere near a four wheeler or ATV.

Hopping into the boat, Draco eyed me, hesitant on the dock.

“You can drive this too?” He narrowed his eyes at me.

“It’s barely anything to drive,” I rolled my eyes, throwing my hair up. “Now come on, city boy. A little country ain’t gonna kill you,”

“No,” Draco agreed, settling in the boat beside me. “But a country girl just might,” The purr of his voice had me blushing and fumbling to kill the engine and grab a fishing pole.

Draco absolutely refused to touch the live crawfish. His face scrunched up in disgust as he watched me cast my line in.

“Oh, like it’s any different than you and your potion’s ingredients,” I pointed out.

“That’s different,” He pouted.

Smiling at his theatrics, the day consisted of Draco dismaying at just about everything. Including but not limited to: sunscreen, mosquitoes, not being able to hold my reeling hand, the heat, the sun, Oakley sunglasses—of which he looked absolutely stunning in and it wasn’t fair—baseball caps, live bass, me handling said bass, me handling a knife, the live crawfish again, the heat... again.

“Oh my God, Draco,” I huffed, not nearly as annoyed as I sounded.

“I’m sorry,” He drawled. “But this is absolutely absurd,”

I might have shoved him into the lake.

When he resurfaced, utter shock was on his face, as well as anger as he scolded my name.

“Yes?” I answered innocently. “Not so hot anymore is it?” I bated my eyelashes.

“You little—”

“Oh, and watch out for gators,” I grinned mischievously as his eyes went wide with fear. “Kidding!” I laughed, slipping off my crocs. “Probably,”

He was hanging onto the side of the small boat when I leapt off the side and into the icy water.

“What in the world are you doing?” Draco swam over to me.

“Swimming? Since someone thinks that fishing is absurd,” I mocked his accent.

“I don’t sound like that,” He grumbled.

“Yes, you do,” I smiled, wrapping my arms around his neck. “Stop being so uptight, Dray. Whatever you’re holding onto... reputation or whatever voice that’s in your head...” His face fell.

I knew that he had been raised to hate everything around him. The innocence and simplicity of it. Sure, it had taken some time and I had made a home in his heart, those prejudices fading, but he still fought hard sometimes. And maybe I wish he didn’t. And maybe I was selfish to think that.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered softly. “I just... Your world is so incredible, Draco. Filled with things that are beyond my wildest dreams, and maybe I wanted to show you into mine,”

His arms snaked around my waist as he held me close, resting his forehead to mine.

“I’m sorry too,” He murmured softly. “Of course, I want to be a part of your world as well, but— ”

“Maybe fishing was a bit over ambitious?” I mused.

“Maybe slightly,” He chuckled, pressing his lips to mine sweetly.

“At least we have dinner tonight,”

“I can’t tell if you’re kidding or not,”

I wasn’t.

__________________________________

The next day wasn’t as ambitious as fishing with you, but it was still quite new to him. Dressed in a sundress, you took his hand and lead him down the main street of your small town, the small shops reminding him of a fairytale. He was surprised at how many people recognized you and said hello. A kindness that he wasn’t accustomed to in the Wizarding world. Especially when the café owner had a long conversation with you and then said that your lunch was ‘on the house.’

“Not too bad?” You asked softly, after finishing lunch.

“Not bad at all,” He smiled.

After bringing in the groceries from a quaint muggle shop, into your warm little yellow kitchen, you took Draco’s hand and led him into the backyard. The sun was setting just beyond the horizon, painting the sky in crimson colors.

“Mr. Fancypants alright with climbing a few trees?” There was a smirk on your face.

“What are we? Five?” Draco chuckled, following you into the tree line.

“Well, I guess that is when daddy and I built this,” You gestured to a certain tree, where an emasculate treehouse resided.

Despite the wooden construction’s age, it still held well. Draco was half expecting it to be bigger on the inside, a commonality in the Wizarding World, but no, what he saw on the outside was what was reflected on the inside. This treehouse held no secrets. Draco smiled as he watched you climb the tree with no shoes on—a commonality he had noticed. You went barefoot whenever you could.

You helped him up and his eyes darted around, taking in the little house with it’s rope banisters, many windows and various trinkets and knickknacks that Draco had no hope in naming or identifying. When his eyes found you again, there was a blanket folded into your arms.

