#drarry april fools in love exchange

[maleekamolscreates]

Hand bound fanfic!

Fic: 🚬 Rookie Moves🚬 By Peu_A_Peu

Cover and typeset art by the most amazing @faiell

My friend @phoenixortheflame and I cohosted a small artist/binder collab. Each binder collaborated with an artist and committed to creating 2 binds: one for the artist and one for another binder! I also made a cheeky little paperback that I sent to Peu herself!

I typeset this in affinity, designing the chapter headers and title page in Canva. Fai did two large pieces of art, one I was able to use for the title page. Fai also drew 10 little faces that I used for each chapter headers.

Cover is a three piece bradel using duo book cloth. It’s an amazing color shifting cloth. This is mudbath and brick. I keep meaning to record the process of a three piece bradel case, and never do. Next time! I wanted to keep the cover fairly simple, because I knew I’d be making a dust jacket using an additional art piece created by Fai. I wanted SOMETHING for the cover, so asked Fai to make some simple line art that I could cut with my cricut.

End pages are from Hollanders and my friends felt the vibe looked like smoke.

Edges decorated with acrylic ink and faux double core end bands created with my beloved soie perlee.

I had so much fun making this bind and even more fun reading this fic. It’s free to read on AO3!!! This fic is amazing and delightful and silly and you must read it.

Remember kids, keep fanfic free and be kind always.

[phoenixortheflame]

Bound: 22 Cards: A peu_a_peu collection ft. Rookie Moves and 6 other delightful tales.

Typeset and bound by: me, @phoenixortheflame.

Art by: @the-forbidden-forest

One day, not so long ago, I made a vow to myself: "I'll never bind four copies again."

But then, a couple months ago, I cornered myself into co-hosting a small binder-artist collab exchange (shout out to my co-host, the talented @maleekamolscreates).

Which means I was already on the hook for two copies (one for my amazing artist partner @the-forbidden-forest and one for my recipient).

And of course I had to make a copy for peu. So that's three.

And then I saw the art Amelia was making and, well, you can see why I needed a copy for myself.

Did I regret it? Instantly.

Was it worth it? Absolutely.

I mean... just look at it. Look at the illustrations. Amelia did all of them. Every single bloody one. And this is only the dust jacket. Just wait til you see the typeset.

But first...

Because we went for a monochrome dust jacket and typeset, I really wanted to make the rest of the bind pop — and I think I achieved that.

The cover material is Verona bookcloth with Cricut brand metallic iron-on foil in light gold.

And because I like to make things hard for myself, I did four different back cover designs, each one representing a tarot card.

But wait! There's more!

Hand-sewn chaos endbands, gold-painted edges using acrylic ink, and the most beautiful chiyogami endpapers.

Of course, I insisted on including a few signature details "my followers expect to see from me." (Yes, I really said that to Amelia, and cringed as I did. But also: Its true!!!! Luckily, she humoured me. And anyway, I think it turned out awesome, so, yeah.)

Also, I should say, peu does not write for Hacks. But it's my headcanon. She absolutely could.

Okay now onto the typeset, featuring the most beautiful and perfect art I could possibly imagine for this bind. (Amelia, if you're reading this, you're a real one and I am so happy we had an opportunity to collab on this and ILY ILY ILY.)

I have literally been staring at that one of Harry (probably) getting a blowjob for weeks. God, I'm so happy for him.

And a few more details from the typeset, including a nod to the original Gay Hypnosis design in my Rookie Moves bind (which also happened to be my first bind ever).

This project was such a big undertaking, but I couldn't have asked for a better, more lovely, more talented artist partner. And the material is literally my lifeblood, so...

Thank you, peu. Thank you, Amelia. Thank you everyone who participated in this exchange. Thank you to everyone who cheered me on.

Love,

phoenix President of the peu_a_peu Fanclub

[stargazing-enby]

The Mysterious Case of the Unclaimed Jumper

Thanks @april-thelightfury115 for betaing!

Drarry | 2k | Teen and Up | Eighth Year, Pining, Fluff | Read on AO3

“Harry!" 

Ron and Hermione halted, leaving Harry no choice but to do the same. He was exhausted, and it had already taken too much energy to get up from their table at the Three Broomsticks so they could make it to the Hogwarts grounds before Filch closed the gates in their faces. The last thing he wanted was to talk to people, lovely as Madam Rosmerta was. 

“Sorry to keep you, kids, but someone forgot this on one of the tables. Would you please do me the favour of taking it back to Hogwarts with you? I still have patrons to attend.” 

“Uh...sure.” Harry took the khaki jumper she was handing him—gosh, but it was much softer than it looked—and she smiled at him appreciatively. 