“When I was little, I used to come out here and stargaze... I don’t know how many times Daddy would have to come up here and carry me home ‘cause I fell asleep,” A smile touched your lips.

Draco looked up to the wooden roof and raised an eyebrow skeptically. You caught his question and nodded to a rope to his left. His fingers grasped the course fibers and tugged it experimentally. A mechanism went off and the roof parted at the gable, letting him see the first stars that had come out to play.

There was something different about looking up at these stars with you. He had spent years studying them in class and couldn’t remember half of what he had learned, but with you, they held a different meaning. You knew all of the stories it seemed. The ones that he learned as a child and some he didn’t. It was jarring, hearing the familiar stories fall from your lips. After all this time, maybe your muggle world wasn’t so far off from his magical one.

True to your word, you did end up sleeping softly in his arms as he looked up at the stars, then down at your peaceful face. Knowing that you wouldn’t want to spend the night outside—and neither would he for that matter—he carefully scooped you into his arms, and instead of risking dropping you, he simply apparated to the soft grass below and headed up towards the house.

Your father was waiting on the porch, the light still on despite the late hour, nursing a can, a soft smile on his face.

“Good to see that some things don’t change with her,” Your father opened the door for him. “Sometimes I think I lose her to her fancy schools, halfway around the world,” There was an air of melancholy to his words.

“I can assure you that you’ll never lose her,” Draco smiled down at you. “She adores and loves you more than you’ll ever know. The way she lights up when she talks about home...”

“You’ve made an old man very happy tonight Draco,” Your dad smiled. “Now go on up, I’m gonna close the house up for the night,”

.................................

“I’d like to apologize in advance for just about everythin’ that’s about to happen,” You took his hand smiling.

“How bad can they be?” Draco mused. “You’ve met my friends, and that went well,”

“Uhuh,” You laughed. “Sure. I’ll take that vote of confidence.” You easily backed your truck up into the circle of other vehicles surrounding a rather large bonfire that gave Draco a bit of anxiety.

“Look at what the tide washed in!” Someone called from the back of a pickup truck.

“No way!” Another gasped.

“Since when did you get home!?”

A girl rushed up and pulled you into a hug, dislodging your hand from his as he watched you spin with the girl, both of you laughing. A few others came up and hugs were passed out, hellos exchanged.

“Son of a bitch, you never said he was hot, Y/n,” The first friend who greeted—Rebecca— raised an eyebrow at you.

“Yes, because that’s all I look for in a guy,” You rolled your eyes, offering him a beer and taking a seat on the tailgate of your pickup.

“I’m just glad to see that you haven’t gone full brit on us,” Another—Megan smiled from the arms of a guy that Draco would have stereo typed to be on your arm instead. “Still think you can outshoot me?” She grinned.

“With my eyes closed,” You drawled, taking a sip of your own hard iced tea. “Seriously, y’all think I was just gonna forget everythin’?”

“We didn’t think you’d come back after find Mr. London over here,” Rebecca grinned.

“Yeah, you’ve been awful quiet over there Union Jack,” Megan narrowed her eyes at him, and he felt the same sort of anxiety he had around your parents. “What are your intentions with our Y/n?”

“Y’all really? What are we? High schoolers? And he has a name ya know.” You rolled your eyes, leaning against him, intertwining your finger with his. That eased his anxiety a bit as his eyes stayed trained on the dancing fire.

“Well, any guy worthy of catching your eye must be something special,” Tyler—the guy sitting next to Rebecca—shrugged.

“Oh, come on Tyler, we were freshman,” You scoffed, taking another swig from your can.

Draco’s interest was piqued at this new information. Was there something between you and Tyler that he wasn’t aware of? Was it something he had to worry about? His grip tightened around you and he caught the sly smile on your face at the action.

He learned a lot about you that night. You never were one to brag but stars did your friends like to embarrass you. You weren’t the top of your class, but you were pretty damn close. You always got yourself out of any kind of trouble and had about every boy at your heels in school and didn’t give them an air of interest—Tyler lamented quite obnoxiously. You could be out late Saturday night at a party, but every morning you were up early, in the choir at church—which shocked Draco, you had always been hesitant to sing around him, and he wasn’t exactly sure what ‘church’ was but... it was a question for another time.