“How do you know it’s from a Hogwarts student, though?” Hermione asked. 

Madam Rosmerta snorted. 

“Because none of my patrons are naive enough to step into the inn whenever you kids are taking over the town. Teenagers are loud as all hell, in case you hadn’t noticed!” 

“All right,” Harry said quickly, dreading the idea of the exchange turning into a full-fledged conversation. “We’ll take care of it. Have a nice evening, Madam Rosmerta.” 

On their way back to the castle, though, Harry started to regret his decision. It was the beginning of the school year, and the transition from summer to autumn had fooled many Hogwarts students into putting on warm clothes to fight the morning chill, which meant practically everyone had ended up carrying jumpers and jackets over their shoulders and around their waists for most of the day. The jumper could be anyone’s. 

“What are you going to do with the jumper, anyway? It could be anyone’s,” Hermione echoed his thoughts, turning from Ron to Harry.

“I have no idea,” Harry admitted.

“Maybe you could hand it to one of the Heads of House. Or...” Her voice shifted into that tone of hers that meant she knew she’d come up with a brilliant idea, “we could tell the ghosts to ask around the castle and see if anyone is missing a jumper!” 

Even as Harry nodded, Ron shook his head in disbelief. 

“Or you could just smell it,” he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world and he couldn’t believe it hadn’t occurred to either of them. Harry and Hermione just stared at him. “What?” 

“That’s kind of creepy,” Harry said. 

“Wha— No it’s not! Don’t you know clothes smell like their owners?” Silence. Ron looked increasingly exasperated. “Come on, don’t tell me your families didn’t smell the clothes lying around the house all the time to figure out who they belonged to!” 

“Er…I’m afraid not.” 

“That’s probably only a necessity when you have seven kids’ clothes to keep track of,” Hermione offered. 

“Yeah…fair enough,” Ron grumbled. “Still, it won’t hurt to try. If it’s from someone our year we’ll probably be able to recognise them.” 

Harry doubted that would be the case, but then Hermione and Ron turned to him, expectant, and he didn’t have a choice but to bring a corner of the jumper to his face and give it a sniff. 

“...Oh.”

“Well?” Hermione asked. 

“It’s…” Harry smelled it again. “It’s familiar.” Familiar and nice, he thought, giving it one extra sniff for good measure. “But I just can’t tell who it is.” 

“Oh?” Ron grabbed a sleeve, brought it to his nose. “Hmm…Yeah, I see what you mean. It’s definitely not a Gryffindor bloke. ‘Mione, why don’t you try?” 

“I’ll pass, thank you very much.” 

“Eh, that’s fine. I’m sure if we leave it in the Eighth Year Common Room someone will claim it sooner or later.” 

“Yeah,” Harry murmured, folding the jumper properly over his arm. 

As a new conversation started, Harry held the jumper a little bit closer. 

***

The stupid thing was still where they’d left it—hung over one of the Common Room couches, the one nearest the hearth—when they came back from Hagrid’s, its pale khaki tone contrasting starkly with the purple sofa. 

Hermione led the way to their usual corner of the room, keen on getting some more homework done before bed, and Harry tried to ignore the jumper, just visible out of the corner of his eye. His friends had clearly forgotten about it, and Harry didn’t bring it up again. 

But the feel of it, the scent of it, was ingrained in his thoughts, and concentrating on his Potions essay soon proved to be an impossible task. Merlin, he knew that scent. He knew it well; every time he’d sniffed the jumper, it’d been like a word was on the tip of his tongue; like a thought in the back of his mind wouldn’t come forth.

Like there was a need, buried deep within him, that he couldn’t fulfill, because he didn’t know what it was he was yearning for. Who it was he was yearning for. 

So he looked. Every few minutes, as much as he tried to avoid it, he looked back at the couch, waiting, hoping that someone would walk past and go, Hey! That’s where it was! And the missing piece inside Harry’s mind would finally click. 

But no one picked the jumper up, and when practically everyone had gone to their dorms, and Ron and Hermione had finished neglecting their homework—Ron’s fingers tracing Hermione’s knuckles, her cheek resting on his shoulder, a goofy smile brightening his face—and seemed ready to call it a night, Harry decided he simply couldn’t leave it alone. 

“You guys go ahead,” he told them. “I feel like I’m finally making progress with this essay, and if I stop now it’s going to be impossible to pick it up again tomorrow.”

As soon as he was alone, though, Harry stuffed the parchment in his bag and made for the couch at a pace just slightly faster than could be reasonably considered walking. 

Ah. The scent was just as enticing as he remembered it from earlier. 

Harry basked in it for a few moments. When someone walked into the Common Room—Terry and Hannah, who nodded at him on their way to their dorms—he let go of it as though it had burned him, but as soon as he was alone again he draped it over his lap and raked a hand over it, thinking, wondering. 