The conversation lulled as food was brought out. You offered him a bit of mangled stretched out wire and a hot dog and shot him a dazzling smile before showing him how to roast it over the fire. It was messy and uncivilized, and Merlin, Draco loved it. Sitting cross-legged beside you, a paper plate in his lap filled with such rich food and sweet fruit, he truly caught a glimpse into your world again.

The buzz of insects and glow of others, the heat and warmth of the fire, the smell of grass and dirt, the sound of some country song blasting from a nearby truck, the sway of your body as you hummed along, the smile that rested on your face, the buzz of alcohol in his system, and the taste of it on your lips, Draco never felt more... free. The Dark Mark could be nothing more than a tattoo. His scars could mimic Alex’s dirt biking scars. His school career could be scoffed at like yours was. His parents could just be strict and rich. He could be free.

_____________________________

My thumb absentmindedly stroked the back of Draco’s hand as the night wound down. I had switched to sweet tea a while ago, knowing I’d had to drive home. There was something oddly comforting in seeing Draco in the midst of my small-town world. His careful blue eyes, stark blond hair, and pale creamy skin seemed to rebel at the mere thought, but the smile on his lips overrode it all, claiming he belonged.

In bed that night, my fingers traced over the scars that littered his chest. It was hard to imagine that the Harry I knew caused them. It seemed like worlds away. Even in Draco’s arms, London and magic and wizards sounded like a fairytale, some far-fetched dream.

“Your friends are... nice,” Draco murmured, drawing a chuckle from me.

“That’s one way to put it,” I propped up on my elbow. “Nothing too absurd I hope?” There was a slight teasing tone to my words.

He smiled lazily at me.

“It’s... different here,” Draco decided.

“Good different? Or bad different?”

“Free different.” He mused. “Like... it—my past... doesn’t exist at all. No one here knows, or judges me...”

“Well,” I whispered softly, running my hand through his hair. “It is a different world. Somethin’ you have to love about a small town,” A smile grew on my face. “And it’s not about your past, not anymore. It’s your future that’s important,”

“As long as you’re there,” Draco pressed a kiss to my forehead.

“For as long as you’ll have me,”

“Forever,”

I spent the next day teaching Draco how to bake. He was a decent cook after spending some time with my grandmother and I in London, but backing was a bit different, as Draco found out. With classic rock on the radio and mom and dad out for the day, Draco and I had a blast. A few times I saw him cheat and use wandless magic. It earned him some flour in his face—which he also magicked away. When I protested, he pressed a kiss to my lips and maybe I forgot why I was upset in the first place.

With the pie in the oven, Draco and I lounged across the couch. His hands were fiddling with my hair absentmindedly, as we watched The Breakfast Club. Hermione and Harry had done an alright job introducing Draco to muggle movies and shows. But as much as I loved Doctor Who—we were all convinced that the Doctor was a wizard secretly—or Sherlock, some American normalcy was appreciated.

That night I couldn’t help but laugh as Draco was very confused about football. It was like translating something through three languages—Wizard, to British, to American. After a while I think he gave up on the notion and just nursed his beer. The game held my interest for the second half while my father was very adamant about coaching from his armchair.

“You should have seen him at her little league games,” My mother muttered, causing Draco and I to chuckle and my dad to simmer some.

“Softball,” I filled Draco in. “Like baseball... but for girls I guess.” He nodded.

Before I knew it, the week ended, and Draco and I were packing to return back home, well to London anyway. I traded in my sundresses for jeans and sighed as I unzipped my suitcase, starting to unpack.

“It’s not like we’ll never go back,” Draco wrapped me up in his arms.

“We?” I raised an eyebrow.

“Did you not want me to go back?” A playful smile graced his lips.

“No, I do! I just... well, I know you Dray,” I draped my arms around his neck. “You like things a certain way in a certain order, and well, that,” I gestured vaguely. “was anything but,”

“Maybe it’s time I leave this behind me,” He murmured softly. “Stuffy offices and grey skies...”

My eyes widened in surprise and joy.

“Not completely,” He amended. “I do still have to work, they need me as Head Healer, and you have uni, and then there’s Teddy to think about, but... maybe a summer home there wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world,”

I drew him into a tight hug, tears stinging my eyes. It wasn’t even that he wanted to go back, it was that he wanted me with him when he did. He talked about a home like I’d be there beside him.