It wasn’t Hannah’s or Terry’s, Harry knew: not just because they hadn’t recognised it on sight, but because the smell did not belong to either of them. It was…deeper. It was masculine, definitely—a hint of sweat at the armpit area, like the owner hadn’t taken it off straight away after growing hot underneath it—and it was intense, in that it did things to Harry; riled him up, and brought him back down from the high, only to make his heart quicken again as soon as the thrill of it had diluted in his veins. 

Sighing, Harry lay on his back and placed the jumper, once again, over the armrest behind his head, just close enough for the scent to reach him. 

The hearth crackled. A House Elf vanished the crumbs and dust from the floor with a spell and disappeared again. Nearly-Headless Nick floated by, but didn’t seem to notice him. 

The door to the Common Room didn’t open again. 

***

“Are we going to do this every night now?” Greg grumbled, dragging the last word—practically dragging himself to the Common Room behind Draco. 

“Only until I force Slughorn to give me an Outstanding,” Draco said. “Which won’t take long, because my first essay was clearly perfect, and if that one wasn’t enough for him, this one will for sure. I swear that old man has it out against me!” 

A portrait shushed him, and Draco flipped it the bird. It wasn’t like there was anyone sleeping in the bloody halls. Or roaming them, for that matter: only Prefects and Eighth Years were allowed outside the Common Rooms past curfew, and it had been a good hour since he’d seen any of the former around. 

“Gardyloo,” he told Sir Cadogan upon reaching the Eighth Year Common Room entrance. Glad as he was that he didn’t have to share a space with people from other years, entering his new Common Room had to be one of the most draining moments of his day. And so, before Sir Cadogan could start spewing nonsense about him and Greg, Draco Silencio’d him, watching as the knight gestured dramatically without uttering a sound until the door had closed. 

“Draco, isn’t that your…?”

Draco saw it just as Greg pointed at it. 

“My jumper.” Salazar, he’d put that jumper on that morning, hadn’t he? When had he even taken it off? He’d completely forgotten all about it. 

He doubted he would ever forget the sight that greeted them, however. 

“Uh, Draco…? What’s Potter doing with your jumper?” 

“It would seem that he is cuddling it, Gregory,” Draco said, tone flat. Completely out of tune with his raging thoughts. 

“More like curling himself around it,” Greg murmured, and Draco could only agree. 

Merlin. Potter looked so young when he slept. So small, like he was afraid to take up space. His hair fanned over his forehead and his face, some of it caught between his arm and Draco’s jumper. His chest falling and rising slowly, evenly. His feet pressed close as if to keep their warmth. 

Draco shook his head, annoyed that he had allowed himself to be caught off-guard by the sight, and walked up to Potter. Grasped his jumper, and pulled at it. 

Potter’s eyes snapped open and stared right into his. 

***

Oh. 

Oh. 

“Fuck,” Harry slurred, sitting up, half-asleep and entirely too awake, as Malfoy took the jumper from him and just stared at him. “Fuck. Sorry. Madam Rosmerta told me to bring it…the...you’d left it there. It’s yours, right?” he asked, even though he didn’t need to. It was Malfoy’s, of course it was Malfoy’s. His strong, deep, alluring scent was unmistakable now. 

“Yes,” Malfoy said. He sounded weird—strained. His eyes were fixed on Harry. “It’s mine.” 

“Right,” Harry nodded. Then, after a few moments: “Er. Sorry about that. I must’ve fallen asleep.”

Malfoy snorted. 

“Never would’ve guessed.” 

“Can we go to bed now?” 

Harry whipped his head around—he hadn’t noticed Goyle was there with them. 

“Go ahead,” Malfoy told him. “I’m right behind you.”

“M’kay then. G’night, Potter,” Goyle said with a yawn, dragging his feet to the stairs. 

“Er…night?” 

Malfoy huffed again. 

“Don’t mind him. He’s an idiot when he’s sleepy.”

“No offence, but he’s an idiot all the time,” Harry said. 

“You’re one to talk.” Malfoy looked at him, then. He wasn’t as stiff now, although he was still weirdly clinging to his jumper, a gesture that reminded Harry of his own fixation with it earlier. “No one with more than two brain cells falls asleep in the Common Room, honestly.” 

“Piss off, I was exhausted!” 

“Oh, I’m sure you were,” Malfoy retorted. “That still doesn’t explain why you didn’t utilise your perfectly comfortable bed to meet the need, though.” 

Harry glared at him, and Malfoy arched an eyebrow. 

“Well?”

“Why do you want to know so bad?” Harry bit back—a little childishly, he knew, but it wasn’t like Malfoy was acting much more maturely right now. “Did you enjoy the sight that much?” 

“Wh—don’t be preposterous!” Malfoy spluttered, a grimace distorting his sharp features. A grimace that did nothing to distract Harry from the angry blush spreading across his cheeks. From the way Malfoy averted his gaze, clutching at the jumper so hard he was almost twisting it. 

“Oh my god,” Harry breathed. “You did enjoy it, didn’t you?” 

Malfoy’s panicked gaze turned back to him. 

“No, I didn’t!” 

Almost as mesmerised as he was amused, Harry stood. He took one more look at Malfoy’s increasingly flushed expression, just to be sure he wasn’t reading it wrong, and then stepped into Malfoy’s personal space. When Malfoy’s breath hitched, Harry, heart in his throat, brought a hand to his flushed cheek. It was soft: softer than the jumper. 

Malfoy stood completely still, wide eyes stuck on Harry’s face. A breath stuck in his lungs: waiting. 

Heart racing, Harry let his hand stray back. Let himself caress Malfoy’s cheek and jaw, let himself cup Malfoy’s head at the nape, play with the hair there—Merlin, was there anything about Malfoy that wasn’t illegally soft?—and lean forward to take a long, deep sniff of his hair. 

Malfoy shivered, and it suddenly hit Harry just how close their bodies were. 

“Potter.” a broken whisper.

Harry inhaled again, his own skin tingling with excitement—anticipation—lust for that scent. That scent that belonged to Malfoy, that now had every reason to drive him fucking insane, to draw him near, to leave him hanging. How had he not recognised it straight away? There was nobody else who could elicit such a response from him. Whose mere closeness thrilled him like this. 

“I needed to know,” Harry said, voice low, as he let his hand slide down slightly, a caress that ended on the jut of Malfoy’s spine at the base of his neck, fingers splayed over the edge of a shoulder blade. Then, pulling back his hand, taking a step back: “I needed to know who that intoxicating scent belonged to.”

As Harry retreated toward the stairs, Malfoy swayed, eyes closed. Jumper clutched close to his chest. 

***

The following evening, when Harry arrived at the Common Room after dinner, a deep grey jumper was draped over the armrest of the couch closest to the hearth. 

[its-the-allure]

Feast your eyes on this!

Bound: 22 Cards: A peu_a_peu collection ft. Rookie Moves and 6 other delightful tales.

Typeset and bound by: me, @phoenixortheflame.

Art by: @the-forbidden-forest

One day, not so long ago, I made a vow to myself: "I'll never bind four copies again."

But then, a couple months ago, I cornered myself into co-hosting a small binder-artist collab exchange (shout out to my co-host, the talented @maleekamolscreates).

Which means I was already on the hook for two copies (one for my amazing artist partner @the-forbidden-forest and one for my recipient).

And of course I had to make a copy for peu. So that's three.

And then I saw the art Amelia was making and, well, you can see why I needed a copy for myself.

Did I regret it? Instantly.

Was it worth it? Absolutely.

I mean... just look at it. Look at the illustrations. Amelia did all of them. Every single bloody one. And this is only the dust jacket. Just wait til you see the typeset.

But first...

Because we went for a monochrome dust jacket and typeset, I really wanted to make the rest of the bind pop — and I think I achieved that.

The cover material is Verona bookcloth with Cricut brand metallic iron-on foil in light gold.

And because I like to make things hard for myself, I did four different back cover designs, each one representing a tarot card.

But wait! There's more!

Hand-sewn chaos endbands, gold-painted edges using acrylic ink, and the most beautiful chiyogami endpapers.

Of course, I insisted on including a few signature details "my followers expect to see from me." (Yes, I really said that to Amelia, and cringed as I did. But also: Its true!!!! Luckily, she humoured me. And anyway, I think it turned out awesome, so, yeah.)

Also, I should say, peu does not write for Hacks. But it's my headcanon. She absolutely could.

Okay now onto the typeset, featuring the most beautiful and perfect art I could possibly imagine for this bind. (Amelia, if you're reading this, you're a real one and I am so happy we had an opportunity to collab on this and ILY ILY ILY.)

I have literally been staring at that one of Harry (probably) getting a blowjob for weeks. God, I'm so happy for him.

And a few more details from the typeset, including a nod to the original Gay Hypnosis design in my Rookie Moves bind (which also happened to be my first bind ever).

This project was such a big undertaking, but I couldn't have asked for a better, more lovely, more talented artist partner. And the material is literally my lifeblood, so...

Thank you, peu. Thank you, Amelia. Thank you everyone who participated in this exchange. Thank you to everyone who cheered me on.

Love,

phoenix President of the peu_a_peu Fanclub