And when he was down on one knee, surrounded by my London family, with a simple ring, I knew that he did want me there beside him, and always would.

I gave him an escape from his past and he promised me a future.

Tags: @coffee-addicti @msmcsmutt @ravn-87 @artemismohr18 @whygz @crazywritingbug @fuzzy-panda @bitemebro522 @zombiesnips-blog @savingdraco @welcometomyworldwithoutrules @akari180 @slytherin-emerald @memalfoy-spidey @queenfeatherwings @fanficflaneuse @go-whovian-universe @spicyshenanigans @darling-im-not-okay-i-promise @dietkiwi @katsukink @takemetothekingdom @strangerr-things @tmnt-queen @hxneybgb @justsomerandomgur @belcvayelena @moviesbooksandfandoms @howdycharlie @xtrashmouthxtozierx @cocochanelthepupper @ninacotte @braelynn-j @jiggllyy @honeymarvel @darcypottah @atomicpunkrock @thiccheerioss @lottie289 @boredashaeck @beautiful-pegasus @tceedlmao @deadlynyghtshayde @iconjuresnapeingrandmaclothes @anonymous034 @bi-andready-tocry @lunna-does-real-doodle @dragonsandbread @okaydraco @the-queen-of-hell-things @cmxreader @alienmotel @oh-itsnothing @sunflowerxsadnessw @fattycooter @angelotakunerd08 @thisisahugemistake @fanficsigottaread @gweaslvy @strawberriesonsummer @gaysludge @cleopatera @ray-of-sunrise @artist-bby @shadowsingeraxolotl @peters-legos @quillsareforwriting @ghostlytoadalmondhairdo @wollymalfoy @lilpieceoftoast @paper-cats @floweryjh @sdicapriox @slothgirl22 @peachesandpinks @monimillion @hufflautia @livize75 @annie-mcl @riathearora @live-like-luna @justathoughtfulangel @coconutdawn @skteaiy @wannabeskinny-thinspo @naughtygranger @queenofmankind @dragonsandbread @abundantxadorations @moony-artnstuff @myforeveryoungblog @and-then-a-girl-with-luv @1-800-luvsick @pandas-rice-field @strawberriesonsummer @jjustsomerandomgirl @mrvlfangirl3190 @loverbbgirlsblog @in-slytherin-we-trust

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pendragonfics · 4 years

Text

All’s Fair

Paring: Draco Malfoy/Reader

Tags: gender neutral reader, no pronouns for reader, alternate universe - modern setting, alternate universe - modern: no powers, alternate universe - lawyers, good Draco Malfoy, Draco Malfoy in the Muggle world, redeemed Draco Malfoy, carnival, Ferris Wheels, tooth-rotting fluff, marriage proposal

Summary: A day off at the carnival with Draco turns out differently than expected.

Word Count: 1,392

Current Date: 2020-06-03

It’s a beautiful day; the sort of day that you suppose only happens in fictional places, like books or movies. But it’s real, and there’s not a cloud in sight. The sky is a perfect blue, and there’s not enough wind to make a fuss, but the kites that litter the sky in manmade rainbows draw out the laugher of the crowds. It’s not often the fair comes to the countryside; there are markets, sure, but this is something else.

“You know I have cases to work on,” Draco whined.

But with every plea, you push it to the back of your mind. Instead, you keep on tugging at his hand, onward into the field. This place is usually where the local football team hosts home games, but today - in fact, all week - it’s home to a colourful array of oddities and fascinations.

“Come on, love.” He protests.

If you were in any way swayed by his appeal (you are) he’d get his way instantly (he usually does) but today is different. You’re determined on it. You tug him past the ring toss, the balancing games, and pull him onwards. It doesn’t matter that you’re parting crowds to get to where you want to be. They seem to move around you and pulling Draco through makes short work as you make your way.

“You can’t get out of this!”

“I could if I tried really hard,” he replies. You scrunch your face up into a glare, and backtracking, he adds, “but I don’t, because I love you.”

“I don’t know if I should be glad, or scheming to make you do things I want…” you retort.

He only hums in response.

You’ve managed to breach the crowds for the moment, and stopping, Draco collides with your back. It’s a sight to behold. It was visible from the outside of the field - it’s a small town; there’s hardly anything more than two flights tall at this end of the country - but ahead, is a behemoth of a Ferris Wheel. It looks like it was painted red over the steel beams once upon a time, but it’s faded to a soft pink that warms your heart. It’s as pretty as a postcard.

“Oh no.”

You beam.

Not ten minutes later, your fare is paid, and after inching through the line, you and your boyfriend are ushered into the two-person carriage. The other riders come in a variety; the elderly married couples who look like they do this every time the fair comes, young teenagers in love, parents and their children that are tall enough to ride. As a uniformed attendant secures the pair of you in, Draco turns your way.

“I wonder how old this thing is,” he says idly.

“Draco!” you admonish. “I’m sure this is perfectly safe.”

He raises a brow at that. “It’s practically antique. I wonder how many lawsuits it’s had in its time…”

You roll your eyes. As if he could go without mentioning his work. Of course, that was his everything; he’d divorced himself from his father for it (that, and because he’d started dating you, and his very posh East London daddy couldn’t see past your low birth and humanities degree). He’d recently been made partner at the local firm, and seeing as that kept him all hours, the pair of you hardly had time with each other.

“Babe,” you insist.

He nods and doesn’t speak any more on the matter.

You hardly hear the safety announcement, but sitting so close to Draco, you can’t help but feel the world around you melt away. He smells the same as always; like mint, the pricey aftershave from the chemists and a hint of woodsmoke. Leaning into his side as the ride begins, you feel his chuckle through your cheek.

“I can’t believe we’ve never gone on a ride together,” he says idly, as the ground level gets smaller beneath your carriage. “It’s…peaceful.”

You look up, but don’t move. From this angle, he looks just as handsome as ever, and you smile. “Is that the Draco Malfoy, speaking kindly about something leisurely?”

“Don’t you tell anyone,” he threatens in jest.

Once the Ferris Wheel gets fairly high, he nudges you and points toward the horizon. “Can you see it? That lump in the distance.” You peer that way, but alas, it’s hard to discern with your eyesight. How Draco spent all his time reading in poorly lit rooms and didn’t need glasses was beyond you. “That’s Liverpool.”

Just then, the ride makes a noise, and you freeze, squeaking. Before you can ask of it, though, the ride comes to a stand-still, and beside you, you can practically feel the smugness rolling off of your boyfriend like a fortune teller reading an aura.

“Don’t say it,” you moan.

“I told you so,” he titters.

From the other carriages, you can hear a mixed response. But you try to ignore them; somehow it makes you more nervous, thinking about the matter at hand. Instead, you huddle in closer to Draco’s side. He’s not the most affectionate person, your Draco. When you first met, he wasn’t even used to being touched by people, let alone prospective lovers. But now, he welcomes your touch, even initiates it.

“I wonder how long we’ll be up here,” you shiver.

Draco notices, and asks you, “Cold?”

You hum.

Carefully, he begins to shrug his jumper off. But instead of passing it to you, he puts it over your head and dresses you in his clothing. You slip your arms into the sleeves, and invigorated, lean back to his side in a less lethargic manner. The wind at this height is more than what you felt on the ground, but now you’re shielded from its effects. While your boyfriend usually runs cold, he’s warm beside you and continues to point out things in the distance that you can’t see.

“I’m sure you can see Manchester, it’s over that way,” he insists.

You peer that way, but in the midday sun, it’s almost too bright to focus wholly on what Draco claims to be the home of the acclaimed football team. You don’t notice his fidgeting, but when you look back to Draco, all words are stolen from you.

“It was supposed to be more romantic than this,” he grumbles, but even his ministrations can’t dim the ecstasy that’s filling your entire being.

In his hands, Draco cradles a ring box. It’s the one from the antique store across from your apartment; the one that you’d liked ever since you first saw it. It sits nestled in a box of blue velvet, and it’s so very small in comparison to Draco’s hands as he holds it your way.

“You didn’t…” you breathe.

He smiles and rests his arm on the bar that secures you both into the carriage. “__________, love,” he says, “I know I’m not the easiest to get along with. Potter knows, Parkinson knows…but you never let that get in the way. I knew I would love you ever since we met - I’ve never known anyone as brave as you, like when you stood up to my father, the prat -,”

“Don’t focus on the idiot, Dray,” you remind him softly.

“- and you’re the smartest, kindest, sexiest, most cunning person I’ve ever met, and I can’t let you go. I refuse to. So, __________ - my gorgeous, sweet __________, will you do me the absolute honour and privilege, of marrying me?”

You nod, overcome with emotion, “Yes,” you say, almost a whisper. “Oh my gosh, Draco. Yes!”

Carefully, he extracts the ring and slides it upon your finger. You’re not sure if he’s had it resized or not, but it fits as if it was made for you. Just as he pockets the box once more, you feel another jolt, and fearfully, move closer to Draco’s side. But instead of the unfamiliar sensation of plummeting to a death fall, the Ferris Wheel whirs back to life.

“See? Everything’s fine now,” he says, kissing your forehead.

A small voice in your head wonders if he paid someone to stall the ride. But it’s hardly loud enough over the excitement you’re now wearing on your ring finger, and the question is soon forgotten.

“Now that,” you tell kiss him, “is going to be a hell of a story.”

#draco #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy/reader #draco x reader #draco/reader #harry potter fanfic #harry potter x reader #chaotic--lovely #pendragonfics #gender neutral reader

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veryfangurl · 4 years

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Drarry au?

Alright, we all love Call Me By Your Name (I hope we all do), but hear me out now.

Imagine it but with Drarry?

Has anyone come up with this idea before? Is there any fic inspired by this??? Because I NEED IT now.

Imagine Draco, living with his posh parents, in their mansion in Italy, his father some important art professor. One summer his student move in with them for few weeks, and Draco fall in love with him? They spend some time together, travel together, but with the end of the summer, Harry (the student, obviously) need to come back to his country.

Imagine this soft Draco!

But let’s not end it here! They keep writing letters to each other for years, and eventually they reunite (because I need happy ending for them)?

#drarry #harry potter #draco malfoy #harry x draco #harry/draco #call me by your name #drarry fandom #hp #fic #fanfiction #prompt?#prompt #fic idea #fanfic idea #au #alternative universe #au drarry #forgive me my eng it's not my first language

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rpings · 4 years

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on lighting struck itself a ‘80s-set marauders roleplay, where lily & james live, and the war is still going —

lucius malfoy for narcissa malfoy — husband to narcissa and father to draco, the specifics can be far more complicated, and canon divergence is encouraged. platonic partners in crime? arranged marriage to love? lady and lord macbeth-esque couple looking to seize their own power? a lucius who attended durmstrang, who’s a werewolf, or a veela, or a healer: let’s write our own story.

the department of magical games and sports is now hiring — from a posh nepotism hire who’s really in it for the kelpie water polo, to the int’l sport lead trying to convince the quidditch obsessed brits that their country’s sport is better, to an intern who would rather be in any other department, the current dmgs team would love more coworkers!

vampire father for lorcan d’eath — with poisoned tongue, he tries ever to convince his son that voldemort’s cause is the right one, that his son should use his musical gifts to sway others to the side of the death eaters. precisely why is up to the imagination. is he an old vampire, outlived many children, who sees lorcan as nothing but a tool, or a young, more recently-turned man, who wants his son to join him as a friend rather than a child. the sky is the limit.

#jcink rp #jcink premium #character request #harry potter rp #3 months #female character #male character #non binary character #20s character #30s character #40s character #platonic plot #romantic plot #submission

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stargazing-enby · 5 years

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Fics I wrote in 2019: masterlist

I wanted to do this on New Year’s Eve, but I decided to wait till @hdowlpost reveals so I could add the fics I wrote for the fest, too. Lo and behold: the fics I wrote last year!

My most popular fics posted in 2019:

Highest kudos: Everything a Word Can Mean (Drarry, 2.3k, 1023 kudos). The soulmate AU I never intended to write! I was so sure this fic wasn’t anything special that seeing all the love it got baffled me so much, but upon re-reading it (and listening to @hptruefan-cheekytorah‘s podfic 😍) I realised I loved it too!

Highest comments: Falling for a Golden Boy (Drarry, 44k, 93 comment threads). My wireless! This fic gave me so many headaches and so many moments of happiness, but ultimately I’m just proud I could prove myself capable of writing a long fic in English--and I’m also so proud of my OC, O’Neill, because she wrote herself out of nowhere and she’s honestly the best.

Highest hits and bookmarks: the above fics again! 2019 clearly has two winners 😂

Below the cut are all the Drarry fics I wrote in 2019 (minus some unfinished collabs), the sole fic I wrote that wasn’t Drarry (it’s Fleur x Cho), and finally the fics I wrote in Spanish. Enjoy!

Drarry fics

Not Rated:

Of Ink and Rhymes (231 words). A collection of Drarry poems written for this year's inktober prompt list.

General Audiences:

You’re the Universe I’m Helpless in (411 words). Draco and Harry stargaze.

Matching Hats (323 words). Harry likes bickering with Draco, but not as much as he likes hugging him.

I Want... You (470 words). Draco and Harry slowly discover that feeling safe has a lot to do with allowing yourself to feel respected. And that includes being allowed the little things in life.

Crumb(ling Willpower) (706 words). Are they just Auror partners? Are they an old bickering couple? Who knows — definitely not them.

As Long as We’re Together (1.9k). Draco and Harry are going through a rough time as parents, but it's okay — they've got each other.

How to Ruin the Perfect Proposal (and Still Get it Right) (2k). When Draco's plans for Harry's birthday end up showered in (quite literal) blood, Draco has to find a quick solution. Featuring spaghetti, hot-air balloons and a proposal ring. (A collab with @drarryruinedme7! 😍)

So You May Remember This (486 words). Draco meets the wrong end of a curse and has to reacquaint himself with his life for a day. (A collab with @tepre 💕)

We Fall Apart, We Rise Together (102 words). The story of how Draco and Harry get together, as told by tree leaves.

Teen and up:

New Year, New Harry (223 words). In which Harry learns that life is a series of starting points.

An Enlightening Session (2k). Harry confesses a secret and makes a decision.

A Golden Ball of Fluff (375 words). “In my defence, Luna said dogs helped with anxiety.”

Hatred? Not Quite (346 words). Just two idiots fighting in detention.

Are You Okay? (1.5k). “Could you come over?”

Only Each Other (419 words). Harry's as lost as the boy crying in his arms. All he can do is hold on tight.

Crucio (3.4k). "It is our choices that show what we truly are." But what about those who don't really have a choice? This is how their journey together starts: with an Unforgivable, a confession and the incessant dripping of a faucet.

Lost Boys (1k). When the first shriek pierced the air, Harry muted it with a groan and a punch to the wall. Draco's pain hurts Harry beyond relief, and Harry's pain hurts Draco, too. At least they have each other to hold on to.

Just Them (100 words). About how painfully easy it can be for them to get together.

What it Takes to Stay and Fight (1.1k). Harry's had enough of Lucius's words worming their way through Draco's head.

Constant Flux (527 words). Harry Potter is the one constant in Draco's life, only each time in a very different way.

The Art of (Not) Being Broken (308 words). Draco reads an article that explains a few things. And so he shares it with Harry.

700 (280 words). A string is broken.

What They Need (388). A few days after the Sectumsempra incident, Harry decides to go to the hospital wing to apologise.

To Save a Soul (376 words). Draco's and Harry's souls bond the moment Harry saves Draco from the Fiendfyre flames. Before any of them realises, Draco is Disapparated to Azkaban, and their soulbond—their souls—broken.

Pumpkin Boy (6.4k). It's Halloween night, and the line that separates Harry's world from the one he truly belongs in dissipates when he meets a peculiar, white-blond boy.

Help Me Remember I’m Free (412 words). Of what happens in Draco's mind during a PTSD flashback.

Everything a Word Can Mean (2.3k). In a world where magical people are born with the nickname their soulmate will call them by tattooed on their skin... what does it mean that the word on Harry's chest is the thing he hates to be called the most?

What Can Be Found (in a Game of Truth or Dare) (8 words + memefic!) Here's what happens when Draco is dared to give Potter a love bite... as told through memes.

Mature:

A Pointy, Posh Grindylow (1.5k). “Why don’t we duel, Malfoy? Just you and me, tonight, in the Room of Requirement.”

Who We Are at Night (708 words). “Just… hold me. Please. That’s what I need.”

A Dream About a Boy (445 words). Draco Malfoy had a very particular dream once. A dream about a boy draped on top of him.

Stubborn as a Cursed Vault (1k). Harry and Draco are assigned a case together. Feelings ensue.

Amortentia [FANART] (203 words). 'I'm going to be just right for you.'

(Mis)calculations (5.6k; WIP). This is how they find each other: at 2 am, in the Eighth year common room. Draco wanting to fall, Harry wanting to sink, and both of them in need of someone to hold on to.

Floppy Socks (359 words). Harry arrives home one day to Draco wearing peculiar socks. Bickering ensues.

When Green Shines (2.4k). The legends say that a fine, red string of fate connects those whose souls are destined for one another. And the legends are true, except the string isn’t always fine and it isn’t always red. It’s different for everybody. For some it’s silk, for some lightning. Some people are connected by a ribbon of clouds, and some by electricity.

So why does Harry’s have to look like the bloody Killing Curse?

Explicit:

Alone at Last (1.9k). All they'd done so far was make out behind library shelves and the occasional groping in the Quidditch showers when they both arrived earlier than their eighth-year team. But today — today everyone had left for Christmas and they had the Gryffindor dormitory to themselves. And so Draco was naked on Harry Potter's bed.

Falling for a Golden Boy (44k). Merlin. Why couldn’t Draco have moved to a forgotten village in the Alps? He could have turned into a shepherd, learned to make his own damn cheese and given up his damn magic. But no, he’d had to come back to his Eighth year, hadn’t he? And this was his life now. Draping himself over Potter to hear words from him that he knew Potter wouldn’t ever mean.Great. The school year ahead of him looked simply great.

“All I know is—when I’m with you, I…” Potter, the heathen, grunted when he read the rest of his line. “Do I really need to say this?”

“What, scared of believing your own words, Scarhead?” Draco spat.

“Boys,” O’Neill warned them.

“All I—all I know is you’re the most amazing person with weak ankles that I've ever met, Meg.” Potter scowled. He was blushing again. “And when I’m with you, I feel less alone.”

Or where a drama play, a grumpy pompom and a bunch of well-intentioned friends help Draco and Harry find peace—and each other—after the war.

Traditional (3k). Harry makes a discovery. Draco makes a promise.

A Glance at the Past (In Our Journey to the Future) (7.6k). It's Christmas Eve. It's also Lucius and Narcissa's last chance to accept Draco and Harry's relationship before they stop trying to make the Malfoys come around and move on with their lives.

Draco also happens to have a plug up his arse. One that Harry can control with his mind.

(You’re a) Revolution (23k). “Will I—Will I see you around?”

Malfoy snorts.

“Careful, Potter,” he murmurs, almost to himself, as his fingers linger on the doorknob. “One might think you actually enjoy my presence.”

Eight years after the end of the war, Draco Malfoy stumbles into Harry’s shop in the middle of a storm—no wand, no backstory; no signs of having lived in the country since the Battle of Hogwarts.

During their first encounter, Harry promises Malfoy—and the words sound like an old mantra—that he'll figure out Draco's secrets eventually.

And then he does. He does, except…it doesn't quite feel like a victory.

Other ships

Smooth as Ice (Fleur/Cho, Gen, 398 words). Cho slips in more than one way.

In Spanish (Drarry)

Estaciones (641 palabras, Gen). Dicen que todo nace, crece y muere.

Como un ciclo.

Como las estaciones.

De tal palo, tal astilla (8.1k, Teen and up). A veces es necesario echar un vistazo al pasado para comprender el presente… y el futuro. (O donde Draco conoce a alguien con quien quejarse de Potter).

Recuerdos que duelen (318 palabras, Teen and up). Dos chicos rotos hablando sobre los recuerdos que los persiguen.

El chico de mis sueños (481 palabras, Mature). En una ocasión, Draco Malfoy soñó algo muy particular: soñó con un chico recostado sobre su pecho.

Calcetines de gelatina (369 palabras, Mature). Harry llega a casa y se encuentra con que Draco lleva puestos unos calcetines peculiares.

Flujo constante (562 palabras, Teen). Harry Potter es la única constante en la vida de Draco, pero de muchas formas diferentes.

Pumpkin Boy (Español) (6.9k, Teen). Una noche de Halloween, la línea que separa el mundo de Harry de aquel al que realmente pertenece se diluye cuando Harry se encuentra con un niño rubio bastante peculiar.

#otpshipper98 #drarry fics #2019 masterlist #drarry #drarry squad #drarry fic rec #my fics #harry potter #draco x harry #harry x draco

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